An Unhealthy Attachment

A/N - I just realized that this is THE first time I've ever attempted to write inside the Joker's head, AKA writing a scene featuring JUST the Joker, so I really hope I do him justice! -nervous- It's like dissecting him all over again...I was actually writing this chapter in my head while brushing my teeth. I swear, inspiration comes at the strangest times. lol But yeah, long story short, the beginning is a dark look into the Joker's past and the reasoning behind a couple of his quirks. Hope ya dig. ;0)

CH 10: Fighting the Demons

'She actually touched them...she said the scars didn't frighten her.'

The Joker glared back at his reflection and tightened his fist about his tube of face paint, his hands shaking as he hastily unscrewed the cap and squirted the white substance onto his palm. It felt cold to the touch when it landed upon his skin, but to him that was perfect since it matched the cold unfeelingness of his heart.

'She said the scars weren't what made you a monster...that your soul was what made you the beast you've become.'

Curling his upper lip into a snarl, the Joker almost defiantly smeared the make-up onto his face with the hopes of drowning out the voice. With each gradual replacement of his flesh with chalk-white, he found that a great sense of relief submersed him with its false sense of security. The irony was that he'd always hated people who hid behind masks and refused to acknowledge the monsters they truly were -- people like his father -- but the moment his true identity had been stolen from him, he'd had no other choice but to create a new name for himself. The grinning creature that greeted him in the mirror each morning wasn't Jack Napier, but something far more frightening, more twisted, and completely bestial...an animal that lived off chaos and a joke that only the criminally insane would understand.

As the Joker smeared his red face paint over one of his scars, he gave a jolt of surprise when he found that the cold, bumpy skin actually hurt. It hurt, and the searing, blinding pain left him half-expecting to find himself recovering in the hospital from his father's attack...that his lips were still stitched shut in an itchy, black-threaded smile.

'From what I gathered from the police report, his father was a drinker... Damn shame too, 'cause he's just a little kid.'

'Do you think the wounds will scar, or that he'll heal completely?'

A sigh, deep and laborious drafted up toward the heavens. 'Tough to say right now, so I guess it's an 'only time will tell' situation.'

Trembling, the Joker gazed back at his half made-up face and began to breathe heavily, his tongue somehow able to taste the cotton and gauze they'd put in his mouth to stop the bleeding. When he'd tried to open his lips to call for his mother, the stitches had strained, bled, and forced him to spend the remainder of his hospitalization in silence. Lying there with the itching, burning pain had been worse than death itself, but when the orderlies had revealed that his mother had passed away, he'd suddenly welcomed the pain. It proved that he was still there...that he was still alive. As a young boy, he'd read somewhere that laughter was the best medicine for all ailments, so everytime he was faced with a particularly distressful bit of news during his hospitalization, he'd laugh. Sometimes he'd laugh til he cried, but he had no idea that his actions deeply disturbed his doctors.

'I think he's gradually drawing into himself...if he doesn't get help now, we may not be able to save him from his own mind.'

'Perhaps we can start him on some sort of anti-depressants...seeing as to how he has no legal guardians, the decision is completely ours to make.'

"Shut up-uh" the Joker whispered, his eyes glazing over as he stared back at his reflection in utter contempt. When the voices failed to stop taunting him, he gripped at his greasy hair and screamed at the top of his lungs. "Shut up!" he hollered once again, his voice raw with pain, "Leave me a-lone!"

'Why would I fear you now when I've never feared you before? Your soul is what makes you a monster, Joker, not your scars.'

With a gutteral roar, the tormented clown prince reeled back before striking the mirror with his fist, the glass shattering into a thousand silver pieces before clattering into the sink in several reflective splinters. Chest heaving, the Joker groaned when he realized that there were now thousands of hollow clowns gazing back at him, his anguish overruling his physical pain as he hurriedly pushed the glass shards into the trash. As he did so, he cut himself across the palm in a thin gash of scarlet, but to him this only brought up his old mantra. 'I'm alive' he thought, 'Alive, alive, alive.'

Taking his wounded hand, the Joker smeared the blood across his lips and scars to complete his facial mask, his eyes hollow and devoid of rational thought as he reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a roll of gauze. Wrapping it around his busted knuckles and bleeding palm, he sucked his teeth before glancing over at the cracked clock on the wall. 'Time to blow something up' he decided, immediately feeling better at the thought of someone being horribly disfigured by a blast. It'd make them a freak...a freak like him. Chuckling darkly, the Joker re-adjusted his green vest before tromping out into the hallway, a grin splitting his lips as he suddenly realized that he wasn't a monster at all...he was just ahead of the curve.

--

"Oh, bloody hell..."

"I figured you wouldn't be pleased" Gordon remarked, his expression remaining stoic as he placed his hands into his pants' pockets. "Those are pictures taken from the MCU security cameras; the Joker came in and broke her out before I could finish interrogating her."

Frowning, Collette re-adjusted her spectacles as she glanced down at Rachel and the clown prince of crime, her head shaking as she inquired, "Do you know what sort of relationship they have? In these images, Miss Dawes appears as if she'd trust him with her own bloody life."

"I can't be sure" Gordon admitted, "but she kept insisting that she was his partner in crime...a Miss Harley Quinn, to be exact."

Collette rolled her eyes. "Well with a name like that, it just further proves that the name Harleen Quinzel is a fake. How long do you suppose it took that masked bugger to figure that one out?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Collette laughed, but it was devoid of all mirth. "Yes love, it was a rhetorical question, but in all seriousness, what do you propose we do about all this? We can't bloody well come out with it in a news report, because that'll have Gotham all in a tizzy."

"Not only that, but Miss Dawes may try to run" Gordon agreed. "The Joker's one sly fox, so if he were to somehow convince her that it was a trap, she'd damn well believe him. He's had her eating out of his palm this long, after all."

"True, true..." Pursing her lips, Collette folded her arms as she glanced down at the floor and scuffed her heels against the tile, her green eyes glittering amidst her thoughts as she suddenly turned to Gordon with a grin. "Love" she cheerily began, "I think I might have an idea..."

--

The skies of Gotham were unusually gray that evening, Rachel clutching at her purse as she hesitantly scaled the steps to St. Bartholomew's. Making sure that the scarf about her head was securely in place, she re-adjusted her sun glasses so she could see over the rims as she clip-clopped against the paved steps. She couldn't quite ascertain why she felt the need to be there, but the guilt-ridden portion of her soul longed for absolution. The remorse was eating at her conscience like an infectious disease, and she knew the only way to truly escape the guilt was to stare her sin straight in the face.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel crossed the threshold and entered the ornately refurbished church, her footsteps growing lighter for fear of being caught as she took a seat in the back pew. Positioned directly before the altar was Miranda's casket, the preacher holding up his hands as he murmured a prayer that sounded remarkably like music.

Craning her neck so she could get a good view of the people around her, Rachel furrowed her brows when she realized that both Harvey and Miranda's husband weren't present. Their mother, Mrs. Angela Dent-Livingston, was sobbing in the front pew alongside her current beau, but aside from the sea of friends and curious civilians, there were no other family members present. Concerned with this realization, Rachel tried to determine why Harvey and Dusty could be missing -- a press conference, perhaps? -- but nothing seemed important enough to drag Miranda's closest loved ones away from her funeral.

Placing his palms together, the preacher closed his eyes before speaking in a commanding voice, "O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting? Now the sting of death is sin: and the power of sin is the law..."

Suddenly feeling sick to her stomach, Rachel placed a hand over her mouth as she fully absorbed the words of the Biblical passage, her lips quivering as she realized that she was that sting of death. She was sin, and it was she who the preacher was ridiculing with his righteous prayers. Trembling from head to foot, it was then that Rachel realized her body was overcome by an all too familiar tingling sensation. At first it started in her finger tips, but then it gradually spread throughout her shivering frame until she felt hopelessly lightheaded.

'Oh, God' she thought, 'I think I'm going to be sick...'

Covering her mouth with her gloved hand, Rachel hurriedly abandoned her pew and went racing out into the narthex, her shaking form barely reaching the front steps before she turned and retched into the bushes by the bottom stoop. Spitting the tangy bile out of her quivering mouth, Rachel queasily leaned over the step in order to catch her breath.

How could she have let this happen? She'd helped cause so much pain, so much suffering, and now she felt powerless to apprehend the one man who could put an end to the nightmare.

'I'll talk to him' Rachel decided, her wan features grim with determination. 'By this point I have no other choice...'

--

Flames lapped at the apartment complex on 23rd Street like orange tongues, the fevered wail of a siren blaring off forlornly in the distance as a lone figure stood amidst the illuminating glow. Gazing up at the blaze with a somnolent look upon his painted face, the Joker didn't so much as giggle as frantic shrieks for help continued to resonate from deep inside the building. What was wrong with him? Why didn't he feel that old, delicious sensation of glee that came strictly with chaos?

Gnawing into the pad of his lower lip, the Joker released a frustrated growl as he felt his hand wrap around something small, smooth, and round inside his pocket. Lifting it up to the light, he gave a derisive snort when he realized it was Rachel Dawes' old pearl, the one thing that constantly reminded him of his only weakness.

On the day of Rachel's alleged accident, the Joker had giddily come to the scene of the crime ready to find his problem finally taken care of. Expecting to uncover Rachel's smoldering corpse, he became slightly disappointed when he discovered a tarnished pearl amidst the rubble, instead. It had glinted in the firelight like a tiger's eye, the soft luster reminding him of the attorney's silken beauty and beckoning to him like a derisive siren's call. The Joker didn't know why he took the damned pearl -- it was really quite stupid when one thought about it -- but he'd felt compelled to place it alongside his knives and lint for safe-keeping. The pearl represented how he'd finally overcome his unhealthy obsession, and with this triumph he wanted it as a constant reminder to prove he was stronger than human emotions. Hell, he didn't have true feelings, not even the thrill he was left with when blood oozed in between his fingers. His emotions were hollow, artificial, and completely devoid of all humanity. The Joker supposed that this was why he hated Rachel Dawes so much, because she'd caused a part of him to awaken that had been lying dormant for so long. The portion of him that'd thawed out was undoubtedly a small chamber of his heart, but fortunately for the clown prince of crime, she'd remained comatose long enough for him to build up a wall of immunity to her revolting vitality and warmth. And yet, if this were actually true, why did he still have the pearl?

Gazing down at the momento in disgust, the Joker curled his lip before leaning back and slinging the jewelry into the flames with all his might. In accordance with this action, an eerie smile painted its way across his vermilion lips, his head tossing back in a delighted cackle as he felt tears of mirth prickling along his lashes. At long last, he was finally able to see the joke in his predicament.

--

Feet crunching through silt and rubble, Harvey emotionlessly trodded across the death site of his beloved Rachel and sister Miranda, his blue eyes bleary as he suddenly stopped and gazed up at the boundless heavens.

"This is where you died" he whispered, his gaze now traveling across the cosmos with a newfound appreciation. "Which star are you, Mandy? The one with the most flair, fire and beauty? Or are you plain and out of sight so you can rest in peace?"

Reaching inside his blazer pocket and running his fingers along cold steel, a wan smile traced his lips as he felt a dull chuckle bubble within his throat. "You're all up there without me" he whispered, his voice now burning with slight resentment. "I once thought I could live solely for my city, but that was before I lost everything to chance. Now that I've discovered how meaningless my life truly is, I've realized that Gotham doesn't need me...not the way I need you."

Withdrawing his pistol from his blazer, Harvey slowly raised his firearm and pressed the cold metal of the barrel against his temple. Taking a deep breath in through his nostrils, he directed his gaze up toward the heavens and blew a gentle kiss to his loved ones. "May we meet again" he whispered, his finger squeezing back on the trigger until he was rewarded by the deafening release of lead, sulfur, and smoke.

A/N - Dun dun dunnnnn, another cliffhangerrr. :-P Unfortunately, I've got a LOT of work to do this week, as well as the next (and most likely the one after that, eheh), so I have NO idea when I'll be able to update again. Hopefully soon, but no promises! And I also hope this wasn't a complete load of crap, 'cause it was kinda blah after I read over it. Oh well, hopefully you liked it anyway!

Oh! So you know how they've got those Batman TDK Fruit Roll-up thingies? Well, my roomie and I saw them at Wal-mart, and she was like "Oh! I want some of those, 'cause then I can take the Joker in my mouth!" BWUAHAHAHAAAA, finally, somebody more perverted than ME! xD -coughs- Ok, sorry, just wanted to share that. :-D