AU HARLEY QUINN FIC. THREESHOT. EXCERPT IN MY DESCRIPTION WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME.
Part I
She was laughing. It was a cackling, insane, unsettling noise. It seemed as if she didn't know what else to do, so she laughed. And laughed. That was how Batman had found her- cackling madly over the body of a man she'd just murdered.
She was doing it now, her body shaking from the force of her hysterics, even as she was tied down to a chair. Batman stood in front of her, his arms crossed against his molded chest. Her blonde hair had fallen from her jester's cap, and the skin-tight red & black jester outfit she wore was ripped and bloody. "Who are you?" Batman growled in a gritty tone.
"Who am I? Who am I?" She echoed with a sick giggle. Her face was painted, just like Joker's, the sides of her mouth were cut and scarred, just like his.
Batman had been able to take her fingerprints and identify her. Her name was Harleen Frances Quinzel, a twenty-three year old doctor who had gone missing nearly a year ago. The same day the Joker had escaped from Arkham.
"I know your name. It's Harleen Quinzel," He remarked. At her name, she seemed to become visibly agitated.
"NO, NO, NO! I am Harley Quinn! HARLEY QUINN!" She shouted at him, throwing herself against her restraints for the first time since he'd captured her.
"So you're Harley Quinn," he said, which made the woman ease back into the chair, sighing with relief.
Before her large black eyes snapped open. "He calls me that. He made me Harley Quin," She commented, shaking her head, causing the jester's hat to fall, and reveal her disheveled blonde pigtails.
"He?" Batman questioned, though he was fairly sure he knew exactly what she spoke of. Her body shifted restlessly, never still for a moment. The way Harley's body sharply shifted constantly set off alarms in Batman's mind.
The black depths of her eyes were bottomless, insanity and innocence mingling inside. She didn't answer the question, seeing no need. "I was a doctor once…" Harley Quinn said, wistfully, her eyes distant. "Before he took me, that is," She added.
There was truth to her words, Batman knew. Dr. Harleen Quinzel had been the Joker's attending physician. One of the orderlies had witnessed the Joker breaking into her office, and then carrying her out, kicking and screaming. No one stopped him.
"And then what happened?" Batman questioned her. Harley didn't answer, still lost in her own mind. "Harley?"
It took a few moments, and most of Batman's patience, before Harley answered. "He made me this." She said in such a despondent tone. "He made me a monster. Just like him," Harley whispered brokenly, making Batman's heart ache for her.
He knelt in front of her, touching her knee gently, only for the poor creature to rear back wildly, her dark eyes full of fear. Batman removed his hand, but did not move away. "You are not a monster, Harley," he told her, "I can get you help. You can be a doctor again. You can be Harleen again," Batman promised her.
Harley's expression was full of disbelief, and her maddened eyes searched his own dark eyes behind the mask. "He will never let me go," she said sadly, almost childlike.
Batman kept his tone gentle- the mad girl seemed to respond better to it. "If you help me take the Joker down, you will be free from him. Forever." He informed her, drawing a switchblade from his belt. Again, the girl cowered back, wary of him and the weapon. Batman dragged the blade through the restraints at her ankles and wrists.
Harley gazed at him incredulously. He was setting her free? "I will do it...if I will be free." She murmured in a remarkably lucid moment. Her dark eyes were suddenly clear and determined, as she shook her wrists free of the bonds, getting to her feet as Batman moved away.
Batman held his hand out to her, and Harley hesitantly took it, shaking it as agreement on the terms they'd set. "The first thing we need to do is get you clean," he growled in his gritty tone, nodding to the track marks on the inside of her arms.
It was only an hour or two after he'd captured Harley Quinn that he'd noticed the track marks, and then all her behaviors seemed to make sense. The Joker had likely kept the young woman strung out to keep her under his control, doing his bidding. As he'd spoken, he could see her momentary lucidity fade. She was withdrawing from the drug, judging by her sweat-soaked hair, and the manic expression on Harley's face. "Do it," she hissed, collapsing back on the chair. "Do it before the drugs change me again," she said pleadingly. "Do it so I can be free,"
Review Please.