Note: I'm just writing bollocks here basically. Nothing is meant to be connected. I'm just bored.
Rabbit Hearts
2. But Will It Be Enough?
Gordon swallowed a mouthful of lukewarm coffee. It had been a long night, a lot of gun fire, a lot of men down, and now he had to interrogate what was bound to be a very uncooperative prisoner. The whole station was humming with excitement that at least they'd caught someone who might know something that might help them catch the Joker again, and for hopefully the last time. Cops and detectives milled around the interrogation room, waiting and watching with anticipation. This was almost more intriguing than when they'd brought the Joker in.
The Joker had come in the previous summer, and they'd all gathered around the one way mirror, all trying to see the freakshow that was terrorizing their city. How up close he looked close to being a man but something was still off—something feral and evil that pulsed from his cell. Now, they had something entirely different.
Gordon took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to encounter before entering the interrogation room.
"Miss Harleen Quinzel is it?" he sat down at the table across from Harley Quin. She was smaller than he'd imagined she would be. Her legs were crossed primly and she slouched only slightly, more or less to show off her amazing get-up, Gordon rationalized. She wore a long sleeved black leotard with black tights along with a towering pair of platform shoes. Over the top of the tights she had on a bright red, sequined pair of shorts that came up to the middle of her waist. Shorts was a loose term.
She looked sideways at him, recognition fluttering over her painted face—black, white and a big red smile, just like the Joker's. Her platinum hair fell in sweaty curls around her ears, pulled up to one side with a thick diamond clip. On closer inspection Gordon realized it was actually a solid diamond and platinum clip. It gave her the look of a film star.
"Harley Quin," she corrected, licking her red smeared lips.
Gordon sighed, "Your name is Harleen Quinzel, we are charging you thus. So, Miss. Quinz—"
She sat up suddenly, her eyes as dark as Gordon remembered the Joker's being. "If we're going to play your game lets get one thing straight," her voice was not the irritatingly high pitched whine he normally heard when she was around the Joker—killing cops and throwing that hammer of hers around. This voice was fluid and syrupy, with a touch of something secretive to it. She sounded intelligent and coherent, which suddenly made her twice as dangerous to Gordon.
"This isn't a game," he snapped.
She sat up straight in her chair, legs crossed, hands folded in her sequined lap. With an imperious sniff she said, "It's Doctor Quinzel." She burst into laughter at that, throwing her blonde head back and bucking her sequined hips in the air.
Gordon rubbed his neck, trying to decide the best way to go about this. "Right," he said, watching her subside into giggles then finally settle back in her chair, grinning Cheshire like and tucking strands of blonde behind her ears. "You are though aren't you?"
She raised an eyebrow, "I am what?"
"You're a doctor," Gordon said plaintively, "They may have revoked your license to practice medicine but you still have a doctorate in medicine." He spread his hands out, trying to get her to acquiesce. "Do you remember being a doctor?"
Harley rolled her eyes and tossed her hair, "Yeah, of course. It was boring. Life is not meant to be boring. Following the rules is boring, life isn't meant to be lived by rules…" she trailed off and stared at the one way mirror, squinting slightly. "How many of you guys are back there, anyway?"
Gordon considered the desk before him, looking for the answer in the flat gray steel. This was an intelligent woman, a logical and rational woman. She was also a psychopath, a masochist, a sadist and everything in between.
She was also staring at him curiously, he realized, as if taking stock of him. Her icy gaze hovered on his face for a moment, taking in the crows feet behind the thick glasses, the twitching mustache and the graying hair before moving over the rest of him quietly.
"Harley," Gordon snapped again, and she dragged her attention back to his face.
One eyebrow arched glamorously, "Yes Commissioner?" Her voice was honey sweet and knowing.
"Harley, would it be fair to say that you commit random acts of violence and murder because the Joker tells you to—and that you do what he tells you because you love him."
She looked disgusted, "Why don't you ask me some important questions—where's the money, Harley? Where's the hideout? How long does the Mayor have before that bomb goes off in his car—oh wait, we already used that one, didn't we. Hmm." She tapped her mouth thoughtfully and her fingers came away red. "Ask me something like that."
"Would you tell me if I asked you?" Gordon leaned back in his chair, watching her appraisingly as she recrossed her legs and fixed him with a sultry look.
"Oh, I think you could get it out of me, James." Harley tossed him a wink, her black lashes fluttering girlishly.
"Why won't you tell me about you and the Joker? You're not stupid." Gordon stood now, leaning over the table to peer into her painted face. Up close she was more beautiful and even more terrifying. "Are you afraid that if you actually explain it you'll know it's fake? That it's just a psychotic break or some—something make believe he's tricked you into. Because you aren't stupid so there is no way to explain it."
Harley's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed but she remained in control of her emotions. "Oh, James," she sighed, uncrossing her legs slowly and sliding to her feet. She was almost as tall as Gordon in her shoes. She planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. "I'm not stupid and I'm not going to jump up and scream about how you don't understand my relationship. Things don't need to be explained, they just are."
With this last word she wiggled her fingers mystically and giggled. "You know?"
Gordon dropped down in his seat but Harley remained standing, now trailing around the interrogation room looking in the mirror and fluffing her hair. "Your actions indicate you don't feel guilt or empathy, yet you used to want to be a doctor—to help people. What changed?"
"Oh please," Harley snorted, scratching at a spot on the glass. "I highly doubt you want to discuss ethics and the medical industry." She turned and began walking back to him, hips swaying, black eyes narrowing in. "You want to hear about how the Joker really is only a mortal—how it's possible for even you, James, to take him down." At this she put a hand on Gordon's chest, offering him a sad stare. "You want me to tell you how weak he makes me so that you can save me. But what if I can't tell you any of those things."
"He is mortal, Harley. If you don't think—"
"Ah-ah-ah!" She slid even closer, her black and sparkly red length pressed up against him. "Here's the real thing I want to tell you James, and this comes straight from the horse's mouth—you do know who I mean when I say that right?"
Gordon's brow furrowed. He suddenly had an idea that something bad was going to happen, but Harley's cracked painted face was too close and his curiosity to strong to call in the guards.
"Of course you do," she continued, smiling brilliantly, her stolen diamond pin shining in the fluorescent light. "Now, you should know that no matter how hard you try—no matter how long you hunt you will never get us. This city, is ours." She took a deep satisfied breath, still beaming and pressing against him. "And that was mostly for your boys in there to hear."
Harley draped a thin arm over his shoulders and glanced at the mirror. "Now that they know that, I can tell you what I really think of you Jimmy-Baby."
In slow motion the interrogation room door exploded open with cops about to throw themselves on Harley and the hypodermic needle she'd suddenly pulled out of her sparkly shorts before jamming it in Gordon's neck and pushing the plunger. She dragged Gordon away from the first wave off cops and looked down at the half collapsed Commissioner.
"What happened there!" She giggled, "I'm ever so sure I don't know!"
There was another crash and the glass wall behind her shattered inwards to reveal a hailstorm of gun fire and fighting. A sledgehammer, the apparent cause of the shattered glass flew across the interrogation room and took out a cop shouting into his walkie-talkie. Harley shrieked with joy and struggled to hold Gordon up.
"Don't you just love it, Commissioner," she sighed, as a machine gun went off, ripping another officer to her right to shreds.
Gordon attempted to stagger away from her, to stand on his own or speak but consciousness was becoming difficult in itself. Whatever she'd given him was strong and working fast at shutting down his motor functions.
Another round of bullets went off and the Joker stepped through the broken glass mirror, admiring his handy work. His face was calm and peaceful despite the thugs in clown masks and the police wrestling with one another and the occasional explosions from grenades going off. He spotted Harley with a half conscious Commissioner draped around her shoulders and the sledgehammer he'd thrown through the glass swinging in her right hand.
Gordon, unable to speak and slowly becoming unable to see could only watch gormlessly as the Joker grinned at her secretively and strolled casually over to them. His paint was fresh and he looked in no way surprised to find his Harlequin with a half conscious police officer in her arms—so it had all been a set up. Again. This time he'd used her as bait and it had worked again.
The Joker made a tisk-tisk-tisk sound at Harley, gliding to her side easily. She unceremoniously dropped Gordon as if forgetting he were there to begin with and the older man found himself staggering to the table for help to stand. He could only watch with bewilderance as Harley threw her arms around the Joker's neck, her thin, sparkling, sequined and diamond dripped form so young and pretty next to him.
You would expect her to make him look uglier and more deformed, but instead she made him look normal. With a second madly dressed clown in the room she siphoned off some of the shock and fear he produced. The Joker didn't make sense, one look at him and age, name, origin, location, none of those things seemed to exist in his realm. But Harley was young and beautiful, and somehow with her standing next to him it was apparent that he was actually quite young. Younger than you'd expect looking at him on his own. And human.
They shared a quick kiss before she took a step behind him and they looked down at Gordon together, her peering over his shoulder now.
"Hey, Jimbo. How's life?" The Joker cooed, waving a hand in front of Gordon's face. "You alive?"
"What do you want?" Gordon managed to slur.
The Joker ignored him. "He give you a hard time, Harl?" he asked casually over his shoulder.
Harley, now looking even more like a glamorous starlet in Gordon's blurred vision sighed, "Oh he tried to tell me you're not good enough for me. He wants to save me from you."
Their voices started to become far away as consciousness evaded him.
"I'm pretty sure he wants to save everyone from me, Harl."
"I think he may have picked up on my daddy issues." Harley sounded as if she were restraining herself from giggling. "You know, filling the void and all that."
The Joker snickered, and pulled her waist suddenly so she was pressed flat against him. "I thought I satisfied all your daddy issues, baby."
"Oh, you satisfy all of them." Harley purred, running a hand down the lapel of his jacket and offering her crimson lips up for a kiss.
Two men dressed as clowns hauled Gordon to his feet and began dragging his drugged form out of the room, none of them saying anything as the Joker and Harley kissed passionately, becoming lost in one another's lips. Gordon felt only despair at seeing the pair of them wrapped around each other, fumbling and groping while their lips never once parted. Whatever the Joker had found in Harley Quin it was at once terrifying and envious. A dangerous coupling of minds that would surely bear no good will towards the people of Gotham—but simultaneously he'd found the thing that made the Joker human. Harley. He grasped her and kissed her and the whole scene of the MCU disappeared around them and until at last their kiss broke.
"Lets get out of here." He mumbled into her hair.
"And Gordon?" Harley whispered shakily, feeling his hands sliding slowly down her sides over the sequined shorts.
"He can wait." A red mouth against her ear and all Harley could manage by way of response was to close her eyes and whimper. "Let's get out of here, Harley." He said again, kissing her cheek then dragging her through the maelstrom of gunfire and fighting between cops and clowns. A bullet whizzed past Harley's head, knocking off a blonde curl and a cop lunged at the Joker only to be shot down moments before hitting him in the chest.
They side stepped the cop easily and Harley lifted her shining face up for another quick kiss before they left the police station.
X
Note: those red shorts do exist at Topshop for 30 pounds. They're absolutely amazing.
Leave me some reviews! I put up the last chapter of the Harlequin and no one read it. Depressing, I need to know you guys are reading!