TW: SLIGHTLY STEAMY

   The car ride home was quiet. So quiet that you were slightly uncomfortable. But you didn't know how to break this deafening silence; what was there to say after something like this? You knew what you wanted to say, but you couldn't say it. You were too nervous, but you didn't know why.

Around halfway home, you felt Joker's hand gently rest on your thigh. His hold was gentle, absent of that possessive tightness he had always gripped you with. And something in that hold just made you relax. You let out a big breath, feeling confident that everything would resolve itself. You would soon be back where you were meant to be.

As he pulled into the driveway, you felt emotion overcome you. You saw that mansion in a whole new light now. It had been your prison, but now it was your safe haven. It was your home again.

You didn't know that tears were falling from your eyes until Joker wiped them away. "You're home now. It's all over," he whispered.

You nodded, desperately trying to contain yourself. "I'm home."

He helped you out of the car, walking you to the front door. He unlocked it and led you inside as you sniffled quietly to yourself.

Frost immediately perked up from where he was sitting on the couch, clearly curious of what events had unfolded to bring you back here. But then his eyes fell on your injuries. His expression twisted with horror, he hopped to his feet and rushed up to you.

Joker gently moved you away. "Careful, she's hurt."

"No shit." Frost's eyes were watering as if he were harnessing your injuries as his own. "What the fuck happened?"

"Long story. Another time, Frosty."

"No, it's okay," you interjected. "Apparently, Harley had been working for Two-Face this whole time. They held me hostage and roughened me up a bit. Joker came to save me, and I guess Harley changed her mind about working with TF. She shot him."

Frost had a strange expression on his face, almost like he couldn't decide how to feel. "So, it's over?" he eventually asked.

You smiled weakly. "Yeah, it's over. He's dead."

He exhaled heavily, returning your weak smile. "Thank God."

"Inform the others, will you?" Joker asked, ushering you away with a hand on the small of your back. "I have to get her fixed up."

"Yes, sir."

He brought you to that oh-so-familiar torture room to tend to your wounds. Your skin reflexively erupted in goosebumps at the memories this room provided, most of them involving searing pain. But you knew that from now on, you'd remember this room as a testament to the end of your suffering. You were here, so you had survived Two-Face and could truly start living.

   He sat you down in that damn dentist's chair once again, pulling out those damn sutures to stitch you up. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that this was the last time you'd ever have to be here.

   As he worked, he was oddly silent. There was no commentary, no apologies, nothing. Just the silent agony of thread weaving through skin. You didn't try to speak either.

   After a bit, his voice finally cut through the quiet. "Done."

   You looked at your hand. Your wound hadn't been particularly long, so the stitches only consumed a small portion of your hand. "Thanks. Looks good."

   "You're welcome."

  You two just stared at each other for a moment. Joker's eyes were strangely telling of how he was feeling; normally, they gave absolutely nothing away. But now, it was plain as day. He was sorrowful, and his icy eyes reflected that. He couldn't fake an emotion with his eyes. He was really, truly feeling.

   His sadness was so profound that it almost seemed as if he were looking through you. He was completely absorbed in the unfamiliarity of what he was feeling that it seemed he had retreated to some dark place in his mind, one that completely blocked out his surroundings.

   A little unsettled, you rested a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of it.

   He lurched, looking at you with surprise.

   You pointed to the table next to your chair, the one adorned with various medical instruments. "Gauze."

   He still looked confused, having been so deep in his own mind that he didn't even realize what he was supposed to be doing.

   "Gauze," you repeated. "I doubt you wanna look at his name on my stomach all day."

   That wasn't funny, but he offered you a small smile anyway. "You're right about that."

   He shakily reached for the table, grabbing the gauze. He began to wrap it around the smaller, less insulting wound on your arm.

   It was still quiet. Searching for something to say, you blurted, "Shouldn't you have disinfected that first?"

   "We could've, but it would've burned like hell. It's not the deepest cut, but still. It's deep enough. As long as nothing touches it, it shouldn't get infected."

   You nodded as he finished up. "Fair enough."

   He then got to work on the wound on your stomach. Those two letters that had been staring at him this whole time, taunting him with their permanence. You were sitting upright, looking at him as he peered down at your stomach with a frown. He was clearly in his own head about what happened to you, and you couldn't blame him. You were in your own head too, but for other reasons.

   Once he was done, he bent down and gently kissed the gauze. "No matter whose name is on you," he breathed quietly, "you'll always be mine."

   "I know." You combed your fingers through his hair, causing him to sigh shakily. It looked as if he were about to cry, which was so out of character you almost had to make sure that this was your Joker.

   "Can we talk?" he asked, standing up again.

   "I think we need to."

   He sat down next to you, looking straight ahead. "I think so too."

   "Then lay it on me." Your heart was racing. Even though you knew what he was going to say, you were still nervous. Nervous enough to not want to say it yourself.

   He looked at you again. "I..." Looked away. Bit his lip. This was the first time in your whole relationship that you had ever seen him unsure. You couldn't breathe. Just by his manner, you knew it would be life-changing.

   He looked again. "I'm sorry."

   And it was.

   Immediately, tears formed. An apology! So little, so inconsequential to most. But to you, it felt like the entire world had shifted. You had chosen to be with a sociopath. Someone who killed just for the fun of it. Someone who could not admit fault in any way. Someone who had been this way for years and years.

   But he had changed his ways just for you.

   He wiped your tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for saying things I didn't mean to Harley, and I'm sorry for letting you out of my sight when I knew it was unsafe. I'm sorry for all of it."

   "Why did you tell her that?" you asked through your tears.

   "I don't know. I was just...frustrated. And the more mistakes ya made, the more I realized how likely it was that I would lose you. And I...I couldn't handle that. So I thought it would be easier to just cut you loose and keep myself out of it. That way it would hurt less."

   He shook his head to himself. "But it only hurt so much more. For both of us. You've got some jackass' name carved into your stomach because I was negligent!"

   He suddenly stood up then, pacing. He grabbed the roll of gauze off the table, chucking it at the wall with his full strength.

   You didn't feel afraid. "I forgive you."

   "I know. I know you do, and I knew you would. And that's what makes this so difficult."

   He walked up to you and firmly held your face in his hands. "I could do anything to you, and you'd forgive me. You'd just take me back like nothing happened. I'm used to that. Every woman I've been with has done that. But you... When you do it, I feel so vile. I get no high from taking advantage of you. This fuckin' makes me sick, (Y/N). I want you back more than anything in the world, but this is sick. Ya don't deserve someone like me, and I know you know that."

   "No, I don't deserve someone like you. I don't deserve to have such a dutiful protector. I don't deserve to have such a caring man, especially when all I've done is complicate things for you. I don't deserve you, J, but it's not at all like how you think."

   He laughed in disbelief. "You're just proving my point. You think that I'm the prize here! I'm not!"

   He stepped away from you, sweeping every medical instrument off the table in a fit of blind rage. "This is who I am! I'm angry! I'm crazy! I'm fucked up! You see me with these rose-colored glasses, but the man I see in the mirror does not match the man that you see!"

   You stood up now. "You're angry and crazy, yes. No one's denying that! But I see the good in you. Everyone has their good qualities, just like everyone has their flaws. You just hide your good qualities under the bad ones because that's what you have to do. You have to present as one hundred percent evil in order for people to take you seriously. But really, you're just like every other criminal. You're a morally gray control freak who's compensating for some unresolved issue with crime."

   He was panting hard, looking terrified. It was as if he had never confronted that possibility before.

   "And I don't need to know what that issue is," you went on. "Sometimes you can't even pinpoint it. I can't! I just grew up feeling unsatisfied, unfulfilled, and like I had no control over my own life. No cause, no reason. Just the want to fight back against that feeling. I get it! But that doesn't make you evil, J. You're not evil!"

   "If I'm not evil," he said quietly, "then what am I? What in God's name do I have to offer?"

   "Everything I just said and more. Your protection, your care, your humor, your respectfulness. The things that go beyond your criminal accomplishments. The things that make you human."

   He exhaled shakily, running his hands through his hair. "I never wanted to be human. I wanted to be this machine. I wanted to hurt and hurt until I couldn't feel any hurt of my own. I was too used to being hurt! My father, that abusive piece of shit, he took everything from me! So I took everything from everyone else to numb the pain. And it worked. And then you had to come along. You had to turn my world upside down. You had to reintroduce the feelings I thought I had left behind! And...and..."

   He growled lowly. He turned away, but you stepped in front of him again. The look on his face would have been terrifying for anyone else. But not for you. "And what?" you prodded. "Tell me!"

   "AND GOD DAMN IT, I LOVE YOU!"

   Suddenly, everything made sense. It felt like every event you had experienced in your lifetime was meant to lead you to this exact moment. Joker had no ill intentions, no twisted motive. He was just a broken man loving a broken woman in the only, broken way he knew how: repressing his feelings and shoving everything down until they eventually came exploding out.

   Overcome with emotion, you hopped into his arms and pressed your lips to his.

   He kissed you back hungrily, slamming you against the wall. "What the fuck have you done to me?" he asked between kisses.

   His throaty tone made you shiver. "Something that you needed."

   "I didn't need this." He was kissing your neck now, sucking and biting and surely leaving bruises behind. You didn't care. His marks were welcome.

   "Yes you did. You need to see yourself for what you are."

   "I do." He was panting, looking at you with lusty eyes. "I see myself as the man who ruined you. And I hate that. But I can't stop going back to you."

   "You didn't ruin me. You made me stronger. And I want you. And I'll choose you in every lifetime."

   He put you down, running a hand over his face. "This is crazy."

   "You've killed hundreds of people, and this is where things get crazy?"

   "Yes."

   "Good thing I don't care."

   He bit his lip, briefly looking away from you before looking back at you. "Fuck it. I don't either. I don't just want ya. I need ya. But what if you get hurt again?"

   "You won't. I know you'll learn from this. I know you."

   He sighed, nodding. "And if I don't, I want you to shoot me. I will not perpetuate this cycle with you, (Y/N). I can't."

   "I'm so confident in you that I'll readily agree to these terms." His sincerity was palpable, so much so that you didn't even question his intentions despite his track record of deception.

   "Good. Then should we make it official?"

   "I think we should."

   His eyes fell on your gauze. He began to smirk. "I have the perfect idea as to how."

   You mirrored his expression, not even knowing its cause but knowing you'd like it. "What?"

   Without responding, he bent down toward the medical instruments scattered across the floor. After some searching, he hummed and picked up a Sharpie, walking over to you with that smirk still on his face.

   You smiled, looking quizzically at the Sharpie. "Why would you need a Sharpie?"

   "To rebrand you as my own. Two-Face may have gotten you for those few minutes, but I have you forever. I'm your real captor here."

   Your smile widened. "I like the sound of that."

   He popped the cap off the Sharpie and began to write a large J across the gauze. Something about this action made you feel so much better about yourself. No matter who wanted you, you could always choose who you belonged to. And no matter what, that would be Joker.

   He capped the marker, carelessly tossing it behind him. His eyes devoured your form, his tongue peeking out between his lips to lick them. A sadistic smile spread on his face. "Much better, hm?"

   "Yeah, much better." Your hands traced the J.

"But it's not enough."

"It's not?" you asked. You didn't know how this wasn't enough. He had said he loved you, for God's sake! You didn't need anything else in life. You were completely and utterly content.

"No. I need a more...public display of my devotion to ya."

You giggled. "I think this is pretty public, no? Everyone's gonna see the J."

"No it's not. You don't wear crop tops or anything that shows your belly very often. No one will see the gauze. Besides, your injuries will eventually heal. Then what becomes of the J?"

"I guess you're right. So what did you have in mind?"

"I think...we should have a ceremony."

"A ceremony?"

"Yes. A ceremony where everyone in the mansion is forced to be present. A ceremony where you will officially be crowned the Queen of Gotham."

You knew that being his Queen was nothing more than a title. You would still be the same old (Y/N) with the same old life. But something about the idea made you drunk with power. You would be on Joker's level, ruling side by side as opposed to him over you. It had always been this way, but now everybody else would be forced to see it too. You were no plaything. You were no Harley.

"When?" you asked.

"Soon. A few days' time, maybe? Long enough for you to recover, but not too long to where ya keep me waiting. I am itching to do this, (Y/N). I am just itching to have everyone watch as I make it clear where you stand with me."

"What if people think you've gone soft? What if this is bad for business?"

"Then fuck 'em. I'll prove them wrong with a bullet between the eyes! Someone who's soft wouldn't do that, now would he?"

You smiled. "No. No he would not."

"Of course, if we go through with this, that means I would have to reintroduce you to crime. I can't have a Queen who doesn't rule the town with me." He looked at your form practically vibrating with excitement, smiling wickedly. "After being cooped up for so long, I expect that term is a welcome addition?"

Maybe it was the thrill of finally cracking open Joker's hard exterior, maybe it was the exhilaration of finally being free of Two-Face. Regardless, you felt this powerful sense of enthusiasm wash over you for the first time in a while. With everything you had been through, the urge to commit crime had been pretty much nonexistent. But now, it was back in full swing, and your broken self needed some unhealthy self-medicating that only lawbreaking could provide.

Your smile dropped as you realized that amidst the excitement, there was still a bit of anxiety that you would mess things up again. That was the thing that had nearly taken your soulmate away from you; you didn't know if your heart could handle another fight over your incompetence.

"What if I mess things up again?" you asked quietly.

He placed his hands on your waist, staring into your eyes with the utmost sincerity. "Ya won't. This is the start of a new us, and that includes the battlefield."

"But if I do?"

"If ya do, it won't matter. I'll train you until you're perfect, even more so than you already are. I won't get angry with ya; there's no reason to anymore! Two-Face is dead. There's no pressure. You can live and learn without worry."

"What if things go too far and I die?"

"Oh, dollface." He squeezed your cheek playfully. "You should know me well enough by now to know that I would never, under any circumstance, let you die. I know ya think I don't control that, but I do. And I will."

This made no sense, but he was so confident that you couldn't help but feel soothed. Your excitement began to win out again, causing a small smile to break out across your face.

"Atta girl! So, do you accept my proposal, Trouble?"

"Is the sky blue?"

"Last time I checked."

"Then obviously!"

With an unusually soft smile, he brought you to him in a tight hug. His warmth permeated through every inch of your body, causing you to sigh contentedly.

There was so much to be said for the joys your life brought you. The thrill of denying authority and stealing some priceless artifact. The sense of belonging when sipping wine with Frost. The comfort of living in such a beautiful mansion with these amazing cooks. But none of it held a candle to the feeling of you in his arms.

Then, for some unknown reason, you were ripped out of the moment by thinking about Harley. The way she left was so...sad. She had left without revenge, without love, and without friendship. It was upsetting to see, even though you had hated her guts for the majority of her stay. But after your last conversation with her, she just seemed so beautifully human. She seemed broken just like you, and you wanted to befriend her. You wanted to give her something to cherish in a life full of hardships.

You knew what you wanted to do, but you didn't know how it would play out. Would she take offense to this? She still loved Joker, after all. But she needed a friend, too, and this would surely welcome her back into your life. You really couldn't just sit by with the knowledge that she was all alone somewhere, with no love, no aspirations, and no plan. Even though your heart was blackened by your lifestyle, you could still recognize a cry for help when you saw one. And even the coldest of hearts can sometimes thaw, especially for someone they understand.

"Can Harley come?" you blurted out.

You felt Joker stiffen. "What?"

"Can Harley come to the ceremony?"

He pulled apart from the hug, hands firmly gripping your shoulders. "Ya can't be serious."

"I am. She needs someone right now."

"Who cares?"

"Me."

"Well, you shouldn't. Need I remind you of what she did to you? To us? She participated in the most jarring conflict of my life. She kidnapped you!"

"And you held me at gunpoint. How is this any different?"

He narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated by your comeback. "But this is so fresh—"

"I don't care. I want her to feel included in something for once. Like she's someone's first choice." You paused, gathering your thoughts. "I just really...understand her. I understand pining for your love. I understand feeling inadequate. I understand wanting revenge on those that have wronged you."

You looked at the floor, fully aware of how crazy this sounded. But if crazy was frowned upon, Joker would be out of a job. Who was he to judge what type of crazy was acceptable and what type wasn't? "But clearly, she has a conscience. A good one. She turned the tables on Two-Face with no other motive than to see us thrive. How much easier would it have been for her to just let him do what he had to do? She could've gotten fame and glory, while letting us live got her nothing."

Joker sighed. "I suppose so. And I didn't even tell you the full extent of what she did for us."

"What else did she do?"

"Remember how I had a gun to her back when I walked in?"

"Yeah."

"She was the one to suggest that. She sent me a huge paragraph saying how she wanted to fix things. Help us. So she told me to pretend that I was holding her at gunpoint so I could find a way in without getting knocked out. And she promised that while I preoccupied Two-Face, she'd take the shot."

Your heart was warm at the sheer amount of planning that had gone into this rescue. It wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment change of heart; it was a premeditated righting of wrongs. And that made you view her that much more favorably.

   "And she did," you whispered.

   "She did."

   "You're just proving my point more. I think we should invite her. She's clearly shown us where she stands."

   "But it's just so hard to ignore the fact she fucked up in the first place."

   "We all fuck up. And I'm okay, for the most part. Just a few scratches."

   "Scratches that shouldn't be there to begin with."

   You grabbed his shoulders. "J, please. I'm begging you. I don't know why I care so much, but I do. I don't want to just ignore the fact she changed everything for the better."

   He studied the conviction in your eyes, and that was enough to make him visibly waver.

   "Please," you pushed. "You can keep an eye on us at all times."

   There was a brief period of silence, which was quickly broken by a low growl of resignation.

   You cheered, jumping into his arms. "Thank you!"

   "It's my Queen's ceremony. I do anything she desires."

   "You won't be sorry. She might not even go!"

   He put you down. "One can only hope. Now, let's plan for this thing to take place in five days' time. I trust you'll be wearing something extravagant?"

   You smiled, having the perfect dress in mind. It had been hanging in your closet since you had arrived all those months ago, but you had never worn it due to its extravagance. It was gorgeous, but it didn't exactly have the shape of a dress that would allow for any running, kicking, or jumping. "Yes, J. I think you'll like it."

   He pressed a kiss to your hair. "I don't doubt it, baby. Now come on, we have to inform the others and start planning."

   He walked you out of the room, holding your hand as he proudly displayed your marked gauze to whoever walked by. You felt amazing as he assembled your team and told them what was going on, and even more amazing as they each smiled in what seemed to be genuine congratulations.

   You felt the most amazing when Joker was talking to his cooks about what meals would be made for the event. So amazing, in fact, that you just had to kiss him, even though you had an audience.

   He kissed you back, dismissively holding up a finger to his cooks as he used his other hand to hold your waist.

   "My future Queen," he whispered to you after pulling apart, "would ya mind going upstairs if you have no input to give? You're distracting me a little."

   You smiled smugly, nodding. You really didn't have any input to give. Food was irrelevant to you; all that mattered was you being with Joker. "No problem."

   And with that, you went upstairs to your room (oh, how you had missed that room!), prepared to distract him all night long.

   And so you did, and so the wait began.