The following hours were a blur. The pain from your gunshot wound made you feel like you were barely in your body. There would be moments of lucidity, but they would be very short. And once they were over, you'd black out, then suddenly come to in a different location than where you had been.

Coherent thoughts were also few and far between. You had managed to regain some consciousness when Joker was tying you down on what looked like a dentist's chair. It was fully reclined, so you were laying down completely. You had wanted to open your mouth to say something, but your brain was so screwed up you couldn't even think of anything to say. Your questions were bubbling at the very back of your mind, but you couldn't seem to figure out what they were.

You faded out again, only to be woken up by pain more piercing than the initial wound, if that was possible. You screamed loudly, thrashing about in your binds. An overhead light scorched your retinas, causing your eyes to squeeze shut as you begged incoherently for Joker's mercy. You didn't know what you had done wrong, but you figured it must have been something. Otherwise, why was he taking advantage of your weak spot?

"Stay still." His voice wasn't really angry, just kind of annoyed. You noticed that he had inserted tweezers into your sizable wound, and he appeared to be digging around for something. Even in your barely-lucid state, you figured that he was attempting to look for the bullet.

While good-intentioned, it fucking hurt. You tried to stay still, but your body kept writhing on what felt like its own accord, shrill screams erupting from your throat. You wanted the darkness to take you again, and when it inevitably did, you welcomed it.

   You faded in and out a couple more times, and every time you came to, you were in more pain. Joker must have gone deeper each time, since it felt like new parts of flesh were being prodded with every second. You were in so much pain you couldn't breathe, and you were desperately babbling for him to comfort you. All you wanted was his support, his companionship. That was the one desire that persisted beyond your mental fog. Not survival. Not wanting to know who the shooters were. Just him.

   After a bit, though, you came to after another period of unconsciousness. You realized that you felt a little better, and the threat to pass out was no longer imminent. Thankfully, Joker seemed to have stopped his digging, too. Still, you shut your eyes, chest heaving as you desperately tried to process this scenario. After all, you hadn't exactly gotten to earlier.

   You felt a groan bubble up in the back of your throat. Even though you felt better, you still didn't feel perfect. You felt drained, and your throat was raw from screaming. You felt as if you had just been out through the ringer, and you probably had been. That pain was nothing like you'd ever felt. You figured that Joker and his team had been on the receiving end of many gunshots, but this was new for you, so you didn't have the immunity to pain that they probably did.

   Despite your tiredness, your head felt strangely light, and your arm felt strangely devoid of pain. It almost felt as if you were...

   You opened your eyes and looked at yourself, coming to find that you were unbound. But, your arms were still extended in the starfish position. You came to find that your injured arm was wrapped up, and that there was an IV needle inserted into your other arm. The accompanying bag contained a small amount of clear liquid.

   "Morphine," came Joker's voice from beside your chair.

   You looked over at him, and he smiled. But, something about this smile seemed softer than usual. Almost like he was relieved. "You're welcome."

   "Thank you." Your voice was hoarse, and you cleared your throat in the hopes that it would somewhat come back.

   You really were thankful. You couldn't imagine the agony you'd be in right now if it weren't for the morphine. It sort of unsettled you that Joker, a criminal who was most certainly uncertified to perform such tasks, was the one to inject the drug into you. But, he clearly knew what he was doing, which only made you feel more dependent on him. He had helped you so much, and it had been completely unnecessary to do so. After all, you didn't need to be pain-free in order to be alive.

   You tried to sit up, but he immediately stood up from his own chair and gently pushed you back down. "Stay," he warned, and his demanding tone made you want to do just that.

   "Did you get the bullet out?" you asked, letting yourself relax against the chair once more.

   "Yes. You're actually very lucky." He sat back down. "The bullet was lodged in some tissues, but it somehow completely missed every bone and every artery. That is unheard of, (Y/N). So, removing it wasn't too difficult." He smirked wickedly. "Just a little painful."

   The fact that the amount of pain you were in was considered lucky almost made you laugh out loud. It had been incomparable to any other pain you'd ever felt, but still, you were lucky. "Definitely. Sorry about the screaming, by the way."

   He laughed. It didn't sound crazy, really; it was just a genuine, hearty chuckle. "Nothing I haven't heard before."

   "True."

   A silence enveloped the both of you then. You looked at your bandaged arm. You felt a little queasy at the sight. Not because any blood had soaked through, but because you could just imagine the grisly sight beneath the gauze. Joker had probably sloppily stitched up your shoulder, dried blood still caked between the stitching. But, this bandage did more than provide unpleasant imagery. It was also a testament that you were still alive. You had lost blood, but you were stitched back up and would be ready to go in no time.

   For whatever reason, Joker had saved your life. Scooped you up from the floor, taken out the bullet, and stitched you back up. Even drugged you to make the experience slightly easier.

   He was acting oddly human lately. But, you knew you could never get an answer on why exactly he had saved you. He would've said he couldn't let someone so devoted die, since you were his favorite game. But, ever since your talk with Frost, you had suspected (even hoped) that he wanted more than to play your game. And maybe he did, and was showing it now.

   Still, even if you couldn't know why, you wanted to acknowledge that he did, indeed, save you. And thank him for it. After all, life was precious, especially with him in it. And you wanted to keep living your life.

   "Thank you for saving me," you said.

   He pressed his lips together, clearly not comfortable with the idea that he had. "You're welcome."

   The way he said it... It almost sounded...

   Shy?

   You had expected a typical Joker response. One that stroked his own ego, or maybe one that involved a sexual innuendo. Maybe even one that insulted you for even needing to be saved. But, no. All he had given was a genuine, kind response.

   While his change in demeanor was welcomed, it was definitely weird to experience.

   He sighed, breaking the brief silence. "I suppose I owe you an explanation on what exactly happened at the club."

   The fact that he was finally about to open up should have made you dance in glee. But, you couldn't bring yourself to even feel excited. For one, your mind was so numbed by the morphine that it was difficult to conjure up any strong emotion. For two, Joker's unusually soft attitude was taking up most of your mind right now. You wanted to just reach out and grab his hand, feel that physical softness. But, you refrained, and attempted to redirect your mind to the matter at hand, since the rational part of you knew that was more important.

   "You know what happened?" you asked. You knew he had, given his brief exchange with Frost you had heard when you were barely clinging to consciousness. But, you acted as if you didn't, just for simplicity and to keep the conversation moving.

   "Yes." He paused, inhaling then exhaling. You couldn't tell if it was a nervous gesture or an angry one; his face was so stony that it gave nothing away.

"The men at the club were some of Two-Face's grunts," he continued. "He wasn't very pleased with what we had planned on doing to Matt, and to his own club, so he decided to strike first. Use our own plans against us. Send a message, I guess."

You nodded, the news not at all surprising you. You hadn't really had much time to think about it, but due to your recent fumble with Matt, it was only natural that your shortcomings would come back to bite you. "Is that why they had TF on their shirts?"

"Yes, doll. They wanted to make it plain who they worked for." He stood up from his chair, sitting down on your (still reclined) chair instead. You could feel his body gently touch yours as he looked down at you, and your skin couldn't help but heat up at the contact.

"I think I should also mention that this all relates to what I had been keeping from ya," he said, absently stroking your thigh. It was such a casual movement to him, but to you... It made your mind buzz with euphoria, even in a situation as dire as this. "I found out the day we had our first one-on-one training session that Two-Face was planning on retaliating. Ya know, since we had been planning to kill Matt and shoot up his club. Some lower-level villains had been whispering about it, and it got back to William. There were no specifics given, so it stressed me out."

He squeezed your thigh a little, the memory clearly upsetting him. "All we knew was that he was up to something. But, since we didn't know what, we couldn't properly prepare. We were basically fucked, and all we could do was watch our backs. But, I didn't want you to know. Because, if you did, you would've been ten times as freaked out as I was, which would've fucked everything up further."

You nodded, understanding him. "But, I thought you said Two-Face was a coward. And that even if he lost Matt, he'd just turn a blind eye."

"Normally, he is a coward. That's why this was so surprising. We've never had any issues with him before, so we don't know how to predict him. Him sending in three martyrs wasn't exactly on our fucking bingo cards, now was it?"

You shook your head. "So, what do we do?"

Joker smirked, playfully tapping your nose. "You are going to rest. I am going to figure it out, okay, dollface?"

You saw past his smile, his desperate attempt to lighten the mood. You could see it in his eyes, the way they were extra wide and panicked:

He had no plan.

"J, I want to help." Even if it meant you had to be shot ten more times, your statement still stood. You refused to let Joker do this without you. Strength was found in numbers, and if your presence made things just a little easier, you wanted to be there.

"I don't need you." His tone was sharp all of a sudden, each syllable a raspy hiss. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply in order to collect himself.

"Never said you did. Still, I wanna be there to help."

He kept breathing deeply. He nodded slowly, clearly thinking that you had been doubting his criminal abilities by offering your help. And you knew that the only way that would bother him so much was if he were doubting them himself.

"Do you have a plan?" you asked gently. "I just wanna know so that I'm not out of the loop. If you don't have one, that's okay. I'm sure we don't need one. We can just fight when we need to fight, and everything will be okay."

"I drew up some plans, but...they would all require us to find him. And I know he's not gonna just give up his location willingly, but fuck if I know where he is."

"He doesn't live in a mansion like you?"

"God no. He's all around, holding people at gunpoint until they offer their houses or businesses to him. He'll stay there a few days, then move on to the next place. I gotta give him credit, he's definitely harder to track that way." He almost looked annoyed at himself as he said this, even though he would have literally no way of knowing where Two-Face was.

"That's all right. We'll just keep training and watch our backs. We won't go out for casual drinks anymore. We'll just lay low until we fight him, or until this all blows over."

   "I don't like just waiting around for something to happen."

   "Well, what other choice do we have?"

   He groaned, but nodded in defeat. "You're right."

   You two sat in silence for a while, just pondering what lay ahead. The fact that even Joker didn't know what to do scared you, since he always seemed to be prepared for whatever came next. You were a natural follower, and since your leader was just as stumped as you, you had no one to follow. You knew better than to try to make a leader out of yourself, though, since that would be an insult to the man you admired. In addition, it would require you to have a much more extensive criminal repertoire than you did. If you had been in that position, you wouldn't know what to do. You figured you'd handle that pressure terribly, given your lack of skill.

   Hell, you couldn't even land a shot on a stationary man a few hours prior. Your shoulder had been injured, but still. Leaders would have made that shot, injured or not. They would've fired one-handed, the more rational option than stupidly attempting to shoot with a quivering hand. They would've been able to think on their feet, not just be a victim to their horrible instincts.

   That was when you realized:

   Joker hadn't even scolded you for missing that extremely easy shot.

   You briefly wondered if he had forgotten you had, but you knew that was ludicrous. He remembered everything, especially the negatives. So, he was choosing not to bring it up for some reason.

   That should've been enough to motivate you to ignore it, just as he had, but you felt a sense of dread creep into your mind. What if he was saving your punishment for when you felt better? You needed to know how he felt about it, and you couldn't stop yourself from pursuing that need.

   "I'm sorry I missed the shot, by the way," you ventured quietly. "It was the easiest shot I've ever taken in my life. I should've used my other hand to fire. I'm sorry."

   He looked at you, his face completely devoid of any hint as to how he was feeling. His blue eyes assessed your own, then looked away.

   He was quiet for a few moments, then said, just as quietly:

   "I don't blame ya. It's okay."

   You weren't sure if Joker had ever dismissed someone's faults with the phrase "it's okay." You were completely blindsided. You had figured you would have gotten a stern scolding at best, not that he would excuse your actions completely.

   The deal's parameters were that if you didn't show him that you could be useful, you were dead. Missing a shot from about five feet away was definitely not indicative of your usefulness, especially since there had been no missions after your fuckup with Matt. This meant that you were on a losing streak, and that you had caused Joker headache twice in a row. Sure, nothing resulted from your missed shot, since you were the only one injured, but it still showed that you were the weak link. You couldn't survive on your own, and only did today due to Joker pushing you to the ground.

   You knew right then and there that he did feel something for you. Something more than an attachment, or what Frost had previously indicated. You had been hoping he had prior to this, but now, you knew. Even if you were devoted to him, he could find that anywhere. He had told you straight up that if you made any other mistake, he'd kill you, and he'd enjoy doing it. This was a mistake, a rookie one, and he said that it was okay. You were jeopardizing the team's safety with your lack of skill, yet it was okay. He seemed to be all bark, no bite. Incapable of putting things into practice.

   Still, you wouldn't rest on your laurels. You would continue to work to please him. Not only because you wanted to live, but because you genuinely wanted to help the man you had feelings for.

   You figured that you shouldn't pry on why he was being so forgiving, so you nodded instead. "Thank you. I'll do better next time, promise."

   He grunted, expressing his disbelief at the notion, but still returned the nod. You couldn't even bring yourself to be offended at his lack of faith in you; you hadn't exactly shown him otherwise. But, you'd work to gain his trust if it was the last thing you did.

   He sat with you for a few more hours as you recovered, and a lot of the time passed by in comfortable silence. Well, comfortable with each other, not comfortable with the situation. It was very obvious that you were both in your own heads about Two-Face, and what your feud with him would result in. It was a situation that Joker had never been in, let alone you.

   As you looked at his stress-ridden face, you vowed to support him no matter what villain came your way. You would be his loyal henchman forever, and nothing would stop you. Not even if you were held at gunpoint, like you had been with Matt. You had learned your lesson, and you now knew where your loyalties lied:

   With that green-haired psycho you couldn't help but fall for.

   The one who seemed to be falling for you, too. 

__

IM SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO LONG TO COME OUT!! being a senior in high school is a lot harder than i thought it would be, so it's been difficult to find time to write. i apologize that this chapter is a little shorter than normal as well, and that it's kinda written poorly. writer's block is real. trust i will get the next chapter out much faster!