The couple had been silent for moments as they stared at each other. The air was heavy and tense. They were panting, each with very different expressions on their faces as they lay frozen in their positions, he hovering over her and she with her small hands still clenching his shoulders. They were vulnerable and naked in the bed they shared for just over a year. Harley's eyes reflected hurt, anger, and betrayal. The Joker's showed slight regret. He finally sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, deciding that he couldn't look her in her eyes at that moment.
Harley took a deep breath and attempted to hold back tears. She sat scooted up and leaned back against the headboard. Arms crossed and breathing becoming more rapid. "What did you say?", she asked with a quiet tremble.
He folded his hands together and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He stared up at the wall and did not answer. His tongue tracing his scars.
"Because," she continued, "it sounded an awful lot like you just said another woman's name while you made love to me." Tears finally streamed down her cheeks.
He sighed, still refusing to look at her.
"Joker, why did you say that? Who is she? Is there someone else?", her voice was steadily rising as the reality hit her. Was there someone else?
He finally reached for his purple dress pants that had been carelessly thrown on the floor not twenty minutes ago and slid them on. He ran a hand through his greasy green and brown curls as he stood up.
Harley's heart was breaking and her head was spinning. What does this mean? Is this really happening? Her own Glasgow smile betrayed her real emotion. Her face smiled, but she felt despair.
"Say something!", she yelled with desperation.
He turned to look at her finally, but was speechless. She had never known him to not have any words. He just slightly shook his head. He tried to wrangle his emotions. Why did he say it? What did this mean? How could he tell her the truth? Is this regret? He had regretted few things since becoming The Joker and almost all of them came from his actions toward Harley. He felt anger too. Angry at her accusations.
He never anticipated Harley Quinn. She came out of no where and destroyed his life. She burrowed herself in his head and heart. She was his one weakness. He never told her, but he couldn't live without her. He would never be unfaithful to her. How could she think that? But, he wasn't ready to tell her the truth. He was shaking, fists balled up at his sides.
She was out of bed dressing in jeans and tank top.
"Fine. Don't explain yourself. I'm outta here."
He watched her as she grabbed a black duffle from the corner of the room. She emptied the contents on the floor. Several thousand dollars. She grabbed a few stacks of hundreds, shoving them back in the bag. She stormed to her closet and threw random clothes inside.
What could he say? He watched her, feeling a pit in his stomach. He knew he wouldn't stop her. He wanted to grab her and explain, but he wasn't sure how. He wasn't ready. He needed time.
"I'm sure you won't be lonely for long. You probably have whores holed up all over this city. Don't come looking for me, J. I'm done."
Now he was really angry. She did not talk to him like this. He owned her. If he wanted to have other women, he would have other women and it didn't matter what she said. She was his property and he did as he pleased. But she was wrong, he only wanted her.
"Is that what you think, Harley?", he said irritatedly.
She lifted the bag on her shoulder and grabbed her black hoodie. "Well you're not denying it, J. What am I supposed to think?"
He stormed up to her, smeared and smudged greasepaint covered his face, and he towered above her as he pointed a finger in her face, "Watch your tone, little girl.", he growled.
She stared at him for a moment and then spit in his face.
The rage took over and he slapped her harder than he intended. Her face turned abruptly to the side and blood ran from her lip. She didn't look at him again and instead pushed passed him and stormed out of the bedroom.
He yelled out the door, "You'll be back! You'll be on your knees begging me to come back!", and he slammed the door. He growled as he punched his fist through the plaster.
Harley ran through the living area where several henchmen turned their heads from the TV to watch her rush out. As she stepped into the crisp fall air from the abandoned warehouse she called home, she felt the hot tears run down her face. She couldn't get away fast enough. She walked four or five blocks before putting her bag on a bench and pulling on the hoodie she was carrying. She sat down and rested her head in her hands. She couldn't get her thoughts straight. Her mind was running a million miles an hour. She was angry then sad then confused. She weighed her options, but they were few. It was late in the night, probably around 2 AM now. She could go to Ivy's house. It wouldn't be the first time she sought solace with her best friend after things with J got intense. He would always go and get her back after two or three days once things calmed down. But this was different. She didn't know if she wanted him to find her. She needed more time to think things through.
Before meeting Mista J, she had very few personal relationships and after meeting him she had almost none aside from Ivy. She was isolated from the outside world, dependent on him to fulfill her needs. One thought popped into her mind. He would never find her there. But was that bridge burned? She had only told J about her mother who was wasting away in a nursing home with early onset Alzheimer's. Her father left them when she was a baby. But she did have a sister. She never told J about her. She wasn't sure why she kept Hope a secret. Maybe she was protecting her.
But yes, she had an identical twin sister, one she loved very much. Harley and Hope had been closer than most sisters. They were very opposite in many ways. Hope was eight minutes older and you would think she was eight years older by the way she acted with Harley. She was the more mature one. She always excelled in school, had more friends, did better with boys. Harley was more naive, more gullible. She struggled with relationships starting at a young age and relied on Hope to guide her when things got tough. When Harley met J, he filled that role. He told her what to do and how and that's how she preferred things. It felt safe.
For the most part the world assumed The Joker kidnapped the young doctor when he last escaped Arkham, but it was never confirmed. She disappeared the same time he left. She was deemed a missing person. The cops lost hope after the first couple of months. Hope feared the worst, but hoped for the best. Everyday she waited for the phone to ring, to hear news of her beloved sister.
Last Harley knew, Hope still lived in Brooklyn, where they grew up. She stayed in a beautiful brownstone with her fiancé, Mathew. She had excelled in life, becoming a successful family law lawyer. She drove a nice car, went to nice restaurants, carried Gucci bags. While Harley struggled with life, it came easy to Hope. Harley never held it against her, she admired Hope for her accomplishments. She decided her sister would take her in. Just as she made her decision, a city bus stopped at the bench. Taking it as a sign, she put her hood on and tried not to make eye contact with the driver and she found a seat.