fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room, Thursday Night

Joker hobbled in and plopped down on the couch. "Well, hello! You haven't been avoiding me, have you?" It was a joke, of course it was a joke, and not an honest fear.

"Oh! Hello," Eleanor said, straightening up. "Of course not. I've been busy, what with ... the doll, since I know how to watch her, now, and ..."

So much for that. She made a face. "... maybe a little?"

"Well, it's definitely not awkward," Joker told her, tongue firmly in cheek. "But, you know, the weekend, not ourselves, the whole deal. Luckily neither of us killed anyone, right?"

"Apparently even the dead get better," Eleanor said. "One of the features of that weekend. Nothing's permanent except the psychological consequences."

She bit her lip and tried to go back to flipping channels.

"It's easier to find and apologize to people you don't even know," she said, instead. "So I owe you an apology but I didn't know how to deliver it, and that's made it a bit late."

"Naaah, all you owe me an apology for is the avoiding. Too many days without your presence can leave a guy feeling devastated, after all." He gave her a grin and a wink. "But, last weekend... wasn't you, wasn't me. That's all there is to it."

He paused. "...Unless you really are a Skywalker, in which case I want that diamond mine."

All right, so he was back to flirting with her again. It was reassuring. No matter what happened -- no matter how many sea slugs she revealed lurking in her insides, no matter how much another not-her had been using him to frame the werewolves for kidnapping someone who was secretly Sparkle in a wig -- the sun would rise, the world would turn, and Joker would flirt with her.

That was rather cheering.

"I'm not a Skywalker, and I don't think there is a diamond mine," she replied with a laugh. "Sorry to have made you suffer so long without my witty conversation. It may not have been us, but I'm still rather heartily ashamed of some of my behavior. It was a bit ... outlandish."

Edited 2014-02-14 04:13 (UTC)

"That's definitely one word for it," Joker agreed. "I happen to think 'batshit' is a better one. Could've been worse, right? Nothing too traumatic?"

"Not ... overly so," Eleanor said. Suddenly, she found herself unable to meet his eyes. "Though I did get rather ... desperate, when my caffeine addiction hit its low point. I resolved the matter in the most shameless manner possible. So that's a bit odd to reconcile myself with."

This was a perfect time to begin flipping through channels again.

"You... Oh! Yeeeeah, that's a bit awkward. You, uh... You okay? 'Cause that's... That could be traumatizing." If he was understanding her correctly.

He probably was. By the way she was turning a darker red all the time.

"Not someone I've ever met before," she allowed, "and I wasn't myself, so I've decided it doesn't ... count, as the term goes. I mean, very pleasant experience, but not exactly ... the momentous occasion one hopes for."

Nothing against the gentleman in question.

"... Though I hadn't really thought to 'hope', previously. I suspect one imagines such things are going to be grand romantic occasions. I never really ... thought about that happening to me, I suppose."

"Well, it happens to just about everyone, eventually," Joker pointed out. "But... yeah. Probably not the thing you want to happen when you're not yourself. Especially since grand romance and 'jonesing for a fix' don't really go well together."

"It was during a funeral," Eleanor said. "There's unromantic, and then there's tacky."

She was hugging her knees, now, and she dared a look over at him.

"I don't suppose romance is a prerequisite," she said. "Stories make it sound that way, but stories aren't bound to realism. Would you -- I mean, if you've ever, then did --"

Excuse her while she made another face.

"Let's pretend I didn't just ask you something terribly inappropriate."

"It's fine. No, romance isn't a prerequisite. I... okay, so you got me -- I haven't yet. Almost did, once, no romance involved. We were both drunk at a party, I'd just been dumped, you know, the perfect time for making important decisions. And then she broke my ankle trying to take my pants off, so... well, there's that. I'm still not sure whether to be thankful or disappointed about it." Joker shrugged.

Okay, so it was something that could be done with little investment. She wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Do you think you would have, if you'd been sober?" she asked. "How did her pulling your trousers shatter your ankle?"

Maybe the girl had been pulling rather insistently.

"Are you more thankful, or disappointed?" she added. "If this is too personal, I can relate my entire romantic history for you. It won't take very long."

Edited 2014-02-14 05:20 (UTC)

"It's really hard to say," Joker opined. "On the one hand, she was hot, and I would have gotten laid. On the other, I'd only just met her, and she... wasn't exactly the person I would have wanted to choose. So, you know, six of one..." He shrugged.

"And the ankle, that was just a bad combination of her being too drunk to do it right, and me being, you know" -- he waved a crutch at her -- "breakable."

She frowned at the crutch. She knew he had some ailment, but she hadn't pried. Not thus far. But this ...

"Are you?" she asked. "I mean, are you sure that you are? Because ... I don't know what you remember this weekend, Joker, but you weren't. I saw you walking, and not with a limp, either."

"Not gonna lie, that was kinda nice," Joker told her. "But not real. I mean, it wasn't really me. Trust me. I've got a genetic mutation called Vrolik's Syndrome -- my bones didn't form right, so they break easily. I don't carry around the crutches for show, you know."

"I didn't think you did," Eleanor said earnestly. "But unless your entire body changed -- do you know for certain that there isn't a mental element?"

She huffed at her own words. "Not to imply psychosomatic necessarily, but how do you know it isn't your brain misinterpreting the signals, and not the bones themselves? Maybe with another person inhabiting your brain, it side-stepped your condition entirely."

Mother was a psychiatrist. These were the sorts of things she wondered about.

"No, my bones are brittle," Joker tried to explain. He wasn't going to go off on Eleanor -- she was trying to help and all -- but, c'mon. "My entire body is physically, actually not structurally sound. It's not... Okay, look: technically, my legs 'work' fine. They bend in the right places, I can wiggle my toes, whatever. The problem is that my body mass, under 1G of gravity, will snap my leg bones like twigs. There's no 'side-stepping' around that." Joker shook his head. "And the next thing you're going to suggest is why don't I try calcium pills, like you think I have osteoporosis. You have NO idea how much that bugs."

His frustrationt was understandable, and yet, it was hard not to feel slapped by the sharpness of his response.

Eleanor withdrew into herself for a few moments, pretending to be very absorbed in changing the TV channel.

"I've somehow insulted you, and for that, I apologize," she said, not looking over at him.

It seemed pointless to add I was only trying to help. He knew that, presumably, and it somehow hadn't made her remarks sting any the less.

Joker sighed. "No, no, I'm not insulted, I just... I get that sort of thing a lot. Random strangers, even, just walk up and offer advice, like they think they know better than my doctors. I'm getting treatment, I promise you. And maybe Fandom has something magical here that can help, and you didn't know what disease I actually have, and I'm not mad at you, I'm just kind of... I don't know. Vrolik's isn't easily treatable, but it's pretty well-understood."

"So ... you're seeing doctors, then," she said, in the wary tone one might imagine if he had insisted that putting live scorpions on his face was the very best thing for his condition. Personal bias.

"Are doctors so incompetent that random pedestrians have better advice?"

"I have a crippling disease," Joker pointed out. "Of COURSE I'm seeing doctors! Like, a bunch of different ones, too!" He sighed. "No, the doctors aren't incompetent. The random pedestrians just want to quote-unquote 'try to help'. Whether or not they have anything useful to say. I mean, I get why they do it, but after a while, it gets old."

"I suppose that's your decision," Eleanor said, unable to hide a shudder. "If you feel that it's worth it -- that they can help more than what they take -- I suppose it's none of my business."

"Uhhh... yeah. Okay. Now it's my turn to apologize, for how harsh I sounded. You... uh. So, it's important to remember that most doctors in the world are doctors-who-heal-people, not doctors-who-do-experiments. And the doctors who do do experiments? Are nothing like the sickos who tortured you. And there are laws and regulations to stop that sort of thing from happening. And my dad has to sign assloads of consent forms any time I want to try an experimental treatment. And there are safeguards. And... It's not like that. I promise."

"It's not my business," Eleanor repeated, in a stronger-sounding voice. "Anything you consent to is entirely your concern. If you trust them, it's not my place to say you shouldn't."

Rapture wasn't the rest of the world. Sooner or later, she had to accept that.

"We didn't have many ... doctors-who-heal-people," she said, with an uneasy shrug. "I don't think any, not really. So it's easy to forget that they even exist."

"But... that's what doctors do," Joker countered. "I mean, that's what they're for. The experiments are just so they can heal people better. ...I mean, usually."

How hopelessly naive could one person be?

"If anyone cures you," she said -- and she realized her tone was sharp, so she shaded it back slightly to add -- "and I sincerely hope they can, it won't be for you, or for humanity, or the greater good. It will be for the ridiculous amount of money they can charge for that cure. They're not altruists. The people who claim to be altruists are usually the ones most interested in having you believe that so you never suspect what they're really up to."

"Well, I'm not disagreeing with you, there," Joker allowed. "I'm just saying that most doctors make all their money by healing the sick. It doesn't make them altruists, it's what they're paid to do."

"Then how do you know --" Eleanor bit her lip. And after a moment, shook her head.

"Sorry," she said. "I suppose it doesn't matter. You've consented, and they aren't harming you, to your knowledge. I do hope they find something, to help you."

"How do I know they're not going to do something dark and twisted to me?" Joker answered. "Because if they tried it and got caught, they would go to jail for a long-ass time. Plus, I'd sue the crap out of them and take all their money."

"I keep forgetting, you have laws against these things," Eleanor said wryly. "That does inspire a touch more confidence, if you imagine the laws will be enforced."

"Well, they're not enforced evenly, and they're not always enforced well, but yeah, they get enforced. Not all our tax dollars go into pointless boondoggles."

"We didn't have tax dollars or laws," Eleanor said lightly. "No pointless boondoggles, no legislation, no regulations. Just good old-fashioned innovation."

Yeah. Guess how that ended.

"No laws at all?" Joker stared at her. "I mean, at all?"

Suddenly, the things she'd said about her home made a lot more sense. "How long did that take to fall apart miserably?!?"

"About a decade," Eleanor said. "Then it was just junkies and open fires and civil war."

Really, it was astonishing it had taken that long.

"Ohhh, man. I'm sorry. That's just... I'm sorry. No wonder they got away with torturing little girls. I mean, that's just... Who in their right mind thinks that not having any laws is a good idea?!?"

"Captains of industry," Eleanor sighed. "Andrew Ryan was convinced that charity was theft, taxation was theft, and selfishness was the only moral good. They kept reading books about a fountain. And one about Atlas, leaving the world instead of holding it up."

"Oh, batshit crazy people. Yeah, I've known a few people who worship those books. I wouldn't put them in charge of jack fucking squat."

"There you have it," Eleanor said. "The rest practically writes itself."

She'd left out ADAM, but really. ADAM had been a catalyst that made the reaction go faster. It would have fallen apart regardless.

"Mother swept in and picked up the pieces," she said, "and used the same ugly tools to further her own agenda. Now that she's been displaced, someone's probably rising from the crater left behind to rally together behind yet another cause."

"Didn't you say they're all deranged junkies, now? Or are there still sane people left in that hellhole?"

"There are a few," Eleanor mused. "Aunt Gracie's still down there. ... Not my real aunt. Just one of mother's friends."

Joker frowned. "That's... rough. Is she gonna be okay down there?"

Eleanor shrugged, trying to seem utterly unconcerned. "I don't suppose I'll ever know," she said. "I can't contact her. She's utterly loyal to Mother. I don't trust her not to pass along my whereabouts."

So ... that left Aunt Gracie rotting in the hell of Rapture alone. So be it. She'd chosen her side.

It didn't bother Eleanor. Much.

Joker sucked in a breath. "Oooh. Ow. I, uh. Wow. I'm sorry. There really hasn't been anything in your life that hasn't sucked, has there? 'Cause... wow."

"Father," Eleanor said, immediately. "Father protected me. He killed for me. He wasn't my real father, but it doesn't matter. Love is only a chemical, after all. It doesn't matter what the origin of it is. You said that yourself. And he loved me."

She thought of Celia, with a forgotten mother and a cruel father, and shuddered. "I was lucky," she said. "I had Father to guide me. Some people have no one at all."

Edited 2014-02-15 04:59 (UTC)

"That is lucky," Joker told her. "And maybe... I don't know. Maybe, in the middle of all that tragedy, just a little bit of luck is enough to make a difference?"

Eleanor didn't know why she was telling him all of this. And yet, it seemed to be spilling out, anyway.

"I think it changed me," she said carefully. "He taught me mercy, and forgiveness, and ... I think I'd be so much colder if I'd never known him."

"Then you're really lucky," Joker told her. "He kept you human, instead of whatever monster your mom wanted you to be."

Third Floor Common Room, Thursday Night

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