Harley had a lot of experience in cleaning quickly, a necessity when you work for the Joker. After all, chemical spills had to be mopped up fast, and blood had to be cleaned immediately or it stained. Not to mention the various other substances people spewed when they died- shit, piss, vomit, bile, and so forth. So it was that she had quite a bit of the floor done when Paul exited the bathroom. HE took a look around and whistled.
"Wow, Alice" he said in tones of real admiration "You're incredible. It'd take me an hour to do this much work."
Harley smiled, this time for real. She'd hatched a plan while she was working; one that she was sure would bring Mista J back to himself. If tapping his memories didn't work, then maybe his sense of humor would. She'd checked the refrigerator and found a cream pie- the perfect prop for her plan. After cutting herself a small slice (which she threw out) she left the pie out on the counter and waited. Now that Paul was in the room, it was time to act.
"Oopsie! I left the pie out!" she said, and picked the dessert up off the table. As she headed back towards the fridge, she tucked one foot behind the other to simulate a slip, while tossing the pie into the air at a precisely calculated angle. At the height of her tumble, she jerked her knees just so, and landed right on her butt. With perfect timing, the pie descended and crash landed on her head. As an unexpected bonus, the cherry landed (and balanced) right on the tip of her nose.
While she kept her expression suitably bewildered, inwardly she cheered herself for a perfect Buster Keaton Pratfall, worthy of the master himself. . She waited expectantly for the Joker's raucous laughter to erupt. He loved Keaton's physical comedy skills, and had often used them to school Harley in the finer points of physical comedy. There was no way he'd be able to resist a gag like that. No. Way.
But the laughter never came. Instead, she felt Paul's hand on her arm helping her up, and saw his face contorted with worry.
"Alice! Are you okay? Is anything broken?" He asked, concern evident in every word.
"Uh, y-yeah. I guess I just slipped. Heh. Pretty funny, huh?"
"Funny nothing!" Paul drew her face close to his and spoke sternly "Do you know how many people cripple themselves- or worse!- falling the way you just did? If you'd landed differently, you could have cracked your skull, or broken your neck! As it was, you might have shattered a hip or broken a leg! Are you SURE you're alright?"
Harley mouthed a few reassurances, smiling the whole time, but inside she was close to tears. She'd been so sure that would work! She excused herself to go wash up. As she scrubbed her face, Harley came to a decision: The only way to bring the Joker back was a direct confrontation. Stride in their in full costume and tell her man that he was NOT Paul Stebbs, he was the Joker! It would almost certainly be suicide, since the Joker was unlikely to forgive her contradicting him even in this, but damn it this was more important than just her life!
But first, she needed to get dressed. She raced to the bedroom and slipped her Harlequin outfit out of the closet. After a moment, she examined herself in the mirror. 'It's funny' she thought, idly flicking one of her bells 'when I first put on a costume I remember thinking how uncomfortable all this spandex felt. Now, regular clothes feel weird. Oh, well, no sense stalling. I gotta go save my Puddin', even if he kills me for it!'
She hurried downstairs and peeked in the kitchen. Paul stood by the sink, washing dishes and whistling to himself. She took a deep breath and burst into the room.
"Awright, Mista J the joke's gone on long enough!"
"Alice? What?" Paul looked bewildered "What are you wearing?"
"I ain't Alice Stebbs an' you ain't Paul! I'm Harley Quinn, psychiatrist-turned-psycho, an' you're the Joker! The Clown Prince of Crime! The Mogul of Mountebanks! The Prince of Pranks! A murderous, psychotic, deluded, sweet, charming, angel! ! All this? The suburbs, the shopping, the blah suits and even blah-er neighbors? This ain't you! You murder! You torture! You battle the Bat high over Gotham City! That's who you are, an' it's time ya started acting like it. So getcher purple suit on, wash off that stupid tan, an' let's head back to Gotham for mayhem and murder" She finished her rant, her chest heaving both from the long speech and from sheer terror.
Paul stared at her for a moment, and at first she imagined that she had gotten through to him. Then he started to laugh- not the Joker's heart-felt, roaring laughter but a soft- aroused?- chuckle.
"Why, Alice, you naughty thing. If you wanted to try a little role-playing, why didn't you just say so? All right, I'm the Joker! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Harley winced at the pale imitation of her Puddin's joyful laugh "And for my first crime, I think I will steal you away to the bedroom! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" With that, Paul scooped her up in his arms. Harley went limp, and surrendered to the inevitable.
Another tedious round of sex followed. Paul did everything a good lover should do- he touched, stroked, kissed and rubbed all the right places at all the right times. But Harley felt nothing but revulsion at his touch- revulsion and failure. She'd failed yet again. Afterward, as Paul lay basking in the afterglow, she crept downstairs to watch the news. She'd been out of touch for a while and who knew? Maybe there'd be something on the tube to take her mind off her troubles.
Instead, she saw something that filled her with hope! THIS would do the trick for sure!
"PAUL! Come and see what's on the news! Come quick!"
Paul raced into the den, his bathrobe flapping open, just in time to catch the tail-end of the report. "…and so, thanks to amateur video of the robbery, we are proud to show you rare footage of the legendary Batman in action. Enjoy." This was followed by a blurry recording of a bunch of thugs being beaten senseless by a tall dark figure in a cape.
Harley turned to her man expectantly. "So what did ya think, sweetie?"
"I think that Batman is about as real as Santa Claus" Paul said with a small smile "That video's an obvious fake, Alice! Heck, I could shoot the exact same thing in our backyard! Batman…ha! Some people will believe anything, right sweetie? Well, better get back to work! As much fun as our little break was, there's still a lot to do!" He turned and strode upstairs to get dressed.
Behind him, Harley sat down on the couch and buried her face in her hands. She knew her Puddin' better than anyone, and knew how important Batman was to his world. The Dark Knight was the Joker's raison d'etre, the center of his universe. If Batman couldn't bring her man back, then there really was no hope at all. She plodded upstairs to the shower.
As she cleaned herself up, she numbly considered what to do. Could she stay? Try to make a life with…Paul? It wasn't a completely unappealing idea- he was a loving and attentive husband. Not a bad second choice, if Mista J wasn't available. But he wasn't the Joker, and really that was the beginning and the end of it. Harley knew, now, that she could never be really happy with anyone but the Joker, and staying here wouldn't change that.
But she couldn't leave tonight- she owed him that much at least. She'd stay for their dinner party, and leave in the morning. She'd tell him…something. That it just wasn't working, that there was some one else, that it wasn't him it was her… whatever, she'd think of something. And then away, either to Gotham or maybe to Arkham. Maybe the doctors could help her out, help her find happiness now that the Joker was gone.
She wondered, idly, what the authorities would do if they learned what had happened. She guessed that they wouldn't do anything. After all, the Stebbs' were already gone, weren't they? And this was their one real chance to be rid of the Joker once and for all. They'd keep an eye on Paul, obviously, but that would be it. 'Meanies' she thought 'Stupidheads. They can't even see how much poorer their lives will be without Mista J's pranks. Who'm I kiddin? I didn't appreciate 'em either, but now he'll never pull another one.'
With that, Harley sat down on the shower floor and started to cry.
A/N
I don't see Harley as being a hetero-, homo-, or even a bi-sexual. Rather, I see her as being essentially a Jokersexual. She is most aroused by the Joker (and who could blame her?) and he's the central figure in her libido just as he is in her life. Any relationships she might have are basically just a means of killing time, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if she was thinking of Mista J the whole time she was in bed with, say, Poison Ivy.
