AU HARLEY QUINN FIC. THREESHOT. EXCERPT IN MY DESCRIPTION WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME.


Part II


Harley tucked a strand of silky blonde hair behind her hair. It had been two months since she had accepted Batman's offer, and two months since she'd been put under the care of Bruce Wayne and his butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Oh yes, the mysterious Batman was the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. Joker would have killed to have the knowledge Harley now did, just rattling around inside her skull.

As the errant thought of Joker crossed her mind, Harley's delicate lips stretched into a tenuous frown, tugging at the scars on either side of her face. She hadn't so much as seen his face since she was captured by Batman, but he still pervaded her thoughts and actions every single day. The moment Harley considered something, anything really, even something so trivial as her outfit for the day, her second thought was to wonder what the Joker would think.

That man...no, he was not a man. He was a monster. That monster put fear in Harley's life, fear that anything she did would result in pain for her. She had quickly learned that the best way to avoid pain at his hand was to avoid catching his attention. But unfortunately, his attention had always been undividedly on her.

Harley was clean. The heroin that the Joker had injected into her veins at least once every day was no longer swimming in her veins, the drug that made her feel invincible, limitless, and quite simply insane. She was clean, but it made little difference to her anymore. At least when she was high, Joker didn't trouble her so much. What he did to her didn't bother her, and the pain did not reach her through the haze of drugs. Harley hated the very idea of drugs, hated the fact that she'd been addicted to heroin for over a year, but she did not know how to live with this pain.

She relived her torment at his hands every day. She felt hands on her when there were none, hot breath on her skin when there was none. She shied away from the merest, gentlest touch of the two men she knew would never hurt her. Bruce and Alfred tried, they sorely did, but Harley could not stand being touched. She had known only violence in a man's touch for a year, and that fear, that pain, would never fade from her mind.

"You look like you're brooding." A deep voice remarked behind her. Harley did not bother to tear her gaze from the window. It was a rainy, gray morning outside in Gotham. Bruce Wayne entered her periphery vision as he moved to stand beside her. His handsome, solemn, and somewhat inquisitive face regarded her seriously, his lips quirking up at the left side. "Oh yes, definitely brooding." He confirmed, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Harley shifted to look at him. "I was taught by the best," she replied sardonically, raising a single eyebrow.

Bruce scratched his head, shrugging sheepishly. "What's on your mind, Harley?" He asked her. While Harley was always quiet, she was more reserved than usual. In the beginning, Bruce had been optimistic about Harley's rehabilitation. She had been nothing less of devoted to the regiment Bruce had created to retrain her body and mind back to health.

But now Bruce doubted that Harley would ever escape what the Joker had done to her, in her own mind. Because she didn't want to. Harley wallowed in her pain. That way, she never doubted her resolve. The resolve to kill the man who'd caused her that pain.

"It's been too quiet. It isn't like him to sit idly by. He's up to something." Harley murmured. The arms she had wrapped around herself tensed at the thought.

Bruce sighed. "I know." He replied quietly.

Harley turned to face him, her dark eyes earnest and almost frightened. "You haven't seen anything? Nothing? It's been months," she questioned him.

Bruce shook his head. "He's disappeared. I've told you. In the beginning, they were searching for you. But they're not anymore, Harley." He informed her.

Harley turned back to the window, raising her fingers to her lips to chew nervously on a fingernail. "No. He's here. He's waiting. Trying to lure us into a false sense of security." She queried, her eyes fixed on a point outside the window. "We can't let that happen. Have to do something," Harley rambled, pacing a few steps towards the window, gazing into it with a fixation as if it might reveal the answer she so desperately sought.

Bruce closed the distance between them, putting a hand on her shoulder, only for her to flinch away violently. "Do not touch me!" Harley spat, a flash of fury and fear passing through her features. Bruce held up his hands in surrender, to show her he wouldn't reach for her again. Harley visibly slumped, backing away to sit heavily onto the bed in her room.

"I wouldn't hurt you." Bruce reminded her, carefully moving a few steps towards her, and crouching in front of her- leaving a safe distance between them.

Harley noticed his effort to keep her comfortable, smiling weakly. "I...know. I just can't." She said quietly, hiding her face in her hands, massaging her forehead. "I just...need to get him so I can forget. So I can be free." Harley murmured. Bruce shook his head lightly, exhaling slowly, happy she wouldn't look at him at the moment. Harley didn't believe she would ever be free if the Joker still lived. But she was free right now, Bruce argued in his mind. If she would just let herself, she would be.

They were both quiet for a few moments, while Bruce carefully considered what to say. "Someone wise once told me that you either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain." He told her solemnly.

Harley raised her head to look at him incredulously. "What are you trying to say, Bruce?" She questioned suspiciously.

"You've killed." Bruce supplied as her face paled. "That was under his influence. Strung out on heroin. You aren't responsible for that." He continued hastily. "But to kill a man in cold blood. For revenge. That's a different matter." Bruce informed her.

Harley's eyes narrowed at him, her lips thinning. "And you don't think he deserves it?" She asked in a deadly tone.

Bruce gave a heavy sigh. "I think you should let it go." He answered her. Harley reeled back as if she had been slapped. "I think you should let me handle the Joker on my own," he went on. A tremor went through her at the mere mention of his name.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Harley began in a venomous tone. "But I believe that the whole basis of our partnership is me helping you to take him down." She pointed out.

"You have helped me. You've given me invaluable information." Bruce retorted.

Harley leapt from her seat. "No!" She shrieked. "I haven't done enough! I need to be there! I need to see it!" Harley demanded.

Bruce rose to his full height before the raging woman. "I don't want you in harm's way, Harley." He admitted, making her pause for but a moment.

"I'm already in harm's way, Bruce! The moment Joker finds out where I am, what I'm doing, I'm dead!" Harley cried out, waving her arms wildly.

Bruce regarded her sadly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Harley. I can't let you do this. I won't." He informed her softly.

All of Harley's rage came to a boiling point, and she screamed shrilly, stomping her feet, before running from the room. Bruce let her go, thinking she would just find a quiet corner in the flat where she could cool down and accept what he'd told her.

It was the last time he would see Harley alive.


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