A/N: Hiya, Turtle here. All a sudden this plot idea slapped me in the face, and what else could I do but follow through with it? This focuses on a more self aware Harley Quinn, where she knows it's abuse but loves Joker anyway. Love it or hate it, leave a review.
Disclaimer: If I owned the DCverse, this wouldn't be a fanfiction.
She stumbles into the tiny bathroom, crying silent tears. She locks the door behind her, knowing it wouldn't do much good if he chose to follow her, it never does. That's alright this time, though, because he won't follow her. He's had his fix, as her bruise and battered face shows. He's done with her, for now.
She moves toward the medicine cabinet, opens it, and rummages through its contents. Where's the aspirin? Where's the freaking aspirin?
Finally she finds the bottle, in the very back of the cabinet. It's been a while since his last tantrum.
She takes off the cap and pours a few out into her hand. She picks two and puts the rest in the bottle. For moment she considers taking the rest of the bottle, but decides against it. She couldn't do that to Red, or any of the other friends she's made. Especially not to Mistah J.
She puts the bottle back and shuts the door.
Tentatively she turns around to face the mirror, making every second count before she has to see the harm he's caused.
When she sees her reflection an uncontrollable sob escapes her lips. It's no worse than last time, but now the pain is so much more livid than before. Her makeup is mostly rubbed off and what's left is so smeared you can't be sure what color is which. Her eyes are red and puffy and there's a large bruise on the left side of her face. Her costume - her lovely harlequin costume - is bloody on the shoulder where he slashed at her with the switchblade.
She can get out, and she knows it. Not in the conventional way, she could never leave if he was still alive and kickin'. No matter where she hid or who she hid behind he would find her, he would kill her. No, the only way she would ever get away was if he was dead. Red could kill him, she would have already if it wasn't for Harley. The Harlequin herself could end the clown's life, but she wouldn't want that. Despite everything, she still loved him dearly.
After rubbing the ruined makeup off her face, she crouches below the sink and grabs a new costume and her makeup kit. She leaves both items on the counter and slips out of her old costume. Gingerly she prods the wound on her arm and decides that it isn't too deep. She wipes away the blood and pours hydrogen peroxide on it.
She's never had a tetanus shot, and the switchblade was rusty. That doesn't concern her though, as long as her puddin' is happy.
She bandages her arm and puts the new costume on.
She glances back at the mirror and notices how puffy her eyes are. She can't stop that completely, but she can do the next best thing. She gets out a washcloth pours freezing cold water on it, and then presses it to her eyes. She stands there for a minute, then removes it and throws it in the corner of the room. The puffiness has faded, thankfully.
She reapplies the makeup as gently as possible, then puts the kit up.
She looks like his Harlequin again.
Harlequin. Harley Quinn. Harleen Quinzel. Heh-heh.
Suddenly she's laughing, and she doesn't know why. She's laughing and laughing, then she's crying. Not the kind where you cry real tears, though. The kind that simply shakes your whole body. She leans against the wall, then slides down to the the floor and curls into a ball.
She wants to leave him, but then she doesn't. He can be so sweet at times. He really loves her.
Doesn't he?