"So what do I do if I run into the cops and they want to know everything I do?" Bree asked half playfully, half curiously as she ate lunch with the Joker in her tiny apartment. She had been thinking about running into trouble with someone now that she had been fraternizing with the enemy for over two years. He leaned back and looked at her. She could easily get off with no charges.
"Don't lie obnoxiously, don't talk without a lawyer, and don't do anything hinting towards anything. They can't book you if they'd don't have anything." He watched as she nodded then started thinking again.
"What about the mob or something?" She was just curious. He leaned forward and looked her dead in the eyes, making sure she heard every word.
"Don't talk, don't scream, and don't cry." A shiver went down her spine at the sudden change in tune. She looked down at her food but he grabbed her face and made her look at him again. "What did I say?"
"Don't talk, don't scream, don't cry." She repeated the instructions back to him quietly. He nodded in approval and let her go.
She didn't think that she would be in the ladder situation or that carrying out the instructions would be so difficult. But when she took another earth shattering backhand to the face, it took a bite to the tongue and all of her might not to scream, cry, and tell the big time mobsters anything they wanted to hear.
Don't talk, don't scream, don't cry.
"Where is he?" The foreign accent of her interrogator was getting thicker with the growing frustration created by the hours of her silence. Bree didn't say anything once again. The man suddenly punched her and kicked over the metal chair she was chained to, making her hit her head on the floor beneath them. She was starting to feel woozy and the ceiling spun above her. Her hair that now had traces of blood in it, didn't provide enough cushion to make the blow any less painful. There were three bright lights lining the center of the ceiling in the cold metal room she had been moved to after the first hour. They were really starting to mess with her eyes. She heard the door squeal open and somebody stepped in.
"Alright, alright, get her up." An Italian accent flooded the room with authority. She was quickly sat up, making the chair screech on the floor. Her curls fell in front of her face as she slumped forward. She could feel the blood start to run down her dark skin, dripping on her eyelashes. A man in a suit stood in the doorway, removing his jacket. He wasn't as big as the interrogator but he was clearly muscular and, by the way he tossed his jacket to the interrogator, clearly in charge. He pulled a metal chair from the hall and dragged it until he was in front of her. "Close the door." He commanded as he sat and began to roll up the sleeves of his dark purple dress shirt. He didn't seem frustrated, he seemed too calm. He leaned down to look at her face through her hair.
"We just want to know where the Joker is. Is that so hard?" He asked gently but got no response. "We know you know. We've seen you, tesoro." He sighed at the silence. He grabbed her face and brought her chin up to look at her. He leaned back some then tsked at her now bruised and bloodied face. "Such a beautiful face you had. It's a crying shame you won't tell me. I can see it in your eyes, you want to talk. Did he tell you not to talk?" She just looked at him. He smiled and forced her head to nod. "Yes he did, didn't he?" He sounded like he was on the edge of laughing. He slapped her, leaving burning sting on her already raw cheeks but it was paradise compared to the harder hits of the other guy. He noticed how she made no sound and slowly turned her head back to look at him with a look that would have been extremely spiteful if she wasn't so clearly exhausted. "He told you not to make a sound?" He was answered with silence. He leaned back and looked at her with his hand on his chin.
"What are we going to do with you?"
Joker sat outside of the mob's hideout in his van while his 'employees' put their guns together. He hadn't expected things to go the way they did. He showed up at Bree's apartment and there were no signs of her. The cops would have flaunted their arrest if they had her but they didn't. So he watched. He watched her apartment and it only took a day for him to find his answer. The mob was known on sending people back for checkups and they didn't disappoint.
"Almost ready boss." One of them informed him with the reassuring click of his gun. He didn't say anything as he looked over the knives he was bringing in. Joker turned to the one man who wasn't doing anything, the doctor. He knew better than to not come prepared. She had been gone for at least 38 hours and the mob was not merciful to anybody.
"You better be ready sport." He threatened. The man only nodded. Even though he was known doctor amongst the criminal community, they had still kidnapped him from his office at the hospital and told him to load up supplies. He didn't really know what was going on. In fact, even Joker's goons didn't know exactly what they were doing besides going against some mobsters, but they didn't care as long as they got paid. The team looked at each other before nodding at Joker.
Bree was almost certain that her ribs were screwed. She didn't know what a broken rib felt like but she knew that the almost unbearable pain and the fact that breathing was becoming an unpleasant action in itself. The leader was still sitting in front of her. He had slid his rings on "especially for her" he told her. He slammed his hands down on her already battered thighs, making her bite back her scream. He quickly recoiled.
"I'm sorry, I got a little frustrated." He was absolutely toying with her now. This was no longer about Joker; it was about getting her reaction. He had successful put a cut above her eye that was now leaking blood down onto her jeans. He grabbed her face nonetheless. "Is the clown the only one who can make you scream?" He chuckled and pushed her back against the chair, making her hit her ribs in the wrong way. She had to catch her breath for that one. The door to the room swung open and there was an immediate gun shot. Bree's mind was definitely not working clearly enough to process the quick actions in front of her. A set of keys began to unlock her wrists that were now bruised and possibly sprained. She looked up and saw the Joker as he picked her up. She squeezed her eyes closed at the pain but thanked God that he had save her.
Joker put her on the metal table of the truck he had gotten as they started to drive to his hideout.
"Get to work." He told the doctor who was shocked at her appearance. He scrambled to check her pulse and worked quickly as Joker took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
"I hate you." Bree looked at the Joker exhaustedly though her vision was going in and out. He only nodded and started to clean her face. He couldn't see anything with the blood. The doctor cleaned off her hand and stuck an IV in her. He felt around her ribs and shook his head at his discovery.
"Good lord, what did they do to you?" He murmured. He turned to the Joker. "She has two dislocated ribs and one is definitely broken. I can push them back into place but she needs to go to the hospital. She might have some internal bleeding, definitely internal bruising." He didn't wait for a response before readying himself. "You might want to distract her." He warned. Joker looked into her eyes.
"I came and got you," The doctor pushed her rib back into place, "Don't say I never did you any favors." Joker finished as her face contorted in absolute agony.
"I've got one more." The doctor moved his hands to the other one.
"You idiot," She breathed through the pain, "I wouldn't be in this if it wasn't for you." He pushed the other in place. "Uh!" She moaned in pain.
"How does that feel? Better?" The doctor asked her. Even though she was still in pain, it was much easier to breathe.
"Uh huh." She nodded.
"Good." He poured alcohol on a cloth and put it on the cut above her eye.
"I could have died." She looked back at Joker.
"Death is life's biggest joke." He chuckled.
"Do you really think I want to hear that shit right now?" She looked at him stunned.
"Someone's upset." He observed humorously. She didn't know if this was an act for the doctor or if he really thought this was some sort of laughing matter. She just turned to the doctor.
"My nose is broken, you need to reset it." She knew that much.
"That can wait." The doctor started examining the rest of her. Joker put his hands on her face anyways. He didn't take orders from anyone.
"Breathe." He ordered Bree before adjusting it with a pop. She resisted the urge to scream but just moaned loudly in pain instead. The doctor just shook his head. All villains were the same, never following the rules.
"I really fucking hate you." She glared at Joker.
"Join the club sweetheart." He chuckled darkly as the doctor called her in. He hadn't wanted to do that but he couldn't help her. The truck pulled in front of ER and the doctor looked at Joker.
"I'll take her in, make sure she's taken care of, you should get out of here." He carried her out of the back and into the hospital where there was a gurney waiting as the truck sped away.
Bree had been in the hospital for a week with no signs of visitors besides the police and the doctor from the rescue mission.
"Are you going to tell me what really happened?" The officer, Michael Stiller, who was clearly a tough guy, asked her. He had been in her room almost every day since the nurses called them.
"What do you mean?" Bree asked innocently. He picked up her charts.
"You have a mild concussion, two dislocated ribs, one broken rib, two cracked ribs, a sprained wrist, a broken nose, inflammation of the stomach, bruises all over," He looked up from and at her, "and you expect me to believe you fell down the stairs?"
"There were a lot of steps." She shrugged. He sighed and sat her chart down.
"I guess I'm just going to have to come back." He put his hat on.
"Good, I like you. You're cute." She toyed with him before he left. She leaned back and got comfortable. She wasn't going anywhere for a while. She wasn't asleep long before she heard her door open, close, and lock. Only one person would lock her hospital door.
"You finally decided to show up?" She opened her eyes to find Joker looking over her medical charts in a nurse outfit.
"Yeah, well your little boyfriend is a bit clingy. Is it his badge or his night stick that gets you going?" He looked up from the charts and at her. "You look like a used punching bag."
"It's only been a week. They say it might take four." She watched as he sat on the edge of her bed facing her. "Shouldn't you be at Tiffany's or a bakery or something?" She asked him.
"Why?" He just looked at her.
"You owe me, big time." She reminded him. "They took me to get to you. Tell me, why was this violent little circle of the mob looking for you?"
"Isn't someone always looking for me?" He shrugged. She didn't need to know anything that was happening in his business lately. They can't beat out anything you don't have. "So, what exactly did you say to them to have to the ring leader going to head to head with you?"
"Oh, now it's serious? Before you seemed to get quite the kick out of seeing me in pain, remember?" She looked down at her chipped nails in distress.
"I get a kick out of seeing everyone in pain, don't feel too special." He winked at her. She shook her head and answered his question.
"You should be proud, I didn't say anything. Don't talk, don't scream, don't cry. Remember that conversation?" She sat up, hissing at the pain from her chest. "Christ." She muttered. "Did you know it is illegal to smoke in a hospital? And to make it worse, they don't have anything for my hair. Do you think this," She pulled a small bottle of generic shampoo off the side table, "Can do anything for this hair?" She pointed at her curls, which, though flattened due to the circumstances, still came together to form a good-sized Afro. He just rolled his eyes and stood.
"I've got business to take care of." He heads to the door, not telling her the business is vengeance for her.
"And I thought you were here to hang out with me." She pouted mockingly though she did want him to stay a little longer. "Look, I might think of forgiving you if you get some food in here for me. And conditioner!" She threw out the idea as he unlocked the door and left without saying goodbye.
The next day he sent henchmen to her with food and everything she asked for. They were to stay for ten minutes, give her food, check her charts, and take requests. This went on for the three weeks she stayed in the hospital. A few days before her release, a henchman sauntered in with a bag of food which he handed to her.
"Thanks." She took it and watched as he checked her charts. "Tell him I said I'm getting out in two days." She pulled the food out of the bag. The man watched her for a moment.
"So, are you like his girl or something?" His northern accent made the comment almost comical. He couldn't imagine anyone, especially a girl who looked like her, having a thing with the psycho clown. She raised an eyebrow.
"Why, you interested?" She answered with a question. He quickly shook his head.
"No, but uh, he's taking good care of you." He pointed to the food.
"Did you ask him?" She wondered what he said.
"Yeah, he clubbed me and told me not to worry about it." He shrugged. She looked at the clock.
"It's almost ten minutes." She reminded him, not at all answering or even attempting to answer the question. He shrugged and exited the room.
"You are all good to go. You'll need to take it easy though. Come in for a checkup sometime in the next couple of weeks." The doctor didn't really expect any of the things he was requesting but said them anyway. Joker was standing by watching as he took off the brace from her wrist and rewrapped her ribs. He handed the man an envelope, no doubt hush money, and shut the door behind him, locking it.
"I am not going to have a happy boss when this is all over, let me tell you." Bree chuckled at the thought. "If he fired people, I would have been unemployed a long time ago." She sat on her bed and started packing up the few things she had been given. Joker sat on the edge of her bed and silently held out the familiar blue box wrapped with a white ribbon. She tilted her head at him but took the box. He watched as she opened it, revealing a golden bracelet with a "J" charm attached.
"Now stop bitching." He ordered. She leaned forward and kissed him on his theatrically painted red lips.