An AU Gotham City story about Harley's life after the Joker is murdered.
Temptation had always gotten the better of Harley Quinn. It was a like a little devious voice inside her head kept telling her the things that shouldn't be done were the right things to do. These feelings started happening even before she turned worse for the Joker. Ignoring her gymnastic coach, paying kids to do her homework, and doing...certain things to get exceptional marks. Although these things led her to have a bright future, she knew deep down it wasn't the right way of doing things. Harley never cared, however, and these urges of wrong behavior only got worse when she met the Joker. She only wanted to impress him; to make him notice her as something more than just a psychologist. Being with the Joker she soon learned that temptation was deadly - but being deadly was beautiful. And Harley wanted more than anything to be beautiful, even if that meant going absolutely insane and doing some of the sickest crimes.
The woman admired her creation on the rusted metal walls of the warehouse hideout. "To: My Mr J" written in human blood, and a sick smile drawn to go with it. The were a few smears added along with it, and some hand prints of someone trying to get away from the pain. It was fresh. The blood still dripping on to the messy, concrete floor. Her toys cluttered the floor around her, because she couldn't decide what weapon to use that day. The painful grunts of a tied up man behind her made the scene even more gruesome - if that was possible. His bloody hands and feet were tied, with the addition of a gag around his cracked lips to muffle his screams. The look of fear in his eyes when Harley chose the crowbar made her giggle out loud a little. The whole scene was amusing to her. The more he struggled the more he bled, leaving him pale and hopeless for life. Harley had managed to only get one smear of blood on her arm, when the man tried to get away from her and proved to be stronger before he lost all the blood. She happily remembered taking his freshly sliced hand and writing her cute little message with a ground breaking giggle as he screamed horrifically in pain, only having the thoughts of impressing her boss.
Harley's eyebrows furrowed slightly. With a shaking hand, Harley reached up to her message without exactly touching it, but having the urge to. She could imagine the warmth on her fingers without even going near it. Her eyes became wide and innocent, then she tilted her head slightly as she admired the beauty of the deep, red blood on the dark metal. It was like a piece of artwork to her. She had worked so very hard on it - kidnapping the man, tying him up, and choosing what weapon to use and then actually using it. This art was not to be touched, only to be looked at. Curiosity had always been a horrible habit of hers. With a slow movement, she smeared the blood onto her index finger. She then studied it. Harley had never been a stranger to blood, after all she worked for the most wanted man in Gotham, but she always wondered how it would feel. How it smelt. How it…tasted.
She slowly licked the red off her finger, a little drop getting onto her lip. It tasted strange. A weird kind of hotness to it - yet comforting. The woman then smiled a psychotic smile while she waited for her Joker to return home and see what she had done. Her pointed finger soon turned into a fist, and she swiftly turned to the struggling man. He looked up at her with pleading eyes. Harley bent down beside him, looking into his eyes with absolutely no compassion. She laughed slightly, and removed his gag for only a moment. The man gasped for air and coughed up a little blood, grunting every time he moved because of his broken bones.
"Please..." he begged weakly, breathing heavy as he tried to hold on to his last bit of life. "I-I have a wife...and k-kids...two beautiful little girls..."
Harley tilted her head, her smile never leaving her face. "They'll be devastated when they find out what happened to you".
"P-Please". Tears began to stream down his bloody and muddy face. Harley re-tied the gag just a bit tighter this time to rip the corners of his mouth. The man only began to weep harder as curled into the best ball he could. His whole body ached and pained because of the broken bones and cuts from the crowbar. He tightly closed his eyes and said a prayer, having thoughts of his children running through his head.
Just then the door opened and the Joker stood in the doorway, looking at Harley as if he was pleasantly shocked. Her smile brightened, then she ran over and wrapped her arms around his neck. He took her waist and dropped the sticky-note that was in his hand.
"Is that...?"
"The man that ratted you out to Bats? It sure is. It's my little gift to you, puddin'" she smiled, and the memory faded.
Harley sighed and put her face in her hands. The metal bench was ice cold underneath her, and the crisp white snow burned the back of her neck. She could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers from that night. She could still feel his long slender arm snake around her waist. She could still feel the warmth of his body pressed against hers and his scent lingering in the air. Everything was still so vivid. A single tear slid down her face as the memory gave her a splitting headache. That was the last night she ever saw him; that was her last kiss.
She suddenly filled anger as she wiped away her tear and stood up.