When the Joker returned to Mephisto's Magical Marvels and Museum of Mysteries, he found Columbine cleaning herself off and replacing her greasepaint makeup methodically in front of a mirror, pointedly ignoring the cuts and scrapes that graced her features.
Of course, the very first thing he'd noticed when he entered was the two dead henchmen outside (which he hopped over, quite gleefully, as though he was Gene Kelly and they were cheerful little puddles, not quickly stiffening corpses), but it was the person inside that he was more interested in.
"We had a visitor," Columbine stated without ceremony as she finished applying the last of her greasepaint.
"So I see," Joker replied, glancing around at the battered furniture and the bloodstains on the floor. "I take it you dispatched them, Collie, my dear?"
"Messily," Columbine answered dutifully, setting the mirror down and standing to face the Joker. "It was Harley."
Amused surprise registered on the Joker's face and he took a predatory step towards Columbine. "And what did she want?"
"You, naturally." Columbine placed a hand on the Joker's arm. "I disabused her of any notions that she was welcome here…though I doubt that will deter her."
"She is a rather loyal little puppy, isn't she?" The Joker closed his hand over Columbine's in a grip so tight it was painful to the ebony haired woman.
She didn't flinch, wince or otherwise express that he was hurting her and he allowed himself to feel a certain kind of sadistic delight at the fact she wasn't whining the way Harley would have.
"She seems to be under the impression that you love her," Columbine continued, allowing the Joker to pull her to him and looking up at him with a cold kind of calculation in her eyes, rather than adoration. "I told her you don't…"
"Hmmm," the Joker dipped his head to nip at Columbine's collarbone with his shark like teeth. "Good."
"So you don't love her?"
He pulled back to stare at Columbine and he cupped her chin in his hand almost tenderly. "Of course not, boopsie. Harley's passe, a thing of the past, obsolete, an anachronism."
SMACK.
Columbine recoiled from the force of the stinging blow without crying out, but her hand remained in the Joker's. "And don't ever question me again."
She licked the blood from the corner of her mouth where he had reopened one of the wounds Harley had inflicted and she stepped back into the Joker's embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oh, I won't. Wouldn't want to wind up at the pound."
He chuckled deep in his chest and wrapped his arms around her middle possessively. "I'd hate to have to put you down."
The Joker's head descended, unaware of the pair of blue eyes that belonged to Harley Quinn, tied, bound and gagged in a shadowy corner of the room, who cried silently as she watched her beloved take solace in the arms, lips--good God, thighs--of another woman.
Harley turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut against the amorous display taking place on the desk that her rival had been behind when she first arrived, but she couldn't block out the animalistic grunts and keening cries that accompanied the act itself.
All she could do was try to shrink against the wall and make herself as small as humanly possible as she listened to the noises of the passion that she and the Joker had never indulged in so vigorously…
And when they had…well, it hadn't been mutual…the few times he'd been more than barely accommodating and actually turned into an eager participant, she walked away very sore with many, many bruises.
Harley winced against the noise. She had hated his more violently zealous attentions, but Columbine seemed to be just fine with it.
Maybe she was right…maybe Harley wasn't the best woman for the job…maybe she should just let Columbine take over…
Harley drew in on herself more, trying to disappear into the wall behind her as she continued to keep her head turned away and her eyes shut…
Yes. Maybe it would be better if she just vanished and let Columbine keep Mister J. happy.
After all…that was her foremost concern…making Mister J. happy.
And he certainly sounded happy.
Agonizing minutes passed and Harley did her best to block out what was going on. She succeeded, for the most part, and sooner than she would have thought, she opened her eyes and found Columbine and the Joker adjusting their clothes back into their proper configurations.
"I have a job for you, Columbine," the Joker said coolly, no trace of tenderness, affection or lust in his tone. "I want you to go see our friend Mister Cobblepot. He'll know what it's about."
"Of course."
He straightened his bolo tie and started for the door, gesturing grandly. "I have another engagement. You know how it is, work, work, work, places to go, people to see, babies to drown. I'll be gone for a few days."
"And if Harley comes back?" Columbine said meaningfully, her eyes flickering to the corner where Harley remained bound.
The Joker didn't seem to notice.
"Shoot her, if you like. Drop her in acid. Feed her to the hyenas," he said pleasantly, opening the door and stepping out into the darkness. "Whatever floats your banana. Toodles!"
The door closed with a click and Columbine immediately turned to face Harley head-on.
"He just gave me permission to kill you," she said ruthlessly, striding forward and pulling the gag out of Harley's mouth.
Harley either didn't hear, comprehend or care and the moment the gag was removed, she screeched, "Puddin'!"
A slap across the face was her reward. "You little idiot. Do you want him to come back and kill you himself?"
"He wouldn't!" she cried passionately.
"He dropped you twelve stories and forgot you existed for three months, didn't he?" Columbine replied sternly. "What does he have to do to convince you he doesn't want you anymore? Put a piranha in your panties? Face it, Harls, the better woman won."
"You haven't won," Harley said defiantly. "I'll get back together with my Puddin', you'll see. He'll drop you off a building and guess who'll come cartwheeling back into his life? Yeah, I'll tell you, moi, me, myself and I! Numero uno, baby! You'll be nothin' but yesterday's news! Fish wrapping! Hey, maybe Pengy will let you shine his shoes, huh? I hear he likes fishy things, bein' a penguin and all." She drew in another breath, threw her head back and screamed again. "PUDDIN'!"
This time, Columbine didn't bother with an open handed slap, she struck with her closed fist. "Listen up, toots--"
She drew back again and belted Harley again. "I'm in charge here--"
Stars swam before Harley's eyes as Columbine hit her once more. "And if I have to put you in another coma, no dippy blonde with delusions of grandeur--"
Blackness started encroaching on Harley's vision and one more strike sent her over the edge, back into darkness.
The last thing she heard, before unconsciousness claimed her fully once again was Columbine's voice, lowered to a deadly whisper: "Is going to stop me from doing what I've gotta do."