#patient4479

[flawedlouise]

patient4479 replied to your post:I don't like your choice in pen pals. Keep him at that if you must talk to him.

Aww, is someone jealous?

Let's not muddy the water here...

[drhfquinzel]

12.

The worst part of it was that she needed him more than he needed her.

He could have made do in his cell at Arkham, would have thought no different about being the sole patient remaining, should have been left to sit as the only Sierra-level inmate in what was slowly being converted into a true psychiatric hospital as opposed to what it had become, a warehouse for those who didn't belong in Blackgate.

Instead, all of those who were once in Arkham had been placed in the very facility they had no cause to be in. The facility that had now been emptied thanks to Bane and his liberation army.

Convicts and patients of all stripes, whether rightfully or wrongfully convicted or rightly or wrongly diagnosed, were now set loose on a Gotham that had no police force to speak of.

It was the chaos he had envisioned eight years ago. Only, not quite.

It wasn't to his liking. It wasn't to his plan. For a man who publicly and repeatedly eschewed things like plans and plots and schemes, he was an expert strategist. He had contingencies. He had motive, an agenda.

This was sloppy by his standards, if what little she'd learned of him could be believed.

He'd already managed his escape by the time she had arrived at Arkham. It went some way to soothing her conscience. While she hated him and loathed the way in which he'd effected his escape (four more dead) at least she wasn't guilty of setting him free.

Only of stopping those deaths.

She was ready to stop him, to fight him, when he did the unexpected. He held his hands up in the air as if in defeat.

"...what in the hell are you doing?" she'd hissed at him. Her hands held a pair of collapsible batons, her preferred weapon. Her body was in a fighting stance, readied for his attack.

Instead of an assault, he smiled at her. The scarring did little to detract from it seeming like a genuine smile. He was happy to see her.

"I'm, ah, giving myself up, doc," he grinned with a tilt of his head.

She didn't relax her posture. Her response was to instead narrow her eyes. "Why."

"Because you came to see me." He kept his arms raised. "You need me, don't you?"

She didn't respond. She simply glared at him. After a long pause, she finally replied. "That's quite the assumption."

"I'm right," he said. He angled his head and waggled an index finger at her. "Now, you see, you came here to see me, and, ah, if the talking heads at good old Gotham Cable News are to be believed — how is Mike Engle by the way? It's been a real long time, you know — if I can have some faith in the news, it looks like you need a hand." At that he pointed at her and then waggled both sets of his fingers in the air.

"Why would I come here to ask for your help?" She nearly spat the question at him.

"Because, doc." He took a step toward her. She held her ground and willed her breathing to stay measured and even. "Gotham is, ah, is in ruins, the Commish is, ah, stitched up, the Gotham Police Department is, ah ha ha ha, six feet under, and the Batman is nowhere to be seen." He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "Funny how Mr. Wayne is missing too." She didn't turn her head. She followed him with her eyes, her body tensed and her mood ready to snap. He pulled away just far enough for their eyes to meet. "I'm all you've got, doc."

He stepped back and smirked at her, his hands lowered.

She hated him. She hated that he'd escaped. She hated that he'd hurt the people she cared about. She hated that Jim Gordon was injured and there was nothing she could do about it, that most of the police department was trapped in Gotham's sewers, and that the Batman was gone. Maybe even dead.

But most of all, in that very moment?

Harleen Quinzel hated that the Joker was right.

I HAD no time to hate, becauseThe grave would hinder me,And life was not so ample ICould finish enmity.

[angryinyourbones]

"Thought, at times, of human life with an indefinite terror and dismay, such as the storms and angry elements had bred in me." Hello, ah, former Detective Blake.

There were times when he longed for a gun on his hip.  

Careful, though.  There was no comfort to be found in the realization that the Joker knew his name.

"Joker."  No threats, no declarations of war, no callow demonstrations of bravery.  No, his fear and rage were so great, rising like bile in his throat, that he was lucky to have gotten a word out at all.

[drhfquinzel]

He'd probably love you if you did. or grow obsessed with you like he has Batman- oh wait, that's strange, he already seems to be..

He's just trying to annoy Commissioner Gordon.

[drhfquinzel]

You know, the Joker probably gets off on Batman beating him up. Well, on anyone beating him up. Hah. Imagine if you got the chance to beat him up..

Just imagine...

[drhfquinzel]

Depeche Mode, "Barrel of a Gun" What am I supposed to do When everything that I've done Is leading me to conclude I'm not the one Whatever I've done I've been staring down the barrel of a gun Is there something you need from me Are you having your fun I never agreed to be Your holy one

[itissimplylogical]

patient4479 replied to your post: firstbornkirk, reaperofbones,...

Nope, nope, nope, just taking a looksee.

And who might you be?

[dinosaursaresocool]

patient4479 started following you

Oh, you said you had a lot of names. Which one would you rather be called, Mister Joker? I don't wanna call you something you'd rather not be called; I'd feel like a doofus.