Nolanverse Gift Exchange for lalondon13 (fanfiction)
Title: I'm Listening
For: lalondon13
From: agent0fchaos
Proof Reader & Consultant: pressure_hinges
Characters: Joker & Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane
Rating: hard R
Warning: Non-consensual torture
Word Count: 4510
Disclaimer: I own nothing & this is for fun
Notes: Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy this, I really do.
Jonathan Crane heard the humming in his ears before he was able to open his eyes. Lolling his head back and forth, Crane tried desperately to wake up. His mouth fell open and a deep, guttural moan was pulled from the recesses of his chest. He tried to raise his hands to his head, but found that he could not move anything below the shoulders. Panic set in and his eyes flew painfully open, stinging and watering as he realized he was not in his cell.
"Morning, sunshine."
Straining to see the owner of the voice, Crane arched his head backwards to see a very unwelcoming figure standing directly behind him.
"Just how much do you weigh, Crane? Because if I had to guess, I'd say two sacks of potatoes." The Joker came to stand next to the gurney Jonathan was strapped down on. "Really, it was just that easy to snatch you up and whisk you away."
"You escaped weeks ago," Crane said, his voice hoarse. He was shivering as he quickly discovered that the top part of his prison uniform had been undone, leaving the center of his torso to his stomach completely bare.
"Indeed I did," said Joker, holding up a syringe. He pressed the plunger, releasing the remaining liquid, tittering as it hit Crane on the forehead and dripped down to his ears.
"You get bored or something?" Crane asked, finding his voice as he cleared his throat and tried to think rationally. What could Joker have injected him with? It doesn't matter...just keep him talking. God knows what this maniac wants. Figure out where you are. Crane looked around as best as he could, quickly discovering that Joker had not taken him out of Arkham but brought him deep into the subterranean levels where Crane used to experiment on his patients.
"Bored," Joker rolled the word over his tongue like he had tasted a new delicacy and was trying to think of a polite way to spit it into his napkin. He shook his head vehemently. "I don't like that word, it doesn't suit me. No, Johnny, I wasn't bored. I just had a fabulous idea." He bobbed his head to one side. "That involved you."
"You went through all of the trouble of breaking out of Arkham only to break in a couple of weeks later...because you had something to tell me?"
"I know, I know, you're extremely flattered but you think I just should've sent a card. Am I right?"
"Something like that."
The Joker touched his index finger to the end of Crane's nose. "Not personal enough."
As soon as the words left the Joker's mouth, a blurred, thin strip came flying out of his hands, whipping Crane across his bare stomach. Jonathan cried out in pain and surprise, his reflexes making him lurch from the gurney that kept him uncomfortably strapped down.
"You used to be a therapist, Johnny, am I right?" asked the Joker in an unnervingly calm voice. Crane stared up at the ceiling, refusing to converse with the madman in the clown make up. "Right, Johnny?" The Joker whipped him several more times until Crane was writhing under the restraints, nodding fervently. "Good, good. The doctor knows how to, uh, take his own medicine, so to speak."
Unbelievable, Crane thought to himself, tersely exhaling through his nose. The Joker looked at him sideways.
"Was that a scoff, Doctor. Crane?"
Jonathan willed himself to not to retort, sick as he was of the doctor jokes he would never be able to live down inside or out of Arkham.
"What do you want, Joker?"
"Ah, yes." The Joker threw the cord across the room and leaned down on Crane's chest, his elbows digging painfully into the raw, reddened lacerations from the cord. "Actually, I was hoping for some career advice. Y'see, being me is absolutely fabulous, don't get me wrong...but I'm thinkin' I need a day job. I don't sleep as it is, might as well utilize all twenty-six hours of the day-"
"Twenty-four," muttered Crane, unable to help himself. He was rewarded with a resounding slap across the face. He felt a trickle of blood from his nose and quickly turned his head face up.
"And so I was thinkin' I might as well utilize all twenty-four hours of the day with a second job. So I asked myself, what job is lucrative with wonderful opportunities for creativity? That's when I thought: aha! Psychiatry! Those white coats get paid by the truck load thinking up all sorts of fabricated illnesses. Though I gotta say; our beloved but wholly beguiled patrons upstairs are not very creative about their practice. Think they've lost a lil zest for their chosen career paths, Johnny? Hmm?"
"I couldn't say," Jonathan replied coolly, exhausted from the Joker's talking. One of his nostrils was already caking, making it difficult to breathe as the blood congealed.
"It's perfect timing on my part, anyway," the Joker continued, scraping his nails down Crane's chest, digging deeper, harder, and slower with each rake, licking his scarred lips as Crane repeatedly winced. "Since they're all so bored and stale with their jobs I can be just the breath of fresh air they need on their team. Dr. Joker...it has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say?" mercifully, the Joker continued and Crane did not have to answer him. "Obviously, there is one minor little setback."
"You're crazy?" Crane suggested.
"Nooooooooo," said the Joker as he squeezed Jonathan's throat. "You silly little goose...er...crow...er...crane? Whatever. I need to practice! Which is precisely where you come in."
Jonathan felt the panic come back full force, joining its effort with the tight grip around Jonathan's throat as he struggled in vain against the straps. Laughing, the Joker gave him one more dangerously tight squeeze before instantly releasing him. Violently coughing, Crane tried to regain his composure by taking deep breaths. It was no use.
"So you get to be my first patient. Considering your own, ah, unique doctor/patient history, you would appreciate this gesture most of all."
Crane was staring at him, light blue eyes wild with trepidation as the beads of sweat gathered all over his narrow face.
"You're going to kill me," Jonathan whispered.
"Oh, no, no, no, Johnny," said the Joker as he lifted an old fashioned electric cattle prod and gave a few test zaps to the air. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to help you."
Jonathan was too horror struck to respond; he could only lie there, helpless as the Joker moved to stand in front of the gurney and bring the cattle prod up to the bottoms of Crane's bare feet. Curling his toes as he braced himself for the shock, Crane opened his mouth in a breathless gasp, his labored breathing echoing throughout the decrepit room.
Horrific pain charged through his feet as the Joker gave him the first shock. The current went up his legs, igniting them like hell fire, causing them to spasm uncontrollably. He managed to keep his vocals tight, only permitting himself a mournful grunt through tightly gritted teeth.
"Hmmm..." the Joker mused, zapping Crane again. His feet strained forward, then tensed and went limp as he hissed in pain, realizing he had cramped his feet painfully. Jonathan was so preoccupied with the new source of agony that he failed to notice the Joker's movements until it was too late and a dirty strip of cloth was brought over his eyes.
"Oh, God, don't-"
"Shush, shush, shush," Joker cooed in a hushed, mockingly soothing tone. "The best therapy is always the kind you least suspect. Unfortunately, you're a pretty suspicious little fellow. That's OK. I don't blame you."
Crane shifted uncomfortably as his world was encased in darkness. Were the straps tightened as well, or was that only him? Goddamn it Jonathan get a grip on yourself! He won't kill you. You're too much fun to him.
His thoughts were brutally disrupted by another shock from the cattle prod, this time zapping him against his exposed belly, causing him to scream.
"Much better," the Joker said deeply. He zapped Crane over and over, watching through heavy lidded eyes as the former doctor twisted and turned on the gurney, desperately trying in vain to get away from his tormentor. The electroshock torture briefly stopped and Crane could feel the Joker contemplating. The prod pressed against his skin without the current, but Jonathan's flesh spasmed and flinched regardless. The Joker caressed Jonathan's skin with the tool, moving it up and over the center of his chest, snaking it under the folds of Crane's coverall top to prod at one of Crane's nipples.
"You know some patients get off on this kind of therapy," said the Joker in that disturbingly calm voice Crane did not trust in the slightest. "I'm looking forward to those patients myself." He zapped Jonathan's nipple on the lowest possible setting, watching his 'patient' wince with a sharp intake of breath. "How 'bout you, Johnny?" he asked as he ran the prod back down Jonathan's chest. "Did you every find a patient that you just couldn't resist going that-" he tapped at the waist of Crane's pants -"extra length for?"
Jonathan refused to dignify such an allegation with a response, but his pride was short lived as he suddenly realized where this was going. The word NO! was on his lips but vanished along with all thoughts as the Joker zapped the thin clothing right above his groin. The pain and his screams combined pulled at his consciousness, the electrocution overloading him as he was abruptly silenced by passing out, his head lolling back against the gurney. Prepare for such a moment, the Joker grabbed the chapped and rusting hose, turned on the hose and let it rip right onto Jonathan's face.
Sputtering as he was rudely roused, Jonathan was disorientated and for one, blissful half second, completely forgot where he was. It all came crashing back as the water soaked his blindfold, filled his mouth even as he struggled not to swallow the torrential downpour. He felt his lungs fill with the polluted water, a watery gave being dug for him from the inside out. It was only when he was half-sobbing, half gagging on the disgusting fluid that the Joker finally turned off the hose.
Having swallowed too much water, Jonathan felt like retching. He tried to resist, knowing in this flat position he would be more than likely to die choking on his own vomit. The restraints were deftly loosened and Jonathan felt himself being roughly turned over and brought into a hunched over kneeling position. He continued to gag, but it was only when a heavy hand smacked across his back that he was able to expel the excess water.
Clutching his stomach as he leaned over the side of the gurney, Jonathan quietly sobbed, murmuring unintelligible words as his brilliant mind tried to rationalize the situation.
OK, they have to find me soon...I've been gone for a while now. They're looking for me right now, I know they are. Maybe Batman is there...and he's been here before! So he knows where to look. Yes, yes. Batman will find me...or Commissioner Gordon. Maybe someone heard his screaming...Don't be ridiculous, you've killed dozens of people down here and no one was the wiser. Oh, God, shut up, SHUT UP!
Jonathan became vaguely aware of fingers raking through his hair, a parody of a soothing gesture meant to comfort, not send shivers down his spine. His skin tingled and his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily from the electric shocks earlier.
"Anyone ever tell you how delicate you are, Crane?" asked the Joker, drumming his hair entwined fingers against Crane's scalp. Figuring it was best to answer him, Jonathan nodded. "When you were a kid or always?"
"Childhood," Jonathan rasped.
"Hm. I wonder what kept people from crossing you as an adult...I mean, before you became Mr. Potato Sack Head." He ran his thumb across Jonathan's full bottom lip. "Something you offered perhaps? To keep the jeers and wounding little playground taunts away from your dainty ears because they'd keep you up at night, fueling your rage and interest in fear bent revenge? Hm?"
Jonathan opened his mouth to answer, but he was trembling from a sudden onset of chills and fear. His lips moved but he was unable to produce any sound, mildly shrugging with a shake of his head. This must have not pleased the Joker as Jonathan's hair was cruelly gripped and he was pulled down onto the cold, hard floor.
"You're not being very receptive to your therapy, Dr Crane," the Joker growled. Dragging Crane away from the gurney, the Joker roughly positioned him in a squatting position, making sure Jonathan's weight went on the balls of his feet. "I think you need a little abreaction, Johnny. Something to release all of those awful, tormenting memories that turned you into the twisted man you wake up as every day."
Sore from the shocks and the water, Jonathan found the squatting position growing increasingly uncomfortable. To make matters worse, his arms were trussed and bound behind him with rope and a board of some sort was placed between his arms and back, adding stress to his neck and upper arms as it compressed his back. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps as he tried not to let his imagination stray far, wondering in his blindness what the Joker was up to now. He received his answer almost immediately as the Joker snatched Jonathan by the back of his head and force fed Crane his rock hard erection.
Jonathan nearly lost his balance but the Joker kept him upright, brutally raping his mouth as he rapidly thrust into Crane's mouth, hitting the back of his throat several times. Jonathan felt a hot swelling of humiliation in his chest and throat, making a valiant effort not to give in to his urge to sob behind the vile cock in his mouth. His ears were pounding and his skin felt clammy and damp, but he refused to add to the moisture with tears. It would only further spur the Joker on. Despite the drumming in his ears, Jonathan was able to catch a string of words from the Joker. They were oddly familiar, and Jonathan was confused and revolted to realize they were psychiatric terms.
"Disinhibination...neologism...idiot savant...pseudodementia...word salad..."
Just when Crane thought he would be unable to hold back his vomit, the Joker came, choking Jonathan before pulling out of his mouth completely. Uncaring of his pride anymore, Jonathan lurched forward, the board pressing painfully against his back as he let out a horrific wail, the semen mixing with his saliva as his body heaved from the assault until he retched a second time. He tasted bile and tried to will his stomach to stop its compulsive upheaval of what little was left in his system.
The humming returned and Jonathan noted that it grew further away from him. Is this the end? Was that it? Please let it be over. I'll go back to my cell now, thank you.
"Come over here, Johnny."
Jonathan raised his head, trying to gauge from the sound of the Joker's voice where he might be. He was too panic stricken to recall the exact layout of the basement he took so woefully for granted.
"You can do it, boy, come on. Heel."
Jonathan dropped his head to his chin, shaking it pitifully with a long, mournful moan. He found that his Scarecrow spirit was not yet broken, seething with irate contempt in depths of Jonathan's psyche. You sick fucking clown, I hate you so much. I hated you when I had to be put in the cell next to you...listening to your every egomaniacal word...I'll return the favor one day, you just wait.
"I know you're more than well trained, Crane," said the Joker warningly. "You had all of that schooling after all. Got your papers and everything. So don't sit there and pretend like you don't know how to heel."
With a barely audible noise of protest, Jonathan shifted onto his knees, pausing for a moment to give the Joker time to react in case this was not what he meant. When he received no protest, Jonathan painfully inched forward, tentatively at first as he had no clue where the Joker was.
"That's right," said the Joker excitably, "Come to your master."
Jonathan willed himself not to show the nauseating disgust he felt at hearing these words. He instead focused on the process of getting across the room. The Joker continued his cajoling mockery, which Crane used to gauge the direction he should be headed in. With every baby crawl-step he took, his knees ached from the hard cement floor and his neck and upper arms cramped in their painful constrictions. Each step was harder to take, causing Jonathan to droop further in exhaustion, pulling his strength from some unknown recesses of will.
"A little therapeutic role play never hurt anybody," said the Joker teasingly. "Especially if it brings on self-actualization, wouldn't you say, doctor?"
Crane did not respond, trying to push the intense agony on another level of consciousness. His anxiety was too great, however, and just as his thighs wobbled from the tension and pain, about to give out, he felt two arms slip under his arms and roughly pull him forward.
Jonathan went limp in the Joker's grip, crying out as the Joker straightened his legs and mercilessly grabbed one of Jonathan's knees, bringing attention to a sticky substance under the cloth. Crane pulled back as three fingers were thrust under his nose then into his mouth. His head fell back, his only defense to get away from the blood and dirt his knees collected.
"Subject shows disinterest in his own progress," said the Joker in a voice that suggested disappointment. He cradled Jonathan in his arms like a ragdoll, Crane's head raised in the crook of his right arm. Joker shook him lightly, but Crane remained limp and unresponsive.
Jonathan's mind was blank. He no longer had any fight in him. Scarecrow was quietly mulling with rage but gave no further assistance. The simmering anger turned into astonishment as the Joker crushed his mouth against Crane's, forcing his tongue inside. Jonathan did not react beyond a slight, involuntary jolt, letting the Joker do what he wanted. Crane counted backwards from one hundred, trying to alleviate the mental stress by channeling a new, trance-like focal point. The blindfold helped, keeping his vision away from the terrible reality. He was partially successful, numbing himself to the violent 'kiss' and the calloused hand that scraped over the welts left from the cattle prod. Jonathan was minimally aware of the Joker pushing away his clothes, pulling his arms out of the arm holes and loosening his already oversized bottoms.
"Oh me, oh my, have I lost my first patient already? Unacceptable."
Jonathan was abruptly ejected from his constructed state of mind as the Joker took hold of his cock and expertly massaged him, squeezing and caressing. Forced back to complete consciousness, Crane frantically tried to will his body not to respond to the Joker's degrading ministrations, but he was quickly betrayed. Jonathan was torn; he wanted so badly to fight back, but he wanted to admit defeat and just ride through the waking nightmare as best as he could.
Biting down on his bottom lip, tasting blood as the Joker's frenzied strokes took on a manic beating, drawing more pain than pleasure as his cock was yanked and jerked mercilessly, bringing forth the most hideous orgasm Jonathan had ever experienced in his life. Squirming in the Joker's arms, Crane's anguished, uneven breathing hitched as he felt his captor flick his nails against his softening cock, irritating an abrasion left from the cattle prod.
"Mmm...I think I'm experiencing some serious countertransference here, Mr. Crane. Might just have to indulge me."
Jonathan didn't have the strength to dissect this, feeling his mind pack up and abandon him within the darkness of the blindfold. No, he still felt the pain as the Joker dragged him across the floor from his under arms, his legs and bare feet scraping against the cement floor until he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. He fell on his side, and Crane hesitantly lowered his head to the floor, finding its coolness oddly reassuring. If only he could take a little nap. Then maybe he would wake up and this would be all over.
Crane heard the sound of metal on metal, but it wasn't until he was hoisted up and slammed on his back that he recognized the gurney adjusted to a lower height. If it weren't for the water still gathered in small droplet filled pools, Jonathan would have tried to indulge in some serious unconsciousness. Unfortunately, the Joker had other plans, as he pulled out the board from between Crane's arms and strapped him back into the gurney from the forehead down before straddling Crane's torso.
I am not here...I am not here...Jonathan faintly repeated in his head. He imagined himself in his cell, bricklaying a wall to seal off the rest of the world. Brick by brick, tier by tier, Jonathan walled himself away, refusing to feel the coarse hands that manhandled him and pulled his head back by his hair. Disengaging himself from the terrifying situation at hand was easier when he was already half broken...funny how that works, Jonathan thought dreamily. His wall was almost complete now. He could feel the other side of consciousness welcoming him with open arms. The Joker's voice was just a muffled white noise to him.
"I think I've found the core of your problems, Mr. Crane," said the Joker as he fished through his pockets, drawing out a number of items and laying them one by one on Jonathan's chest. "You have a profound sense of detachment. You hide behind superficial intellectualization to avoid the real problems at hand. Well, no matter. That's what I'm here for. To reattach you."
Jonathan was only minimally aware that the Joker was running a cool, thin piece of metal alongside his cheek. It was taken away and the Joker's insufferable humming was back, tugging at Jonathan's annoyance.
"Two inch, eight gauge with a 3/8th curve...not the most effective of tools to the human eye but for the kind of prescription I'm giving you, it'll do just Jim dandy."
All was quiet and Jonathan's wall began to shake and quiver with fearful anticipation. The lunatic was still sitting on him, what now? Why is he just sitting there? Why isn't he talking anymore? What is he doing? There was no reassuring voice of the Scarecrow to soothe him or puff him up. He was gone, on the other side of the wall where Jonathan desperately longed to be.
Jonathan started as the Joker grasped his slightly above and below his below and pulled out his lips.
"Remember, Jonathan: this is for your own good."
Jonathan felt a curious prickling sensation at the right hand corner of his mouth before an unfamiliar and intense pain lit his nerves on fire. Something was pushing through the flesh! A small but dangerously pointed object wiggled its way through the layers of skin, through his bottom lip and then his top, trailing a burning sensation behind it. Reeling, Crane moaned pitifully as the needle wormed through his upper lip, the heavy thread following. Thrashing in his tight restraints, Jonathan's wall was broken down around him as he cried in overwhelming agony. His chest swelled and heaved, his heart raced with panic as he was unable to stop the Joker from sewing up his mouth.
"I wouldn't scream if I were you," said the Joker in a sing-song voice. "Might shred up those deliciously full lips of yours and then who knows what? You might end up as gorgeous as me!" The Joker cackled, his rank breath wafting over Jonathan's face. Using what minuscule focus he had left within him to make sure all of his vocalizations stayed within his throat and never made it to his mouth, Jonathan officially lost all train of thought. His entire consciousness was narrowed squarely on the damned curved needle, pushing back in with startling patience, the surgical twine setting his nerve endings ablaze.
"Y'know, we're almost out of time here, Johnny, and I cannot be tardy for my next appointment so I hope you don't think I'm rude if I, uh, hurry this on a bit?" The Joker wiped the bloodied needle on Jonathan's cheek. "Great, fabulous, thanks a million."
The needle was pushed in harder and faster, tugging at Jonathan's skin quickly, stitching him up like an award winning needlepoint crafter. The pain slackened, the intensity of the initial administration having overloaded Jonathan's nerves that were rapidly on their way to numbness. With his awareness not as intently pinpointed, Jonathan became aware of a sickening, wet suction noise. His eyes rolled back into his head as he realized this was the sound of the Joker sewing him up.
"See, doc, the problem is you do all of this talking when you ought to be listening. Now you can't talk and you have to listen! See, there's nothing to this psychiatry thing." The Joker diligently worked on the other corner of Jonathan's mouth, finishing him up with knot that looped back into the skin and after a torturous final pull, Jonathan felt the surgical twine clipped away.
The Joker slid off of Jonathan and lowered the gurney in full before adjusting the legs into their storage position with the legs perpendicular to the gurney itself. He then hoisted the contraption up off the ground and propped it against the wall so that he was eye level with his patient.
"I know you can't see it, but trust me, I'm a professional: you've never looked better!" The Joker stood back and studied his work. "Hm. Maybe I'm an artist." He brushed Jonathan's dark hair back from his face, causing Crane to shudder violently. "Well, you'll have to tell me after you've had some time to, uh, grow from this." He unbuckled the straps that bound Jonathan's arms and held them out perpendicular to his body, roping his wrists and tying them to the legs of the gurney, which Jonathan's arms were now parallel to.
"Now you really are a Scarecrow," said the Joker with a touch of pride in his voice. Roughly taking hold of Jonathan's chin and giving him one firm shake, the Joker said, "I think you're really starting to progress here, doc, I really do."
Through his ragged nasal breathing, Jonathan heard the Joker's footsteps walking away from him, growing fainter with each step. All was silent for several moments and just as Jonathan began to prod at the tattered remnants of his mind, the Joker's voice thundered back in, making him jump.
"Expect my bill within seven to ten days!"
notes:
- The title I'm Listening is the catch phrase of television character Dr. Frasier Crane, from Cheers and his own spin-off show, Frasier. He's an arrogant radio psychiatrist and I find him aptly named...even a little suspicious. :P
For: lalondon13
From: agent0fchaos
Proof Reader & Consultant: pressure_hinges
Characters: Joker & Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane
Rating: hard R
Warning: Non-consensual torture
Word Count: 4510
Disclaimer: I own nothing & this is for fun
Notes: Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy this, I really do.
Jonathan Crane heard the humming in his ears before he was able to open his eyes. Lolling his head back and forth, Crane tried desperately to wake up. His mouth fell open and a deep, guttural moan was pulled from the recesses of his chest. He tried to raise his hands to his head, but found that he could not move anything below the shoulders. Panic set in and his eyes flew painfully open, stinging and watering as he realized he was not in his cell.
"Morning, sunshine."
Straining to see the owner of the voice, Crane arched his head backwards to see a very unwelcoming figure standing directly behind him.
"Just how much do you weigh, Crane? Because if I had to guess, I'd say two sacks of potatoes." The Joker came to stand next to the gurney Jonathan was strapped down on. "Really, it was just that easy to snatch you up and whisk you away."
"You escaped weeks ago," Crane said, his voice hoarse. He was shivering as he quickly discovered that the top part of his prison uniform had been undone, leaving the center of his torso to his stomach completely bare.
"Indeed I did," said Joker, holding up a syringe. He pressed the plunger, releasing the remaining liquid, tittering as it hit Crane on the forehead and dripped down to his ears.
"You get bored or something?" Crane asked, finding his voice as he cleared his throat and tried to think rationally. What could Joker have injected him with? It doesn't matter...just keep him talking. God knows what this maniac wants. Figure out where you are. Crane looked around as best as he could, quickly discovering that Joker had not taken him out of Arkham but brought him deep into the subterranean levels where Crane used to experiment on his patients.
"Bored," Joker rolled the word over his tongue like he had tasted a new delicacy and was trying to think of a polite way to spit it into his napkin. He shook his head vehemently. "I don't like that word, it doesn't suit me. No, Johnny, I wasn't bored. I just had a fabulous idea." He bobbed his head to one side. "That involved you."
"You went through all of the trouble of breaking out of Arkham only to break in a couple of weeks later...because you had something to tell me?"
"I know, I know, you're extremely flattered but you think I just should've sent a card. Am I right?"
"Something like that."
The Joker touched his index finger to the end of Crane's nose. "Not personal enough."
As soon as the words left the Joker's mouth, a blurred, thin strip came flying out of his hands, whipping Crane across his bare stomach. Jonathan cried out in pain and surprise, his reflexes making him lurch from the gurney that kept him uncomfortably strapped down.
"You used to be a therapist, Johnny, am I right?" asked the Joker in an unnervingly calm voice. Crane stared up at the ceiling, refusing to converse with the madman in the clown make up. "Right, Johnny?" The Joker whipped him several more times until Crane was writhing under the restraints, nodding fervently. "Good, good. The doctor knows how to, uh, take his own medicine, so to speak."
Unbelievable, Crane thought to himself, tersely exhaling through his nose. The Joker looked at him sideways.
"Was that a scoff, Doctor. Crane?"
Jonathan willed himself to not to retort, sick as he was of the doctor jokes he would never be able to live down inside or out of Arkham.
"What do you want, Joker?"
"Ah, yes." The Joker threw the cord across the room and leaned down on Crane's chest, his elbows digging painfully into the raw, reddened lacerations from the cord. "Actually, I was hoping for some career advice. Y'see, being me is absolutely fabulous, don't get me wrong...but I'm thinkin' I need a day job. I don't sleep as it is, might as well utilize all twenty-six hours of the day-"
"Twenty-four," muttered Crane, unable to help himself. He was rewarded with a resounding slap across the face. He felt a trickle of blood from his nose and quickly turned his head face up.
"And so I was thinkin' I might as well utilize all twenty-four hours of the day with a second job. So I asked myself, what job is lucrative with wonderful opportunities for creativity? That's when I thought: aha! Psychiatry! Those white coats get paid by the truck load thinking up all sorts of fabricated illnesses. Though I gotta say; our beloved but wholly beguiled patrons upstairs are not very creative about their practice. Think they've lost a lil zest for their chosen career paths, Johnny? Hmm?"
"I couldn't say," Jonathan replied coolly, exhausted from the Joker's talking. One of his nostrils was already caking, making it difficult to breathe as the blood congealed.
"It's perfect timing on my part, anyway," the Joker continued, scraping his nails down Crane's chest, digging deeper, harder, and slower with each rake, licking his scarred lips as Crane repeatedly winced. "Since they're all so bored and stale with their jobs I can be just the breath of fresh air they need on their team. Dr. Joker...it has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say?" mercifully, the Joker continued and Crane did not have to answer him. "Obviously, there is one minor little setback."
"You're crazy?" Crane suggested.
"Nooooooooo," said the Joker as he squeezed Jonathan's throat. "You silly little goose...er...crow...er...crane? Whatever. I need to practice! Which is precisely where you come in."
Jonathan felt the panic come back full force, joining its effort with the tight grip around Jonathan's throat as he struggled in vain against the straps. Laughing, the Joker gave him one more dangerously tight squeeze before instantly releasing him. Violently coughing, Crane tried to regain his composure by taking deep breaths. It was no use.
"So you get to be my first patient. Considering your own, ah, unique doctor/patient history, you would appreciate this gesture most of all."
Crane was staring at him, light blue eyes wild with trepidation as the beads of sweat gathered all over his narrow face.
"You're going to kill me," Jonathan whispered.
"Oh, no, no, no, Johnny," said the Joker as he lifted an old fashioned electric cattle prod and gave a few test zaps to the air. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to help you."
Jonathan was too horror struck to respond; he could only lie there, helpless as the Joker moved to stand in front of the gurney and bring the cattle prod up to the bottoms of Crane's bare feet. Curling his toes as he braced himself for the shock, Crane opened his mouth in a breathless gasp, his labored breathing echoing throughout the decrepit room.
Horrific pain charged through his feet as the Joker gave him the first shock. The current went up his legs, igniting them like hell fire, causing them to spasm uncontrollably. He managed to keep his vocals tight, only permitting himself a mournful grunt through tightly gritted teeth.
"Hmmm..." the Joker mused, zapping Crane again. His feet strained forward, then tensed and went limp as he hissed in pain, realizing he had cramped his feet painfully. Jonathan was so preoccupied with the new source of agony that he failed to notice the Joker's movements until it was too late and a dirty strip of cloth was brought over his eyes.
"Oh, God, don't-"
"Shush, shush, shush," Joker cooed in a hushed, mockingly soothing tone. "The best therapy is always the kind you least suspect. Unfortunately, you're a pretty suspicious little fellow. That's OK. I don't blame you."
Crane shifted uncomfortably as his world was encased in darkness. Were the straps tightened as well, or was that only him? Goddamn it Jonathan get a grip on yourself! He won't kill you. You're too much fun to him.
His thoughts were brutally disrupted by another shock from the cattle prod, this time zapping him against his exposed belly, causing him to scream.
"Much better," the Joker said deeply. He zapped Crane over and over, watching through heavy lidded eyes as the former doctor twisted and turned on the gurney, desperately trying in vain to get away from his tormentor. The electroshock torture briefly stopped and Crane could feel the Joker contemplating. The prod pressed against his skin without the current, but Jonathan's flesh spasmed and flinched regardless. The Joker caressed Jonathan's skin with the tool, moving it up and over the center of his chest, snaking it under the folds of Crane's coverall top to prod at one of Crane's nipples.
"You know some patients get off on this kind of therapy," said the Joker in that disturbingly calm voice Crane did not trust in the slightest. "I'm looking forward to those patients myself." He zapped Jonathan's nipple on the lowest possible setting, watching his 'patient' wince with a sharp intake of breath. "How 'bout you, Johnny?" he asked as he ran the prod back down Jonathan's chest. "Did you every find a patient that you just couldn't resist going that-" he tapped at the waist of Crane's pants -"extra length for?"
Jonathan refused to dignify such an allegation with a response, but his pride was short lived as he suddenly realized where this was going. The word NO! was on his lips but vanished along with all thoughts as the Joker zapped the thin clothing right above his groin. The pain and his screams combined pulled at his consciousness, the electrocution overloading him as he was abruptly silenced by passing out, his head lolling back against the gurney. Prepare for such a moment, the Joker grabbed the chapped and rusting hose, turned on the hose and let it rip right onto Jonathan's face.
Sputtering as he was rudely roused, Jonathan was disorientated and for one, blissful half second, completely forgot where he was. It all came crashing back as the water soaked his blindfold, filled his mouth even as he struggled not to swallow the torrential downpour. He felt his lungs fill with the polluted water, a watery gave being dug for him from the inside out. It was only when he was half-sobbing, half gagging on the disgusting fluid that the Joker finally turned off the hose.
Having swallowed too much water, Jonathan felt like retching. He tried to resist, knowing in this flat position he would be more than likely to die choking on his own vomit. The restraints were deftly loosened and Jonathan felt himself being roughly turned over and brought into a hunched over kneeling position. He continued to gag, but it was only when a heavy hand smacked across his back that he was able to expel the excess water.
Clutching his stomach as he leaned over the side of the gurney, Jonathan quietly sobbed, murmuring unintelligible words as his brilliant mind tried to rationalize the situation.
OK, they have to find me soon...I've been gone for a while now. They're looking for me right now, I know they are. Maybe Batman is there...and he's been here before! So he knows where to look. Yes, yes. Batman will find me...or Commissioner Gordon. Maybe someone heard his screaming...Don't be ridiculous, you've killed dozens of people down here and no one was the wiser. Oh, God, shut up, SHUT UP!
Jonathan became vaguely aware of fingers raking through his hair, a parody of a soothing gesture meant to comfort, not send shivers down his spine. His skin tingled and his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily from the electric shocks earlier.
"Anyone ever tell you how delicate you are, Crane?" asked the Joker, drumming his hair entwined fingers against Crane's scalp. Figuring it was best to answer him, Jonathan nodded. "When you were a kid or always?"
"Childhood," Jonathan rasped.
"Hm. I wonder what kept people from crossing you as an adult...I mean, before you became Mr. Potato Sack Head." He ran his thumb across Jonathan's full bottom lip. "Something you offered perhaps? To keep the jeers and wounding little playground taunts away from your dainty ears because they'd keep you up at night, fueling your rage and interest in fear bent revenge? Hm?"
Jonathan opened his mouth to answer, but he was trembling from a sudden onset of chills and fear. His lips moved but he was unable to produce any sound, mildly shrugging with a shake of his head. This must have not pleased the Joker as Jonathan's hair was cruelly gripped and he was pulled down onto the cold, hard floor.
"You're not being very receptive to your therapy, Dr Crane," the Joker growled. Dragging Crane away from the gurney, the Joker roughly positioned him in a squatting position, making sure Jonathan's weight went on the balls of his feet. "I think you need a little abreaction, Johnny. Something to release all of those awful, tormenting memories that turned you into the twisted man you wake up as every day."
Sore from the shocks and the water, Jonathan found the squatting position growing increasingly uncomfortable. To make matters worse, his arms were trussed and bound behind him with rope and a board of some sort was placed between his arms and back, adding stress to his neck and upper arms as it compressed his back. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps as he tried not to let his imagination stray far, wondering in his blindness what the Joker was up to now. He received his answer almost immediately as the Joker snatched Jonathan by the back of his head and force fed Crane his rock hard erection.
Jonathan nearly lost his balance but the Joker kept him upright, brutally raping his mouth as he rapidly thrust into Crane's mouth, hitting the back of his throat several times. Jonathan felt a hot swelling of humiliation in his chest and throat, making a valiant effort not to give in to his urge to sob behind the vile cock in his mouth. His ears were pounding and his skin felt clammy and damp, but he refused to add to the moisture with tears. It would only further spur the Joker on. Despite the drumming in his ears, Jonathan was able to catch a string of words from the Joker. They were oddly familiar, and Jonathan was confused and revolted to realize they were psychiatric terms.
"Disinhibination...neologism...idiot savant...pseudodementia...word salad..."
Just when Crane thought he would be unable to hold back his vomit, the Joker came, choking Jonathan before pulling out of his mouth completely. Uncaring of his pride anymore, Jonathan lurched forward, the board pressing painfully against his back as he let out a horrific wail, the semen mixing with his saliva as his body heaved from the assault until he retched a second time. He tasted bile and tried to will his stomach to stop its compulsive upheaval of what little was left in his system.
The humming returned and Jonathan noted that it grew further away from him. Is this the end? Was that it? Please let it be over. I'll go back to my cell now, thank you.
"Come over here, Johnny."
Jonathan raised his head, trying to gauge from the sound of the Joker's voice where he might be. He was too panic stricken to recall the exact layout of the basement he took so woefully for granted.
"You can do it, boy, come on. Heel."
Jonathan dropped his head to his chin, shaking it pitifully with a long, mournful moan. He found that his Scarecrow spirit was not yet broken, seething with irate contempt in depths of Jonathan's psyche. You sick fucking clown, I hate you so much. I hated you when I had to be put in the cell next to you...listening to your every egomaniacal word...I'll return the favor one day, you just wait.
"I know you're more than well trained, Crane," said the Joker warningly. "You had all of that schooling after all. Got your papers and everything. So don't sit there and pretend like you don't know how to heel."
With a barely audible noise of protest, Jonathan shifted onto his knees, pausing for a moment to give the Joker time to react in case this was not what he meant. When he received no protest, Jonathan painfully inched forward, tentatively at first as he had no clue where the Joker was.
"That's right," said the Joker excitably, "Come to your master."
Jonathan willed himself not to show the nauseating disgust he felt at hearing these words. He instead focused on the process of getting across the room. The Joker continued his cajoling mockery, which Crane used to gauge the direction he should be headed in. With every baby crawl-step he took, his knees ached from the hard cement floor and his neck and upper arms cramped in their painful constrictions. Each step was harder to take, causing Jonathan to droop further in exhaustion, pulling his strength from some unknown recesses of will.
"A little therapeutic role play never hurt anybody," said the Joker teasingly. "Especially if it brings on self-actualization, wouldn't you say, doctor?"
Crane did not respond, trying to push the intense agony on another level of consciousness. His anxiety was too great, however, and just as his thighs wobbled from the tension and pain, about to give out, he felt two arms slip under his arms and roughly pull him forward.
Jonathan went limp in the Joker's grip, crying out as the Joker straightened his legs and mercilessly grabbed one of Jonathan's knees, bringing attention to a sticky substance under the cloth. Crane pulled back as three fingers were thrust under his nose then into his mouth. His head fell back, his only defense to get away from the blood and dirt his knees collected.
"Subject shows disinterest in his own progress," said the Joker in a voice that suggested disappointment. He cradled Jonathan in his arms like a ragdoll, Crane's head raised in the crook of his right arm. Joker shook him lightly, but Crane remained limp and unresponsive.
Jonathan's mind was blank. He no longer had any fight in him. Scarecrow was quietly mulling with rage but gave no further assistance. The simmering anger turned into astonishment as the Joker crushed his mouth against Crane's, forcing his tongue inside. Jonathan did not react beyond a slight, involuntary jolt, letting the Joker do what he wanted. Crane counted backwards from one hundred, trying to alleviate the mental stress by channeling a new, trance-like focal point. The blindfold helped, keeping his vision away from the terrible reality. He was partially successful, numbing himself to the violent 'kiss' and the calloused hand that scraped over the welts left from the cattle prod. Jonathan was minimally aware of the Joker pushing away his clothes, pulling his arms out of the arm holes and loosening his already oversized bottoms.
"Oh me, oh my, have I lost my first patient already? Unacceptable."
Jonathan was abruptly ejected from his constructed state of mind as the Joker took hold of his cock and expertly massaged him, squeezing and caressing. Forced back to complete consciousness, Crane frantically tried to will his body not to respond to the Joker's degrading ministrations, but he was quickly betrayed. Jonathan was torn; he wanted so badly to fight back, but he wanted to admit defeat and just ride through the waking nightmare as best as he could.
Biting down on his bottom lip, tasting blood as the Joker's frenzied strokes took on a manic beating, drawing more pain than pleasure as his cock was yanked and jerked mercilessly, bringing forth the most hideous orgasm Jonathan had ever experienced in his life. Squirming in the Joker's arms, Crane's anguished, uneven breathing hitched as he felt his captor flick his nails against his softening cock, irritating an abrasion left from the cattle prod.
"Mmm...I think I'm experiencing some serious countertransference here, Mr. Crane. Might just have to indulge me."
Jonathan didn't have the strength to dissect this, feeling his mind pack up and abandon him within the darkness of the blindfold. No, he still felt the pain as the Joker dragged him across the floor from his under arms, his legs and bare feet scraping against the cement floor until he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. He fell on his side, and Crane hesitantly lowered his head to the floor, finding its coolness oddly reassuring. If only he could take a little nap. Then maybe he would wake up and this would be all over.
Crane heard the sound of metal on metal, but it wasn't until he was hoisted up and slammed on his back that he recognized the gurney adjusted to a lower height. If it weren't for the water still gathered in small droplet filled pools, Jonathan would have tried to indulge in some serious unconsciousness. Unfortunately, the Joker had other plans, as he pulled out the board from between Crane's arms and strapped him back into the gurney from the forehead down before straddling Crane's torso.
I am not here...I am not here...Jonathan faintly repeated in his head. He imagined himself in his cell, bricklaying a wall to seal off the rest of the world. Brick by brick, tier by tier, Jonathan walled himself away, refusing to feel the coarse hands that manhandled him and pulled his head back by his hair. Disengaging himself from the terrifying situation at hand was easier when he was already half broken...funny how that works, Jonathan thought dreamily. His wall was almost complete now. He could feel the other side of consciousness welcoming him with open arms. The Joker's voice was just a muffled white noise to him.
"I think I've found the core of your problems, Mr. Crane," said the Joker as he fished through his pockets, drawing out a number of items and laying them one by one on Jonathan's chest. "You have a profound sense of detachment. You hide behind superficial intellectualization to avoid the real problems at hand. Well, no matter. That's what I'm here for. To reattach you."
Jonathan was only minimally aware that the Joker was running a cool, thin piece of metal alongside his cheek. It was taken away and the Joker's insufferable humming was back, tugging at Jonathan's annoyance.
"Two inch, eight gauge with a 3/8th curve...not the most effective of tools to the human eye but for the kind of prescription I'm giving you, it'll do just Jim dandy."
All was quiet and Jonathan's wall began to shake and quiver with fearful anticipation. The lunatic was still sitting on him, what now? Why is he just sitting there? Why isn't he talking anymore? What is he doing? There was no reassuring voice of the Scarecrow to soothe him or puff him up. He was gone, on the other side of the wall where Jonathan desperately longed to be.
Jonathan started as the Joker grasped his slightly above and below his below and pulled out his lips.
"Remember, Jonathan: this is for your own good."
Jonathan felt a curious prickling sensation at the right hand corner of his mouth before an unfamiliar and intense pain lit his nerves on fire. Something was pushing through the flesh! A small but dangerously pointed object wiggled its way through the layers of skin, through his bottom lip and then his top, trailing a burning sensation behind it. Reeling, Crane moaned pitifully as the needle wormed through his upper lip, the heavy thread following. Thrashing in his tight restraints, Jonathan's wall was broken down around him as he cried in overwhelming agony. His chest swelled and heaved, his heart raced with panic as he was unable to stop the Joker from sewing up his mouth.
"I wouldn't scream if I were you," said the Joker in a sing-song voice. "Might shred up those deliciously full lips of yours and then who knows what? You might end up as gorgeous as me!" The Joker cackled, his rank breath wafting over Jonathan's face. Using what minuscule focus he had left within him to make sure all of his vocalizations stayed within his throat and never made it to his mouth, Jonathan officially lost all train of thought. His entire consciousness was narrowed squarely on the damned curved needle, pushing back in with startling patience, the surgical twine setting his nerve endings ablaze.
"Y'know, we're almost out of time here, Johnny, and I cannot be tardy for my next appointment so I hope you don't think I'm rude if I, uh, hurry this on a bit?" The Joker wiped the bloodied needle on Jonathan's cheek. "Great, fabulous, thanks a million."
The needle was pushed in harder and faster, tugging at Jonathan's skin quickly, stitching him up like an award winning needlepoint crafter. The pain slackened, the intensity of the initial administration having overloaded Jonathan's nerves that were rapidly on their way to numbness. With his awareness not as intently pinpointed, Jonathan became aware of a sickening, wet suction noise. His eyes rolled back into his head as he realized this was the sound of the Joker sewing him up.
"See, doc, the problem is you do all of this talking when you ought to be listening. Now you can't talk and you have to listen! See, there's nothing to this psychiatry thing." The Joker diligently worked on the other corner of Jonathan's mouth, finishing him up with knot that looped back into the skin and after a torturous final pull, Jonathan felt the surgical twine clipped away.
The Joker slid off of Jonathan and lowered the gurney in full before adjusting the legs into their storage position with the legs perpendicular to the gurney itself. He then hoisted the contraption up off the ground and propped it against the wall so that he was eye level with his patient.
"I know you can't see it, but trust me, I'm a professional: you've never looked better!" The Joker stood back and studied his work. "Hm. Maybe I'm an artist." He brushed Jonathan's dark hair back from his face, causing Crane to shudder violently. "Well, you'll have to tell me after you've had some time to, uh, grow from this." He unbuckled the straps that bound Jonathan's arms and held them out perpendicular to his body, roping his wrists and tying them to the legs of the gurney, which Jonathan's arms were now parallel to.
"Now you really are a Scarecrow," said the Joker with a touch of pride in his voice. Roughly taking hold of Jonathan's chin and giving him one firm shake, the Joker said, "I think you're really starting to progress here, doc, I really do."
Through his ragged nasal breathing, Jonathan heard the Joker's footsteps walking away from him, growing fainter with each step. All was silent for several moments and just as Jonathan began to prod at the tattered remnants of his mind, the Joker's voice thundered back in, making him jump.
"Expect my bill within seven to ten days!"
notes:
- The title I'm Listening is the catch phrase of television character Dr. Frasier Crane, from Cheers and his own spin-off show, Frasier. He's an arrogant radio psychiatrist and I find him aptly named...even a little suspicious. :P