"Aren't you frightened of me?" he asks her in the ever-present gloom of the hideout hidden from the Batman's hawk-like sight in the somber buildings of Gotham City.
He doesn't understand her. She seems much more different than how she used to be as she nuzzles her cheek against the rough purple fabric of his coat. Back at the asylum, she was so serious, insisting so strictly that he should address her as his doctor and nothing more, prodding and poking him with inquisitive questions in order to find out the nature of his past and current feelings.
Now, she is a slave to him: obeying his every command, killing to please him, covering his body with kisses filled with nothing less than adoration. She is HIS and HIS alone.
Closing his eyes, he tries to picture her at a point when she hadn't been fawning all over him…only to have the memory replaced with when she had fallen on her knees in front of him during one of their later sessions (messy blonde bun, professional suit, askew glasses and all) and had declared her undying devotion and love for him, swearing that she would help him escape from the dreadful place and take down Batman. As funny as it sounded, the memory never ceased to dazzle him.
With a rough hand, he pushes his little harlequin away from him, shoving her into the wall. She moans softly for a brief moment but then crawls back to him and grabs at his leg, hoping that she can hold some part of him just a bit longer.
He blinks as she inches closer towards him, unable to label her action as either crazy or just plain stupid. Did she even know who he was? He was all of Gotham's worst nightmare. He is the reason why parents called their children to come inside when it was still light out, why clowns were less mentioned and the Batman more wary than ever. Hell, he is practically the great big Boogeyman himself, terrifying all who know him, making children wet the bed at night.
And yet, his harlequin is creeping back towards him and he can still remember her words when she had been on her knees during that session ("I love you…I'd die for you, Mistah J.") and he feels a wave of confusion streak his mind like a bullet.
Slowly, she stands up and kisses his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, ("I'll do whatever ya need, Puddin'. I'll make all of Gotham pay for keeping you in this asylum like a prisoner.") And before he can stop her, she kisses his scars.
("I'm not afraid of you, Puddin'. I love you. I love you so much.")
Love…does such word really exist in the Boogeyman's vocabulary?
He steps away and turns his back to her.
"…I'm going out. Gonna see if big ole Bats wants to play. Try not to mess up the place if I come back."
She beams at him from underneath her mask greasepaint. "Hurry back soon, my angel," is all that she murmurs as he leaves.
Just outside, he can't help but grin at the loopy red graffiti she has written for him on the brick alleyway wall:
J+H forever. XOXOXO.
He doesn't really comprehend her or her insane infatuation towards him but in the shriveled-up little kernel he has for a heart, he knows that it is too late to go back.
And maybe, just maybe, she has grown on him, too.