Harley checked the lasagne in the oven and grinned at the sight of the golden brown texture.
'Harley Quinn: domestic goddess', she proclaimed, untying her apron.
She twirled around and hung it on a hook before going to the wine rack.
A nice red. That's what a lasagne needed.
She surveyed the various bottles and their labels. She didn't know anything about wine but she knew everything here would be good. Wine was one of Joe's hobbies.
'Red. Red. Red', she repeated, mind wandering as she tried to choose.
She picked up a bottle with a nice purple label.
'I wonder what Red's up to?' she mused, 'I never got the chance to say goodbye'.
She put the bottle on the table, eyes landing on the small vase of roses set as the centrepiece. She had started her little rose garden in the back yard as an homage to Ivy.
The weather in Metropolis was much sunnier than Gotham so gardening was easy, even for an amateur like her.
It had taken months to get the things to co-operate and grow into the beautiful bushes she'd seen on the seed packet. Even then they'd grown wild and rebellious.
Just like Ivy herself.
'She'd plotz if she learned I'd put 'em in the wrong soil for all those weeks', Harley smiled sadly.
Slapping herself lightly to clear the nostalgic thoughts from her mind, she flinched at a slight pain in her left wrist.
She carefully rotated it and flexed her fingers.
The sensation passed.
A life of crime had been exciting but what did it get you?
Sad memories, burnt bridges and too many scars. Not all of them physical.
'C'mon Harley', she said with forceful enthusiasm, 'So your wrist still locks, your knees are messed up and your back aches when it gets cold but hey, small prices to pay for your life right?'
Her new wonderful life.
With Thomas.
Far away from the grime and crime of Gotham.
And everyone she'd ever known.
'Yeah, all the costumed crazies pushing ya out windows and tryin' to keep ya crazy', she muttered, idly pushing a fork with a fingertip to make it straight.
She'd used the nice plates with the diamonds on them.
It was their anniversary after all.
'A lot happens in two years huh?' she said wistfully, looking at her surroundings.
She had a nice new house, a job and a new guy who was crazy about her (in a good, healthy way).
It still didn't seem real.
The nightmares she still had sometimes felt more real.
The shrinking image of Batgirl's face and reaching hand as Harley's cuff tore, the sound of the ripping material ringing out like a gunshot. Batgirl's stricken expression: the shame that twists Harley's gut as she realises that even after everything she's done, Batgirl still tried to save her.
The horrible sensation of falling. The endless wait before reality and gravity make their inevitable connection with her plummeting body.
Her body makes strange noises that echo in her ears as she connects with barriers invisible in the darkness. It sounds like celery sticks breaking.
The balls on the end of the tips of her harlequin hat keep hitting her in the face as she bounces from one hard, unforgiving surface to another.
She remembers laughing at one point.
She's nearly sure it's because she was thinking about Looney Tunes, her brain desperately latching onto something ridiculous to avoid dealing with her death.
She's like that dopey coyote.
She'll fall and fall until she lands with a poof of smoke. She'll be all banged up like an accordion but she'll walk it off. Be back next Saturday morning.
But she jumps the script and lands in water.
She gasps and gets a mouthful of darkness down her throat.
It swallows her.
Time vanishes but she's floating.
Floating away from the pain, the cold of the water seeping through her suit and into her bones. She feels like she's melting into the dark water.
Then finally, unbelievably, she feels the warmth of someone's arms around her, carefully lifting her up.
She manages somehow to open her eyes.
It's a stranger's face looking down at her. She feels rough ground poking into the back of her costume.
The stranger looks so worried.
She laughs again. She doesn't know why it's funny but knows it's wrong to be tasting iron in your mouth.
He had tried to take her to a hospital but she wouldn't let him.
She tried to leave by herself and even if she could have walked, he wouldn't let her.
He was a surgeon who had been out fishing while staying alone at his family cabin.
She was a wanted criminal who had been his fortuitous catch.
They had introduced themselves and found a compromise on those terms.
While she had recovered, tucked up snugly in one of the cabin' bedrooms, they had actually started talking.
His name was Thomas Elliot.
He was staying at the cabin for a while to get over his wife leaving him for another man.
He knew who Harley was: the costume was pretty distinctive.
He wasn't scared. After all, with a broken knee, broken wrist and multiple contusions, she wasn't that capable of walking, never mind her usual antics he had seen on the news.
He was just curious: what was it like being the Joker's girlfriend?
So she told him.
At first she had been enthusiastic: it was an adventure! It was thrilling! It made her feel alive!
She talked for hours, Thomas only interrupting to ask an occasional question.
When she had told him how she had been the Joker's psychiatrist, he didn't laugh like everyone else did. Instead he had just nodded along as he absorbed the information.
That made her feel weird: a hot, prickly feeling that seemed to crawl up her back before sneaking back down to wriggle around in her stomach.
In a bid to dispel the sensation, she talked about some of her best times with her puddin'.
The Laughing Fish! But she had gotten a rash from him stuffing that chunk of fish into her mouth.
The time they tried to chop Catwoman into cat food! But Mr J had left her alone with her and where had he been when Batman had come to get his kitty? She thought she remembered him saying something about a poker game?
They had brought Batman to Arkham once and put him on trial! But then Janey Poo had told her Mr J had ratted her out for time off his sentence.
But one time she had been on a real roll! Front page of Gotham Gazette on a roll! Banks, museums, charity benefits and that gentleman's club…no, wait.
That had been her and Red.
Thomas had taken advantage of her confusion to interject.
'Did you ever think about going solo?'
She was happy to talk about that one.
She had been really pleased with her plan and had swallowed a bit of mutinous pride when she had heard that even Batman had admitted she would have had him if she hadn't called Mr J to come see.
The plan had been simple and had ended with Batman hung upside down over a piranha tank sans utility belt.
As she talked, Harley realised she wanted to impress Thomas.
She didn't know why.
Maybe because when their exploits made the news, nobody ever talked about her, just Mr J.
He was the front man, she was an assistant.
Mr J got the interviews with the press and the 'tell-all' articles in Arkham. She got her name in the captions under the main photograph (often misspelled).
It was nice to have someone talk to her for a change about her.
But Thomas had held up a hand when she had talked about the Joker pushing her out of the window.
'That guy must be crazy', he had said, lip curling.
'Certifiable', Harley had eagerly agreed.
'And you're crazy too'.
Harley had just looked at him. He said he knew who she was. Did he think she had been making up everything she had talked about in the last few hours?!
'I mean, why would you let anybody treat you like that?!'
That nasty prickly feeling was back and it made Harley snap: 'Dunno if you noticed but the datin' pools a bit small when your boyfriend's the clown prince of crime'.
'Please don't joke about it'.
'Jokin's kinda my thing'.
'What you've been through isn't funny. I knew Joker was a psycho but I didn't think he was a coward'.
'He's not!' Harley snapped.
'Did he do this to you?' Thomas asked, waving a hand at her bandages.
'No. I mean-I got hurt on the job but-but he didn't push me down that hole!'
'Not this time'.
'You sound just like Red', Harley mumbled, unable to meet his searching gaze.
'Well at least somebody was looking out for you in that hellhole'.
'I had tons of friends!'
'Any that weren't cellmates? Or that I wouldn't recognise from a most wanted list?'
'You don't know what I've been through!'
'I bandaged you up. I saw the scars'.
'Lookin' at an unconscious lady's goods. Classy'.
Thomas took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. His face darkened.
'Look. You opened up to me so I'm gonna open up to you. I saw my mom go through it. Go through what you've been through. My stepdad would say somethin' nice one minute then beat her black and blue for not cooking his dinner right the next. One night, he goes off crazier than usual. Next thing, he's got a knife. My mom's on the floor, beggin' him not to hurt me. Can you believe that? She's the one he's gonna break and she's worried about me! He looks at me, eleven years old, and laughs then tries to come at me with the knife. So I stopped him laughing. I broke his nose and told him never to come near her again. Every so often I see it at the hospital. Women (and men) saying that the other person loves them even as they're walking around with an arm in plaster or their eye swollen shut'.
'Okay but they're normal people. Why do you care about a loony like me?'
'Why wouldn't I care about you?'
''Cause I'm me?! Plenty of people woulda just let me sink in that river. Heck some woulda held me under until the bubbles stopped! But instead you're givin' me cocoa and counselling!'
'You don't like cocoa?'
Harley burst out laughing.
She couldn't help it: he looked so crestfallen!
She had to put the kibosh on the laughter after a few chortles though.
She grimaced as her stitches pulsed angrily from the pressure.
'See you act all goody-goody but you're as much of a sadist as I am!' she protested.
'So we do have something in common', Thomas smiled, 'Besides it was worth it to hear you laugh'.
'Why?'
'Wanted to see if it was as nice as your smile. Now, get some rest. I'll bring dinner up and you will have dessert. Doctor's orders'.
Thomas went back downstairs.
Harley was grateful he couldn't see her luminescent blush.
Even with her makeup on, she couldn't have hidden it.
He liked her laugh?
Nobody had ever said that nice to her before.
Heck, nobody had said anything nice for a long time.
But here was a total stranger sticking his neck out for her.
The last person to do that had been…
Batman.
Not Mr J.
He'd never stuck his neck out for her.
She'd been at this cabin for a week.
Was he even looking for her?
He had to be!
But, all he woulda had to do was follow the stream.
Maybe he was in Arkham?
No, he woulda gotten out by now.
What if he had gone too far? What if making Robin into Joker Junior had been the last straw? Had Batman finally snapped?!
He'd killed him! Batman had killed Mr J!
No.
No. That was the craziest part.
Batman never killed anybody. Harley didn't know how she knew but she just knew: he looked scary but he believed in justice. Not revenge.
So then why wasn't Mr J here? With her?
There was nothing stopping him.
If she knew he was hurt, she would've come running. Over broken glass if she had to!
He just wasn't coming.
Maybe…maybe they were all right.
The doctors, the police, the parole board, Red, Harvey, Oswald, Arnold, Jervis, Professor Crane, Catwoman, Batgirl, Batman and now Thomas.
'Gee, that's a long list', Harley whispered, voice cracking.
Maybe…Mr J had never cared about her at all?
'But then…what am I supposed to do?' Harley asked, tears streaming silently down her bruised face.
The memory of the question jolted Harley back to reality.
Thomas was more than she deserved.
Sometimes she still felt like Wil E. coyote.
Any second she was going to realise there was no road under her: just a gaping chasm.
Sometimes she wished she would just look down already.
The abrupt noise of the front door opening made her jump.
Wiping her eyes, she hurriedly lit the candle on the table and smoothed down her dress.
'Harley I'm hooome!' Thomas called in a sing song voice.
As he came into the kitchen, he dropped his briefcase when he caught sight of her.
'Oh. My. Gosh. Harley Quinn? In the kitchen? Actually cooking dinner when it's her turn instead of reaching for the phone?!'
Harley turned off the oven and scooped the casserole dish out with the aid of a pair of pink oven mitts. She kicked the oven door shut with a backwards kick and placed the dish carefully on the dinner table.
'Eh, it's our anniversary', Harley shrugged, 'Thought I'd give ya a break from Chinese food. Just don't come cryin' if doesn't taste as good as it looks'.
She beamed as Thomas' arms encircled her from behind.
'Not as tasty as you'.
Harley tutted.
'Ah ah ah. No dessert until after dinner'.
'You ever see us like that?' Thomas asked, gesturing at the TV with a fork.
Harley glanced at the TV. It was one of those family gameshows with bright green gunge and forced bonding in the pursuit of money. The family playing were standing behind their podium: both parents and two children all holding their hands tensely over the big red button.
'A pair of stiffs with sticks up their butts? No', she said.
'You know what I mean', Thomas said, 'I think you'd make a great mom'.
Harley felt her cheeks colour.
'A kook like me?' she asked, 'Yeah, sure! Oh thanks Mrs Elliot! A little inflatable mallet for the baby aww!'
'I dunno. I think a mini you in a little black and red onesie could be pretty cute'.
'Yeah a mini me screamin' the place down every night'.
'You do that anyway'.
Harley gave a mock frown at his knowing smirk.
'Pervert', she grumbled.
'You love it', Thomas winked.
'Sometimes', Harley grudgingly admitted, returning her attention to the TV.
The gameshow had been interrupted by a special announcement warning people in Metropolis to avoid the freeway leading East out of the city. By the looks of things, Toyman was remotely hacking people's cars and forcing them to do 'doughnuts' continuously.
'Every time I watch the news I think I've seen it all', Thomas commented, shaking his head, 'How can these newscasters keep a straight face?'
'Botox', Harley said.
A collective gasp from the onlookers on the TV heralded the arrival of Metropolis' golden boy. Superman swooped down from above and began to pick up cars one by one.
'Did you ever meet him?' Thomas asked, nodding at the screen.
Harley gave a disparaging laugh.
'I was good sweetie but not that good. Super strong alien versus crazy broad in clown suit: the match of the century! Place yer bets!'
'Well he may be super strong but he wears his underwear on the outside'.
'Ain't he got super hearin'?'
'Let him hear. I'd still bet on you'.
'Better save your money. I'm spendin' you outta house and home already'.
'Worth every penny. Besides you should get your first pay cheque next week right?'
Harley nodded.
Working as a waitress wasn't glamorous but it was satisfying. Also necessary: it allowed her to operate under the radar with minimum background checks. She had even been able to use her real name for the job!
'Hey, isn't that Gotham?' Thomas asked suddenly, turning up the volume.
'Weird', Harley said, recognising the distinctive architecture in the window behind the newscaster in their studio.
The newscaster was scanning a piece of paper and his face was white as he looked at the camera.
'We are getting unconfirmed reports that the Joker, after a long absence has resurfaced in Gotham City. Witnesses say that the Joker attacked a charity gala in honour of The Gotham Hospital for Sick Children with balloon animals that emitted poisonous gas when popped-'
The newscaster's voice faded as the words sank into Harley's brain.
Mr J? Back?
Why now?
Where was he now?
Did he know where she was?! If he didn't, he'd find out!
'Harley?'
He'd find out that she never came back to find him!
He'd find out about Thomas and-
'Harley!'
Harley gasped and was surprised to find she had been holding her breath.
Thomas' face was worried, his eyes focused solely on her.
She forced a smile onto her face.
'I'm fine pudd - sweetie. Pinky promise'.
'Harley', Thomas said, not fooled.
'Sorry', Harley said, eyes downcast, 'Just a little rattled I guess'.
Thomas got up, walked around the table and leaning down, hugged her.
'I love you'.
Harley knew what he meant.
I'll protect you. If he tries to come here and take you, he'll have to go through me.
'I know', Harley replied.
She meant: you can't stop him if he does.
She had known this would happen. She had seen it coming.
So why had that chasm still come out of nowhere?
It was a little after midnight when Harley snuck out of the house.
She was carrying a small suitcase which she quietly put in the trunk of her car.
Almost as an afterthought, she clicked it open and checked under the change of clothes.
The gun was safely tucked inside a pair of socks.
As she closed the trunk, her eyes darted to the darkened bedroom window. Thomas was inside, sleeping soundly. Mostly thanks to the sleeping pills Harley had snuck into a glass of warm milk she had brought to him before bed.
She got into the car and turned on the ignition, taking a deep breath.
She was not running back to him, even if it really was Mr J.
Not this time.
She just had to see for herself.
She was going to look in that bastard's eyes and ask him 'why me?!'
She was going to make him stop laughing.
And to do that, she had to go home.
She had to go back to Gotham.