Joker Oneshots {Heath Ledger}

2• Injury

The Joker gets a nasty injury, but fortunately help is on hand.

•~•~•

"Give me your bes-t shot." The clown taunted, arms held up as he twitched his fingers, practically begging to be shot.

He stood dressed in his theatrical attire, gloved hands extended in a dramatic mockery whilst he grinned wildly to the man standing roughly 10 yards away. His red-coated scars stretched upwards across his cheeks, cocoa-hued orbs glaring menacingly at the enemy before him.

The barrel of a pistol was pointed his way, being aimed by a large man, with dark blue eyes and sun-kissed skin. His black brows furrowed in puzzlement, wondering what trick the infamous Clown had up his sleeve. He pulled his other hand closer to his chest, beginning to choke the Queen of Gotham within his large bicep. She was being held against his torso, hands desperately scraping at his reddening wrists. He didn't even acknowledge her efforts, causing her to groan in frustration.

His calloused finger began to press against the trigger, feeling the cool metal of the death weapon he held in his firm grip. His arm tightened around Harley's body, forcing her to gasp for air and her eyes to start watering.

With a quick breath he pulled the trigger, causing a loud, ear-ringing bang to echo into the empty alley. In the split second it took for the bullet to reach its target, the Joker had pulled out a concealed blade from within his coat sleeve, before propelling it towards the man.

Harley's baby blue eyes squeezed shut as she suddenly felt the man's heavy grip release. She looked up above her shoulder as blood began to ooze down his forehead, directly below the blade which sat embedded into his skull. His eyes were wide and lifeless as he gradually began to fall backwards.

She watched as his body landed on the ground with a thud. Her eyes lay transfixed on his motionless body until a groan from behind her brought her back to reality.

Spinning quickly on her heel she sprinted towards the Joker, heels scraping across the stone-ridden ground as she came to an abrupt stop before his writhing frame. He lay sprawled out, hand pressed rigid against his right shoulder.

Harley noticed a crimson colour begin to spread out from under his hand, seeping into his coat as he let out strained moans. His green ringlets began to stick to his glossy skin, coated with a thin layer of sweat. His brows were deeply furrowed in pain, whilst he bit harshly into his lip, nearly breaking the soft skin.

She took out her phone, quickly dialling a number. A gruff voice answered on the other end and she began to explain everything that had happened so quickly she didn't even take a breath. The henchman on the other end informed her he'd be there in five minutes.

Stars shone above her as she dragged the injured clown towards the alley wall, propping him up against the red brick wall. She stared wide-eyed at him struggling to stay conscious, and ultimately failing. His head sunk to his chest as his hand fell to his hips. She quickly ripped off a piece of her top sleeve, pressing he material against the bleeding wound. The white material began to turn a dark red, being drenched in his blood. Her breath hitched in her throat, panic setting. She looked to the end of the alley, eyes longing to see a silver van fly around the corner, but it had only been a couple of minutes.

She caressed his cheek, wiping his hair from his face as she checked his pulse. It was getting weaker every second she wasted sitting here. Her eyes glazed over with unshed tears, holding back sobs as her hand clasped over her mouth.

Suddenly headlights flooded the alley, and a van driving top speed towards her could be seen veering around the many dumpsters. It's beaming lights caused her to shield her eyes as she watched him come to a gradual halt before her.

A door swung open and a tall, heavily built man leapt out. Within a few strides he was by the Joker's side, assessing the situation. "Help me take him inside." He motioned for Harley to pick up the unconscious clown's feet.

With a weak breath she stood, lacing her fingers around his ankles as the rest of his body was roughly pulled upwards by the henchman, who Harley still had yet to recognise. The night sky barely illuminated the dim alley and she was left guessing.

They rounded the van and she swung open the double doors. After several seconds and with great struggle they were able to get the man lying on his back on the floor of the van, his body beginning to squirm as he reentered consciousness.

The doors closed shut with a click and lights immediately lit up the small space. Harley recognised the henchman as Mercer, he was a new recruit and novice medic. His dark brows furrowed in concentration as he began to slice open the Joker's coat and shirt, attempting to remove any clothing that would get in the way.

Once the heavy material was removed he could evaluate the damage. A small bloody hole sat near his collarbone, surrounded by a layer of risen and reddening skin. His hot skin turned glossy with slick sweat as his breathing quickened and his eyes began to open.

His first instinct was to reach for his knife, but once he realised his coat was now absent from his torso he huffed and raised his head. His eyes were still trying to focus, but he could make out a black blurry figure, wiping away at his skin.

Harley noticed his puzzled expression and quickly placed a hand over his own blood stained one. "Mercer is here to help J, just relax, I'm right beside you." She spoke quietly, wrapping her digits tightly around his hand, reassuring him that everything would be alright.

His quizzical orbs landed on her, his blackened brows firmly furrowed as his head began to feel like a weight on his burning shoulders. The pain soon began to kick in as the short period of initial shock surpassed. "Need morph-ine." He croaked out, his jaw clenching as he balled his hand into a fist.

"I didn't have time to grab any boss, just take in deep breaths," He coolly replied, unfazed by the murderous look on his bosses tricolour face. "The bullet didn't go through so I need to get it out." He informed whilst picking up a small tweezers.

Joker squeezed his eyes shut, arching his back as a wave of pain hit him. "You fuck-er." His voice was raspy and high-pitched as he braced himself for the next torturous minutes.

He could feel a stinging sensation run across his chest as he could feel his skin being forcibly stretched and prodded. He hissed and groaned in pain, twisting and trying to pry the henchman's rough hands away. He had little success in his actions and even earned a slap to his obstructing wrist.

He could feel the tweezers edging closer to the core of his pain and discomfort, before finally grasping onto the minuscule bullet. He ripped it out of him, forcing his body to jolt upwards and a croaky yelp to escape his open lips, followed by a raspy giggle whilst his scars stretched upwards into a smile.

He could feel Harley's frail hand wrapped around his own, slow circles being rubbed against his warm flesh as he let out a broken sigh.

"That wasn't so bad," Mercer mockingly joked, placing the small bullet on the metal floor beside him. He looked up to see the Joker glare daggers in his smug direction. "Now I just have to stitch you up and you'll be good as new." His cheerful attitude was hardly appreciated.

The Joker dropped his head to the floor, sighing tiredly. He thought he would have been used to getting wounded by now, but it seems that every time he's shot or stabbed it's as if he's going through the whole process again.

•~•~•

Thoughts on this chapter?
I'm still trying to get into the knack of writing Ledger's Joker, but I think it's going okay so far?
Thank you for reading and especially for voting 😊