-- 1st person POV --

Just like the vivid memory of you first meeting Carnival stuck in your minds eye, so did another vivid memory. Only the other was painful and deeply distressing.

You'd been out of town all day with your mom visiting relatives. It was late by the time you arrived back in Gotham and neither of you had any possible idea that you'd return to find the city ablaze.

Police cars, fire trucks and ambulances were everywhere you looked, prompting your mom to switch on the radio so she could find out what exactly was going on.
You don't remember anything that was said on the radio, but you sensed that your mom was scared.

As she pulled her car onto the main drag which ran through Gotham Square, you stared out of the window at the carnage around you.

It was terrifying.

Gangs of masked thugs ran up and down the street, smashing up store windows and parked cars, starting fires and letting off flares.

You remember your mom swearing. That stuck in your head because you never heard her swear in front of you. At that point you started asking her if everything was going to be okay and she assured you it would be.

But it wouldn't be okay.
Not for you.

The car was forced to slow down due to the wreckage of some vehicles in the road blocking the way. Your mom swore again and told you to hang on while she turned the car around.

It was as she was performing this manoeuvre that your young eyes fell on the slim figure of a man standing on the hood of a police car.

He wore a bright red suit, had stringy green hair and was wearing messy clown makeup.

Pressing your face up against the glass so you could get a closer look, you watched as he stood with his arms outstretched in front of the huge crowd that had gathered.
They looked as if they worshipped him, cheering for him like he was a famous celebrity or more accurately, their leader.

Their leader.
The man responsible for the destruction of Gotham.

But as your mum reversed, the tail end of the car nearing the crowd, the sound of screeching tyres caught the man's attention.

He looked up at the exact moment you realised who it was.

Carnival?

No it couldn't be.

You stared open-mouthed at his face. That familiar face. The same lovely face which had smiled at you so many times. The face you'd been missing so much. The face you adored.

As he looked back at you recognition dawned in his watery eyes. He lowered his arms, the demonic red grin falling as he recognised that it was you.

It felt like the longest few moments of your life as you stared at him in horror, trying to comprehend how your beloved friend had turned into the monster that now gazed back at you amidst the chaos he'd created.

You recoiled away from the window with a scream, which startled your mom and made her stall the car.

Fear coursed through your veins as you shouted at her to drive away, sobbing hysterically.
She did.
And even though you didn't want to see any more you couldn't tear your eyes away until Carnival was nothing but a blurred red smudge in the distance.

You hadn't slept that night.
Too afraid to in case he came after you, plus every time you closed your eyes you saw that image.

A red-suited demon had now taken the place of the green-wigged clown you loved with all your heart.

You eventually fell asleep crying into your pillow and it was first night of many that you spent that way.

The nightmares were worse.

You'd often wake screaming and shaking, breaking into a cold sweat.
They were always the same.

You'd be playing in the street when you'd spot Carnival in the distance. Then you'd chase after him but when you eventually caught up he wasn't Carnival anymore.

He was that thing he'd become.

Joker.

You never actually told your mom that you'd recognised Carnival that night but she knew it was him once she watched the news, and as much as she tried to hide the true identity of Joker from you, you still remembered Carnival's real name.

Arthur Fleck.

His name would crop up all the time.

You'd see his photograph splashed across the Newspapers, and even though your mom switched the TV set off every time anything to do with Joker came on, you still saw him on TV at your friends house.

In the playground other kids talked about him, even making up gory rhymes.
You were only thankful that nobody in school joined the dots and figured out that Joker was Carnival the clown who you'd wanted to grow up and marry someday.

Clowns ended up being one of your biggest fears as a result of what Carnival became.
There were many years when just hearing the word clown would trigger you.
It made you fearful and soul-crushingly sad.
Sad that a man so lovable and gentle could turn into someone that did such terrible things.
With every new thing you learned about Joker, the things he'd done, the people he'd killed, the more it hurt.

Now that you're a lot older you still struggle, but you also think a part of you can understand what made Arthur do the things he did, and while you'd never condone his choices, you at least recognise why he perhaps felt like he had nothing left to lose.

With each passing year, as the whole Joker saga eventually died down, you became more and more intrigued by what had driven him to such extreme violence.
Turning detective, you researched all the source material available. Read more articles on his past, watched the footage of his disastrous standup at Pogo's and the grisly interview with Murray Franklin that ended with his death.

It was apparent that hurt people hurt people. Arthur was hurting and he must've had some type of breakdown, which led him to hurt the ones who'd hurt or wronged him.

A close friend of yours thinks you're becoming obsessed with trying to get into Arthur's psyche but they don't get why this is such a big deal to you.

The man ripped your heart out when he disappeared as Carnival, then he broke it into pieces when you witnessed him reemerge as Joker.

You've carried all of this around with you for way too long. All this emotional baggage wasn't doing you any good.

So you figure the best way to heal and put it all behind you is to confront the cause of all your turbulent emotions head-on.

Yes. You're certain that if you go and speak to Arthur then maybe you'll find the closure you need in order to move-on with your life. You owe it to your 8 year old self, the little girl who was never quite the same after that night of rioting that's gone down as the bleakest day in Gotham's history.

Following the capture and arrest of Joker all those years ago he's been an inmate at Arkham State Hospital ever since.
Well there was one escape a year or two after his arrest and rumours of a couple of failed attempts, but in recent years he's been securely incarcerated.

You have to make several phone calls to try and arrange a visit and each time you've been strongly encouraged to reconsider your request.

He's manipulative they say and has a way of charming people.
You guess he already did that when you were a child, so you could handle it.

Up until two years ago he wasn't even allowed visitors as he was deemed too volatile and incoherent, but now that his behaviour has improved he's earned those privileges.

"Does anyone ever come to see him?" You ask the guard as he checks to make sure you're not trying to smuggle in any weapons or tools that could help aid Arthur's escape.

"Nope. He's got no relatives or friends." He replies gruffly, looking you up and down rather rudely. "You sure you wanna do this? There won't be any protective glass separating you from him, you know that right?"

You didn't but you can't let that deter you now after you've come so far.

"It...it's fine. But if he's so dangerous how come there's no glass partition?"

"Beats the hell out of me." He answers, opening a door using a security code. "New human rights laws and protocol state that he's earned these privileges because there hasn't been an incident in over two years. Personally I say he don't deserve any rights or privileges. Goddamn lunatic!"

You flinch at the severity of his words and angry tone of voice.
This guard certainly isn't the compassionate type, and he probably doesn't approve of you visiting Arthur, but you don't let his judgmental gaze bother you.
Someone like him would never understand the complexity of the situation.

The walk down the long, dingy corridor seems to take forever, the sound of your footsteps bouncing off the faded white tiled walls.
When you reach the end of the corridor the guard unlocks the door to a consultation room and stands aside so you can go in.

The walls are tiled and everything is painted the same shade of grubby white. There's no windows, and the only things in the room is a table, two chairs, and a clock hanging high up on the wall.

"Take a seat, he'll be along shortly."

You nod and thank him, then take the seat facing the door.

It's quite chilly in here, you notice, as you shiver slightly and pull your coat tighter around you. The room is eerily silent, save for the incessant ticking of the clock.

Jesus. What an awful, dreary place. Surely being locked up in here was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Just then you hear voices echoing from out in the corridor and you look towards the door just as it opens.

And you freeze in your seat as all the air is knocked out of your lungs.

Here he was, Arthur, wearing hospital-issued clothing that looked a lot like scrubs, and he's handcuffed at the wrists.

As a doctor ushers him into the room those same bright green eyes latch onto you, and you swallow hard.

All those years might have been long enough to dim the beauty of his eyes in your memory, becoming a regular standard shade of green, but they aren't.
They're like two gemstones, emerald with flecks of jade in his irises.
But like the sea in winter, they've turned stormy and cold. Those eyes were once like the windows to his soul, but now the shutters are closed.
That's probably for the best.

As for the rest of his appearance, his chiselled cheekbones are not as prominent due to him looking like he's gained a little weight, softening the previously sharp contours of his face, and his body is still lean but not as skinny.
He looks good. Healthy, a little tired, but good.

You've tried hard not to pay too much attention to his appearance on the TV and in the papers but now he's here in front of you in strikingly high-definition, and the reality is unexpected.
You can actually understand why you found him handsome as a kid.
He is handsome and it unsettles you to even think like that. This man is also the perpetrator of several heinous crimes and the one responsible for your childhood trauma.

"You only have fifteen minutes I'm afraid." The doctor says to you, as Arthur pulls out the chair and sits down opposite you. "If you need me I'll be right outside the door."

"T-thank you." You stammer nervously.

The door closes and you raise timid eyes to Arthur. His expression is unreadable, but he gives you a suspicious, wary look, like he doesn't trust you, which is ironic.

"You...you don't get many visitors do you, Arthur?"

He stares at you bleakly without answering. He's so cold and unresponsive, as if he's been carved from granite and you realise you're so completely unprepared for this.
You didn't come equipped with a hammer and chisel. How are you supposed to chip away this solid wall he's built around himself?

You take a deep breath and say, shakily "You don't remember me do you.....Carnival?"

For a fleeting moment he looks puzzled. Then he looks like he's been hit in the face with a brick, and there's a stunned pause as he gets over the shock.

He does remember. He knows you. He doesn't look especially thrilled to see you, not that you was expecting he would be.
.
"(y/n)" He says at last, taking a sharp intake of breath.

Oh God. Hearing him say your name after so many years is surreal, and suddenly you feel choked up with strange emotions.

"Yes." You reply shyly. "It's me."

"This is so unexpected." You're blindsided when he smiles suddenly and it shows in his eyes, as if he's just come to life. How could it be that he is pleased to see you after all? "How...how are you?"

He reaches across the table and lays his hand on yours but instinctively you pull away from him.
Now he's looking at you all softly and sadly, and he's got absolutely no right. You're the one who has been hurting all these years and he's the man responsible. How dare he make you feel bad for rejecting his touch.

"How am I?" You repeat, raising your eyebrows. "Really? Did you seriously just ask me that?"

Arthur's dark brows dip into a confused frown, as if he can't understand your overreaction.

"Y-yeah I asked 'cause I wanna know." He says honestly. "I just can't believe you're here. Wow..." He leans back in his chair and stares at you in awe. "You're all grown up now. Geez, it's been so long. How's your mom--?"

"Arthur!" You interrupt angrily. "I didn't come here to have a polite catch-up."

He sighs heavily. "I guessed that, but I'm still glad you came."

You blink. "You are?"

He nods sadly. "I am. I thought I'd never get the chance to apologise to you for..well, everything."

Resting your arms on the table you lean forwards a little.
This isn't what you were expecting. For him to remember. To look so sad and troubled. Haunted even, by the memories.

"When I saw you in that car...my heart sank." He admits in that familiar soft, low voice of his. "The way you looked at me, I haven't been able to get that out of my head. It's like I knew then, in that moment, that I'd lost the only friend I ever had."

You try to swallow down the lump that's formed in your throat. Your anger for his disappearance, for the trauma he'd caused, seems to fade into insignificance.
He knew all along that he had hurt you and he's remorseful.

Now you felt a hard rush of emotion, sympathy and fondness for this wretched man who you'd never been able to stop thinking about.
And the feelings you had for him never really went away, but unlike a childhood crush these feelings run deep. Much deeper than you'd like.

"Arthur....you hurt me so much." You fight to steady your voice. "I thought you were my friend."

"I was."

"Then you just disappeared."

"I did."

"But I thought you cared about me."

"I do!" He exclaimed, leaning forwards. "I never stopped caring (y/n). Which is why I stayed in here."

"What?" You frown in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

Arthur reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He offers you one but you shake your head.

"I could get outta this place anytime I want. It was easy the first time. But then I got to thinking and realised it would be best for you if I stayed in."

"Best for me?"

He nods, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "I knew you were afraid of me so as long as I was locked up you wouldn't have to be frightened. Not to mention all those goons who were rioting. As soon as the police picked me up the rioting stopped. I figured you'd be safe then."

You rub at your temples with your fingertips, this dramatic bombshell overloading your head to the point of exploding.

"I....I can't believe you would do that just for me."

Arthur's gaze lowers to the table in shame. "It was the least I could do after all the pain I caused you."

"Arthur, it's true that seeing you as Joker traumatised me, but the more I've learned the better I understand your reasoning."

Teary eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the sight made your heart wrench in on itself.
"You....you do?"

You nod, roughly wiping away your own tears. "The system failed you. Your illness, the medication you should've been on....they let you down. You were an outsider, an outcast, society played a huge part in what you did. What you were driven to do. I didn't get that when I was younger, but I do now."
Now it was you who reached out and clasped hold of his hand.
"Arthur....I forgive you."

He stares at you as his hand closes protectively around yours, and a lonely teardrop winds its way down his cheek.

"Thank you." He whispers, his voice cracking with the strain of his emotions. "I don't deserve it."

"Don't say that." You gently brush away the tear and he leans into your touch, briefly closing his eyes. " The sacrifice you made by staying here makes you more than deserving."

"That means a lot to me, princess." He smiles, and your heart flutters due to him calling you that again.

Casually as you can, you lean across and take the lit cigarette from his mouth and take a long drag. "You know, I used to....I used to have a crush on you."

His eyes glisten with amusement and he smiles bashfully. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Actually I was madly in love with you, I used to think about you all the time. Stupid, huh?"

Arthur chuckles, his complexion turning pink. "That's not stupid."

"Arthur I was like eight years old." You giggle.

"So? Just because you were a kid doesn't mean what you felt wasn't real. Everybody has their first crush. It's naive and innocent but at the time it means everything to you."

You smile at him, freeing his hand so you can pass him back the cigarette. "That's one of the reasons why I adored you, Arthur. You never dismissed what I was saying or doing as nothing, not like my mom used to. It made me feel special."

"You were special and you still are (y/n). You always will be."

Just then the doctor pulls open the door, making you jump slightly.

"Visiting time is up." She says, her eyes darting back and forth between you both.

Damn. There's still plenty more you would like to say, but the words seemed to get stuck in your throat before, and now you've been interrupted.

Looking resigned, Arthur obediently scrapes back his chair and stands.
Then you've no idea what comes over you, but emotions give way inside you like a landslide. Making your way around the table to him, like a knee-jerk reaction you can't resist, you wrap your arms around him awkwardly.

The hug is awkward because he's handcuffed, which is a bit of an obstruction to say the least, and the doctor is watching you disapprovingly but you don't rightly care.

And Arthur doesn't protest. Instead he raises his arms up, allowing you to step beneath them, so when he loops them over you he's embracing you tightly.

You feel your heart racing and blood rushing to your face, and you're only glad that he can't actually see you blushing.

"Will you come visit me again?" His voice comes out muffled as his face is buried in your hair. "It's been so good seeing you."

You lift up your head and feel your stomach lurch as you realise just how close your face is to his.

"Maybe." You say with a wry smile. "I don't think I could stand losing you now, Carnival."

He smiles back, his eyes now sparkling and alive, filled with renewed hope.

"You'll never lose me again, princess."