Not Done Yet
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zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
7,311
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
7,311
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Nolanverse. I do not own Batman, The Dark Knight or Nolanverse. I own none of the characters, I make no money from this story.
Behave
A/N: Let me know if you like the direction we’re taking….reviews deeply appreciated!
Bruce Wayne arranged an appointment with Arkham’s director, a woman named Angela Newsome. She was an older woman with a great deal of experience in dealing with public institutions; Arkham was about to be the death of her, however.
“Mr. Wayne, so good to see you again. Please, sit down,” she greeted the billionaire warmly.
“Thank you, Dr. Newsome. Do you know why I’m here?”
“I would imagine it has to do with our…challenging new patient, the Joker, is that right?”
“Yes, exactly. I paid a visit to him last evening, and I was appalled. Surely treating a patient in such an inhuman manner is not the level of care you intend to provide, is it?”
“Mr. Wayne…I understand how it looks to an outsider, but believe me when I say that, given the limited resources we have, and the…very difficult condition of the patient, we’re truly doing the best we can. I’m sorry you feel we’re falling short, but there’s only so much we can do. The man is very dangerous and we have to consider the safety of our staff members.”
“You haven’t even bothered to clean him up! All you’ve done is keep him doped up enough so that he’s no trouble for your ham-fisted guards…he’s obviously been abused, there’s no excuse for that.” Bruce’s eyes were hard and penetrating.
The director looked out the window and was quiet for a moment. The man was right, but trying to control what went on when no supervisors were on the floor was next to impossible….
“What would you suggest we do, Mr. Wayne?”
“I want to pay for a specialist to treat the Joker. “
“A specialist?”
“Yes, a doctor that has had great success in dealing with psychopathic and sociopathic conditions. I’ll arrange to have him flown in, pay for his residency, and if things improve with the patient, Arkham will get all the credit. If not, no harm done. In return, you make sure the Joker is given adequate medical care, decent food, a shower, a regular room, not that horrible cell in the basement…”
“The man almost tore apart one of our orderlies on the first day he was here,” the doctor intoned warily.
“I’ll talk to him. He trusts me. I believe he can be controlled with a less stupefying drug regimen; I know he’s difficult, but…I have every confidence that if we all work together, we can get his treatment under way. Think of the press this hospital would get if the Joker were to become a productive member of society someday.”
“That’s very hard to imagine, Mr. Wayne,” said the director sardonically. “But…go talk to him. If you can get some degree of cooperation out of him, I’ll do everything I can to facilitate his treatment with this specialist of yours. But, I’m warning you…he’s smart. I wouldn’t believe a thing that he says….”
“I’m aware of the Joker’s intelligence and crafty ways. Let me see what I can do.”
* * *
Entering the Joker’s cell for the second time in two days, Bruce was all the more determined to get him some help. The Joker was lying on his cot, unconscious. He looked too still, almost dead; Bruce hastily sat on the edge of the bed and checked for signs of life. He was breathing, shallowly. Bruce put his hand on his shoulder and gently shook him awake.
He arose with a start and a cry like a wounded animal; Bruce realized that had it not been for the straight jacket, the man would have attacked him blindly. It took the Joker a moment to realize who was with him. He slumped back against the wall and a grin finally stole across his face.
“Aw, you came to see me again! You’re spoiling me, Bruce—next thing you know you’ll be bringing me muffin baskets and paperback books. I just can’t wait…”
“I came to tell you that you need to stop this raving homicidal behavior immediately. It’s doing you no good, and I’m not going to be able to help you if you keep it up.”
“I didn’t ask you for help, Bruce, well, other than the cyanide, which you seem to be unwilling to procure for me. As for my ‘behavior’, look, I don’t intend to make these bastards’ lives any easier if I can help it…”
“I’m telling you, stop it.” Bruce’s eyes bored into the Joker’s, who stared evenly for a long while and finally broke his gaze.
“Ok…I guess you want me to “cooperate” when they’re jamming electrodes onto my temples….”
“I just don’t want you to attack people. Yes, cooperate. Go along with whatever they say, and you’ll be in a better situation almost immediately. I’m seeing to it, but you have to behave or I can’t do a thing.”
The Joker looked at Bruce with an aggrieved expression.
“Why are you doing this? What the hell do you care about me? One little fuck and you’re in love? Jeeze, you musta been horny…”
“I’m not in love with you!! Don’t be an idiot. It’s just, what good does all my money do me if I can’t help people? Face it, Joker, you need help. You weren’t always like this, were you? I intend to get you what you need to live a relatively normal life.”
The Joker raised high an eyebrow. “I wasn’t always crazy, no. But, if my past life was what you’re calling normal, I don’t want any part of it, believe me. At least I live by my own rules now, Bruce…which means, no rules. I do what I want…” the Joker almost hissed the words.
“Really? You want to lie around in a padded cell with that fashion statement you’re sporting there?” Bruce indicated the straight jacket.
“I think not,” he continued. “And as long as you’re too dangerous to be allowed to stay conscious, nothing will change. So, stop it. Now. I mean it.” Bruce’s face was close to the Joker’s; he again powerfully held his gaze until the Joker dropped his eyes in defeat.
“Ok, Bruce,” he said with a sigh. “If it means that much to ya…I’ll be a good little psychopath. But I’m doing it for you, not me, understand?”
“That’s fine. Thank you.” Bruce stood to leave.
“Aren’t you gonna kiss me goodbye?” the Joker asked, feigning hurt feelings.
Bruce stooped and took his scarred face in his hands, and gave him a deep, hard kiss. A twitch of desire caught him, which wasn’t lost on the Joker. He smiled cynically.
“I think you’d get over this noble crusade to save me if you’d just pull my pants down and fuck me again. Get it outta yer system and you could go on to far more worthwhile philanthropic pursuits…”
“When you’re better, we’ll see. For now, I’m doing what I want to, Joker. Just like you used to…I think you and I have different ideas of ‘breaking the rules’.” Bruce returned his smile and departed.
Bruce Wayne arranged an appointment with Arkham’s director, a woman named Angela Newsome. She was an older woman with a great deal of experience in dealing with public institutions; Arkham was about to be the death of her, however.
“Mr. Wayne, so good to see you again. Please, sit down,” she greeted the billionaire warmly.
“Thank you, Dr. Newsome. Do you know why I’m here?”
“I would imagine it has to do with our…challenging new patient, the Joker, is that right?”
“Yes, exactly. I paid a visit to him last evening, and I was appalled. Surely treating a patient in such an inhuman manner is not the level of care you intend to provide, is it?”
“Mr. Wayne…I understand how it looks to an outsider, but believe me when I say that, given the limited resources we have, and the…very difficult condition of the patient, we’re truly doing the best we can. I’m sorry you feel we’re falling short, but there’s only so much we can do. The man is very dangerous and we have to consider the safety of our staff members.”
“You haven’t even bothered to clean him up! All you’ve done is keep him doped up enough so that he’s no trouble for your ham-fisted guards…he’s obviously been abused, there’s no excuse for that.” Bruce’s eyes were hard and penetrating.
The director looked out the window and was quiet for a moment. The man was right, but trying to control what went on when no supervisors were on the floor was next to impossible….
“What would you suggest we do, Mr. Wayne?”
“I want to pay for a specialist to treat the Joker. “
“A specialist?”
“Yes, a doctor that has had great success in dealing with psychopathic and sociopathic conditions. I’ll arrange to have him flown in, pay for his residency, and if things improve with the patient, Arkham will get all the credit. If not, no harm done. In return, you make sure the Joker is given adequate medical care, decent food, a shower, a regular room, not that horrible cell in the basement…”
“The man almost tore apart one of our orderlies on the first day he was here,” the doctor intoned warily.
“I’ll talk to him. He trusts me. I believe he can be controlled with a less stupefying drug regimen; I know he’s difficult, but…I have every confidence that if we all work together, we can get his treatment under way. Think of the press this hospital would get if the Joker were to become a productive member of society someday.”
“That’s very hard to imagine, Mr. Wayne,” said the director sardonically. “But…go talk to him. If you can get some degree of cooperation out of him, I’ll do everything I can to facilitate his treatment with this specialist of yours. But, I’m warning you…he’s smart. I wouldn’t believe a thing that he says….”
“I’m aware of the Joker’s intelligence and crafty ways. Let me see what I can do.”
* * *
Entering the Joker’s cell for the second time in two days, Bruce was all the more determined to get him some help. The Joker was lying on his cot, unconscious. He looked too still, almost dead; Bruce hastily sat on the edge of the bed and checked for signs of life. He was breathing, shallowly. Bruce put his hand on his shoulder and gently shook him awake.
He arose with a start and a cry like a wounded animal; Bruce realized that had it not been for the straight jacket, the man would have attacked him blindly. It took the Joker a moment to realize who was with him. He slumped back against the wall and a grin finally stole across his face.
“Aw, you came to see me again! You’re spoiling me, Bruce—next thing you know you’ll be bringing me muffin baskets and paperback books. I just can’t wait…”
“I came to tell you that you need to stop this raving homicidal behavior immediately. It’s doing you no good, and I’m not going to be able to help you if you keep it up.”
“I didn’t ask you for help, Bruce, well, other than the cyanide, which you seem to be unwilling to procure for me. As for my ‘behavior’, look, I don’t intend to make these bastards’ lives any easier if I can help it…”
“I’m telling you, stop it.” Bruce’s eyes bored into the Joker’s, who stared evenly for a long while and finally broke his gaze.
“Ok…I guess you want me to “cooperate” when they’re jamming electrodes onto my temples….”
“I just don’t want you to attack people. Yes, cooperate. Go along with whatever they say, and you’ll be in a better situation almost immediately. I’m seeing to it, but you have to behave or I can’t do a thing.”
The Joker looked at Bruce with an aggrieved expression.
“Why are you doing this? What the hell do you care about me? One little fuck and you’re in love? Jeeze, you musta been horny…”
“I’m not in love with you!! Don’t be an idiot. It’s just, what good does all my money do me if I can’t help people? Face it, Joker, you need help. You weren’t always like this, were you? I intend to get you what you need to live a relatively normal life.”
The Joker raised high an eyebrow. “I wasn’t always crazy, no. But, if my past life was what you’re calling normal, I don’t want any part of it, believe me. At least I live by my own rules now, Bruce…which means, no rules. I do what I want…” the Joker almost hissed the words.
“Really? You want to lie around in a padded cell with that fashion statement you’re sporting there?” Bruce indicated the straight jacket.
“I think not,” he continued. “And as long as you’re too dangerous to be allowed to stay conscious, nothing will change. So, stop it. Now. I mean it.” Bruce’s face was close to the Joker’s; he again powerfully held his gaze until the Joker dropped his eyes in defeat.
“Ok, Bruce,” he said with a sigh. “If it means that much to ya…I’ll be a good little psychopath. But I’m doing it for you, not me, understand?”
“That’s fine. Thank you.” Bruce stood to leave.
“Aren’t you gonna kiss me goodbye?” the Joker asked, feigning hurt feelings.
Bruce stooped and took his scarred face in his hands, and gave him a deep, hard kiss. A twitch of desire caught him, which wasn’t lost on the Joker. He smiled cynically.
“I think you’d get over this noble crusade to save me if you’d just pull my pants down and fuck me again. Get it outta yer system and you could go on to far more worthwhile philanthropic pursuits…”
“When you’re better, we’ll see. For now, I’m doing what I want to, Joker. Just like you used to…I think you and I have different ideas of ‘breaking the rules’.” Bruce returned his smile and departed.