Disclaimer: not mine. (And by the way, the italics are his thoughts.)
She's been too quiet of late.
Joker notices this as the hours turn to days, and the days turn to weeks. Harley hasn't been as annoyingly chatty as she usually is. Perhaps the cold shoulder from her plant-obsessed friend has taken its toll on Harley's disposition. Ivy won't let Harley live with her right now, some fight between them keeping them apart.
He knows that after this much time with him, his girl can't stand him anymore and routinely goes to stay with her ginger friend.
He does not care. He does not need her. And even if he did, all he would need to do was wait. She would come back.
She always comes back, in the end.
Sometimes, she forgets to laugh at his jokes. Sometimes, she does not cringe when he hits her, as though she accepts it as a sad fact of life. Her life.
Harley's face is pale, even after she washes off her chalky makeup. Her eyes are weary, and when she gazes off into space there is a regretful air about her.
She is not sick.
Harley whines when she is sick. She is too quiet to be sick. When they go off on what he has dubbed their "adventures", she seems reluctant. Once, she had been bounding off the walls with excitement at them, but now she prefers to stand back, watching her puddin' and his henchmen doing the job. She helps when she is asked, silently, and when the "adventure" is over her celebration is brief and fake.
In the hidden flat they share, Harley will turn on the shower water, and leave her clothes in the bedroom. She says she is taking a shower. But Joker knows better: there is no sound of her body moving in the water. He peers through the crack in the doorway, hot steam escaping the room.
She stands naked in front of the mirror, staring at herself. Of course he has seen her unclothed before, and he knows the count of her bruises because most of them are his work. But she seems more uncovered than usual when she stands in front of the mirror. She scrutinizes herself, her face expressionless. She never gets into the shower at all. Hey eyes are confused as they wander her reflection. It is as though she has never seen herself so weakened.
Maybe she'll snap out of it soon.
Joker's thoughts are not worried. He is merely curious. Behind her, he wraps his arms around he waist, pulling her close, his lips brushing her ear and neck. She twists and pulls away. Harley never does that.
He asks her what is wrong, and she tells him nothing. Then she smiles, a smile that is not Harley's true smile.
Tonight, she is asleep in the bed they share. He is awake still, about to turn off the lamp when he hears a soft cry.
Turning over slightly, he gazes down at his lover. She is dreaming, crying out in her sleep. Nothing she murmurs is audible, but there is no mistaking the single tear that emerges from a closed eyelid. Harley is crying in her sleep.
Joker does not love her, but discomfort passes through his fractured mind.
You're losing her.