Chapter Four

The thin needle pierced through Harley's skin, her face scrunching in discomfort at the sharp stab, even after all the stitch up jobs Charlie had done on her she had never gotten used to the sensation of being sewed back together. It was an endless cycle of punishments and repair, try as she might Harley could only please Joker for so long, it was inevitable.

"You need to be in good shape in the next few days, something's going down." Charlie was just finishing up on the third cut to Harley's abdomen, with a handful left to go. "Mob's being disobedient again, Joker thinks they need to be taught some manners."

"Mmhmm." At least she was still trusted to help him out, usually she was segregated to the warehoue for a few weeks before he let her back out again. He knew how much she hated it, hated being alone, without him and when he caged her up in his little warehouse prison he always made sure to rarely come back, to take as much time as possible before seeing her. "Where's he gone now?" It had been bugging her since he had abuptly left, usually he would give subtle hints as to where he was off to but not this time, this time he'd just stormed out of their room without so much as a second glance.

Biting off the end of string that was stitching Harley back together, Charlie paused his patching up. "Acquiring some new stock is what he said. Harl, you get caught again he won't be coming back to get you. You get that right?" He could still remember the day that Harley had been brought to the warehouse where they operated from, she'd looked like a little lost bunny clinging to Joker's over-coat, blue eyes wide with fright. The other men and him had thought she'd only last a week before Joker got bored and killed her, like he did most things, but she'd proved them all wrong. She looked just like his daughter, it was one of the reasons Charlie found himself attached to her. "Where are your clothes?"

"They were taken back at Arkham..." It wasn't the first time Charlie had seen her in just her underwear, when Joker let his steam off on her Harley always needed putting back together but unlike Joker's other men he didn't leer at her, he told her off like a child. "You done yet?" When Charlie grunted a yes, Harley lifted herself off of the bed going over to the broken chair in the corner of the room and pulled one of Joker's spare shirts on, leaving the buttons undone and her sliced stomach exposed. It still smelt like him, even through the pungent smell of gasoline and fire she could smell the musky, comforting scent that belonged exclusively to him.

"Be good." Charlie said sternly before leaving the room, the door squeaking loudly behind him.

Harley had difficulty sleeping when he was out working, she needed to be sure he came back to her but some how she had managed to fall asleep just as the sun was rising. The door banging open startled her awake, instinctively she grabbed the claw hammer she kept on the night stand ready to fight if she needed to.

"Harley, Harley, Harley." Joker spoke melodically, a manical grin on his scarred face. "You, ah, planning to hurt me?" It was more of a challenge, to see if she dared to and predictably she lowered the hammer, running into his much taller body and wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. Grunting at the unwelcome embrace, Joker let her hold him for a few seconds before dislodging the blonde from his body. "You have a job to do, sweetums."

Harley flinched at the irritation in his voice, he was clearly still not over the Arkham incident. "What's the job?" Question him often led to a quick hard slap to the cheek but it seemed like a fair question to ask and apparently he deemed it to be as the strike that she'd be expecting never came, instead an item of clothing flew into her face.

"Put it on."

Holding the item out infront of her to exam Harley realised that it was a lingerie set, black and red corset with suspender attachments hanging off the bottom. "Wh-" She began entirely confused by why he had given her the lingerie. "You want me to wear this?"

"Put. It. On." He was growing tired of her incessant questioning, his paint covered hand twitched tightly on his switch blade ready to scar up the other side of Harley's face if she didn't immediately do as she was told.

Shrugging off Joker's shirt, Harley draped it back on the chair where she had found it; for a man who loved chaos he was very particular when it came to his belongings and dropping it on the floor would only of enraged him. Discarding the ugly underwear she'd been given at Arkham, Harley pulled the tight fitting corset on, arranging herself so she was some what comfortable in the restricting item. There was only one reason he would have her wearing the outfit that Harley could think of; it was common knowledge to nearly the whole of Gotham that the mob owned and hung out in a lot of strip clubs and it wasn't like Joker could get one of his men to wriggle into the little corset and dance around a pole. "How do I look?" She asked him coyly, tucking a strand of her bleached hair behind her ear. Harley could practically hear the snap in Joker's mind, and before she could prepare herself for it he was barreling into her, hands clasped tightly around her throat as he slammed her into the nearby wall.

"You let anyone touch you Harley girl, you are going to be very very sorry." Wide eyes stared up at him in disbelief, like she was outraged he would suggest such a thing.

"I...I would never..."

A grin pulled widely at Joker's jagged scars at Harley's spluttered words. "You're going to have to speak u-p, I can't quite understand you." Tightening the already bruising grip he had on the blondes throat he laughed manically as she tried desperately to repeat herself, to please him. "You get Ol' Sally on his own, that's all. Make daddy proud."

In a very out of character move, Joker pressed his painted lips against Harley's making her jump in surprise. He never kissed her, ever. Maybe it was the start of a new chapter in their relationship? Perhaps he would even let her touch him now? She had always wanted to touch him but the huge diamond shaped scar around her eye served as a constant reminder as to what happened if she did. She had learnt her lesson.

Moon light shone through the tattered curtains, dabbling the room in its irridescent light. Padding quietly back into the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom Harley observed the sleeping body led out peacefully on the bed, the moon light dancing patterns across his pale skin. They had just finished a long fucking session, which had left her completely satisfied, and him apparently shattered. It was the first time they had been together intimately since she had sprang him from Arkham, he was as dominating and aggresive as she remembered, already bruises were appearing on her milky skin from the tight hold he had had on her.

Moving closer to the rickety bed, Harley noted that although he was undressed he still hadn't removed his war paint. It was completely smudged and muddy from their little activity and a large amount of it was smeared across the greying pillows. He looked so peaceful when he slept, which wasn't very often, in the short while she had been living at the warehouse with him this was only the fourth time he had actually slept in the bed with her. He had no time for sleep.

Harley was almost one hundred percent sure that he would be displeased if he woke to find the bedding covered in his grease paint, mind made up she quickly darted back into the bathroom to fetch a damp rag to clean the reminants of his clown make up off his face. The paint came away easier than she imagined it would and it wasn't long before the raised scars were clearly visable, they had never bothered her not even back when she first met him, they were part of what made him the man he was and to her that was a beautiful thing, something special. With one last sweep across his right cheek all of the grease paint had sucessfully been removed, leaving Joker's face completely naked for Harley to gaze at. It wasn't the first time she had seen him bare, at Arkham they had forced him to keep a clean face to intimidated to see him in his war paint, but this was different. This time they were in his home, completely alone, and he looked so angelic in the moon light Harley couldn't stop herself from trailing her fingers deftly down his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his skin under her finger pads.

"Wha-t do you think you're doing Harley?"

Joker's growl was the only small warning she got before he launched upright, grabbing her painfully by the arms and slamming her down into the bed. Harley was sure her cheeks were glowing a fluorescent red from embarrassment, he had caught her staring, touching, but when she caught a glimpse of the deadly look in his dark eyes fear quickly outshone the initial embarrassment.

"Look at me!" He bellowed, snatching up Harley's jaw forcing her to keep eye contact with him. "Is it the scars? Did they get you...curious. Harl-ey you know what they say about curious little kittens like you. I-t ah kills them." Keeping his hold strong on her face with his right hand he fumbled around to the side of the bed until he found the switch blade he always kept handy.

The scream ripped from Harley's throat before she even realised the noise had come from her, the blinding pain that was shooting from her face overwhelmed all of her senses, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything about the immense pain that she was in. Warm, sticky liquid started pooling in her collar bone and it took a few moments for her to realise that it was blood, her blood. He had cut her, was still cutting her. "Please!" She screamed so loud that she was sure the men in the warehouse would be able to hear her. "Please! I'm sorry."

Laughing wildly the Joker stilled his actions for a moment, drawing himself back to admire his handy work. "Oh no, no, no Harley. You're not even near sorry ye-t."

A/N/ Sorry for the delay on the update but I've been super busy. I hope you all liked it :) let me know what you thought