Disclaimer: This is based on the relationship portrayed in Suicide Squad, based on Jared Leto's Joker.
Badly Broken
In the VIP booth he sat, mouth open, breathing deeply. The man sitting in front him didn't matter. All that mattered was her. He watched the stripper in the glass cage, she wasn't there. Her bleached body wasn't there. It wasn't dancing. She wasn't making the crowd go wild. He looked back to the man, no longer interested in the business deal they were trying to make. He held up his customized pistol and put a bullet in between the man's eyes. He shot again and again, feeling nothing. There was no joy, no solace in the kill. He emptied his gun so quickly, but it didn't matter. His main henchman walked in, calling cleaning service.
In the past months since the Bat took her, Joker felt nothing. There was no joy in killing if it wasn't for her. No reason to laugh as she was not there to celebrate. He'd gone on many rampages, trying to ease his mind. How could she do this to him, destroy his already broken self in a way he couldn't mend? The Clown had gone even crazier, if that were possible, driving endlessly through crowds of people, looking for release. He needed her. He burned building after building, looking for some way to help himself. Nothing worked. He couldn't sleep, his mind burning with demons he couldn't fight. The demons he needed her to fight, because she could always win. She always did. He numbed what he could with Devil's Springs Vodka, and hoped to get some sleep, hoping on the third day his body would just shut down.
His smile was gone, faded from his face, he replaced it with lipstick. He'd drawn on the best smile he could, his face not able to do it alone. He would laugh, but only to hide his distraught sobs of grief. How could she ruin him like this? How did she do this to him? He tried to never let himself get attached, he tried to leave her and never go back. She was headstrong. Looking for him even after he threw her away. Chasing him down. Forcing him to accept her. He wouldn't accept Harleen. He needed Harley. He needed that persona, he couldn't look at Harleen, her doctor-self. She was weak. He needed the crazy inside. She was so close when he met her, halfway to her breaking point. The little doctor needed a push, to accept herself for who she was. He forced her there, and then left. He told himself it was a bad idea. All that time he was trying to break her, and she broke him. She made so he couldn't function without her.
In his private room, the room she wasn't allowed in, he sat in a circle of all his weapons. He didn't remember getting there. He remembered shooting up the club, then black nothingness. He clung to an old shirt, it was tainted with her sugary sweet scent, he needed her. The clothing didn't replace her, and he eventually got frustrated, ripping the shirt to shreds, throwing it away from himself, like he wished he had with her. He'd thought of killing her so many times, when her shenanigans went too far, when she'd angered him for what he thought of making the last time. Some part of him always let her go, never let him dig the knife deep enough, never let him pull the trigger while the gun was to her head. Now he knew why. He'd be left helpless without her. He'd be better off dead, with her, if he had ever done it. He knew that when he got her back he was never going to let her go. He was going to make her pay for the pain he'd caused her, but he would never let her leave him again. As his main henchman walked in, Joker held up a gun, threatening to shoot without saying a word.
"Boss, we found her."
That was it. That was all he needed. He dropped the gun. He let himself fall back as he laughed, his laughs turning to sobs. He'd said something, he wasn't even sure he was understandable. But his man left, and when he came back he knew it was time for a plan, some way to rescue her, and he would execute it, and anyone in his way, perfectly.
Authors Note: This is my first upload, and reviews would be much appreciated. Even if you really didn't like it.