Colored Glass: A Harley Quinn Story
Summary: Harley muses over her deteriorating mental state in a rare moment of introspective clarity. Comic-verse, one-shot. Enjoy - reviews are love!
So this is why they call it "falling." I stand on the edge of the abyss, and hear wind rushing in my ears in the form of a thousand voices, calling, "Stop! Come back! Don't do it!" Didn't they see? Didn't they know I couldn't go back now, even if I wanted to?
In psychiatric medicine, we talk about patients who've reached "rock bottom." It's a fine metaphor, truly. When a person has gone far enough down the hole, and lost the steady ground of sanity, the only place left to go is up. At least, that's the theory. Our job is to send down ropes and pulleys and flashlights in the hope that the afflicted will haul himself back up. We can't help them but so much; we can't even strap them into the harness. All we can do is point out the footholds along the way. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. I knew that, at the beginning. But still I tried.
And I know something else now: there is no "bottom." It goes on and on forever. The "bottom" is only a ledge, a point of no return, and if you fall off that, you're lost. After that, the abyss is so deep, none of our ropes and pulleys can reach you. The blackness is so thick that a flashlight can't pierce it.
Oh, Mister J. You tried to warn me, didn't you? You always said it was easier this way. Who would trade this feeling, the rush, the freedom of madness, when the alternative is cold, grim reality, where malice and corruption threaten to push you off at any moment?
You also told me the Batman could come and go as he pleased. He has wings, after all. But he can only go so far. Isn't that right, Mister J? There are some places even he can't follow.
There must have been a moment when I could have turned back. I missed it somehow. No—I hadn't missed anything. I didn't see it because I didn't want to. Once I took that step, I was ready, and I wanted to fall. I know exactly when it happened. The day you convinced me to give you your makeup back. Dr. Leland told me it was a mistake, but I listened to you. I felt sorry for you. I felt the ground crumbling underneath me then, but I still helped you. You told me you couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror, and that it scared you. You said you thought you were disappearing. I understood completely. I'd been disappearing for years.
Funny, so many voices shouted at me, all at once, all demanding attention, but the only one I heard was yours. You say such strange, beautiful, horrible things. You never called me beautiful, but you said I was like a person in a dream, a collage of pretty pictures that didn't quite fit together. "Hair like spun sugar and eyes like colored glass." When I looked at myself, I knew what you meant: I could see the cracks too, even then. And the wider they grew, the more you wanted me.
You knew I'd fought to be the one who got to talk to you, against the advice of my peers and superiors. You probably heard them talking about me behind my back, saying things like, "questionable ethics" and "unorthodox methods." Is that why you decided to trust me? I always knew we had something in common, even if the others didn't see it at first. You saw it, didn't you? You saw it before I did. How much potential I had, how loosely I held my own mind together.
I think you hated me a little, at first. How could a fragile waif like me presume to get inside the mind of the Joker? But that didn't last long. You'd unhinge me before I ever got the chance to put you back together. Maybe that was what I wanted all along. The reason I lied, cheated, and screwed my way through med school to get to you. Because I knew you'd break me down so far I'd have no choice but to cling to you.
I helped too, you know. It wasn't all your doing. In my darkest heart, this is what I wished for. It wouldn't have worked otherwise. I remember how surprised you were when I came to your cell that night—you didn't realize what your influence would do to me, is still doing to me. "Isn't it a little early for our session?" you asked. I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. You'd probably heard that they were sending me away, that Dr. Leland and Dr. Arkham were worried about what you were doing to me. They warned me from the start, but I didn't listen. I didn't want to listen. I just wanted you. I crossed the room, took your painted, mangled face in both hands, and kissed you. You froze like a statue, but then embraced me and kissed me back. I led you away from that place then. I knew you wouldn't know where to go. I studied the nighttime security staff for weeks, earning favors from them, and trust, learning where the cameras and short cuts were.
You did your bit, of course. You twisted my arm behind my back and made them think I was a hostage. I laughed when you flashed your knife out and cut the night guard's throat instead of mine—He was so surprised!—and you laughed with me. I gave you back your freedom, and you were happy to keep me by your side.
You hadn't counted on that. You just wanted to work me over enough to let you out. But you got more than you bargained for with me. Don't all card players know to keep an Ace up a sleeve? Do you know what you did wrong? Or did you plan this, too?
No, you couldn't have planned this. A mind like yours is so full of rage and chaos, the possibility of love never occurred to you. To me, it was inevitable. In a way I'd known all along that I would fall for you. Then you gave me a new name, one that painted me as yours forever: Harley Quinn. I don't mind when you pretend to be irritated by me. Even when you take out your anger and frustration on me. You need someone who will stand by you no matter what. I can do it. I can withstand the torment and abuse. It won't last forever.
One day, you'll know. You'll realize how much I've done for you, and that all I've ever wanted in return was your love. You'll see what I've sacrificed, what I'm still sacrificing, for your amusement. And on that day, you'll let me in. You'll give in to me and reward me for my devotion to you. You'll give yourself to me willingly, really say the words, out loud. You'll stop pretending to be so cold and heartless.
Won't you?