I am not in any way taking credit for Trent Reznor's lyrics to And All That Could Have Been.
I do not own Batman, Joker, or Harley Quinn. Or any related places and characters.
Written in J's (The Dark Knight movie version) point of view.
Enjoy! ;D


I am locked in my head
With what I've done

Control.

Hah.

The word doesn't mean a thing to me anymore. Yeah, I have control over my henchmen. Control over what we do. Control over when I want to do it. But I don't have the control over me anymore. I'm not what I was. I'm worse. And I can feel it getting worse with every heave of the chest in a laugh.

I know you tried to rescue me
Didn't let anyone get in

She was only supposed to be a game.
I was only supposed to get into her head, screw with her, and leave her there.

I saw the ugliness in her, between the cracks in her plastered-on facade. It wasn't hard to find. Not when you're uglier, filthier between your own cracks.

I knew she could feel my eyes piercing her barrier. And she spilled her guts to me. I was the only one she could make a connection to. I made her laugh a real laugh for the first time in her life.

She tried to take the weight off of my shoulders. She tried to get me to talk to her. So I did. But it was all a big steaming load of bullshit. Sure, they were sob-stories...But stories pulled right out of my ass.

I played her a little.
So, what?

She was so willing to ease my pain. So caring.
It was then that I knew that she wasn't meant to be the one treating patients in the Asylum. She was supposed to be on the other side of the glass, like I was...She was supposed to be an inmate, and with a little sculpting, I made her one.

She excelled.
She was everything I expected and more.

Please
Take this
And run far away
Far as you can see

She's mine.
Wrapped around my finger.
My slave.
My apostle.

It got to the point where I had to hit her. It wasn't because she was annoying. And it wasn't because of the Batman, like she tried so hard to convince herself it was. I lost count of how many backhands I've dealt, how many times I've grabbed her by that silky blonde mane and flung her across the room like a rag doll.

She'd scream. But it felt so good.

And happiness
And peace of mind
Were never meant for me

And she always came back. No matter what. I'd try to kill her, and she'd some back apologizing for things that she'd done wrong. Sometimes, I drive her off because she's the only vent for my rage. Most of the time, I try to send her off in hopes that she wouldn't come back to the monster that controlled every last breath that she squeezed out of her lungs. I didn't want her to suffer...But I couldn't tell her.

I still can't tell her.

I'm a selfish bastard, and I want her all to myself.
Even if it kills her.

All these pieces
And promises, and left-behinds

I can't help it.
When she screams...
It's...
The feeling...
It's just overwhelming.
And it's not guilt, either. Guilt is usually what haunts me when I know she's out there somewhere, and not home with me. Not curled up under a fleece throw and fast asleep in my arms.

She's quiet again. The blood on the knife is dry now.
And I wish this insanity would dry, too...
But I know I'm fucked.
I'll be drowning in this twisted reality dreamland of mine for as long as I can still laugh.

When she screamed, the last threads of tendons gave away. Her face pulled clear apart.
I had them sewn shut, but her face is never going to be the same.
She's always going to smile. Just like me.

I know she's not going to forgive me for this, but she'll still care about me. And love me.

I'm running out of bright ideas. Nothing is ever going to make her leave me. Deep down inside, I don't want her to leave... But she has to.

Or else I might actually kill her.

You were everything
Everything to me

...Now that'd be a helluva joke.
Joker murders Harley Quinn.

aHaHAhaHAHAHahahAhahahahHAha!