Author's Ramble:
Just a little vindication for me. Consider this an alternate universe if it make you happy. I'm basing this mostly in B:TAS. Trigger warnings for abusive relationships, and a torture scene.
Puddin'
He didn't understand what he'd done to her, but he would by the time she was finished.
Harley sat across from the slumped pale man, lips pressed tightly together. Her hair was still damp, and hung in limp blond curls over her shoulders. The clown outfit had been left behind. No more spandex, and jester hats.
No, she was dressed for comfort and ease of movement. Sweat pants and sports bra that exposed her scarred and muscular abdomen. The scars were all from him, in one way or another. One or two from surgeries. Harley had more aches and deep bone bruising now than she'd ever gained as a gymnast. And without even the sense of power and accomplishment that other pain brought her.
A single light filtered down on the two of them from about. The clown and the woman. It did not swing, or flicker. Only gave harsh illumination broken by the occasional moth that flew too close.
Sending a junior therapist in to work with the most dangerous criminal Gotham had ever seen must have made her boss laugh himself sick. No one but the fresh out of school wanted to touch him. Sure, the painful diamond edge of clarity helped her to realize she was to blame too. She'd gotten in too deep, walked directly into his mental trap. Let him twist her compassion into some warped parody of the real emotion.
She'd even fucked him.
And now waiting for him to wake up, she felt filthy. Like her blood had been replaced with raw sewage. She was choking on the Joker's shit. Words, and manipulations, and half hearted apologies. As if roses could mend broken bones. As if apologies and promises meant anything when she'd wake up cuffed to that mockery of a wedding bed they shared and watch as he escaped out the window when the cops broke in. And leered. Or worse, looked at her like they could smell her blood. Disgust was worse.
He ruined clarity so easily... and yet she couldn't just walk away. No. It had to be more final.
"Oooh, batsy..."
That groan was her queue. Harley pushed back her chair. Wood gave an inelegant shriek before the battered and scarred legs of the thing toppled and sent it crashing to the floor.
"Sorry Puddin', it's just us chickens."
The mad man lifted his head, dried blood crusted over one pale grinning eye. "Harley."
He didn't even sound surprised. In fact, the Joker laughed.
"Harley, Harley, Harley. How many times do I have to tell you that I like it better when you're the one tied up, hm?"
She wasn't sure he understood the gravity of the situation. Without any warning she brought down the back of a claw hammer on his dominant hand. Bones snapped, and blood burst free. Even the Joker still knew how to scream. Though there still seemed to be a hint of laughter.
"I don't think you understand, Puddin'! Ya aint ever gonna tie me up again!"
Now he was positively shrieking with laughter, one nearly severed finger twitching.
"Ha Ha Have a bad day Haaaarley? That's all it takes!" His mad cackling wasn't a shock to her. "I'm so proud of you baby girl. Finally growing a spine! Oh ho ho ho! Too ba – ah hahaha -ad I like it when you hit me."
She twirled the hammer and watched him, just outside of the ring of light. Never before had she appreciated her background in the medical field as much as she did. Those electives in college were going to come in handy.
"It's not f' you sugar." She whipped the hammer around a second time, smashing the blunt in into his elbow. The arm snapped and suddenly was bending the wrong way. "This is all about makin' me feel better."
No, he didn't understand what he'd done to her. Not yet. But he would soon.