--3rd person POV--

Arthur was awoken from a dreamless sleep, suddenly aware of the sound of a door being pulled open, and the noise of telephones ringing and various voices that filtered into the room from the corridor outside.

"Is he awake yet?" A gruff, male voice demanded, followed by a gentle yet assertive female voice;

"No, Mister Fleck hasn't woken up as yet. I'm afraid these things take time, detective."

The detective, grunts impatiently. "Yeah well you be sure to inform us the minute that freak opens his eyes."

"I'm afraid Mister Fleck will require rest. Given his injury, he's bound to feel confused and--"

"Just let us know." He cuts her off sharply, then silence.

Hesitantly, Arthur turned his head, following the sound. He cracked his eyes open, then all at once...she was there.

Like a vision straight out of heaven. An angel cast down to earth.
His lady Joker. The Clown Princess of Crime.
(y/n).

Except, she wasn't wearing the red suit, but a nurses uniform.
Her hair was no longer green, it was (h/c).
And she wasn't wearing the garish makeup. Yet he still recognised her.
How could he not? He'd studied her so closely, peered beyond the grease paint, and her beautiful face was burned into his memory.
There was no mistaking her.

The next thing he knew, she was above him. Leaning down, her face hovering above his, her expression one of surprised concern.

He caught the distinct scent of her perfume. So sweet, so feminine, so familiar, which was more noticeable in the environment due to all the disinfectant.
She moved away momentarily, the smell of her still clinging to the air around him, and he inhaled deeply.

How was it possible? His lady Joker...was a nurse.

Sudden flashbacks filled his minds eye, snippets of their conversation returning to him..

"This whole mommy thing...how does it work?"

"Well it's a care-giving kinda thing. You let me take good care of you, and I make you feel special, loved, appreciated, and safe. Doesn't that sound nice, hm?"

The cogs in his head turned, their gears grinding so hard he half expected to smell burning, or have smoke coming from his ears, as he attempted to make some sense out of it all.

And the only sensible conclusion he was able to arrive at, was somehow, deep in his subconscious, he must have known she was a nurse. A 'care-giver'.
She must've been taking care of him since he arrived, and his fevered imagination had done the rest.

His secret yearning. His need to feel special, safe, loved and appreciated, had concocted the dream. A manifestation of everything he'd been through, and everything he wanted. Perhaps he'd woken up and seen her, but couldn't remember.

Arthur opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, to gain her attention, but nothing came out but a dry rasp. And then just as he was about to try again, she returned.
This time she actually touched him. Reached down and took hold of his wrist, checking his pulse, which was no doubt erratic as a result of his excitement and confusion.

"Mister Fleck? Are you with us?" She asked, her small brow furrowing slightly.

"It's y-y-you." He croaked, very inarticulately, hardly recognising the raspy sound of his own voice.

It wasn't what he meant to say, but at least he'd managed to speak.
As she released his wrist he impulsively reached up and cupped the side of her lovely face in his trembling hand.

"M-Mister Fleck." She jumped back in shock, looking decidedly flustered.

"I know you." He proclaimed, voice growing steadily stronger. "(y/n)....that's your name, isn't it?"

Blinking like a startled deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, she nervously touched her cheek. Her skin tingling from where his large hand had cradled the side of her face so tenderly.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know you. You've been taking care of me, haven't you?"

"Yes, but..." She paused, a slow smile parting her lips. "Ah. You must've heard it. That's good. You've been able to hear while you were unconscious."

"But you know me, right?" He ventured, his tired eyes wide and brimming with hope.

Her smile wavered. Her expression becoming serious. "I know who you are, if that's what you mean."

"No. You should know me...uh, personally. Or maybe from your dreams or something."

"Mister Fleck....you've been administered quite a high dosage of morphine. It's common for patients to become confused, and even hallucinate."

Forgetting himself, Arthur shook his head, then flinched due to the searing pain in his neck.

Rushing over to him, (y/n) carefully readjusted the pillows beneath his sore head.

"Please, you need to be still. You've had quite a nasty bump to the head. You're lucky not to have fractured your skull or broken any bones."

Taking a pitcher of water, she poured some into a cup and helped him take a drink.
He watched her over the plastic brim, her holding it as he swallowed down the fluid greedily.

"I saw you in my dream." He persisted, the moment she removed the cup from his cracked lips. She was standing over the bed, and he was still eyeing her closely. Gauging her reaction. "Actually, I did a lot more than just see you. If you know what I mean."

Her eyes snapped to his, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "M-Mister Fleck--"

"Arthur." He interjected, smiling his lopsided smile. "To everyone else I'm Joker, but you called me Arthur."

(y/n) felt powerless to look away as he held her gaze. His beautiful green eyes were mesmerising, and held a devilish glint in them which made her heart thud beneath her breastbone.

"You know what else you did?" He whispered, hoarsely. "You moaned my name, when I made you--"

"Mister Fleck!" She snapped, tearing her eyes from the hypnotic snare of his. "This is....inappropriate, and unacceptable. Head trauma and pain relief medication has caused you some confusion. Whatever you think you might've dreamed is precisely that. Just a dream. Nothing more."

"I know." Arthur admitted, to her surprise. "I knew it was too good to be true. But...it felt so real."

Turning away quickly to hide her blushes, (y/n) went over to the window and opened it.

"Some fresh air. That's what you need." She remarked, then sighed to herself. "Well, it's air at least. Not exactly fresh, with all those exhaust fumes choking the atmosphere, but it's the best we can get."

The familiarity of her words brought him some relief. Even though she was now trying to engage in polite small talk, he had the advantage of knowing her already, thanks to his wonderful dream.

"I'd get rid of them all if I could."

She turned to look at him, taken aback by his words. "The cars?"

"Cars, trucks, bikes. I'd ban them all." He smiled whimsically, indulging himself in his own fantasy. "What I'd really like is a nice place far away from the city. Where it's quiet and...safe."

"Sounds perfect." (y/n) smiled softly. "That's what I've always wanted."

Arthur nodded his head, ignoring the pain. "I know. And we could have it. You and me."

"W-what?"

"I'm Joker, (y/n)." He gave a low chuckle. "I can get the money, and people are afraid of me so they'd leave us in peace. We could get a house in the country. I'd take care of you. You could be my princess."

"You're crazy." She laughed incredulously, the words slipping from her mouth before she could check herself. "I-I mean, you're still delusional. I'm not going to be with you, and I'm afraid, Mister Fleck...as soon as you've recovered you're going to be transferred to Arkham State hospital."

Arthur's chest tightened, feeling like a huge weight had just been dropped on it. Like an anvil. Slowly forcing the air from his lungs, crushing him slowly to death.

"T-this is Gotham General, right?" He wheezed.

(y/n) nodded, her expression noticeably somber.

Overcome with the need to get up, to get out and flee for his life, his freedom, Arthur struggled to sit up by himself.
But he couldn't move his left arm, and it was only then did he realise that his other wrist had been handcuffed to the cot-side on the bed.
How the hell had that slipped his notice?
He was clearly way too distracted by (y/n), which could prove to be detrimental to his self preservation. She was most definitely his weakness.

He tugged on his restraint desperately, the panic frothing in his throat.

Alarmed, (y/n) hurried around the side of the bed, placing her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

"Please, you need to rest. There's no point doing that. You're going to hurt yourself."

"So what? What does it matter?"

"It matters to me! You're my patient. I don't want you injuring yourself--" Her words dissolved into a startled squeak, as he grabbed her with his free hand, pulling her dangerously close.

"You've got to help me, (y/n). Please. Don't let them take me to Arkham. I can't be locked away in there again. Not now. Not when I've found you!"

"Found me?"

"Yes! This is fate. We were meant to be together."

"Mister Fleck, if you don't stop this then I shall have to fetch the doctor to sedate you."

Her warning was enough to make him desist struggling, she was breathing rapidly. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, and feel her warm breath against his face.

"Now...let me go." She stated, firmly.

Arthur's face crumpled. "You don't want me."

(y/n) heaved an enormous sigh and shook her head. "You're a criminal, Mister Fleck. You will be held accountable for your crimes. I'm sorry."

Defeated, Arthur closed his eyes, a part of him wanting to fall back into the darkness. The bizarre yet blissful state of unconsciousness where he was ignorant to what was happening to him and free from the pain. The emotional pain as well as the physical.

He heard the sound of water running in the sink, and forced his eyes open a few seconds later when he felt the pressure on the mattress beside him as she leaned over once more, this time wiping the perspiration from his brow.

(y/n) fought to steady her breathing as she performed her task. Being so close to this anomaly of a man made her feel shaken, but in the best possible way.
It was so perverse she could hardly understand it. The sense of danger, quickened her blood. The Joker, well, Arthur Fleck, was a very attractive man.
To have him take such an interest in her was undeniably exciting, and for a brief moment she envisaged herself as his lover. The things they could do. The way things might be. But it was just a fanciful dream. Surely he couldn't truly want her to be his.
But still, the fantasy gave her a slight thrill.

She coughed gently, trying to keep her mind on her job. "You need to try and eat something. Are you hungry?"

"No, thank you."

He scorned himself for his politeness, when really he wanted to tell her to go to hell.
If she wasn't going to save him, and be his, then he didn't want her near him at all. Even though he knew he was fooling himself. Of course he just wanted her close to him. Regardless of how disappointed he was.

With great effort, he succeeded in turning himself over onto his side so that his back was facing her. He knew he was being unreasonable and childish, but now he was thinking more clearly, the sting of humiliation and rejection burned him.

"If there's...anything...you need, press the bell. I've put it where you can reach it."

This time he ignored her, pretending to have fallen asleep.

But (y/n) wasn't that naive. She knew he was faking. So she left the room, closing the door behind her, with an inexplicable heaviness in her heart.

The thing is, she knew all about Arthur Fleck. She'd read his story in all the papers, and she couldn't help but sympathise with him.
The way she saw it was, he'd been failed by the system. Fallen through the net due to government funding cuts when really he ought to have received further care.
And the anarchy he had caused was a result of an entire population having been suppressed, overlooked, and undervalued.
His rebelliousness had given the protesters hope. And they'd perhaps finally made him feel accepted. Like he belonged, and was a part of something.

There had been times when she'd been sorely tempted to don a clown mask and take to the streets herself, and join the movement.
Instead she had made the sensible decision to remain in her job, to help people. Despite being one of those who were overlooked, and undervalued, herself.

                                                              *         *        *

Later that evening (y/n) returned to the side room to check on the hospitals most infamous patient, in the hopes of coaxing him into eating something.

He was sitting up propped against the pillows. His green hair, stringy, and in dire need of a wash, was scraped back off his face, emphasising the contours of his sharp cheekbones and jawline.

"I need a wash." He proclaimed, as though he'd read her mind. "I feel dirty."

"Tomorrow you'll be able to take a shower. But you need to keep your strength up and eat, if you're going to be walking around."

He dragged his piercing eyes over her in silent assessment, noting the little brown bag she carried in her hands.

"Where's my suit?" He asked, aware of the spooky parallels between reality and his dream. "Did you undress me?"

"Well, y-yes  I did--"

"That's a pity. I would've liked to have been awake for that."

(y/n) blinked, and she felt a hot blush stain her cheeks. "W-what?"

"I mean, so I could've helped. You know, to make it easier for you." He clarified, though his first admission hadn't been as innocent as he was making it sound.

"Oh." She breathed. "Well, never mind. It's all part of the job."

Lowering the right cot-side on the bed, she sat down beside him.

"I've brought you some grapes. I know how cliched it is, but I thought you might prefer some fruit to something on the menu. I got them from the staff canteen so they're pretty fresh."

Touched by her thoughtfulness, Arthur smiled at her, flashing his dimple. "Shit. Thanks (y/n). That's really thoughtful of you."

She shrugged, modestly. "You're welcome, Mister Fleck."

He rolled his eyes. "I wish you'd call me Arthur. You've no idea how much I hate the name Fleck."

"Oh, I see. Well in that case...I suppose there's no harm in me calling you Arthur."

Hearing his name spoken on her pink lips made his heart quiver. He couldn't help feel some sense of satisfaction at having finally broken down that barrier which divided them. And the small victory spurred him on, and he found himself wondering how much better acquainted they could become if he pressed his luck.

"Here." She smiled, proffering the bag of grapes to him for his perusal, but he stubbornly refused to take one.

"You do it." He insisted, his tone so peremptory it made her frown.

"You don't feel strong enough to feed yourself?"

"No it's not that." He stated flatly, without further explanation. "I'd just like for you to do it. If you wouldn't mind that is?"

There wasn't a genuine reason for her to do it. They both knew that. But Arthur was remembering the touch of her, the taste of her lips, and it made him buzz with need.
It was more than that though. He also wanted to test her. To push her, and see if she would yield to his desires. If she did then there was a chance she'd be receptive to his attentions.

Her gaze flickered with surprise and a trace of confusion. "Alright then."

Taking a plump red grape from the paper bag, she carefully held it out to him.
Craning his neck forward, he gently took it in his mouth, deliberately allowing his lips to momentarily draw in the tip of her finger, along with the fruit.

When she sat back from him, he could see on her face that she had felt something. That it had affected her.

"D-do you want another?" She enquired as casually as possible, even though her heart was racing.

He was giving her a penetrative look, trying to read her response, his eyes were a little hooded and gleaming with emotion.

"I want you, baby girl." He blurted, startling himself. But it was an unexpected relief to say it out loud. "Are you sure you don't want me? I could be your daddy. Wouldn't you like that? Having someone take care of you for a change?"

Her large (e/c) eyes rounded. Heat flooded her face, and his glistening eyes watched her closely, wondering what the hell he was doing.

"Mister Fle..., I mean, A-Arthur--"

"Would you let a criminal like me touch you?" He asked roughly, his voice like warm honey. "Would you be ashamed to take me into your body? To let me be your daddy?"

Her jaw slackened in shock, but she had no time to supply him with an answer, as instinctively he gave in to his baser urges and surged forwards, clasping his free hand to the back of her head, and claimed her lips in a soft, passive kiss.

(y/n) felt a tingling heat trickling down her spine, gathering low in her belly like liquid fire. His hand wound through her hair, urging her closer, turning her soft as butter as he pulled her against his chest.

But when he winced slightly, an indication he was experiencing some physical discomfort, it was enough to bring her to her senses.

"Arthur. S-stop." She said softly, and gently eased him back against the pillows without any resistance. "You...you need to rest."

Relishing his newfound power over her, confidence surged through him like it never had before. He grinned like a feral animal, taking-in her flushed face. The way she took her plump bottom lip teasingly between her teeth, and looked at him bashfully from beneath her lashes.

"No, what I need (y/n) is for you to find me a paper clip, a hair grip, or something...so I can get these damn cuffs off, then we can get the fuck out of here."

She gasped, feeling overwhelmed by his magnetism. His dishevelled beauty. His charisma. The magnificence of his very aura, which seemed to exude a dominance that most certainly appealed to her.

"So..." He smirked, devilishly. "Will you be a good girl for daddy and do that, baby girl?"