A/N Geeez, I ain't been on fanfiction for so long... this is my first fanfic in about 8 months. It's my first ever Batman one, and critique in reviews is welcome, especially if i mess up some facts or character storylines. This'll probably end up in 5 or 6 parts, so I hope you sit back and enjoy the show... ;p
Disclaimer; Yeah, yeah, everyone knows my brain doesn't have the power to think up legendary characters like The Joker and Harley. But I DO have the power to control them with words....
Harley slept silently, curled up on the dark leather sofa. Her hand lolled over the side of the cushion, still loosely clasping the TV remote. The Gotham News blared into the dark apartment, casting brief flashes of dull colour up the bare walls, the reporters' voices muted.
Harley's expression was confused and troubled as she slept. Her eyebrows pulled together, and the numb frown she wore went oddly with the smudged lipstick smile that was splayed across her face.
The room was still, the only sounds were Harley's hushed breathing, the two hyenas in their cage in the next room, and distant police sirens deep in the city.
After a few more moments had stumbled along, the sirens began to get louder and closer, and the low whir of a helicopter arrived. Then there was a series of squealing tyres, and the first of the gunshots.
Harley stirred, but remained ignorant of the chaos beginning to unfold below her. The Hyenas, on the other hand, were awake and restless in their cage, happy for something to yap at. They began yowling at the ever-closer sirens. Somehow, Harley managed to stay unconscious, until a second round of bullets jolted her awake.
She sat up clumsily, and winced at all the noise around her. After taking a long time yawning, groaning and struggling upright, she rubbed slowly at heavy eyelids and stumbled in the general direction of the kitchen.
"Ya see, this is why ya get left in the truck every night," She said groggily to Bud and Lou, before kicking at the cage and shoving a few scraps of meat at them. They quieted slightly as they ate, but didn't stop growling wheezily at Harley as she left the room. Heading for the bedroom, she peered curiously out of the window at the city around her. She couldn't remember exactly which apartment block she was in. The cheap building that she, the Joker, and all the other henchmen were living in at the moment was just one of many criminal hideouts throughout Gotham.
Thinking of the Joker, she paused in her analysis of nearby streets. He was out tonight, everyone was out, taking down one of the more traitorous mob leaders or something... She paused, as a police car chase sped recklessly across the street below her window. She remembered what the Joker had planned for tonight, and realised that it must be him causing the chaos in the streets below. What confused her, however, was why she was still here, why she wasn't shooting at the police right now. Why had the Joker left her out this time? It was just one of his usual jaunts; He had planned to rob a bank, then dump the cash inside a deadly, radiated area inside Gotham's power plant. He said the funny side was to see how many people would die of radiation poisoning trying to get the pathetic little bits of paper back to the bank again.
But obviously, it hadn't all gone to plan, as the ruckus and gunfire proved. Harley worried about him for a second or two, but when she saw a police car get blown ten foot in the air, causing several others to skid and crash, she stopped her fretting. This was the Joker she was worrying about.
She sighed and rubbed her tired eyes as she weighed her options. She could grab a few knives and a shotgun and rush out to the street battle below, or she could stay up here and wait for Mr J to come back. The latter seemed the best option. She was tired, and if the Joker wanted her to be part of this, he'd have taken her along anyway.
She turned away from the window and drowsily turned to the bedroom, where she slumped down on top of the duvet, and returned to her silent dreams.
xxxx
A few hours later, two henchmen broke the door open, and limped into the apartment. After them came a few others, all injured and bleeding. The Joker stumbled thorough last, and like an injured pack leader, he snarled and shoved the goons out of his way as he part prowled, part limped and part staggered to the bedroom. He grasped his left side with bloody fingers, and needed to use the walls and furniture for support.
When he'd made his way to the bedroom, he woke Harley by dragging her off the bed by her hair then slumping on it himself.
Harley cried out as she hit the floor. She shook her head, dazed, and was already preparing herself to bolt from the room; She'd deduced Mr J wasn't in the greatest of moods.
However, she paused when he made no other move to strike her, and stood upright, still slightly disoriented.
Harley noticed something was wrong with Joker. In fact, there was a lot wrong. His rasping breaths sounded painful, his face twisted into a grimace, and he was bleeding. Badly.
"Mistah J!" Harley gasped, horrified, as she rushed to help him, only to pushed back roughly.
"I want them gone, Harley, and I want you gone," He growled.
She longed to protest, to argue that she could help, but she knew so much better than that. She turned on her heel and exited the room.
The Joker's men where splayed across the living room, groaning and bandaging various injuries.
"What the hell happened!?" Harley demanded as she swung round the doorframe.
A few looked up, but most ignored her. "Ah - Harley," one of them said, "You couldn't get us a beer, could you?"
In response, Harley snatched up an empty beer bottle from the side table behind her and hurled it at his head. It shattered right on target.
"I said - What the hell happened!?"
And this time she managed to get their attention.
"Uh... the police turned up..." A brute by the name of Paul began.
"Yeah, I gathered that. How did they know?"
"They were in on it, somehow. We get ambushed as soon as we get in the bank, so we scram, but the bastards chase us all over Gotham. There were to many of 'em to shake off, and they cut us off at the head near Gotham Heights. So now it's just a gunfight in the streets. Then the boss gets shot, most of us are arrested, an' only us manage to escape. But then..." Hugh trailed off miserably.
"The Batman caught up with us," another guy told Harley. His face would have been eager and proud if he wasn't in so much pain. "He beat Joker up an' tried to drag him off, but I shot him. I was hidin', see, with my sniper."
Harley took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. "The boss wants ya out of here. Now." The henchmen usually slept in the apartments below, and Harley figured they were only up here now to look for medical supplies. "And take the hyenas with ya," she continued. She didn't want them disturbing the Joker.
She didn't stop to listen to their grumbles. She snatched up bandages out of Paul's arm as he lumbered past, and strode back off to the bedroom. She knew what she was planning wasn't exactly the smartest thing she could be doing, but she was not going to stand by while the Joker was hurt so badly.
xxxx
Harley paused at the doorway, and hesitated before entering. The bedroom was in semi-darkness. The Joker lay in the same position she'd left him in, his bloodied purple trenchcoat splayed out underneath him. She crept up slowly, and flinched when he spoke. She didn't like the weak, rasping sound of his voice.
"Out."
"...No," Harley defied him softly, knowing he wasn't in any kind of condition to do anything about it. "I'm gunna help ya."
"Huh?" The Joker lifted his head slightly, squinting at her. Then he began chuckling throatily as his girlfriend knelt beside him.
"Where're ya hurt?" Harley asked. She didn't expect a reply, and she didn't get one. So she looked him over, trying to decide which was the worst of his injuries. Half of his face was streaked crimson from a gash across his temple, the fingers on his right hand were twisted and bent, clearly broken, and he had a bullet wound to his right arm. What worried Harley most was the bloody wound to his chest. It looked like a bullet had grazed between his ribs.
"So what do you know about bullet wounds, Harls?" He rasped, as Harley removed his trenchcoat, waistcoat and shirt.
"I don't know nothing," She replied, relieved that he wasn't doing anything to stop her. "But I do know that ya can't go in any hospitals."
"At least wash your hands first," Joker said, settling back and closing his eyes as Harley began cleaning his wounds.
For the next hour, Harley did her best, and the results weren't bad. All she had left to treat was his head injury.
She picked up a damp cloth, and raised it tentatively to the Joker's face. He wasn't going to like this. She'd seen him without his make-up a few times before, though she knew that it wouldn't stop him getting pissed if she tried to take it off.
Nevertheless, she gently ran the cloth repeatedly along his forehead, expecting the worst from him. When he didn't respond, she assumed he must be sleeping.
"Well? Have I got another scar?" He asked, as enthusiastic as he could manage.
Harley rolled her eyes. "I think you'll have it for a few years or so."
She took the least possible amount of blood and make-up away from his face, and started stitching the four inch gash. She had stitched before, and this was straight forward.
"Take it all off, Harley," Joker said, surprising her, "I only enjoy an itchy face and blood in my eyes as much as the next guy."
Totally stunned, Harley quite happily obliged; She enjoyed seeing his strong, sharp features. He was a good-looking guy under all the face paint. The scars served to make him more obscure, more enigmatic.
After a moment, Harley paused. "Why're ya in such a good mood?" She couldn't understand it.
He laughed before responding. "I've had a fun night, and it's just got better."