Don't Fall in Love

Tomorrow

An animalistic growl ripped through his throat as he pulled his handcuffs apart, breaking them to pieces and immediately punching the guard behind him.
He jumped onto the fallen guard and began to beat him senselessly, his anger centered at his fists where blow after blow, the guard began to lose consciousness.

He groaned as he was tased and ripped away from the guard. They held him down, knees at his back and neck, trying to restrain him. At that point, Dr. Quinzel had dropped the paddles in shock and ran straight to the door.
She watched in horror as the guards held down her clown lover, hitting and kicking him excessively.

"STOP IT!" She screamed in panic. "GET OFF MY PATIENT!"
She couldn't help the tears welling in her eyes. He was riddled in bruises and scrapes, bleeding heavily.
She was able to pull the guards off except for the ones restraining him. She shoved those off too and she held him in her arms.

"Mister J," she whispered, "it's okay, I got you. They won't hurt you. They won't ever hurt you." She held back a sob, rocking him in her arms.

He mustered enough strength to look up at her, his eyes filled with all the venom in the world. Without hesitation he spat at her face, his saliva mixed with blood. She gasped in surprise and froze in contemplation as he was pulled away from her.

She wiped the spit off her face and got up to her feet. What had she done wrong?
Pulling off her glasses, she wiped them clean and looked at the guard holding him.

"Take him straight to my assessment room, I'll be there in a second," Dr. Quinzel ordered.

"Should I tell Dr. Arkham?" The guard asked.

"No!" Dr. Quinzel bit, "I'll tell him myself."

With that, the growling Joker was pulled away from the scene and right to the analysis room where his meetings with the doctor would take place.

As he was shoved down the hall, his body had gone numb. He felt nothing physically. No pain or hurt, no burning.
But he felt his heart aching.
They were fucking Scarlett up. Worse than they had fucked him up.
And she did nothing to deserve it.
If anything he had done worse. He had done worse than her in his sleep!

He was pushed down to his routine chair, ankles tied down to the ground, fists handcuffed once again and trapped in the strait jacket he could normally shimmy out of.
But not today.
He had done plenty today.

Today he demanded answers. Once and for all.

Minutes later, he heard the slow clacking of heels of the doctor. His stomach churned in disgust, he didn't want to face her without harming her.

That bitch.

The door was opened and he drew in a breath.
His heart pounding.
How he wanted to rip her apart.
For what she was doing to him.
For all the pain.
For what she had done to Scarlett.

For a brief second he wondered whyScarlett had taken so much precedence in his thoughts, how she had gotten under his skin so fast.
But as the doctor walked past him and behind her table, those thoughts dissolved and he quickly remembered the spite and disgust she brought upon him.

They stared for seconds. No words spoken.

He didn't want to speak. He knew he'd fuck it up, say something he shouldn't.

She, on the other hand, didn't know how to start.

"Mister J," she began.

"Joker." He said crossly.

She gulped and looked down at her hands.

"What's going on?" She asked, gathering the courage to look into his eyes.