In the Mind of Madness

Kenna woke up alone.

She was cold, so Bruce had been gone for a while. Sitting up, Kenna stared around the big empty room and felt the gravity of what she’d done.

Now her temporary living arrangement would become a lot more complicated. Also if the press got wind of Kenna’s involvement with Bruce (after Kenna’s reappearance itself was found out) it would be impossible to get a good verdict without people assuming Bruce bribed the judge and/or jury.

Her hand came up and tried to run through her hair, catching on a few tight knots that Kenna knew would be murder to get out. She would pour conditioner on in the shower, something she was already planning on doing because of the multiple layers of sweat dried on her skin. Kenna felt her cheekbones heat when she remembered why one of those layers was there.

Kenna twisted on the huge bed to stand up, her eyes snapping to a white piece of paper on Bruce’s dark nightstand. She picked it up and read the neat scrawl, pursing her lips so she wouldn’t smile.

I didn’t abandon you. Called in to work. Sleep in.

-B

There were two words that ‘B’ could have began, but Kenna only thought of Bruce as she stood up and slipped into Bruce’s robe. She needed to get down the hall to her own room for clean clothes and a shower, her sweaty jogging clothes bundled up under her arm.

After peeking her head into the hallway and judging it was clear, Kenna ran on her toes to her room. When she made it without seeing Alfred she let out a sigh of relief, tossing her dirty clothes onto her bed to wash later (Alfred had tried to do her laundry, but Kenna managed to hide it from him so she could do it herself). She locked her door and removed the black silk robe, laying it on her bed to return to Bruce’s room when she was finished.

In the hot spray of the luxurious shower in her bathroom Kenna couldn’t stop replaying the events of the night before. She felt like an idiot teenager with a crush, but she couldn’t change it. It was nice to have something to think about that wasn’t related to her possible imprisonment or the clown that wanted to kill her.

Bruce had been shockingly gentle with her. Kenna was almost frustrated by it at times, surprising herself. She thought about the scar on her butt from the guy who had wanted her to wear a leather diaper, snorting. It wasn’t like she wanted that kind of sex life, but…somehow the tenderness hadn’t been what she needed. Kenna was puzzled at herself and her thoughts, so she tried to focus on getting the snarls out of her hair.

After taking a good long shower Kenna stepped out of her bathroom amid a swirl of steam, one hand holding a plush white towel loosely over her body and another drying her now untangled hair. She opened her eyes and froze, jaw popping open in a silent scream.

“Hello, doll.”

---

Bruce grunted as he lifted himself up to the edge of the window, peering inside and seeing no signs of life. The apartment was dark and filthy, the smell of animal feces reaching him even outside. There was a splash of blood on the fridge, and Bruce felt the familiar fear grip him that it was too late.

When he couldn’t be in his basement headquarters to monitor Gotham activity, Bruce had Alfred listening to a police scanner in the kitchen. There was a report of domestic violence, a call that Bruce would have usually left to the police, but something wasn’t right. The woman sounded too calm, the dispatcher sounded too dumb. And seconds later a different dispatcher was announcing the hundred or so calls the GCPD got every other hour.

Bruce had a gut feeling something wrong was happening. Things had been too quiet. The mob was laying low after their assets were seized and three-quarters of their guys were taken into custody. Petty criminals had kept up, but even that seemed a bit less than normal. But what worried Bruce most was the lack of activity from The Joker. It felt like the calm before a storm, and Bruce knew it would hit them soon.

As he crawled through the window as quietly as possible Bruce thought of Kenna. She was probably awake now, sneaking to the kitchen to try and cook breakfast, or sitting outside on the patio as she liked to do in the mornings. Or maybe she was still asleep, naked and curled up under his sheets. Bruce stood up in the shitty apartment and almost smiled. She looked peaceful when she slept, the little creases of worry on her beautiful face smoothed out.

This was no time for distractions, and Bruce knew that. Still, he pondered Kenna as he went slowly to the blood-spattered refrigerator. He hadn’t been honest with anyone like he was with her the night before since…Rachel. Bruce was amazed when he could think of her without a stab of pain in his gut. Almost immediately he felt guilty for beginning to move on, but what could he do? Kenna had come into his life as suddenly as…well, The Joker. Hot anger shot to Bruce’s fingertips at thoughts of the purple-suited lunatic.

Gotham wouldn’t be safe until The Joker was behind bars or dead. Bruce sort of preferred the latter. He was used to the way his gloved hands itched to wrap around that neck and squeeze until the manic amusement died out of those eyes. But he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

How had Kenna stayed alive with The Joker? Bruce shook his head as he inspected the blood, thinking of how strong she was. Probably stronger than most people he’d met before.

The blood was relatively dry. It had been there for over ten minutes, darkening on the white surface. There were no drips from the splash, and it looked like it had been smeared there. Bruce held his fingers up to the four stripes at one side. Yes, someone had put their bloody hand on the fridge and slid it across. But it went up, so they hadn’t fallen. And there was no blood on the floor. Bruce squinted at the fridge. It didn’t make sense.

“Yoo-hoo!”

Bruce spun around in time to be stabbed in the arm. He stared in shock at the woman who had done it, her hand still holding the blade in the muscle of his right arm. The pain would come any second, but Bruce wasn’t paying attention. It was obvious who she worked for, a clown mask hiding her face, bright red hair sticking up in wild spikes from her head. Bruce found himself gaping at the mask; the deeply frowning mouth, the bulbous red nose, the sad blue eyebrows above the eye holes.

“The boss says to stop taking his toys. It isn’t nice.” she said in a high voice slightly muffled by the mask. “This is his last warning. Pass it on to Wayne.”

Bruce started to reach for her and she withdrew the knife, jamming the five-inch blade into Bruce’s thigh briefly before skipping backwards. He couldn’t see her expression behind the mask, but she was chuckling quietly.

“What else does your boss say?” the hissed words came from between his teeth. He couldn’t stay on his feet much longer, the pain debilitating. “How long has it been since you did or said something without him telling you to? How does it feel to answer to a --”

Her fist came in contact with his mouth. Bruce was already tottering, and the impact caused him to fall through the air like a heavy tree. He landed and groaned, tasting his own blood and knowing his teeth had cut the inside of his mouth, probably his tongue. The woman pointed the knife at him threateningly as she edged for the window.

“Remember your place, Bat. Gotham is The Joker’s now. Don’t interfere with Kenna or Wayne anymore and you won‘t get hurt.”

With that she put her back to Bruce and climbed lithely out the window Batman had come in.

Bruce laid down on the grimy floor slowly, able to feel warm blood dripping down his arm and leg, dribbling from the corner of his mouth. The pain was incredible, and he knew that there was some serious muscle damage. Probably just what The Joker wanted, to have him out of commission for a few weeks while he put whatever his plan was into action.

With his uninjured arm Bruce pressed the button on his ear that would call Alfred. After a few seconds there was no response. Bruce grimaced out of both pain and suspicion. Alfred always answered, especially this line. It was for emergencies only.

“Alfred?” he grit out through his clenched teeth. “Alfred where are you?!”

---

Kenna stared at the figure from her nightmares, fingers going numb from clutching her towel so hard. Fight or flight took over and she made a mad dash for the door, but The Joker was quicker.

His gloved hand flew out, hitting the door and holding it in place when she pried on the handle with her free hand. Kenna froze in fear staring at the door, unable to look over and see the face that went along with the even breathing and amused silence.

“Now, now. You wouldn‘t want to cut your reunion short.” his high, mocking voice said into Kenna’s ear.

His breath was hot and brought back flashes of the other times he’d been near her like this. A shiver vibrated down her spine, goosebumps rising on her previously warm flesh. It seemed like the air in her room had dropped to subzero temperatures. A hand covered in familiar purple velvet rested on her shoulder, sweeping away the wet strands of her hair and gripping the back of her neck. Kenna felt bile rise in the back of her throat.

He leaned even closer, his lips pressed directly to Kenna’s ear. Her hands shook on the door as she waited for the next words to come. The grip on her neck tightened until it was almost painful.

“You thought…you could escape…me?”

Kenna trembled noticeably, holding her towel to her chest hard. She was too bared, too alone. A horrible pit developed in her stomach as she realized The Joker was probably going to kill her. He had probably killed Alfred and Bruce, too. She knew it was her fault and the pit grew deeper.

It was a miracle Kenna didn’t scream her terror as the hand on her neck moved to her collar bone and shoved violently, sending her to the floor with strength that was surprising even coming from The Joker. She held desperately to her towel, keeping her legs together as she landed, gasping when she landed mostly on her elbow and tailbone. The Joker spun around to glower over her, his face holding an expression of pure hostility.

“Much like training a puppy, I got too lenient and you piddled on the floor.” he said in an eerily calm tone as he stalked towards her. His glinting brown eyes narrowed to slits. “Trust me when I say that it won’t happen again, sweet cheeks.”

Kenna blinked up at him, her fear rendering her motionless. No matter how many times she shut her eyes and opened them again The Joker didn’t disappear. She didn’t wake up still safe in Bruce’s bed. Instead The Joker crouched over her, his face above hers so his oily green curls nearly touched her cheek.

“What’s the matter, doc? Bat got your tongue?”

Finally the wave of paralytic fright passed, replaced by a flash of anger that replaced the blank expression of Kenna’s face with one of loathing. The Joker’s eyes drilled holes into hers, slowly growing softer as her own fury grew. Kenna brought up her knee the moment his posture turned less aggressive.

A loud ‘oomph’ came out of his mouth and his face moved out of Kenna’s vision, falling to the side at the pain in his groin. Kenna didn’t take time to savor her victory before she scrambled up, still clenching her towel around her naked body for dear life. Adrenaline pounded inside her like a tribal drum, spurring her legs to the door, her free arm wrenching it open and bolting down the hall.

Her feet took her to the kitchen, slapping on the smooth tile floor so fast sometimes Kenna was sure she was going to tip over. Only she didn’t, reaching the kitchen and locking the door behind herself. As soon as she was inside the room she saw Alfred, sitting on the floor with his hands tied to the handle of the oven, eyes blindfolded and mouth gagged.

Kenna lunged to the floor, landing harshly on her knees but disregarding it as she rolled the corners of her towel under her armpit so she could untie Alfred. When his eyes were revealed they blinked, bringing the room into focus so he could see Kenna. The pale blue irises were worried, but he didn’t seem very afraid. Kenna undid the gag on his mouth and then went to his hands.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Miss Archer.” said Alfred, and Kenna realized she was telling the old butler she was sorry repeatedly. “You didn’t invite The Joker here.”

“I practically did.” she mumbled, having trouble with the tight loop holding Alfred’s wrists to the oven. “I knew it was a bad idea to come here. I shouldn’t have listened to Bruce. This is my fault.”

When he was free Alfred rubbed his wrists, which were slightly pink from the torn rag his hand had been bound with. He gave Kenna a stern look. “He only wanted to protect you, Miss Archer. And with good cause. I don’t think you realize how much danger you’re in.”

Kenna swallowed the hot bile in her throat. “Oh, I know.” she glanced at the door, knowing that any minute The Joker could find her. She turned back to Alfred urgently. “Is there any way you can get out of here?”

“There’s a hidden exit behind the floor in the pantry, but I intend to take you with me, miss.”

Smiling tightly, Kenna shook her head. “As long as I’m away from him there won’t be peace for Gotham. I can give it back, but I can’t do it in good conscience if you don’t get out of here.”

Alfred stared at her with watery eyes that had seen many more years. “You’ll regret it.”

“I know I will.” whispered Kenna, swallowing again. “But I have to stop running away. I have to give up for Gotham’s sake…for Bruce’s sake.”

“You won’t be giving up, miss.” the old man said with a weak smile. “Sometimes a sacrifice can win the game.”

Kenna laughed at the words. “Yeah. Take one for the team.”

There were distant footsteps audible over the silence of the manor. Kenna twitched in fear and gave Alfred a look that she hoped conveyed her frantic desire for him to go. She was going to start pleading again, but he nodded and used the nearby countertop to stand. He winced, but he didn’t seem to be injured, just sore from his previous position.

“You should find Bruce.” she said in a harsh whisper, unsure if The Joker could hear her now. “I think he might be in trouble.”

Alfred nodded again as he walked stiffly towards the pantry. “My thoughts exactly.” he paused with his withered hand on the doorknob, giving Kenna a genial look. “I respect your decision, Miss Archer. I hope Bruce can as well.”

“Go!” mouthed Kenna, refusing to let the words get to her now. She would never see Bruce again.

All of it was her fault. Kenna knew it in a way that made her entire body ache with regret. She could have stopped talking to the clown as soon as she saw the horrible bond developing. The moment she sensed whatever perverted chemistry there was between them she should have dropped the case and got back to her life. But no, Kenna had been reckless and stupid, and she was paying the price.

Alfred disappeared into the pantry, and Kenna let out a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t have his blood on her hands, too. She wondered how many people he had killed to get here, to get to her. Kenna looked at her hands and could have sworn they glistened with innocent life. She gasped out a rugged sob, quickly composing herself before any tears could come.

It couldn’t have been two seconds later that there was a pounding on the door. Kenna didn’t even jump, expecting The Joker to find her there. She remained kneeling on her skinned knees, holding her warm face in her hands and waiting. She was going to surrender to him, but it didn’t mean she had to get the door. She could wait for him to break it down.

A whistle like what a master would use to call his dog came from the other side. “I know you’re in there, princess.” his dementedly amused voice sang. “I can hear your heart beating!”

Kenna shuddered in absolute terror and let her forehead touch the cool floor. When she didn’t reply there was a quiet exhale of annoyance, then two silenced gunshots piercing the door. Without looking she knew he had blown out the hinges, a moment later the thundering crash of the door falling into the room. Kenna prayed Alfred had already made his way into the secret exit, but she prayed harder for him to find Bruce before it was too late.

“Kitten, you’re shaking.” the cold voice said from just behind her. His tongue clicked in disapproval. “That’s what you get for running around in only a towel.”

A strong arm slid under her elbows and around her waist, yanking her up to her feet. Kenna almost wobbled, but managed to stay standing. The Joker pulled her back to his chest and grabbed a handful of her wet blonde locks, jerking her neck backwards so her head laid on his shoulder. Kenna looked up at his painted face, accepting that she would be stuck with it. Soon he wouldn’t terrify her as much, just like it used to be. Or so she hoped.

His ravenous eyes flitted to her exposed neck, watching it shift as she gulped, the stretched pose causing her lips to part in a gurgle. She had shut her green eyes, breath coming quickly in and out of her nose. The Joker’s own scarlet lips opened slightly, an eyebrow raising at Kenna’s limp body against his own. The gloved hand resting on her waist walked upwards, finding the place where her towel was held securely.

Kenna’s spine jumped back to erectness, her body attempting to wriggle away, her elbow going back for his ribs. The Joker grunted when it hit, but after that he dissolved into fits of giggles, hot breath settling on the skin of her throat. He pressed his mouth to her ear in what almost felt like a kiss.

“Good to have you back, Kenna.”