Snippet for Vandonovan

[icarus_chained]

1st result of the story-I'd-never-write meme.

Title:  Happiness
Rating: R
Fandom:  Batman/Blake's 7 crossover
Characters/Pairings:  hints of Joker/Carnell, and future Joker/Avon.
Summary:  Everyone's favourite psychopath gets plonked in B7-verse. They are *not* prepared for him.
Warnings:  Severely screwy. I should stop venturing into Jokerland, I really, really should.

The hand shook as it moved across the board, clenching around the stylus. The white-faced man leaned over the writer's shoulder, watching in apparent delight as the words took shape.

In reaction to a defining psychological event ... a traumatic experience ... the subject appears to have reached the conclusion that ... that ... that pain is ... happiness.

The Joker cackled suddenly, reaching out to stroke the man's shoulder. "Oh, very good, Carney old chum! You're a smart one, I can see that" The psychostrategist shuddered under the touch, flinched from the voice, his face sweaty and shining with strain. "I'm happy as can be, you know that!"

Subject appears to want to ... spread the happiness. To ... spread pain. No longer requires it himself because ...

"Because I'm already happy!" the Joker finished, patting Carnell consolingly on the shoulder. "It's just all you other poor saps, you know. You need to cheer up, smile a little! And I can help you with that."

"No," the man whispered, out loud for the first time, and the Joker grinned viciously, joyfully. The challenge ... the joy. So strong and beautiful, this boy! So smart, so innocent. Like his own poor, abandoned Harley. He pouted a little. He hadn't been done with her, and now she was in some other world. Lost, without her puddin'. And the Bat, too! Rage snarled up through him at the thought, at the loss, and his hand tightened instinctively around the boy's shoulder. Carnell flinched in pain, and the Joker came back with a start.

"Go on, Carney!" he directed cheerfully, as he moved to browse the files. Such detailed little notes, they had. Almost like the Bat's. "You know, I like that name. Carney. It suits you. Like a carnival. Reminds me of a friend of mine. Her name was Harley."

Then faces started flashing on the screen, new playthings, and he forgot about the boy for a while, watching in delight as plaything after plaything flickered passed. He watched their faces, and his eyes lit up in garish adoration.

That one. A dark haired woman, her proud face alive with all the regal tyranny of a disdainful queen. In his mind, the image changed, until he could see her, dancing naked at his carnival, the blood streaming behind her like a jester's motley, her proud face laughing happily beneath its red mask.

And this one. Ooh, a rebel, hah! An anarchist, was it? Such a serious face though, this Blake had. No fun at all, not until he learned how to smile. A clown, yes. This one should be a clown, with a painted red grin, and a bloodless face, for that perfect pale effect.

And these two women. Blonde and bouncy, lean and serious. Beautiful, but still too serious. Oh well. They could contortionists, he thought. Every carnival should have contortionists! And he could see them, bent and twisted, the strain pulling their faces back into perfect grins.

And here. This shy, timid little creature. Mousy little man. He looked like a man who could use some happiness in his life. A nice smile, and some wires to show him how to dance. Yes, a puppet!

Oh, and here. Wait now. This face, dark and intense, those eyes, arrogant and cynical. Oh, he liked this one. This one could smile, he knew it. This one could see the humour in pain, in death. He sensed something behind those dark eyes, a lurking shattering, an echo of his own joy waiting to happen. Oh, this one was beautiful. This one was perfect. This one, maybe, could be his Bat, if pushed, if prodded. A little work, and this one could be so very beautiful, so very happy!

It might be worth his while to stay here, he mused. Such pretty playthings ... and you never knew. The Bat had always found him before. Maybe the old sourpuss might yet drop in on this delightful little universe looking for him

And if he did, Joker didn't want him to miss him. So he'd have to signpost the way, let old Batty know how to find him ...

He turned back to the boy, his eyes shining with dark delight. Carney looked up at him, muscles slack and useless save for his cramping, shaking hand, terror and a kind of awed admiration in those intelligent eyes of his. The Joker grinned, feeling his own mouth stretch into a red leer over boney, white teeth, the very picture of joy. He reached out, pinching the man's rosy cheeks, and put his thumbs to the corners of the thin mouth to draw it painfully up into an unwilling smile.

"There now," he laughed. "That's better, Carney! Got to be cheerful for what's coming! We're going to put a whole new face on this galaxy of yours, you and I!" His grin widened, pure and unadulterated happiness. "A happy face!"

And as they left, the Joker's arm wrapped companionably around the psychostrategist's shaking shoulder, words blinked on the board behind them.

Beyond this basic tenet, this mind is ... chaotic. Pure ... chaos. I've never seen a mind like this, chaos like this. I never understood ...

It's ... beautiful.