She couldn't stop herself now. She couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Her hands gripping tightly onto Arthur's hospital issued, white outfit, as he held her close. His fingers softly combing through her hair, as he did his best to comfort her. The lawyer not caring about the fact that this was the most unprofessional thing that she had ever done. That she should not be in the arms of the man in front of her. That she should not be taking such comfort in his embrace or his hand in her hair. In his odour that surrounded her, or the gently words that he was cooing softly, as he rested his chin on top of her head. But she didn't care. She was well aware that this, whatever she was feeling for Arthur, could not go anywhere. That win or lose, this was as much as they could have. But she would take it. Arthur, with every word. With seeing the life that he had had to suffer, making his way into her heart.
She had done the same the night before. The tears rolling down her cheeks when she had come to her realisation about what the clown's true intentions had been. When she had seen the look in Arthur's eyes as he spoke to Franklin. When he admitted to killing the three Wall Street guys. Murray saying that he was waiting for the punchline, only to be told coldly that there was none, by the clown. That it wasn't a joke. Arthur continuing by saying that he had nothing left to lose. That nothing could hurt him anymore. (Y/n) sure that when his confession was done, he had had every intention of placing the barrel of the gun under his chin and pulling the trigger. But Franklin had pushed. Instead of doing what his producer had wanted him to do. Instead of listening to the live audiences cries to get the killer clown off, and cut the interview, the host had been greedy. Thought that he could get himself an exclusive with the killer. Asking him whether he had done what he had done to start a movement. The lawyer finding her heart breaking a little bit more as Joker had said that if it had been him dying on the sidewalk, the people would have just walked right over him. That he passed every day, and no one noticed him. Yet because Thomas Wayne had cried about the three men, that that somehow seemed to make them more important than he was. Murray baiting the clown further with comments about self-pity. That Arthur was making excuses for killing the men. And then there it was. The moment. The moment when Jokers had changed his mind about killing Arthur. The clown telling Murray that he was awful. That he was awful for playing his video from the comedy club. For inviting him on the show just so that he could make fun of him. The clowns last "joke" one of the most powerful things that she had ever seen. One that was filled with such emotion. Such anger, hurt and pain, that she had felt her heart break. But not break for the man that had just been shot. No, it had instead broken for the man that had done the shooting. And now all she wanted, was to hold that man and let him know that she would not give up on him like so many had. That she would not abandon him.
>>-----------------------------------<<
Joker held the crying woman close. His fingers slowly combing through her hair. Holding her as close as he could, as she clung to his white, Arkham issue top. The clown cooing softly, as he tried to comfort her. Finding himself crying, as he thought back to what she had said.
He hadn't admitted it to himself until this moment. Perhaps he hadn't dared to. Perhaps it was only now as he felt safe for the first time in his life, with the woman that had already begun to mean so much to him in his arms, that he dared to even think about it. But everything that she had said, was true. He had indeed taken that loaded weapon to the show with the intention of using it. So many times before, he had pretended to us it on himself. So many times, he had placed the end of the barrel under his chin and pulled the trigger. So many times, he had put his fingers to his temple, and made to shot himself. Yet it wasn't until he actually made his way to the show, with the loaded weapon in his pocket, had he had the intention of really using it. Had had the intention of putting an end to the comedy that was his life. After all, he had nothing left to lose, and nothing more could hurt him.
But (Y/n) was right in what she said. The more that Franklin had spoken. The more that he had felt pushed, baited, and undermined, his murderous intent had turned from Arthur to the man on the other side of the desk. His ire pushed further and further away from the man that was constantly overlooked and ignored. From the man that was abused and berated for all his life, to the host of the show. The clown determined not to be walked over or treated as though he were nothing, ever again. Was going to make the whole stinking city of Gotham know his name. And that for good or bad, right or wrong. Everyone would remember him now. Everyone would remember Joker. The clown pulling (Y/n) closer as they just stood there. Joker once again wishing that Arthur had met her before any of this had had to happen. But finding it hard to regret that what he had done, had led to this moment. Had led to them being in one another's arms. The clown gently kissing her on top of the head, as the world around them seemed to disappear. The cold, white, clinical room vanishing to be replaced by something much more salubrious. The dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra filling his ears, as he slowly began to start to sway.