Description: So how's it all going to end?
Rating: M
So Happy I Could Die
A/N: The characters (and song lyrics) aren't my creation.
Every time we lie awake, after every hit we take
Every feeling that I get, but I haven't missed you yet
She was trying to seduce him again.
He hated that. Hated that she would, even for a moment, think that he'd be like any other man and fall victim to lustful whims. She should've figured that out back when he was her patient in Arkham. He'd always thought the good doctor only played dumb, but he was beginning to wonder if her blondeness had real roots. Hee hee. He thought back to their sessions. He should've stolen her little notebook and wrote:
The Joker is no ordinary man.
Maybe he should carve it into her flesh. She might remember it then.
He hated that he hadn't killed her yet, but then she was his greatest accomplishment. Well, her and the dead boy wonder, but one couldn't quite drag around a stuffed and mounted Robin. It just wasn't practical, whereas Harley followed like a loyal, if not stupid, puppy.
"Hey ya, Mister J!"
Though he should really remove her voice box. Then he got a brilliant idea, and nearly giggled when the thought entered his mind. But he refrained, it would be a better joke as a surprise. "Harley girl, come here."
She bounded over, blonde pigtails swinging with her childlike movements. "Yeah, Mister J."
He pointed downward, "Kneel down, Harls."
She obeyed immediately. He leaned forward in his seat and placed one knee on either side of her head and took hold her chin with a thumb and forefinger. He whispered to her lips, "Tell me you love me."
Her blue eyes searched his green and she responded, "I love you."
Her eyes bulged as he plunged the knife between her ribs. He smiled and kissed her. After he pulled away, he asked, "Baby, why are you all wet?" He began to laugh without restraint.
Harley smiled weakly as she clutched her side. The blood loss was already weakening her. The Joker stood, caressing her cheek. "Oh, don't worry, you won't die." He leaned down and kissed the cheek he'd been stroking and then said in a quiet but menacing voice, "You're too much fun to kill just yet."
Harley smiled up at him brightly; he loved her so.
Just going to stand there and watch me burn?
Well that's all right because I like the way it hurts
He'd nearly killed her tonight. Again. She was whimpering in the corner. And he called her over, "Harley, baby, come to daddy."
She didn't even think to defy him. She crawled over to him and cradled her head in his lap. It was such a common routine for them. He smoothed out her golden locks, taking them out of their standard pigtails. "How's my baby girl? Did somebody hurt you?"
She lifted her head from his lap, but her fingers stayed clutched to his purple pants. She clung to him, as though he hadn't been the one who'd hurt her. Her eyes glittered from recent tears, but she knew he loved it when they were puffy. She looked so beautiful to him in the moments before her purple splotches began to expand into unsightly proportions. He handled her face gently, "You should really be more careful, sweets. I couldn't be seen in public with such an ugly girl. What would the others think?"
She smiled and blood dripped from her lips, "I love you." She wanted to ask if he loved her, but that had been what triggered the beating in the first place. She cradled her head in his lap again and willed the bruises away. She had to be pretty for him.
She loved him so and would become whatever he needed.
Joker simply stroked the blonde hair of his prettiest pet.
I want to waste her monthly blood, want to get some on my love
I want to get some gasoline and burn her house down
He loved the sight of blood.
He loved the feel of it almost as much.
The Joker watched as the convenience store clerk's blood pooled. That was the beauty of knives, the blood pooled rather than splattered like with the gun. Harley was still skipping through the aisles, singing off-key. He was bored.
He began to poke the blood. It stuck to his fingers. Still bored, he began to draw with it on the countertop. He started with a smiley face and when he finished he looked at his work of art with gleeful pride. He then placed both of his hands in the blood and smeared the face he'd just drawn, demolishing it like a deranged finger-painting kindergartener. Stepping back, he looked at his work with a critical eye.
Harley came up at this point, looking puzzled. "What are you doing?"
"Art," he threw his arms out in a flourish as though he was presenting his latest masterpiece of destruction to the Batman. Blood spattered from his fingertips on the magazine stand and the cigarettes.
Harley looked at his work appreciatively and then held up what she'd plundered, "Well I've got the tampons."
The Joker's face scrunched in distaste at the word tampon. "Don't be disgusting, Harley."
He walked away from her, leaving the store quickly. Harley took another moment to look at what the Joker had "painted." It was missing something. She bent down to coat a finger in blood and drew a small smiley face in the corner. She nodded, proud of her addition and joined her Mister J.
Tell me something that will change me
I'm going to love you with my hands tied
He's choking her but continues his rhythm as he takes her from behind, and her eyes begin to flutter and her heart begins to swoon. He cares about her so much. He would kill just about anyone, but to be tortured, to be really hurt by him, you really had to mean something to him. The only person who ranked above her in how badly he wanted to see broken was the Batman.
How she hated that Bat. He stole so much from her, and yet they called him the hero. He'd beaten the man she loved more times than she could count, even remember. Worse than that, Batman consumed all of her beloved's attention. The Joker spent nearly all of his time thinking about the Bat. She was a mere distraction to him. Yes, it made the few moments they were truly happy together, whether on killing spree or a fucking one, precious. But still, the jealousy always nagged at her.
She hated Batman for that. How dare he interrupt their great love? What gave him the right? Furthermore, she was a strong, intelligent, independent woman, why should she have to rely on a man? Why should she have to rely on Batman's indifference or incompetence to catch her Joker's attention?
The Joker growled in her ear, demanding her attention, "Harley."
She looked behind and her eyes connected with his, the edge of her vision was blackening. A professor's voice from her memory told her that lack of oxygen from suffocation could cause someone to pass out. The Joker loosened his grip enough for her to answer, "Yes, Daddy?"
He began to laugh. His laughter was such beautiful, sweet music to her ears. She rode the ecstasy of his laugh, his abuse and his attention to an exquisite crescendo. When he'd finished, he slammed her face into the table hard. She felt her nose break and her mind black out.
Damn, she'd have to set it when she woke up.
Joker looked down at his Harley. She was such a fragile little girl, wasn't she? He pulled up his pants and got back to his real work. He had a Bat to fry after all.
Every time I end up breaking you
You change into something worth keeping
The Batman would be here any minute, and the Joker could hardly contain his excitement.
"No!"
The Joker craned his head to his pretty empty-headed assistant. Was she really defying him? How intriguing. He said nothing, simply raised an eyebrow at Harley's fury.
"You spend too much time with Batman! I want you to stop. Stop trying to kill him, stop spending every moment obsessing about him. Just stop. No more Batman!" Harley screamed at the top of her lungs, even stomped her foot.
Joker began to laugh uncontrollably. Was she mad? Had she lost her mind? He laughed harder. She stomped her foot again, still furious, "This is not a joke!"
She'd never understood. It was all a joke. Life was one big joke, and death. Death was the punch line. The Joker's laughing began to subside and he began to walk towards Harley, walking slightly like a drunk man as his laughter still occasionally shook him. He wiped a tear. "Oh Harley. That's a good one."
She raised a gun and he stopped when he felt the barrel against his chest. He studied the loaded gun. She truly was a fascinating girl. "This is new and different. Such a twist to the story." He grinned and said darkly, "I do enjoy your games, Harls."
She didn't waver. "This is not a game. You have to choose. Me or him."
The Joker cocked his head at her. "I don't understand the question."
Harley let out a small sob and then took a deep breath, raising her gun to his head. "No more Batman, Mister J. This ends tonight."
The Joker looked at his girlfriend, puzzled. "I couldn't actually kill him. What would I do without him? Life would be so boring."
She screamed, "I want you to stop thinking about Batman!"
The Joker's eyes never left Harley's. He began laughing again.
She pulled the trigger.
Maybe you're alone for a reason, you're the reason
So pitiful what you are, should've seen this coming all along
Batman and Robin found Harley holding the Joker's head, half of which was gone, in her lap. She was brushing his hair back; she had always loved his green locks and hated the red that was seeping into them. Red was her color – her Mister J was green. She kissed his lips, "I will love you forever."
"You did this!" She pointed a finger at Batman, accusing him. "You killed him. You're a murderer." She aimed the gun at him. Batman dodged the bullet and took Harley down but she fought like a wildcat against him. "You killed him. How could you? How could you?"
She calmed down as though the fight had gone out of her, and with her bright blue eyes glistening with tears she whispered, "Please, I have to say good bye." She somehow broke free from Batman's grasp, but perhaps he'd let her go. She bent back down to her Mister J and began caressing his body again, "I never even knew your name. You were my fairy tale, my Prince Charming. I love you, PC. PC. CP. ICU. ICUP."
She began to giggle and didn't stop. Batman and Robin simply watched, horrified for a moment. Then Batman pushed down his terror and moved to restrain the mad clown. That was the moment her eyes connected with his, and she spoke in a voice that was decidedly not Harley Quinn, but certainly Harleen Quinzel, "Do you ever find it odd, Batman, how many lovers compare themselves to Romeo and Juliet?" Her white make-up was half wiped away from her tears; her face resembled a theater mask. "It makes you think no one has actually read the play. Their great love was a combination of impulsiveness and naïveté, and ended badly." She brushed another lock of the Joker's hair back.
Before Batman could act, Harley turned the gun on herself and pulled the trigger once more.
The clowns' blood pooled together as one massive mess. Batman couldn't help but notice that Harley's tear stained face had landed against the Joker's grinning one. They were the white faces of comedy and tragedy, surrounded by red. He stepped back before the blood touched his boots.