Selina sighed heavily as she approached her living quarters. After her run in with Bruce she wasn't exactly in the mood to play gal pal with her green roomie. She wasn't even sure why she'd let Ivy convince her living together would be a good idea. Maybe he had been right. Hadn't they tried this little game before? Sure, they were 1 loony tune down from last time, but at least that daft blonde was predictable. 'Mistah J! Mistah J!' She could just hear the little harlequins nauseating voice in her head and let out a crass laugh. Rounding the corner of her current hideout, she dragged her metal claws against the brick wall pretending it was Bruce's face.
How dare he question my alliance, she thought. Have I not proven to him where I stand? Just who exactly does he think he is? He doesn't own me. He doesn't get to decide who I'm friends with; who I live with! I'm not a Harley Quinn.
She froze as she gripped the door knob. She inhaled deeply and her nostrils were violated by the pungent aroma of cotton candy, bleach, and tarts. Well, a tart. And then she heard it, again. 'Mistah J' this and 'Mistah J' that, only this time it wasn't her imagination.
"Kitty!" Harley squeaked as Selina begrudgingly slipped inside the house.
"What a... Surprise to see you here! I figured you'd be halfway out-of-town dragged by the coat tails of your beloved Clown by now."
Something flickered in Harley's eyes. Before Selina had a chance to judge it, it was gone. I was pleasant, right? She asked herself as she made herself comfortable on the chaise. Quickly she determined she didn't care either way.
"It turns out that Joker, the darling that he is, gave my Harls the night off." Ivy explained while rolling her eyes. She could try to act like she wasn't happy about it, but her fellow home dweller knew better. She was ecstatic. It was clear by the newest addition Ivy was growing in their living room. Poinsettias. Harley's favorite.
"He is just the greatest, isn't he?" Harley crooned.
"Oh, sure, he is just a dream." Ivy scoffed.
"If by dream you mean nightmare." Selina saw no reason to pussy-foot around the topic.
"It's really not as bad as you two think it is. Really!" Harley began twisting her hands in her lap. "Sure, he gets a little upset with me sometimes, but I'm constantly flubbing up all his hard work. I'm all the time goofing up! But when I'm good and I've pleased him, he rewards me!"
Her audience wasn't convinced.
"My puddin' gives me everything I ask for!" Harley wildly flailed her arms in the air. "I wanted to spend the night with my bestest friends and he let me come, didn't he?"
"But not before he implanted his fist into your face. Repetitively." Selina chimed, pointing at the loon's black eye and busted lip.
"I asked to see the stars and he was quick to give them to me with the back of his helpin' hand!" Harley explained, clearly exasperated that her friends just don't understand. "He was just fulfillin' my wishes. Maybe not in the exact way I was hoping for, but he was just showin' that he appreciates me."
"Don't you think the man could give you a token of appreciation without the violence, Harl? Some jewelry, a spa day, a bouquet of roses - Oh! I know!" Selina's eyes gleamed as she exclaimed, "He could give you your sanity back! It's the least he can do for robbing you of your dignity, treating you like property, maliciously beating you, repetitively kicking you out, abandoning you -"
"Let's stop the list there, shall we? It would take weeks to list all the incredulously heinous, unforgivable things that clown has done to Harley." Ivy's tone was flippant, but Selina could see the emotions ricochet inside her. "And don't think I didn't notice your quip about my babies." She chided.
"Love ain't flowers, or bubble baths, or any of that stuff you said! It's all nice and everything, but love's not somethin' you can just shove into box and wrap up real nice! Besides, I haven't seen the Bats leavin' you any flowers, Kitty." Harley quipped, twisting one blond pigtail around her index finger.
The limber, leather clad feline's jaw tightened.
"Harl has a point, Selina," Ivy snickered while tending to her flourishing Poinsettia garden. "Last I heard he clipped your claws and retired himself as your scratching post."
"Poor, poor Kitty!" Harley giggled, wildly pawing at the air.
"That's an awful common plant you're pruning over, Ivy, dear. I can't even begin to imagine why on Go- Your green earth you'd be wasting time on a plant that doesn't want or even acknowledge your..." Selina paused, lowered her eyelids, and purred, "...nurturing touch."
"Pammy, you okay?" Harley left her post on the couch to put a hand up to her vexed friend's forehead. "For a green lady, you are looking awful red!"
"I'm fine, Harley." Pamela gritted her teeth, pushing the harlequin aside. "All my babies need me, Seiena. Even those you deem common. Even that stubborn, ungrateful, rogue weed I plucked up out of an ally a couple years ago needs me." She sauntered over to Selina, coming face to face with her roommate. " Maybe the real problem here is that no one needs you."
"HA, HA, Red! That's a real scream! Ain't it, Kitty?" Harley interjected nervously. "You know she doesn't mean it, Kitty! Right, Red?" She pushed between the two hostile sirens, gingerly wrapping an arm around each girl. "And Pammy, she didn't mean anything about your flowers being common! She was just teasin' ya! Like friends do!"
Ignoring Harley, Ivy continued spewing venom.
"What's the problem, Selina, cat got your tongue? The Bat certainly doesn't. Maybe you'd be a little happier if I started growing catnip as well."
"It would take a lot more than catnip to get me to knead my paws on your-"
"You know, I like Poinsettias! In fact, I love 'em! They're my favorite flower! But I can learn to like catnip, too!" The space between Pamela and Selina was closing in, squeezing Harley out of the way.
Frustrated, but determined, Harley continued to try to break the tension.
"Hey, Kitty, do ya remember that one time when Mistah J was playing that game with ya and he let you stay in the spare room (cage) with the other kitties he was takin' care of (torturing) and there was catnip (poisoned) all over the place and all the other cats, even you, were cacklin' and rollin' around all crazy? Do you remember? Gah, my Puddin' is so thoughtful!"
"SHUT UP, HARLEY!" Both women shouted at the bubbly ditz before turning their frustration back on each other.
Harley let out a defeated sigh, knowing there was no stopping them now. There would be no stopping them until the roof caved in and the walls crumbled down around them. She didn't understand what they were so angry about. Why'd Kitty even care about what kind of flowers Ivy was growing? Why was the B-man always brought into every little fight? She felt that familiar tickle in her throat and swallowed hard. She wasn't going to let them see her cry. She wasn't going to tell them she had no where else to go because Mistah J took off again, and she wasn't going to tell them goodbye either. Not that they would hear her over their slamming fists and shouts.
Slinging her mallet over her slumped shoulders, Harley gave one more glance to the vicious vixens before walking out the door.
Harley found herself at the steps of the last place she and Joker called home. She slumped down as the burning sensation of her tears overwhelmed her. He had been gone for a week now. She knew he would come back for her, she was sure of it, but she didn't know when. She didn't even know why he left. He never even told her he was leaving.
The stars are dancing, twinkling like they get the joke, but don't realize they are the punchline. Or maybe they do. Maybe that's why they dance. Either way, they're not as beautiful as the stars Mistah J gave me. Not even close.
They thought the bruises on my face were from Mistah J, but he hadn't so much as backhanded me before he disappeared. I gave myself these bruises. I need them. I need him. Everyday I try to emulate the love he gave me. Everyday I fail. I can never hit myself hard enough. I can never thrust myself out a window fast or hard enough. Nothing I do is ever enough. I know Kitty and Red think they know what's best for me. They think they know what love is and they think that I don't know what I deserve. I also know they underestimate my intelligence and question my sanity. They can't see past my doe eyes, bleached pigtails, and my daffy grin. They forget I'm a doctor. They forget I specialized in criminal psychology. If anyone knows what love is, who is capable of it, and how it's rendered, it's me.
Love is not about what you deserve.
Love isn't a bouquet of flowers. Love isn't a ring on a finger. Love isn't something you can just shove into a pretty little box and constrict with a few frilled ribbons. Even if you can, it won't matter. It'll only stay that way long enough for you to believe it wont start tearing at the seams, but it will. Love will come bursting out at you with an ironclad fist to the kisser. Or a steel toed boot to the kidneys. Or a switchblade to the jugular. Love is on the war path and you are its target.
Love is not the words as you say them, the tears when you cry them, or your earnest intent.
Love is the force shoving you to the brink.
Love is the ledge on which your footing slips.
Love is the concluding snap to an old and worn out overture.
Harley searched the sky as if the answers were written in the stars. Slowly, she connected the twinkles to make her Joker's smile. She smiled in return and closed her eyes. The sound of his voice echoed in her mind.
"If the noose fits, wear it Harly-Girl!"