Hia guys. This is just my version of one of the scenes of the Joker and Harley that got cut from the movie. Hope you like it.
Be warned there is domestic violence, violent thoughts, violence and crazed dependency in this.
Please review.
Why was I doing this?
You know why, a fuzzy voice rung inside my head. It was a voice that had been plaguing my mind for weeks, edging me towards insanity. I knew whose voice it was, it was my own, though it sounded twisted and demented as if I'd swallowed broken glass. Maybe I had.
I pressed my hands to my temple and pressed down hard desperately trying to drown out the torturous voice that had plagued my mind ever since I'd awoken in the hospital after Mr. J had taken over Arkham Asylum, since he'd used the electrotherapy treatment on my brain.
I remembered the first time he'd called me 'baby' in one of our sessions at the Arkham Asylum and instead of feeling a rush of revulsion I'd felt the thrill of excitement coursing through my veins and a flutter of lust in the deepest pit of my stomach. I should have stopped the sessions then! I should have told my superiors that I could no longer handle the Joker's case, but I hadn't, I'd eagerly anticipated our next session. I didn't put a stop to the intoxicating sessions when flowers and gifts began arriving at my door every morning, I didn't put a stop to the sessions when he told me happily how much fun they would have together when he returned to being the Clown Prince of Gotham and that I would be his Queen. I had just blushed meekly; I certainly didn't put a stop to the sessions when he enchanted me with a kiss.
That was it then. The moment his bright stained lips crashed against my own in a whirl of lust and aggression I knew he had me, and he knew it too. Every day I found myself spending hours doing my hair and make-up before going to work, even if I was not scheduled to have a session with Mr. J that day, but I wanted to look attractive just encase I encountered the green haired man. I wanted him to find me pretty. Every session I found myself flirting shamelessly with the villain.
He wasn't a villain I told myself, he was just sick. Having an abusive father and an absent mother could do that to someone.
He is, that voiced rattled my brain once more. And you are too.
"Stop!" I screamed loudly at the voice in my head, slapping the side of my head once. Walking pedestrians rushed along keeping their eyes to the floor ignoring my crazed outburst.
Maybe I am crazy.
There's no maybe about it.
I began to laugh manically as I took a step closer to my destination, a nightclub rumoured to be owned by Mr. J. I needed to find him. I needed to know why'd he'd abandoned me after the torture he'd put me through, after I'd helped orchestrate his escape from the asylum. I thought he loved me.
Mr. J already had someone working for him on the inside of Arkham Asylum, how else was he getting the orders for flowers and gifts for me to the outside? But I assumed whoever had been working for him, they didn't have clearance to get things into the building the way I had. Mr. J had started asking me to bring him small things, innocent things, until one day he'd asked me to bring him a gun. A machine gun.
I'd been shocked and had almost hesitated, but staring into those blue pools I found myself agreeing to sneak in a weapon that would probably end the lives of my colleagues and patients and maybe even myself. But I couldn't say no, not if there was a chance he could be free and we could be together. I knew he needed mental health treatment, but I could treat him from home, I'd thought. I still could. We would be together and everything would be fine; he just needed someone to love him the way I did, I'd told myself. All I had to do was get him a machine gun.
He'd arranged for me to meet a man named Jonny Frost in a dark damp alley in the early hours of the morning of the day Mr. J had taken control of the Asylum. I remembered how my hands had shook when I'd taken the shiny AK-47 and I thought of how my father would have scolded me for my quivering hands. I'd grown up in the Bronx and had always been taken to the local shooting range throughout my tremulous childhood, they shouldn't have been shaking I'd told myself, but that was the first time I'd held a weapon that would take another person's life.
It hadn't been easy getting the lethal weapon inside the Asylum. I'd had to distract the security officers by dropping my cell phone perfectly through the metal detectors causing them to go off before slipping through them as if I was trying to catch it. They foolishly though the screaming beep of the machine was because of my clumsiness with my phone and not the oversized handbag I was carrying inside.
They deserved to die.
Pushing on the front door of the club I slipped inside, shocked by the bright lights and glamour of the place. The walls were decorated with a plush gold coating and there were glass cages where girls were dancing erotically. Leather couched booths were dotted around the place, dangling chains curtaining them from the dancefloor.
There seemed to only be a few people inside. Maybe it was still early. I didn't know. I'd lost track of the time weeks ago.
"Where is he?" I demanded to the huge bartender. He was covered in tattoos and had a nose piercing.
He sniggered, leaning back against the liquor cabinet, his thick arms folding across his chest.
"Where's who, lady?" He played with me.
He's mocking you.
I leaned on the bar, my hands gripping at the shiny granite top. "Mr. J. Where is he?"
The bartender sniggered.
"I don't know who Mr. J is," he lied. I expected that. There was a reason Mr. J wasn't shouting from the rooftops which businesses he owned. He didn't want the bat to know his whereabouts. But I knew this was his club, I could almost smell my love. "But if I wanted to guess, I'd guess that he don't like cops, sweetheart, so I'd better run along if I were you."
Kill him.
"I ain't no cop," I exclaimed, pursing my plump lips. "I'm his Doctor, and I need to see him."
The bartender sniggered and before I knew what I was doing I pulled out my gun and was pointing it straight at the bartenders head.
"Where is he?" I said threateningly, my teeth gritted together. The bartender swallowed hard, his beady eyes looking from side to side begging for help. "Don't make me ask again."
"He said, he said," he quivered. "He said he was going to have the best steak in town."
Best steak in town? That had to be the new restaurant a couple of miles away from the club. What was he doing there? Mr. J had never struck me as the type to go out to fancy restaurants, especially whilst on the run from the law and Batman.
I lowered my gun and the bartender let out a sudden breath. The fear rolled off him in waves.
"Pussy," I said, in a voice that was my own but had a sing song chime to it. "Don't think of trying anything," I threatened as I began to step backwards out of the club.
I rushed out wanting to get over to the new restaurant as quickly as possible. I needed to see him and for him to see me. He'd realise he'd missed me then, right? Jumping quickly onto my motorcycle and starting the engine up I began to speed through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic recklessly as I propelled myself to my destination.
Mr. J had hurt me so badly during the riot that ensued with his takeover of the Asylum and as much as I thought that he wouldn't have done it, I knew exactly why. He was testing me, testing my devotion to him, and I would pass. When I'd awoken in the hospital I had been desperate to see him, the new voice in my head rattling around like a loud child, and I'd rushed home almost expecting him to be there but he wasn't. I'd stayed there, waiting for him, expecting him to waltz in as if he owned the entire apartment complex at any second but I didn't see or hear a word from him.
My superiors from the Asylum, the ones that were still alive anyway, had put me on medical leave due to my refusal to stay and be treated at the hospital. It was only a matter of time before they revoked my Doctors license. They could sense I had something to do with the Joker's escape and I didn't ease their concerns, the only words I spoke to them was to ask if he'd been brought back in.
As I raced around a sharp corner I saw him in the distance, his illuminous hair standing out in the dark night sky. He danced along the street and was holding something long and gold, it looked like a gun but I couldn't be sure, and just as my eyes locked on his slithering form he slipped into a purple Lamborghini and began to speed away.
I pressed my foot down on my motorcycles accelerator desperately trying to close the gap between myself and Mr. J's purple Lamborghini. My eyes were glued on the speeding car, I almost didn't see the blood soaked bodies on the street outside of the newly famed restaurant. God knows what it looked like inside.
I sped forward, my blonde hair whipping back as the cold air scorched my body knowing my bike could never outrun the shiny Lamborghini that sped ahead. But that was okay, I just needed to get his attention.
Faster.
Zig zagging, I began to weave my bike dangerously from side to side, my body tilting as I moved. I knew one jerk to the side too much and I would fly from my bike into a crumbling heap.
That would get his attention. Do it. Let go of the steering wheel. Do it. Do it. It would feel good to fly.
Breathing in, I enjoyed the freezing air that tore into my lungs readying to do what my mind told me to. It would hurt, I knew that, but I knew it wouldn't hurt as much as the electrotherapy had, and I'd go through all that a thousand times just to have his enchanting cold eyes stare through me once more.
Those eyes. That was what had lured me in at first. The way Mr. J stared at me like I was the most intriguing thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He easily read me. He'd worked me out from our very first session and that made me ecstatic. Someone finally understood me and accepted me for who I was.
I raced forward, it felt like I'd been chasing him for an eternity as his car shot down towards the docks, where the homeless and hopeless found themselves wondering night after night. I zig zagged again, this time about to raise my hands from my steering wheel when suddenly the purple Lamborghini stopped ahead of me.
I kept driving, moving closer until eventually I passed his luxurious car before pulling to a stop in front of the car, blocking him. What that would achieve I didn't know, he'd mow it down with a smile if he wanted too.
Hopping off my bike I took several steps forward. I could see him. It had been weeks but I could finally see those eyes. A stray strand of green hair had fallen forward and his pale long fingers seemed to be gripping his leather steering wheel tightly. I stared defiantly, suddenly my mouth dry and my heart beating wildly. Mr. J rolled his neck before slicking his bright hair back into place. He opened the car door quickly, moving around it whilst leaving it wide open, as if he were planning on leaving as quickly as he'd left the Lamborghini.
"What do we have here?" Mr. J boomed smoothly, his familiar voice washing over me and causing goosebumps across my body. He made his way towards me mockingly, his hands in the air and his movements sleek.
Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him.
"Have you been following me, Harley, baby?" I shivered, there it was, baby, again. He broke into a wide smile, his shiny grill appearing and dazzling me as it always had. His cold blue eyes burned through me and I exhaled as I felt the familiar heat of his stare against my flesh. "Hmm?"
"Mhmm," I squeaked, unable to find words.
He leaned forward swaying, his hands outwards before swaying back into place. "Speak up, baby, Daddy can't hear you."
"Yes," I said loudly and clearly. If he wanted me to speak up I would. I would do anything for him.
"Now why would a good girl like you be following me," he pressed his white fingers against his chest, the tips of his skin touching one of the 'HA HA' tattoos that peeked out of his unbuttoned shirt as a truck pulled up behind his unmoving car, its loud horn echoing through the night.
I cleared my throat, I didn't want him to have to ask me to speak up again. "Because I love you. I thought you'd come for me."
He groaned before spinning around and turning his groan into a maddening laugh. That laugh that sounded like razor blades and bullets all in one. He laughed hysterically moving back to face me, his hands moving as he basked in my vulnerability.
Anger beamed inside me. Why was he laughing at me? I thought he loved me too? What was so funny?
The trucker who had been honking wanting us to move suddenly appeared on the road coming towards Mr. J.
"What the fuck-" The tucker began yelling.
As Mr.J turned to see the commotion that was cascading from the trucker his silvery suit jacket stretched back revealing a shiny gun firmly in its holster. I reached forward quickly, gripping the gun and firing at the yelling trucker. He fell to the ground as he died instantly.
Good girl.
Mr. J screeched with laughter once again, his hands outstretched as he looked around in awe, but I didn't put the gun down, I began pointing it at Mr. J.
Why had he laughed at me? He promised if I could just get him out of the Asylum we'd be together, that I would be his Queen and we'd be happy together. He was supposed to come for me, not laugh at me.
His laugh slowly died but his metallic smile never disappeared. He held his hands up as if in surrender, though I knew better. "What are you doing?" He sounded bored and he rolled his eyes as he leaned forward pressing the barrel of the gun to his temple. His hands fell to his side limply as I felt my fingers begin to tremble.
I'd killed that trucker and I was fine with it. A part deep down inside of me knew that it was wrong, but I didn't care. He'd interrupted Mr. J and I and he needed to die. I knew a few months ago the thought of killing an innocent man would have destroyed me, but not anymore. Mr. J had changed me slowly at first and then suddenly with the electrotherapy and I didn't care that he had. But for as little care as I had for killing the innocent trucker, I knew I could never pull the trigger and kill Mr. J. The mere thought made me nauseous.
"What are you doing?" I asked terrified of what could happen, though my arm stayed ridged and I held the shaking gun tightly as Mr.J pressed his forehead deeper into the barrel.
Maybe you should pull the trigger?
"Is this what you want, Harley?" He crooned. "Come on, do it. Wouldn't that be fun? It would be one heck of a story don't you think? You go through all that trouble to get me out of that shithole of an Asylum to only kill me yourself." He laughed manically again. "The bat would be very proud of you," he laughed. "You could be his next batgirl." He laughed. "Come on, Dr Quinzel, do it," his arms were stretched out in front of him and he wiggled his fingers as if to tell me with his body to do it. "Dr. Quinzel," he dragged out every syllable, taunting me with my own name. "Come on baby, do it, it'll be so much fun!" He let his hands fall to his sides as those blue eyes stared up at me.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
"God," he groaned as his hand suddenly shot up to mine and he yanked the gun away from my quivering hand. He burst out laughing once again as he waved the gun at his side before putting the gun to his own head. "Should I do it? Hmm? You clearly don't have the cahoonas to do it yourself, though might I say your cahoonas," his crazed eyes bared down to my covered chest. "Are looking quite delightful I might say," he growled the words out though his wide grin never left his tattooed face.
"Don't," I squeaked once again. Afraid that he would pull the trigger just so he could win one last final game with me.
Mr.J's already wide eyes widened even more.
"BANG!" He yelled, and I jumped, for a second thinking he'd pulled the trigger. "Ha Ha Ha." He began laughing at himself as he holstered his weapon.
"Thank God," I mumbled as he put the weapon away. Thank God he was safe.
"Thank God?" He repeated.
"Yes. I thought you were going to pull the trigger," I explained, my heart still thumping. "I thought I'd lost you."
"Oh Harley, sweet baby, I was never going to pull the trigger." I exhaled. "Or maybe I was!" he said erratically and loudly. "But you, you've quite impressed me," I felt a smile plaster my face. I'd impressed him! "I did not see you killing that fine trucker," I smiled even wider ecstatic that I'd pleased him.
I'd kill again and again and again and again. For you. Only for you Pudding.
"But I certainly didn't see you raising my own gun on me, and I could tell that you meant it," his voice was dark and unreadable and before my smile could even fall his hand flew through the sky and back handed me across my cheek throwing me to the floor with the force. My face stung like it had been attacked by a million bees and my heart hurt as if it had been stomped on.
I held my cheek as I lay on the floor, shock crashing over me like a wave. I shouldn't have been shocked, he'd done far worst to me in the past; he'd fried my brain and created that twisted voice in my head with those torturous electrotherapy wands, striking me was far less painful than that had been.
Hearing a crack I knew Mr.J was rolling his neck, his jaw probably slightly jutting out, before I felt his fingers wrap around my forearm, the coldness of his rings almost stinging my skin, and he pulled me to my feet effortlessly. He brushed his thumbs under my glasses and wiped away my smudged mascara before pulling his hands back and folding his toothy smiling tattooed hand over my mouth.
"That's better," he smiled widely, his eyes glistening. A smile pulled at my lips because I knew that's what he would want to see when he removed his hand. "I didn't enjoy that," he mused. He placed his hands on either one of my cheeks, the heat from his fingers burning my already throbbing face.
"I'm sorry," I breathed, the words slipping from my mouth before I could even think them. "I just wanted to find you-" I began, about to explain where my anger had come from and why I had pointed the gun at him.
Mr.J interrupted me. "And you did," he grinned. "You belong to me now."
Forever.
I nodded eagerly in response. That's all I'd wanted to begin with.
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