I woke up again quickly. Riddler had caught me before I hit the ground. Joker took me from him and carried me upstairs. He lay me on a bed and disappeared. I managed to sit up, though pain pulsed through every inch of my body.
"Here," his voice said softly.
He had a bowl of warm water, a cloth, hydrogen peroxide and bandages. Gently, he cleaned my face. We didn't speak to each other, I just closed my eyes and let him work. He pulled out my hair tie and let my hair fall over my shoulders. After some time, he stroked my face and kissed my forehead so I opened my eyes.
"Hold on."
He dragged a bag from under the bed and pulled out a white shirt and cotton socks. I began to undress as he took my boots off. Then I stood there, shivering a little, in only my black underwear and bra.
Joker's face fell as he studied me. I looked down, seeing the bruises already forming on my slim body.
"I'll ehm...I'll take a shower," I said quietly. He nodded, staring at my obvious pain, not meeting my eyes.
"I wish I'd never taken you with me."
I pushed myself onto my tiptoes and kissed him to show that I was okay. That I wasn't mad at him. Then I went to the ensuite and climbed into the shower, pulling the curtain over. He followed me and turned on a tap to wash his face.
The shower sputtered on.
"The water isn't very hot," he warned me. He was damn right. The icy water made my skin sting even more.
"You're not kidding."
"Sorry, little bird."
As I showered, I let silent tears mix with the water. I was broken. Body and soul.
The blood test...what had Batman found? I had to know .
I heard Jack wince suddenly. I turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around me, pulling back the curtain. He was standing in his pants with his shirt off, his muscled torso showing, and blood oozing from his shoulder.
"Were you shot?" I gasped.
"Looks like it. I never felt it at the time."
I ran through to the other room and grabbed the hydrogen peroxide and cloth then ran back to him. I examined it carefully, cleaning the blood as best I could.
"You have an entry and exit wound, that's good," I told him, remembering the time Arkham was shot in the same place. It seemed years ago now.
"Good?"
"It means there is no bullet to remove. Do you have a needle and thread?"
"Uh, in a drawer downstairs maybe. But I'll get it. You need rest."
"So do you," I objected as he began to leave. He kissed the top of my head.
"Stay here, Harls."
He left the room and went downstairs. I looked at my myself in the mirror, letting the towel drop. I hadn't lost any weight since the Arkham escape. Since I left my life behind. Falcone had fed us well. But I feared that living this life would weaken me, and how could I sustain a child if I couldn't even sustain myself?
I dried off and put on the shirt and socks. It came down to my upper thighs and revealed my bruised legs. Sighing, returned to the bathroom to fix my hair. It was a riot. There was a brush by the sink so I used it to detangle the blonde mess. Once it was smooth, I towel dried it and hoped it wouldn't frizz.
Not that it really mattered.
Jack returned with a needle and thread. I took the cleaning stuff and lead him back to the bed where I began to stitch his wound closed. He didn't flinch once. I bandaged him carefully then finished washing his makeup off.
