[Thread] When The Innocent Realize The Truth, Still Pity They Feel
Characters: OU Helena Campbell, OU The Joker
Where: The Office
When: 1/25/09 - After Helena talks with the Joker while the Warden is still running around blowing things up.
Summary: Helena is going to retrieve her picture from The Joker after the failed trial.
Warnings: Gonna be weird, but as of right now, nothing planned that calls for warnings.
Helena ( Read more... )
Where: The Office
When: 1/25/09 - After Helena talks with the Joker while the Warden is still running around blowing things up.
Summary: Helena is going to retrieve her picture from The Joker after the failed trial.
Warnings: Gonna be weird, but as of right now, nothing planned that calls for warnings.
Helena ( Read more... )
She looked at the charcoal under fingertips and with a close examination splotches of smeared charcoal was also visible on her hands. Suddenly Helena could became aware of the charcoal smears leading up her arms as well. She was messy when it came to drawing on the walls.
The hairs on Helena's arms under her long sleeves began to stand on end. Her warm hand was now cold and unprotected allowing the cool air to travel into her sleeves. She shivered a bit. "If you please, my hand is getting rather cold." Helena tugged on her arm a bit. Not a yank, just a gentle, 'I'm taking my arm back now, thank you,' tug.
Although, Helena couldn't help but a smile a bit. This was all so ridiculous. She didn't know if she should be scared, concerned, or if this was all just some kind of joke and so Helena's lips quirked up at the corners at all the strange circumstances which had lead her here.
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"You look confused," the Joker remarked in a tone that slightly exaggerated every vowel. Then, "Here-" he pressed Helena's empty glove to her chest before curling his newly freed hand around hers, keeping it warm. "I know you came all the way here under these...dangerous conditions for your picture and I'll do my part in returning it. I wouldn't want to disappoint you for all your effort." He was patting her hand as he spoke, as if to reassure her. As if he meant no harm. However, it didn't mask the fact he was still holding her wrist in a less-than-reassuring way.
"But first, now that we're both here and alone, I thought maybe we could indulge each other's curiosity for a minute." With a penetrating gaze affixed to her eyes, he lowered his voice and asked, "...Are you afraid of her?"
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Her wrist was beginning to hurt by now but she refused to show it on her face. She did not want to appear weak before the man who stood only inches away. It was as if he was issuing some sort of challenge and Helena had never been one to back away from a challenge.
When he pressed her glove to her chest she took it from him and shoved it in one of her pockets. She obviously wasn't getting her other hand back any time soon.
She had been listening to him talk, making statements, and Helena was having a hard time focusing on his words with him gripping and patting on her wrist and hand the way he was. It was the last question that caught her full attention.
"No, No I am not afraid of her." Helena's entire being stiffened. She was telling the truth, of course, Helena saw no reason to lying but the very hinting of The Princess brought out Helena's... colour.
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"Do you hate her?"
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Helena looked up at the Joker. His interest in The Princess did not surprise her. His interest in her feelings on the matter was what peaked -her- interest.
"Why do you care? So you can use it for some evil plan later on?" Helena just looked at him. Stared. Waited for a response.
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"No no, I asked because I'm genuinely curious. Had you said 'yes' I would've found it funny, not only because she's so much like you-" he let that hang in the air for a moment. Whether Helena liked it or not, she and the Princess were very similar, perhaps not in their beliefs but certainly in personality, "-but because she's your creation."
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"Harvey hasn't- I mean- He hasn't told me anything about you except for your innate ability to cause mayhem and destruction!" Helena was visibly annoyed. "As for her no I'm not anything like her! I mean I used to be in some ways or I guess she was like me when I was that young and stupid but I'm not her and I'm not like her and-" Helena, out of immediate frustration and with as much force as possible yanked her hand free from the Joker and came right up into his face her eyes ablaze with furious passion.
Her voice calm but obviously very very controlled, "I created her when I was a stupid girl who wished that she would be the death of her mother. I created her when I had no sense and couldn't see the world beyond my own nose. I do not hate her because I once was her but I don't like her either because she will forever be my punishment and a reminder of the idiot I used to be."
Something struck Helena then, just a thought, but it showed on her face. She calmed down considerably and stepped back a pace or two. "I'm sorry for... I'm sorry I just-" She sighed. "I don't hate her. I pity her. And I know that she is all the things I could have been and without her I never would have come to realize how selfish and stupid I was. I owe her in a way..."
Helena looked up at the Joker and sighed and stated in a slightly nostalgic kind of way, "Remember what you're mother told you..."
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When Helena stepped away, the Joker remained in place almost perfectly still, hands at his sides. He stood watching her for a beat of silence, head lowered at a predatory incline. Helena may have been speaking to herself as she trailed off, but the Joker found a response nevertheless.
"My mother," he said, "used to tell me... that if I gave the world a smile, the world would smile back." The double-meaning would be clear to anyone who knew how the Joker worked, but it was likely Helena wouldn't quite catch it. Plus, the way he'd said it so sincerely, almost candidly, could have thrown almost anyone off. For the first time, he looked away from her and slowly uncoiled out of his menacing stance.
"I have your picture right here," he spoke, hand delving into one of the inner pockets of his coat. The drawing appeared then, held carefully between his gloved fingers at the corner as he presented it to her. Save for some shallow wrinkles, it was unfolded, untattered, in overall good condition. "Oh, she told me to be very careful with it." Evidently, he had. Giving it a final glance, he openly offered Helena the drawing and waited for her to come take it.
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She tilted her head at him in a curious and caring sort of gesture as if she were waiting for him to say more. But when he didn't and moved on to the topic of the picture she remembered what she came here for.
"Yes," she relied, "She's smart, I'll give her that... If you were to hurt that image you would probably destroy her home. Since that is the picture you're holding. But I'm sure you already knew that..."
It is true that now that The Joker looked less dangerous but she still felt uneasy around him, and only because she knew of what he was capable of, and not because she felt that he would actually do anything. However, Helena's paranoia was still there. She did her best to hide it.
She stepped forward towards The Joker reaching out of her picture with her other hand.
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"By the way, Helena, before you go..." his voice dropped and his fingertips hovered near the scars of one cheek. "Do you want to know how I got these scars?" Wearing a meek expression upon his face, he peered at her from beneath his scrunched forehead as if he wanted to confide in her something very personal. He nodded once or twice, tentatively eager for a positive reply. After all, she'd divulged something about herself to him. It was only fair to return the favor.
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"I would like to know... but I don't think you would tell me the truth, and even though I would want to believe you I would probably always wonder if you ever really did or not..."
Helena held the picture in her hand, felt no tug, but she did feel eye watching her. Helena looked down at the picture and turned it over having it face the ground. She would probably not ever get used to that.
She stared up at The Joker, "I want to believe you. I want to believe that somewhere inside of you is the person you might have once been.... Harvey once told me that we often forget that "villains" which you have done a good job of being in the past while, were once good people, that we take that fact for granted, and that some villains still actually are good people..." Helena smiled at the memory.
Then she smiled at The Joker. "That being said... you don't have to tell me. I can guess that it was either something done to you and helped in making who you are now... or its something you did to yourself when you decided who you were going to be from that moment on."
Helena quirked her head. "Thank you for asking though... And thank you for my picture back."
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"I know why Harvey told you that, and I know he really meant what he was saying. It's because..." his hand found its way to Helena's shoulder as he stepped forward, head bent as if sharing a delicate secret about their dear friend, "he knows what it's like. See, he caught a teeny glimpse of his future one day and saw himself as the villain. Right now you're seeing the Harvey of the past. The young and uncorrupted idealist. But in the future he loses what you could call his better half in an unfortunate explosion. I know because I've seen the Harvey of the future." He knew because he'd created the Harvey of the future, but that key element would remain unmentioned.
The Joker paused for a moment, letting Helena absorb those vague words. Whether she believed him or not didn't matter, it wasn't the full truth anyway. Perhaps Harvey had even told her already if they were such good friends. He didn't care. This part of the story was only a stepping stone.
"Sometimes things happen, things no one can control, and they change people forever. You couldn't begin to believe how many people I've seen just... break apart at the seams and give in to madness," he gave her a heartfelt look, expertly contrived. "It can happen to anyone. Even the best of us, like Harvey. You might even say it happened to me, though I was never as virtuous as Dent. But I had a brother who was..."
He spared a downward glance at the floor between them and then looked straight into Helena's eyes. "In fact, he was a lot like you."
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"Listen, I don't know who you are or anything about you other than what everyone else says about you, that you're evil and you don't care about anything... that you like playing games. Harvey didn't really talk about you and what he did talk about... his glimpse into the future... it doesn't matter. Harvey is a good man and I know that now he realizes that he will one day have to make that choice- the choice of either staying good or becoming evil... I know he'll make the right choice." Helena was almost visibly shaking, putting all of her passion and faith into what she was saying, because she believed it with all of herself.
Helena's hands were gripped at her side. "Maybe things would have been different if he did not know who he was going to become, but now that he knows he has a chance to change that! And yes, some things we can't control but all wrongs can be set to rights if people just cared enough to try!"
Helena unclenched her hands and looked down at the floor. She felt his hand on her shoulder and though a part of her had begun to relax her shoulders remained tense.
When he started talking about himself and his brother she looked up at him, all seriousness with no intent of falling into any traps. She now realized the stupidity of her situation. She was stuck her, had left without telling anyone where she was... And how did he know about Two Face, anyway...?
She wanted to feel pity for The Joker. Wanted to believe him, trust him, but now she realized that he was just like the Princess: all fun and games without any care one way or the other for anyone's feelings. She could tell when he turned the topic of Harvey to himself... as if he was trying to win her pity and attention some how.
"I am sorry for your brother... since I assume he is gone. And I am sorry for you if you are, in fact, telling the truth. But I've just realized something and I really do think it is time for me to leave..." Helena began to try and pull away from him.
Helena stopped pulling away for a moment and raised her eyes to the Joker, staring searchingly into his, "Besides, you're not mad. You didn't slip into madness... not anything of the sort." Helena turned her head a bit and really looked at the Joker as if she saw something there but couldn't quite put her finger on it. "You chose to become who you are now. You're not mad... you're just that smart... and you really don't care about anything, do you...?"
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"Now, when you talk like that," he pinned her with a disapproving look, "it sounds to me like you're letting Dent and his pals' jaded method of reasoning rub off on you. I, for one, don't think it suits you very well." His voice was light and conversational, even playful as he reached into the inner pocket of his coat. What he pulled from it was too dark and small to be seen just yet, but if Helena knew any better, she'd know it couldn't be good.
"Me, I'm not the type to hold a belief based on someone else's word alone," he continued, hand waving in colorful gesticulation. A knife. An automatic switchblade to be exact. He knew she would see it; intended for her to see it. "There needs to be solid evidence to back it up, evidence you can only get through firsthand experience. Because that's how we learn where we really stand when it comes to beliefs." Here his voice lost its levity, pitching darker as he leaned in close. "Sometimes... we don't always stand where we think we do."
It was then the blade of the switch slid out with a metallic zshink from its handle and glittered dangerously close to Helena's face. "Would you like to here a story, Helena? Hmm?" The question was not meant to be answered. "I'm gonna tell you one just to see where it is you stand at the end. You said you're sorry for my brother. Let's see how sorry you are for him once you know the truth." Clearly, he was not about to let her speak or give her any chance to opt out of this.
"He used to be a lot like you come to think of it," his eyes rolled skyward as if he were reaching into past memories. "Believed that all people have an inherent good inside them. Anyway, he sold time shares for a living to people he knew couldn't pay the bill but he thought they should have a home nonetheless. All he really wanted was the best for everyone. Soon, he gets a friendly warning from the "organization" to stop. He knows it's the mob but he's the stubborn type and refuses to quit. One day he comes home to find his house burnt to the ground. His family's still inside. Wife, kids, they never escaped. He's crushed. I could see it in his eyes. So I offer him a room at my place, somewhere to stay while he picks up the pieces of his broken life. I know it's a risk when the mob might come back and he's a little...different, I notice, but who wouldn't be? I'm not surprised."
"And I'm not surprised when I come home one night to find my house on fire. I'm not surprised when I go in to find my wife motionless, tied up and gagged in the bedsheets on the floor. Not even surprised when I'm grabbed and thrown against a wall." He pauses to look into her eyes, the cold flat of his blade resting on her cheek. "I am surprised when I see who's holding the knife. Not the mob's goon, no, but my only one brother. He says to me 'In a world that makes sense, this wouldn't be happening would it?' I would've agreed. Would've said No, but the blade's in my mouth before I can speak. Then, with a smile, he asks me 'Do you think I'd do it? Your own brother, your own flesh and blood? Do you really think I'd do it?!'," he ground out through stained, gritted teeth.
There was a beat of silence in which the Joker relaxed his face and wet his lips provocatively, turning the blade so that its edge now rested at the corner of Helena's mouth. Distant shouts and sounds of chaos were leaking in from outside but they did not distract him one bit.
"So, do you think he did it?" He knew she wouldn't be able to answer, not with the blade so close to the corner of her mouth. Perhaps more disturbing than a glint of pure insanity flashing in his eyes was the total lack of one. He looked completely lucid, completely sane and rational. Calm.
"...Do you think I'd really do it?"
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In silence her heart raced fast but she did all she could to keep her composure. She refused to be run down by someone who she had allowed herself to trust. Not again. Not ever again. Helena's confusion and inner panic turned to anger but she stood there, took the accusations thrown at her even though it was not Harvey's statements or anyone else's opinions that lead her to think what she now believed she should not have said.
She waited, her eyes showing her defiance. Then she saw the blade. Saw him wave it around nonchalantly and she could hear the anger there in his voice. But Helena listened, tried to ignore the glint of the blade constantly flashing in front of her face. When he finally started talking about his brother she was not sure that she could believe him, but the story, whether true or not, put a crack in the foundation of her anger and defiance.
Pity filled her eyes and her anger, now a rage that was not entirely directed at him but the world and all its brokenness, forced her to tears. But the Joker wouldn't understand those tears, chances are. She knew he would think that she was afraid, afraid for her life or her face, or which ever. But even in that moment, Helena didn't care for herself.
Pinned to the wall, The Joker's tale over, and Helena being already so wrapped up tight to the Joker by his own actions and way of holding her Helena did not think, just reacted. Helena reached forward with her arms and hands and wrapped them as much as she could around the Joker as if to hug him. And with an unexplainable and sudden calm in her eyes and doing the best she could to talk around the blade that was too close for comfort, she whispered, "Yes I think you would..."
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And yet...
The blade slipped easily into her mouth once her answer was calmly spoken. His eyes were as cold and impervious to her tears as the steel of his blade, now wet and dripping with the drops that had rolled down her cheeks. It seemed like a crime against nature how one person could feel so much and another so little. Then again, there were plenty of things in this world that made no sense. His fingers slid through her hair and stroked the back of her head, an affectionate gesture made all the more cruel under the circumstances.
"I think you're right," whispered the Joker. Right on all accounts. And with his grip tight on the knife, he angled the blade upward ready to split the soft flesh of her face.
Then, there was nothing but pain.
Blinding pain. Sudden, bright, and hot. It ripped through every fiber in his being, disrupted every neural connection, evaporated every thought. An instant burst of electricity. A stray bolt fired by none other than the possessed Warden whose attack on the compound was still underway in the streets outside. The bolt had shot clear through the wall with an earsplitting crack, sending down a shower of debris, dust, and small chunks of stone. The brief but powerful current surged through his body into Helena like a circuit at which point he released her, dropped to his knees and collapsed heavily onto his side.
The strike wasn't powerful enough to render him unconscious so before he'd even had a moment's recovery, instincts had him scrabbling backwards over the debris cluttered floor and up against the wall where he would remain until his thoughts came back into focus.
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