TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing..

NOTES: Yes, this IS inspired by the Joker blogs. I thought, hey that's a good idea; I haven't read any fan fiction where he's the one who has feelings for her. Admittedly twisted feelings…

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one. Joker POV

vitiate (vĭsh́ē-āt́ ) v. –at-ed, at-ing. 1. To impair the quality or value of. 2. To corrupt morally. 3. To invalidate. - ví ti.á tion n. - ví ti.á tor n.

Solitary confinement… Again… How boring. Some say if your bored you're boring. But they never said anything about being bored when you're locked up. It's pretty fucking impossible not to be bored. I keep myself entertained pretty well most of the time, what with the drugs making me hallucinate. But soon the drugs wear off. Then the walls aren't fun to stare at anymore. Then lying in a heap on the floor or your cot isn't like being on a raft in the ocean, bobbing along, going up and down and up again. After awhile you're just lying there bored and a metal bar is digging into your ass. It could be worse though, much, much worse. The metal bar could be a penis. The thought makes me giggle for a moment until I remember a particularly sordid affair a few floors up. That stops the laughter. How annoying. I was finally amusing myself and I had to go and think of that. I'll forget soon enough, I'm kinda good at it.

It's been over a month now (I think) since I was brought back to this fucking shit hole. The first week was the worst. Or the best, depending on what mood I'm in. That first day I did happen to laugh and cough so hard for so long that I threw up twice. That kind of amusement is hard to find. And for most people it's impossible to enjoy laughing at yourself quite that much. But for a moment I had really thought I wasn't coming back here. I thought the Bat was gonna throw me off the roof and never look back. I knew better but still I hoped. I also dreamed I might escape the whole thing and stay out of here a bit longer. That, of course, would have been the ideal outcome.

Now I am stuck in a tiny room with no window, and only a toilet, a bed, and a sink. I think I've been here a month. At this point I'm no longer sure. A week I stayed in the medical ward, I know that. And I only know that because I was in and out of consciousness for so long, when I finally snapped out of it I had to ask out of curiosity.

Gordon hadn't been lying, after all. I had been sick, very sick. So sick I was delirious with a fever that seemed to suck the life out of me after that first hilarious few hours. And here I thought he'd been trying to weasel his way onto my good side. Silly of him, as if I'd ever trust a pig, or believe a thing they said. So maybe a part of me knew he might be telling the truth. I didn't give a shit anyway.

So Gordon was right and I was wrong, it happens. I'm man enough to admit it. Like I care anyway. So I was wrong, throw a fuckin' party, you self-righteous pricks. I'll bring the cyanide-spiked champagne.

Anyway, I was sick. For days I was floating in a sea of blackness. I thought I was dead some times. Some times a part of me even thought that maybe Hell wasn't a man-made invention after all. I mean, here I was, floating in nothingness and I swore I could see these evil little bats with red eyes and they set upon me like I was a lone candy bar in a fat farm. I could feel their tiny needle teeth chewing my skin. I could taste my blood as they gnawed my lips off. I tried to scream, but it seemed too much effort. Every little thing required so much damn effort. So as you can imagine, I couldn't raise a hand to defend myself. They each felt like lead weights. I was covered with these tiny writhing bodies, their tiny teeth stabbing, tearing, ripping, and eating my flesh. I think I woke up screaming. I'm not sure. Even if I did, there was always someone close by to pounce on me and fill me full of sedatives that sent me straight back to hell.

It was interesting to say the least. And I do enjoy interesting experiences. Even if they are painful. 'Schmerz ist Freude'* and all that. Well, some types of pain don't interest me, but I have to stop remembering that. Amnesia is bliss.

After awhile my head began to clear. The bats left me alone and I was once again in normal dreamland territory. The one where I had the big fucking knife and used it to chop everyone to little bitty pieces. I like that dream. Soon I was staying awake for most of the day. Then it seemed as soon as I could get up without fainting like a girl they threw me in solitary. And I didn't even do anything to provoke it. I mean, I didn't hurt anyone. I just ran. I jumped up and over other patients as the lay in bed, I dodged the guards, doctors, nurses, for a good fifteen minutes. I got out of the ward and sprinted.

Then something curious happened. I guess I wasn't ready for so much physical exertion, but I always have to try. All I know is that one minute I was running, the next I had my head in someone's lap with a towel pressed to my head. I was gasping for air and completely drained. Then I was carried back to the medical ward, because for some reason the muscles in my legs refused to obey my commands. The young nurse that had been pressing the towel to my forehead drew back to let the doctor see me and I saw my blood all over the small cloth. I was pretty amused because I hadn't felt a thing. They sprayed my forehead with watered-down alcohol, soaking my hair, then glued my head. I was sort of skeptical, but the shit is still stuck to me and doesn't appear to be going anywhere. As a matter of fact, the dumb-asses got some in my hair and I've been playing with it ever since. But that's extreme boredom for you.

The best thing is to fantasize about finding out who Batman really is and slaughtering everyone he cares about. That makes me smile when I am ready to bash my brains out against the wall just for something to do. Picture the look of horror on his face! Oh, the tragedy! You're a monster, Joker! You'll pay for this! Heheh, and maybe this time, he'll mean it. Not like it will matter anyway, cause next time, I'm gonna kill him. I could probably cut his mommy and daddy to ribbons in front of him and he still wouldn't kill me. But maybe if it's his life or mine he won't be so squeamish.

I doubt it though. He seems bent on saving me from myself. He must be in love with me or something, not that I can blame him. I am gorgeous, and a genius! I guess he's just playing hard to get with the whole 'kicking-my-ass-thing'. It makes sense; he does seem kinda like a prude.

But yes, I think I need to start really putting an effort into killing him. Maybe then he'll get a clue. If I'm going to die some day I need it to be by his hands. Nothing else is good enough. And in the meanwhile there's really no point trying to get him to kill me without endangering his life and slaughtering his loved ones. I've got to push him over the edge somehow. He isn't stupid. One day he'll realize that all along him and everyone else, deep down, is just like me.

***

I had no clue how long I'd been in that tiny room, but one day the door finally opened. Orderlies pulled me to my feet, and I, having just woken, was not all there yet. I got to shower, which actually felt amazingly good after being in that stifling room for so long. Then I was taken back to a new room. And shockingly it had a window! It was very small and I had to stand on the bed to look out it. And bars and chicken wire covered it. That tickled me, really. I mean- chicken wire? Hilarious. They left me with my breakfast, which I gobbled up in my usual manner. After that I jumped on the bed for a while, actually managing to go flying off a few times and getting banged up in the process. But soon it was all so boring I wanted to bash my head into the wall and send myself into oblivion.

Finally the door opened and two orderlies entered. They were built like brick shit houses, obviously the staff at Arkham thought I was dangerous. I smiled at the thought; they knew me too well already. And I so badly wanted out of the damned room that I decided to behave myself. Be a good boy; jump though their hoops and maybe I can see that sweet little girl who spread her legs for me five minutes after meeting me. That would be fun. I can ignore those base urges better than most but when the shit just falls in your lap, you get the idea. No one says 'no' to free candy. Unless it's offered by a weird looking dude in a beat up old van with no windows. They held up a straight jacket, smirking at the scowl on my face.

"Are we gonna do this the easy way, or the hard way?" I rolled my eyes and held out my arms. They wrapped me up like a Christmas present without the bow.

I realized quickly that I wasn't headed to the common room, much to my disappointment. God knew what I would have to do to get in there again. I shuddered to think. Be good, be good, you can rip out their lungs later. I told myself again and again. They brought me to a plain room with a desk and a couch. Bars on the windows, ugly mint green walls, gray and black tiled floors that easily dated back to the fifties, Jesus tap dancing Christ! Maybe I should kill a few rich stiffs when I get out. That would get some money into this place. Or maybe (since any money donated will probably go straight into Dr. Arkham's back pocket) I should just blow this shit hole up. That would be fun too. Either way, this ugly-ass décor has got to go.

They led me to the couch and one orderly roughly shoved me so that I fell backwards onto the rock-hard sofa. That pissed me off, but before I could kick them in their shriveled nuts, they grabbed my ankles and chained me to a ring bolted to the floor. Not five minutes after they left a man in a business suit walked in. This guy looked like a Ken doll- nearly perfect in every way with a fake smile and sparkly teeth. He had an expression of smug superiority stamped on his flawless features. I hated him immediately.

I deliberately zoned out as soon as this shiny, happy, shit head started talking. He was rattling off about something and seemed very pleased, probably sucked Arkham off so good he just had to let this dildo take a crack at me.

"…went to Harvard…" Holy shit he's still talking. Time to knock this tool down a few pegs. But what would be most fun? Scare him till he wee-wee's in his little cotton panties? The thought made me giggle a moment and the moron stopped and gave me the eye a moment before he went on talking about how great he was. I could continue to ignore him, but that wasn't really fun. Besides, I'm no passive-aggressive pussy. I like a challenge. Although to be honest, this would most likely be anything but.

"…Have had a lot of success with patients in your unique situation." Oh, really?

"What do you mean by that?" I snarled in my most menacing voice. He blinked, his eyebrows rose, he faltered in his self-gratifying speech. "Hm? What exactly is my situation?" How can I behave when these assholes make me so damn angry all the time? The sharp edge to my words was authentic and he knew it.

"Please don't misunderstand. I simply meant victims of-"

"Me? A victim?" I scoffed, disgusted. "Who told you that? Hm? You just met me, so it couldn't have been me who described myself as a victim." I nearly spat the word. I wanted out of the straight jacket immediately. I wanted to choke the shit out of that cock-sucker. "I am NOT a victim. I never have been."

"So you did that to yourself then?" he said, poking his own flawless cheek with a finger.

"Oh, you wanna know how I got my scars?" The man's eyes lit up like he'd just won the lottery.

"Of course." He sat behind his desk and picked up a pen. I touched the edge of one with my tongue.

"Well you gotta do something for me first." Already he was changing his mind.

"If your not comfortable-"

"Oh it's not that, I just think you should earn things in life."

"Is that why you robbed-" he began with a sarcastic edge to his voice. The bastard thought he could fuck with me? If I hadn't been so repulsed by him and the very idea I might have laughed.

"Not me, just you. YOU need to earn – something.. It's obvious to me that you're a pampered little rich bitch who's had the world handed to you on a platter. You probably didn't even earn your degree, Daddy's money did." His mouth opened to protest, but I plowed right ahead. "Or you got it by putting that pretty mouth of yours to good use. So do me a favor, come over here a lick my balls and maybe I'll tell you something good." He sputtered in rage and rose to his feet, but before he could cry: 'How DARE you!' or something I continued to go ahead full steam. "And don't bite, just suck them long and hard, you look like a pro at it, what are you waiting for? I bet you've had lots of practice. I bet you did it for free too. So I won't degrade you by calling you a whore, you're just a slut after all. Come on, slut, get over here, get on your knees, and suck. My. Balls."

"Enough!" the pretty boy wasn't looking so pretty with his face that shade of red.

"Oh you like to get rough, do ya? Me too. Take this thing off me and I'll pull your hair and slap you around some. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"Guards!" he bellowed.

"I didn't invite them but if you want them to take turns pounding that tight little ass of yours, be my guest." I felt laughter welling up. My smile must have shone like an 100 watt bulb. The orderlies entered the room and I began to giggle. "Boys, the doc here is hungry for some cock, and you don't have to be gentle either. He likes it hard, his asshole is probably the size of a golf ball so you can be as rough as you like!"

"Shut up!" the good "doctor" cried. I was giggling almost convulsively.

"On your feet, clown." The older orderly snapped.

"Not in the mood for butt hole? You're sure? You can fuck his mouth I'm sure, right Dr. Cum Dumpster?" I said, my voice rising as they began to unlock my chains. "I admit, three's a crowd but four is a party right?" The little rich boy looked ready to cry. "Don't be sad, darling, I'll see you again!" I cried as they hauled me to my feet. "I know your eager for nuts on your chin, maybe later! Come to my cell, I can smack you in the face with my dick if you like, I know you will!" I bellowed as they dragged me out the door."

Once outside I howled with laughter.

I assumed I would get thrown back in my cell for a few weeks or even solitary, but I was pleasantly surprised when they returned me to my room. I laughed for a long time about the things I'd said to that self-righteous prick. And I was even more amazed to be led back to the same room the next day. But another doctor entered the room this time. That really made me smile; the little wimp couldn't take it after all. No surprise there.

This man was older, heavier, bald, and wore glasses. He seemed like a total stiff. And he looked like he actually knew what he was doing. Perhaps teasing him would be ineffective. But I never let something like that bother me.

This guy was all business, I could tell right away.

"Your real name is not in your files, would you like to share it with me?"

"Harry." He perked up immediately and I fought to control a smirk.

"Do you have a last name, Harry?"

"Ballsonya." I snorted and the look of disgust on his face was so hilarious I almost pissed myself.

"So, We'll stick with Joker then."

"You might as well, that IS my name after all. Why people can't accept that, I'll never know."

"Perhaps because it isn't your real name. Why do you feel a need to hide your true self?"

"I'm not hiding anything, you retard. This IS my true self."

"If your going to resort to name calling I can have you escorted back to your room." I rolled my eyes in disgust. What a bunch of wimps.

"You doctors sure are sensitive. Nerds get teased, what can I say?"

"Are you ready to move on?" he said, eyeing me like I was a fascinating new species of insect.

"Whatever floats your boat."

"Why do you feel the need to adopt a new persona?"

"I'm just an honest kind of guy."

"And you feel this is a way to honestly express yourself as opposed to a acceptable role in society?"

"What is acceptable to the masses is vile to me. Conforming to the standards is weakness. You're a little sheep like the rest of them; I'm the slaughterhouse. Baaaaaaa!" I imitated a bleating sheep. The new doctor frowned.

"I wonder if we could discuss your childhood?" Here we go, I thought. This guy didn't want to waste any time.

"How about we discuss yours instead?" he was already shaking his head.

"That is not the objective here. We're here to discuss you."

"Well, we should start by discussing this issue you have with my identity. You see, I'm fine the way I am. Better than that actually. I'm man enough to do what I want, when I want. Can you say the same?"

"As I said, we're not here to discuss my life. Just yours."

"Someone like you doesn't have the courage to see life for what it really is anyway. You'd crack and end up in here." I said, nodding. It was true after all.

"And how do you perceive life?" I glanced around as if I was going to reveal a big secret and the moron feel for it, leaning forward as if to get a peek at the conspiracy.

"Eh, I can't tell you. You just seem a tad too.. fragile." I sneered; he still didn't take the bait. He was good. But not good enough. A healthy dose of fear would send him packing.

"I can assure you, I'm not." I scoffed in derision.

"Buddy, I've seen your type plenty of times. So let me fill you in on a little something not-so-secret. You would shit yourself if you knew the real story. You would run home to momma crying like a girl the whole way. You couldn't handle it for one second. I began to wriggle in my seat, then I began to struggle with the straight jacket with all my might.

"Wh-what are you doing?" ha. Panicking already. Did I call it or what?

"You want answers so badly?" I panted, "I'll give 'em to you." I grunted, forcing my arms away from my torso with all my strength. I could feel the leather straps stretching.

"Calm down, that's not necessary."

"Sure it is!" I chirped. "You want the dirt, doc? Your gonna get it! Just you sit tight, I'll only be a minute." But he couldn't stand another moment.

"GUARDS!" he shrieked. Just like a little girl.

Did I call it or what?

TBC….

A/N: Harley will be in the next chapter. Feedback is greatly appreciated. :D

* Schmerz ist Freude - pain is pleasure