That period of isolation ended up lasting two days and two nights. With every passing hour, you grew more and more stir-crazy. You would spend your time pacing around the room, pondering your fate, or absently playing on your phone. Your life had gotten extremely boring, and you almost began to yearn for torture just to escape the mundane nature of things. The only luxury you were allowed to indulge in was the well-stocked bathroom that was connected to your room. You could do your business, shower, and do your hair, all without violating Joker's rule about leaving your room. Without that, you probably would've went insane. Getting ready gave you the illusion of freedom, like you had something to actually get ready for. It gave you purpose, if only for a little while.

Besides, if Joker randomly decided to talk to you, it couldn't hurt to look pretty. Maybe he would develop a soft spot for you. You knew it was wishful thinking, but you needed to keep your hopes up. Otherwise, this isolation would cause you to self-implode.

As for food and water, you were covered there, too. Frost would bring you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, then collect your dishes once you were done eating. This felt the most odd of all, since Frost wouldn't say a word to you during these transactions. Normally, you two would talk, laugh, joke... Whatever you guys were in the mood for. But now, nothing. His expression always looked a little pained; there was something behind his eyes that indicated how hard this situation was for him. But, he never told you so, and you didn't press him to talk to you. After all, he was probably under strict orders from Joker, and you knew from firsthand experience that you shouldn't disobey direct orders.

   Now, it was the morning of your third day of isolation. You had just finished getting ready, and were laying on your bed. Today, you were wearing a short, black dress, elbow-length black gloves, and translucent, black stockings. You knew that the elegance of the outfit was probably pointless, since you didn't know when you'd see the face of anybody besides Frost again, but who knew? Maybe today was the day.

   You decided to glance at the alarm clock perched on your nightstand, and you saw that it was already 11:00 AM.

   Your heart leaped. Yesterday, you had gotten breakfast by this time. In fact, yesterday, in a half hour from this time, you got your lunch. But, today, nothing. Not even a drink of water.

   While this neglect probably should have been frightening, it gave you hope. There hadn't been enough days in isolation for a routine to really be established, but still. This lack of sustenance felt atypical, and it felt intentional. Maybe there was something planned for today?

   You were kept in the dark for another half hour, doing nothing but sitting and waiting. During that time, you couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something would happen today. You couldn't shake the feeling that today, you'd either be given the most priceless gift of forgiveness, or the most horrific punishment of death. The fact that these two scenarios were polar opposites, yet both likely, made bike rise in your throat. You didn't want to die. Despite the show you'd put on at the gas station, you wanted to live. You may have been tough in the moment, ready to offer your life as retribution for your sins. But, all that confidence had since left, and the thought of being faced with a gun once again was enough to make you scream and cry. It's interesting how much a near-death experience can make you value the life you had so easily taken for granted.

   Then, suddenly, the wait was over. It was over just as suddenly as it began.

   Your door abruptly unlocked. When you heard that familiar click, your first instinct was that it was Joker, ready to decide your fate. But, you rerouted your thoughts, deciding that it was probably Frost either serving you a late breakfast or an on-time lunch. If your expectations were low, it would be more difficult to disappoint you. But, honestly, you didn't know how relieved you'd be if you saw Joker's face instead. You figured you'd feel some, since you desperately wanted to know what he would do with you. But, you knew you'd also feel dread like never before.

   And dread is what you felt as the door opened, and Joker stepped inside your room.

   He looked calmer than when you had least seen him. His facial expression was almost carefully pleasant; he had a smile on his face with empty eyes, that way you couldn't tell what he was truly feeling. If he was still mad at you, or himself, he didn't show it.

   "Hello, sir," you croaked, instinctively standing up out of respect. You were surprised at how hoarse your voice sounded, but then realized that it had been nearly forty-eight hours since you had spoken. Despite the dread, and despite everything, it felt good to talk to someone again.

   "Good morning, dollface."

   Just like his expression, his voice was carefully pleasant. For a second, you wondered if you had dreamt this whole situation. Maybe you hadn't fucked up a mission. Maybe Joker hadn't pinned you to the wall, gun aimed right between your eyes. He was just so damn normal that you couldn't believe that something had even happened.

   But, it did, and you knew it. He was just trying to torture you by keeping you further in the dark, by making it impossible to take any queues from him.

   He held out a hand and beckoned you to him with two fingers. "Come, now, sweets. We have a lot to talk about, yes?"

   You obediently walked up to him, nodding fearfully. "Yes, sir."

   You wanted to say more, but didn't know what would piss him off. His calmness was confusing, and had proven to be misleading many times before. After all, he had murdered countless staff just for talking to him when he had been craving silence. For making a joke that had made him laugh the previous day, but offended him today. Of course, those staff members were typically lower on the totem pole, but you figured that at this point, you were too. After all, a higher-up of Joker's would never pull a stunt like yours.

   And with that, he led you up to the fourth floor, and you could feel your heart race with joy. You weren't going to the torture rooms on the second floor, so that was a good sign, right?

   But, then, your heart began to race with fear as you realized where you were going.

   You were on your way to Joker's private floor.

   All these weeks, you had never seen it. Never wanted to see it. But, now, you ascended yet another staircase, and you were rapidly approaching it. To you, it felt like Joker's floor was a carefully kept secret, given the fact that very few people ever went up there. So, if he were spilling the secret...wouldn't that mean you were dead? After all, he wouldn't sacrifice his privacy just for that person to live to tell the tale, right?

   Still, you tried to keep calm. Maybe everything would turn out all right.

   As you reached the top of the staircase, you fearfully surveyed this new environment.

   It seemed as if he had his own little apartment up here. There was a leather couch in front of a giant flat-screen TV, and a bearskin rug covered the wooden floor. Under the TV was an old-fashioned fireplace, where flames were dancing. Off of this room were two doors, one on each side of the room. You deduced that one was his office, one was his bedroom.

   Joker must have noticed your survey of the unfamiliar space, for he smiled slightly. "Like it?" he asked, gently ushering you to one of the adjoining doors.

   "Yeah, it's beautiful," you breathed, letting him guide you.

   "Good. Because you, doll, are gonna be spending a lot of time here from now on."

   This statement made you feel hopeful. After all, the suggestion that you would be spending time here in the future meant that you would likely get out of this conversation alive. You could feel some of the tension in your body leave you, your posture slacken ever so slightly. But, you didn't let yourself completely relax. After all, who knew what time spent on this floor could entail? There was no guarantee that it would be completely painless.

   "What do you mean?" you said as Joker opened the door.

   He didn't answer you, just led you into the room with a hand on the small of your back. You knew better than to push him, so you let his cryptic sentence lie, even though it killed you to do so. There was nothing you hated more than not being in the loop.

   The room you were now in was Joker's office. It looked very official, and you were surprised to see that it had been scrubbed clean of any murder or act of violence. Pleasantly surprised, of course. After all, discussing your fate would definitely be a little more uncomfortable if blood were smeared on the walls. It would provide too many visuals of your possible future.

   There was a desk on the right sight of the room, and behind it was a large, purple chair with golden legs and armrests. The purple portion of the chair looked extremely velvety and plush, while the golden accents looked sturdy and hard. They were intricately carved with little designs, and you briefly wondered how much money a chair like this would cost.

   On the other side of the desk was another, smaller chair. This one was pretty typical; it was black all over, and looked comfortable enough. You were able to surmise that this chair was likely yours.

   "Please, have a seat," said Joker, walking to his own seat and sitting down on it.

   You obeyed, walking to your seat and gingerly sitting. It was softer than you expected, so you sank a little further into it, trying to get comfortable despite the situation. If you were going to die, you might as well kick back while you still could. You didn't want to spend your last moments sitting painfully erect, waiting for impact. Well, you didn't want your last moments to be experienced today at all, but that was beside the point.

   There was a period of silence where you and him were just staring at each other. You were waiting for him to talk, but he seemed to be daring you to talk. He had his hairless brow raised as he interlocked his fingers atop the table, head tilted to the side ever so slightly. It's like he was trying to test your patience, see if you knew your place enough to just be quiet and let him dictate the conversation.

   You weren't going to take the bait. You just sat silently in reply, letting your (e/c) bore into his blue ones.

Finally, he spoke. "Ya caused me a lot of grief a few days ago, ya know that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do ya really? Do you even understand the extent of just how badly ya fucked me over?"

Joker's pleasant demeanor was now gone; his hands were gripping the edge of the table tightly, and his smile was gone. It seemed that the very action of repeating your fuckup was enough to send him spiraling into a fit of rage. That made sense. After all, who would want to relive that moment?

You didn't, yet here you were, reliving it.

"I do understand, J," you replied, trying to minimize excuses and any unnecessary commentary. You figured it would be your best bet to just let him rant, and only speak when answering a question.

"Two-Face is onto us now," he said, frustratedly combing his fingers through his hair. "He knows that we know about Matt. He knows that his club is in danger. He knows everything! That makes him ten times harder to get to. You know him, (Y/N). He's a fuckin' coward! He'll do anything in his power to make himself untouchable."

He started cackling crazily, and the sound sent a chill down your spine. You had just started to grow accustomed to the unsettling sound, but now, it was directed at you. And it was filled with such insanity that you wondered if he would suddenly decide to lunge at you and take your life.

"And if you had just kept your fuckin' mouth shut, he wouldn't know shit! We'd be able to do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted to!"

A silence enveloped the both of you, and you figured you should respond. "I'm really sorry, J. My mind was really in the wrong place. I was so focused on getting out alive that I neglected you and your secrets. I should've known that dying an honorable death was better than not only screwing your entire operation up, but also possibly dying at your hands anyway. I'm really sorry. Whatever you need me to do to make it up to you, I will. I promise I'm not as weak as I've shown, and with more training, I'll only get stronger. Both physically and mentally."

He laughed again, but this time, it was more of a snicker. Not of insanity, but of mockery.

He didn't believe you.

You couldn't blame him, but still. You were thoroughly wounded at the prospect of being viewed as incapable of improvement.

"It's like I told you the night we met, doll. You talk so pretty, but there's no action to back up that pretty talk. I gave you a chance, and you blew it, even though you were so confident that you could help me," he said. "So far, our little...transaction has appeared a little one-sided. You've gotten fame from this. You've gotten a reputation. And what have I gotten? A failed mission. If I had brought any of my other men a few days ago, Matt would have been dead. We would have shot up Two-Face's club. But because I brought you...everything went to Hell."

You nodded, guilt clenching your stomach. "I know, I know. I'll do better, I promise." You had meant to sound confident, but your voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Promise? Promise?!" Joker echoed mockingly, starting to cackle again.

You flinched at the sudden aggression, your bottom lip quivering as you felt frustrated tears start to sting your eyes. You didn't know what to say anymore. You didn't know how to placate him, how to encourage him to let you live. But, he wasn't killing you. He was just sitting there and berating you, and that was almost more than you could take.

"J, stop!" you blurted out. You immediately tensed; now was most certainly not the time to be giving him orders.

And by his expression, he thought the same. "Do not raise your voice at me," he cautioned.

"I'm sorry." You shook your head to yourself, unable to believe you had just further blown your already slim chances of survival. "I just don't know what else to say. You have no reason to trust me, so I really don't know how else I can convince you to give me another chance. All I can do is just offer my complete and utter loyalty and hope you believe me. I'm willing to work hard and long for your trust."

His eyes roamed over you, evidently searching for sincerity. "Glad to hear," he finally replied.

He grabbed a pencil off his desk, absently turning it in his hands. "Against my better judgment, I am prepared to offer you a deal. Or rather, revise our previous one." His face broke out into a grin. "Only because you're so fun to play with, doll. But know that this is your absolute last chance."

Your heart leaped with happiness. You didn't even need to hear this new deal's parameters; you would live to see another day! "Really? Oh my God, J, thank you so much!"

Joker reached across the desk and gently covered your mouth with his tattooed hand, letting the pencil resting in his other one fall. Due to the placement of his unsettling smile tattoo, it looked as if you were grinning, despite being a little perturbed at him silencing you. "Shh, puddin'," he cooed, still smiling wickedly. "I wouldn't celebrate just yet."

He slowly ran his hand down your face, causing your bottom lip to briefly be hooked on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Despite everything, the contact made your face heat up. You had deeply taken his touch for granted, since you were receiving it almost constantly for the past few weeks. But, with those two days of being completely deprived of it, your body had grown to crave it. You couldn't help but heave a pleased sigh; even in small doses, his touch was like a drug. Was it the chemical he had plunged your hand into that day at Ace Chemicals making you this reliant on his touch and withering your inhibitions? Or were you really some twisted individual that was developing feelings for the Joker?

Were you just using that chemical as an excuse for what your heart craved?

You knew the answer.

"Your life will never be the same here," he continued, using his hand to stroke the side of your face. "There will be conditions to you continuing to work for me."

"What are they? I'm okay with anything." You couldn't help but lean into his touch, shutting your eyes in contentment.

"Firstly, you are not to leave my side at any point in the day. Aside from the, ya know, risqué parts of your day. Like using the bathroom, for example. Or changing." With a wink, he added, "Although, I think ya know that I wouldn't mind seeing the latter. Still, I'm not a monster, and I'll give you privacy in that regard. But, you have to understand that I can no longer trust ya not to run away on me. So, I have to keep a careful eye on ya."

"What about sleeping?" you asked slowly, starting to piece together what he was saying. You knew his answer before even hearing it, and you began to blush as you realized what that meant.

He shook his head, chuckling. "No, sweetheart. You're going to be staying in my room, with me. I may have to restrain you for the first few nights, just to make sure that ya don't decide to run away while I'm sleeping. But, if you're good, I may let you sleep normally after that. You shadowing me, though, will last for a very long time, if it is not permanent."

"Why not just restrain me in my room at night and just come back up here?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You'd be restrained on the Joker's bed. You doubted that he had an extra bed for casual visitors, so that meant you'd be sleeping next to him, bound with cuffs or ropes or some other uncomfortable instrument. While a part of you was a little giddy at the idea of sleeping next to him, a bigger part of you just craved your own space and your own room, absent of binds. Besides, you couldn't imagine that it wouldn't be a little scary to be sharing a bed with a psychopath.

"In case ya need to use the bathroom or anything. You could just wake me up instead of having to scream for someone. Because then they'd have to see what was wrong, then go to my floor, then wake me up... It'd be a whole process. It'd just be easier this way. I'm sure you understand, doll."

By the grin on his face, it was pretty clear to you that he knew what he was doing in forcing close proximity like this. Maybe this was a part of your punishment: having to deal with your agonizing desires day in and day out.

But, still, you deserved this. So, you breathed deeply, nodding as you tried to get ahold of yourself. This would be an adjustment, but you were willing to make it. "What are the other conditions?"

"My second condition is that you must train with me every other day. Clearly, your physical abilities aren't where we need them to be, since you fucked up the fight with Matt so badly. I don't care how injured you get; you must do it every other day until I feel you're strong enough to stop. My only exception to this rule is if we have a mission to complete that day. Clear?"

You could handle that. Sure, it would be a little inconvenient to be beaten up so often, but you needed the practice. You knew that. "Clear."

"And, my final condition is this."

In a flash, Joker stood up and walked to your side of the table. He grabbed your hand and hoisted you up, too, pushing into you until you were slammed against the wall, back facing him. You whimpered at the sudden and painful impact, feeling him grab your arms and pin them behind your back as his body closed in on you.

You could feel his lips against your ear as he whispered, "If you dissatisfy me in any way, you're fucking dead. I don't care what it is. If I see that you're not the useful girl you promised to be, I'm gonna cut your fuckin' throat."

You swallowed in a desperate attempt to moisten your dry throat. "Yes, sir. I understand."

This wasn't an unreasonable condition, either. In fact, you deserved to die after your first mistake, so the fact you were even given another chance at all should've made you happy. And it did. But, you were saddened to find that death was still possible, and that it would be held over your head for the duration of your stay here. You had thought you had gotten off easy, when, in actuality, you hadn't. At least, not as easily as you had thought.

Suddenly, Joker's previous condition of being by his side at all times made sense. Now, you almost wanted to run away. Having all this pressure on your back was going to be difficult to live with.

   "From now on, you will be treated as the help is treated," he hissed in your ear. "My chosen few are cut a lot of slack. I don't kill them often, unless they really fuck up. Like you have. But for God knows what reason, I let you live. So, now, to atone for that, your life is in jeopardy as of right now. You will be treated like you're as meaningless as a cook, or a maid. If you so much as look at me wrong, so help me God, you're dead. You will not be cut any slack. No third chances. No grace given."

   Tears were falling down your face now. His threat was so thorough, and so demeaning, that you couldn't help but feel hurt as well as petrified. You had really taken your favorable position for granted. You had privileges that you barely even acknowledged, and now, you were at square one. Actually, you were somehow behind square one. After all, you didn't come onto this team with all of these conditions. You didn't come onto this team having to walk on eggshells and fear for your life like the help did. You couldn't even process their motive to stay, with the treatment they got. Maybe a large check?

Your sobs were starting to become audible, and that made Joker chuckle in your ear. "Aw, don't cry, baby. Don't cry. As long as you're good, nothing will happen to ya. Just. Be. Good."

With each word, he twisted one of your arms, causing you to start yelling out in pain. He laughed loudly at this, spinning you around so that you were facing him. He slammed his hands against the wall, each hand on either side of your head.

As his eyes bore into yours, he began panting, tongue darting out from behind his red lips to lick them. "This is gonna be fun. You, my dear, are gonna be my favorite game. Do you accept this deal? Will you play this game with me?"

"Do I have a choice?" you asked weakly, smiling.

"Of course not. Unless, of course, you want to..." He took one of his hands off the wall, drawing his index finger across his neck in a threatening fashion.

"Then yes. I accept."

Now, your involvement with Joker was no longer about your reputation. It was no longer about fame. Now, it was about survival. Sure, fame would be an added bonus. But, if you could run away with no criminal reputation, you would, as long as you would be free from his threats. There was a small, optimistic part of you that was viewing this deal as a way to show him your true character, and to grow closer to him. But, there was a bigger part of you that resented it, since you were now serving him out of obligation. The free will aspect of your deal was now removed, and you had to just suck that up and face the music. After all, you deserved this, and had caused every bit of it.

From now on, you would be Joker's shadow, and would be constantly living in fear that you had accidentally upset him. This sounded like such a shitty life, but maybe, just maybe, things would get better if you really tried.

And you intended to try. Even though you hated this deal, you would try.

After all, despite everything, you still wanted to be a part of the team, and a trophy that Joker was proud of. You wanted him to flaunt you as one of his most talented teammates. You wanted him to see you for what you knew you could be.

Despite everything, you still wanted to please him.

So, please him you would, and that started by spending a lot more time with him.