It had been the Bat who finally killed her, not him.
The thought that someone had taken her away from him before he was ready had upset him, the fact that he wasn't the one to kill her had infuriated him, but the fact that it had been that rat bastard, Batman, who had done the deed all out filled him with a rage that he could not comprehend.
Harley was his. His to control, to play around with, to beat, to hate, to spit on, and to scream at. She was his and it was supposed to be up to him when she died, but that's not how it played out. Before him, Harley was limp on the ground, cold. Her eyes were glass, all the life had left them, and her skin was a greyish white, even without her make up on. Red and purple marks were around her neck in such a personal manner that the Joker could help but wonder why the caped crusader had been so angry with Harley.
Hadn't Batman had a thing about killing? Didn't he despise it? Joker's head tried to wrap around the situation. He had watched him kill her, his hands crushing her throat so hard that he could hear the bones cracking beneath the pressure of every criminal's worst nightmare. He had screamed out her name, that much Joker remembered. He had called for her, yelled at the Bat to put her down, what was he doing, and couldn't he see that he was killing her?
Harley was dead before the Joker even managed to get near the dark knight, and deader still when the man dropped her. He had disappeared as soon as he had finished and left the Joker to figure out what to do. The Clown Prince had dropped to his knees, brushing the blonde hair out of her face. "Harls, come on baby doll!" he said as if he were just waking her from a dream. When he had no response from the gorgeous woman, he began to become frantic.
"Harls, you little twit! If you don't get up right this instant, I'll knock your teeth down your throat!" He shook her by the shoulders, but her eyes did not open and he didn't get the, "Yes Mistah Jay! Right away!" that he had hoped for so desperately.
But still, he shook her for what seemed like hours and finally succumbed to what he really felt. He dragged her body onto his lap and tucked his head between her neck and shoulder, screaming his pain out, her hair muffling the noise. Hot, fat tears rolled down his face and onto her skin, washing away little trails of mud and dirt that had made residence upon her.
What would he do? He couldn't remember when he didn't have her, and now he wished that he had never known her. The pain was unbearable and in the back of his mind, the whole situation reminded him of a past emotion that he had long forgotten. The pain seemed to double with the reminder and his hands began to tangle into her clothes, gripping harshly, as if willing her to come back. But she did not.
Eventually the emotions had died down, his tears and pain had stopped, and now all that was left was the anger he felt towards the flying rat who had taken away Harley and the rain that began to pound on them. He stood with Harley in his arms as he began to walk back towards their...no his, he reminded himself, his hideout. He looked down at her silent face and his jaw clenched.
He'd kill the Bat for this.