Disclaimer: I own no characters yadda yadda
If you read Chaotic Lullaby, that inspired/is connected to this.
anyway this is my take on Harley and the Joker. I always saw Harley as an independent person with a need for something else in her life and I dont like the joker as a complete psycho that only sees harley as his sexy sidekick...so yeah...anyway I usually visualize the Dark Night Joker as my joker but I will be putting my own spin and whatever...ok done with rant comment thing...please R&R...let me know you like it...already working on a next chapter...
thanks
The girl lay on the wet asphalt, blinking up at many stars above. She could pick out the Big and Little Dipper, the only constellations she could ever remember. Astronomy was something that always fascinated her, yet she never got into it. Her know-how on the stars would always be limited to a middle school science book.
Smells of gasoline and construction reached her nose and she wondered where she was. She could see the night sky above her so she had to be outside. She knew she was laying on something hard and parts of her body were wet, she couldn't tell with what. A yellow cloud slowly rose into the air from the corner of her vision. She turned her head to see an explosion erupting from a building. A connecting building was already crumbling to ground, fire consuming it. Everything was moving in slow motion. She saw people running away from the fire, screams on their faces. She saw a man completely on fire waving his arms and trying to escape what already had consumed him. The man ran a few more steps before falling over, flailing until he existed no more.
She couldn't remember why everything was on fire. The smoke was getting to her and she started to cough. Sounds in the distance of sirens hit her ears before the screams. Then someone was shaking her. She turned her face to the stars again but instead saw a fireman with his hands shaking her shoulders. She tried to push his arms away. She just wanted to see the stars and he was in the way.
Why was he there?
The fireman yelled something at the girl but all she saw was his mouth moving. She wanted to tell him to go away. She tried to speak but a coughing fit hit her once she opened her mouth. With every cough she felt weaker and weaker. The fireman yelled something again but her vision was fading. She saw his arms reaching towards her again, picking her up. She wanted to struggle but couldn't move.
It's okay. Give in.
Why should I?
It's okay. Give in.
Who are you?
Don't worry. Give in.
She couldn't argue any more. She was out.
"Harleen? Wake up Ms. Harleen." Someone nudged the girl and she shot up in her seat.
"I'm here!" She nearly yelled. People around her giggled and she blushed, biting her lip.
"Yes, I see that. Do you think you can manage to stay awake for the remainder of class or should I give you a pass to the office?" her teacher, Mr. Robson, said. He stood at the front of the class, some diagram on the board behind him. He had on an orange plaid suit that begged for the seventies to come back. His hair might as well had been left in that decade since he was balding profusely. His glasses were 3 inches thick and his tolerance for sleeping in class was nonexistent.
"That won't be necessary sir." She said. Mr. Robson huffed and returned to his lecture. The girl frowned, leaning her head on her hand. She watched the clock until the bell rang and quickly slipped out the door.
She hated school. She didn't actually hate learning. She loved science and history and books but she hated all her teachers, who, in return, didn't like her much either. Most of her classmates were total strangers to her. People knew she didn't live a glamorous life and didn't treat her any different than her family.
The girl skipped home. Her favorite part of the day was leaving that god forsaking school. The few minutes she had to herself before walking through her front door made her feel like a normal human being. But it never lasted long enough.
She opened the screen door hoping the old trailer was empty. It wasn't. Her father sat in a trashed recliner, sipping a beer and flipping through low quality channels. He looked her up and down before returning his eyes to the television.
"How was…uh…school kiddo?" he said and took a sip from his beer can.
"Fine." She said and walked past him to her room. He always asked her this, even if she came home on a Saturday. It could be midnight and he would still ask how school was. She knew her father cared; he just wasn't all there.