Title: Sympathy for the Devil

by: Satine16

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters involved, they are all property of DC comics. The song is Believe by Triptii. I don't own that either. I'm not doing this for money so please don't sue me!

Chapter 1: Bad Habits…

The same person was staring back in the mirror. Every day, every month, every year. Nothing about her ever changed. She continued to be a carbon copy of her mother in her youth. Her hair was pale white, shiny and full. She had it cut in a multitude of layers and wore it long. With bangs. Her large, pale, blue eyes were surrounded by a deep, black fringe and precise eyeliner. Her skin was pale and flawless. Not even a freckle. Her mouth was wide and full, so much so that as a teenager she had taught herself to smile, so as not to allow the grin to consume her face. That would be simply grotesque.

It was her first year out of school. She could have opted to go into graduate school, but she decided to take the job offer instead. Being top of her class there were a variety of options open to her, but the offer that allowed her to stay in Gotham seemed most appealing.

The Arkham Asylum had offered her a position, after seeing her test scores and class standing. Harleen had, after all, an emphasis in Criminal Psychosis. She had done her research. Viktor Fris, or Mr. Freeze, was plagued by the loss of his wife. Felt that he needed to right the world of wrongs against her. Obviously, it was a delusional disorder that allowed him to believe that the only possibility for justice lay within his hands. Both Matt Hagen a.k.a. Clayface and Harvey Dent a.k.a. Two-Face suffered from an advanced form of personality disorder, or schizophrenia. Pamela Isley, to the world known as Poison Ivy, was obviously neglected at some point in her life, so much so that she turned her affections to non-responsive living organisms. Silently Harleen laughed, she was young yes, but they didn't have a thing to throw at her and disable her. She would be ready for everything.

Alex had left already. He was screwing some red head behind her back. Obviously he thought she was stupid. That she wouldn't figure it out. Yet, some days, she couldn't fight back the thought that he wanted her to find out, that he wanted to start another fight. That was Alexander, always looking for another fight.

Harleen walked into her room and looked into the closet. She wasn't quite sure which outfit would be best for the occasion. Johnny Intagliatta, known to the world as Johnny Smash, lead singer for the band CRASH, was in for a concert in the city. Her ticket was ready to go on the table. Carefully, Harleen selected a pair of low rise, dark wash blue jeans and a low cut, snug black top. She left her hair down. Johnny always liked it on the rare occasions that she let her hair down.

Harleen and Johnny were best friends throughout school. They met in Philosophy 212: Ethics, the fall of their freshman year. Johnny was cute, and confused, and Harleen was beautiful and set the curve. After a few study sessions they became inseparable. Of course, they were never involved sexually. Harleen had her fair share of brief encounters with dozens of men in college, but Johnny stuck around. None of the others ever cared to. It was her firm belief that sex would have crippled the perfection of their relationship. That's why she always made it very clear to Johnny that she was not interested in him sexually. Practically flaunted every sexual relationship right in front of his nose. It was better that way. Kept the boundaries firm.

That didn't mean he couldn't dress up for him. Harleen had always loved the way that Johnny looked at her. Hungry and curious. He loved to look.

Johnny dropped out half way through their junior year. The band had gotten a contract. He was now topping the Billboard charts and appearing on MTV. He was the rock star he had always wanted to be.

The club was packed past capacity, but it didn't take her long to find Johnny. He wasn't very tall, only about five foot eight. His hair was a deep jet black, and he wore it long. Just long enough to touch his shoulders and fall seductively into his caramel colored eyes. Not many guys can pull off long hair but Johnny did it effortlessly. There was something amazing about him. The same aura that hovered around men like Steven Tyler, and Bono. It was an unmistakable energy. He still looked the same, except for a few more tattoos, and he had pierced his bottom lip and eyebrow. The groupies were gathered around him basking in their immaturity and idiocy. Harleen stayed a few feet back, waiting for him to notice her. Sure enough, her plan worked.

Johnny caught her in his line of vision and waved. She twiddled her fingers in return, and within moments Johnny fought his way over from the bar.

"Since when do big rock stars hang out with the lowly fans?"

"Since when does Harley Quinzel attend rock concerts?"

"How are ya, Johnny? You're still the only one that calls me Harley," she hugged him, but the warmth that used to emanate from him seemed diminished.

"Fantastic. The new album is released Tuesday," he licked his lips and ran his tongue over the silver ring in the center of his bottom lip. "You?"

"I'm living with Alexander, now. And I got a job working on criminal psychosis."

"You're still with that prick?"

"Now, Johnny—"

"No, Harley. Last I heard of him he threw you down the stairs. What now? Is he cheating on you, too?"

Harleen bit her lip and stared Johnny in the eye, answering him without words.

"Goddammit, you didn't change at all. You're still fuckin' nuts Harl. Every time you pick some asshole that shits on you."

His words ran through her like a knife, hot and harsh through her flesh. He couldn't possibly mean it?

"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry, Harley," he apologized once he fully understood the terrified look on her face. "It's just, you paraded every other shit faced moron in front of me, and I've never seen you happy."

Harleen stared at him startled. Obviously fame had made him more open and honest, and less frightened.

"Listen, babe. Stick around. Our new single is up first. It's the song that I wrote for you. The one I emailed you about. I gotta head backstage we're on in a minute. But stick around. You're still as pretty as ever."

The crowd went wild as the band came on stage.

"Alright, alright. Pipe down people, we know that you love us, and WE LOVE GOTHAM CITY!" at this the screaming reached an all time high.

"Ok, ok. So our newest single is first on the docket, and the woman I wrote it for is in the audience. To Harley. I loved you."

His words hit her like a truck. Loved. He was supposed to love her now. Not past tense. Love. Present tense. The music had started, dazed Harleen turned towards the stage and watched as Johnny picked up the mic and began to sing. She was right, he really did have an energy. Closing his eyes to the surroundings, he allowed himself to be absorbed in the music, clutching the microphone in his grip, swaying to the music and pounding his heel to the beat.

Don't turn around today

I'll keep reality away

I'll shelter evil from your eyes

I'll be a product of a dedication

To your worth, and heart location

Giving you a happier life

Further down the road

I swear you're gonna learn

It takes two to be a couple in love

Hidden in the broken shadow of regret

I am here when you have taken enough

It'll take awhile

For you to see

You are beautiful without him

You are given your pride and I do believe in you

Are you happy?

You're better alone

I can see your ability

To be strong and motivated,

You have shown

He's providing insecurities

A struggle to be free

Is commonly unknown

When a tear becomes a symbol of you

Your heart is separating for Utopia

But your body isn't ready to choose

It'll take awhile

For you to see

You are beautiful without him

You are given your pride and I do believe in you

I'm so full of pity

I see through your body

It's comin' to nothing

Forgetting you're something

I see through the meaning

Your hidden depression

Has given a reason

To you and your critical dream

Your critical dream

Didn't take awhile for you to see

You are beautiful without me

You were only a waste

Of my time and energy

You were only a waste of my time and energy

A waste of time? He called her a waste of time. When the song ended he looked directly to where she was standing, her mouth agape, and eyes wide with tears. She didn't stay for the rest of the concert. Johnny started singing CRASH's remake of Kiss' Beth, which he wrote for his girlfriend. Jessica. She was a brunette little bimbo. Harleen tried to tell herself she was only a second rate version of what Johnny never had: his Harley. A waste of time?

When Harleen got home, Alex was already there.

"Alex?"

"How many times I gotta tell you, it's Alexander. Stupid bitch. Come 'ere."

"Sorry, Alexander, baby, puddin', it's been a long night."

She walked to him, looking to find comfort. Fiercely, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her mouth to his. He began to devour her whole, throwing her clothes around the room and removing his pants. He dragged her upstairs to their bedroom, where he fucked her, doggie style, and proceeded to pass out. Harleen stayed awake that night, haunted by the new hit. Alexander loved her. Johnny just couldn't see that. Johnny just didn't understand because she didn't love him back.

A waste of time?