Harley cast a glance out the window. She had slid down so she was sitting against the wall, with the painting lying at her feet. Joker had ignored her after he had gifted the art work to her. He was dancing around, poking and tormenting the hostages who were all terrified they would be the next to be strung up. Harley's back was pressed hard against the wall behind her as if it might swallow her up, shield her from the rest of the chaos. Her eyes flicked between the exquisite artwork, discarded on the ground as if it weren't worth millions of dollars, to the whirlwind of activity that was Joker. Unbidden her fingers went to her lips, where he kissed her with searing force earlier. They were still smeared with the bloody red of his lipstick.
He was acting as if she were invisible, as inconsequential as the pretty piece of paper he'd flung in her direction. The mention of Jonathon had soured his grin, twisting it into a grimace. He hasn't liked hearing about the other man. He thought she was his alone, to play with or discard as he wished. Harley knew all too well how spoilt brats acted when they had to share their toys and it put her in precarious position. Still. It was hard not to level him with gloating eyes. There was more man in the madness than she had thought and Harley knew how to work with that.
The police had long been joined by the media and Harley knew it was only a matter of time before Batman showed up. She hoped Joker had another daring plan to escape but right now she was tired, worn out by the stress of the situation and longing for her bed and a shower. She wanted to wash the screams of the burning man off her skin and out of her brain.
The hostage closest to her was taking panicked, loud breathes and it was beginning to grate on Harley's nerves. As much as she liked the discovery Joker could be jealous, she was irritated by his cold shoulder. Her neighbour was exacerbating her fragile mood.
"Oh shut up," Harley mumbled under her breath. Her iron control was threadbare and unlike Joker, this woman wasn't nearly interesting enough to tolerate.
"You say something, Princess?" Joker spun away from his discussion with his henchmen. She had said it quiet but as she was the only one making noise in the big echoing room apart from Joker the sound carried.
She nodded towards the window. "It's dark outside."
"That's an excellent observation, Princess." Joker's voice was deadpan.
"Is that good or bad for us?" She honestly didn't much care whatever the answer was as long as it mean she could get outside and away from the blubbering.
Joker shrugged. "It could go either way." He giggled and stroked his gun, clearly amused with the potential chaos this situation could invoke. He looked at Harley. "You might want to start praying."
"To who?" Harley shot back. "Please tell me you at least have a plan?"
"I have a plan."
"Really?" Harley glanced up with a little bit of excitement.
"Nooooooo." The Joker slid down the wall to sit next to Harley. He bumped her knee with his, an absurdly affectionate gesture from someone with the word Damaged inked into his forehead.
She felt a smile quirk her lips. It was unwelcome and she forced it down quickly. "Then why did you say so?"
"You asked me to. I can't resist a please," he replied, all wide eyed innocence.
Joker retrieved his watch out of his pocket then gestured pointedly at his henchmen and the man left. The others started moving in a flurry of activity. That was the thing about Joker's henchmen. Many were as unstable as Joker but lacked the direction. They relied on him to point them in directions. The zealousness though? They had that in spades. Like attack dogs trained to only respond to his command. They moved and operated with surprising efficiency.
The lights cut out and there were soft gasps from the hostages who had long ago lost the will to scream. It was black but the lights from the police and media trucks were casting enough of a glow that she could make out people's outlines.
In the dark, a hand brushed her thigh once before grasping it, hurting, and gliding higher.
"I have a bear trap up there." Harley said calmly. The feel of his hand had made things low in her body tighten and throb. But Jonathan had been doing that to her for years, she'd learnt to ignore her reaction. That Joker thought to turn her own sensuality against her, use it as a weapon, was disappointing. And entirely distracting.
She'd thought he'd have a more original approach.
Joker sniggered and pouted. "Puhleaseeeee?"
"I'm not as won over by the word 'please' as some," Harley told him. Joker was a little boy who wanted something just because he couldn't have it.
There was a pause and Joker's voice dropped into something deep, gravelly and terrifying. "I could make you scream."
Her mouth was dry but she managed to say, "I'm sure you could… but in all the wrong ways."
"What's the wrong way?" he was provoking her. Harley was too tired of watching her step and her thundering pulse mad it hard to think.
"'Oh god, please don't cut off that important limb' is the wrong way."
"As opposed to good screams…?"
Harley locked her eyes with him, even in the dark she could see their sharp blue, jarringly beautiful. "Oh god, fuck me harder. Don't stop."
She was so close to him, Harley was certain her breath was on his skin.
His face remained impressively still but he tightened his hand before removing it and his jaw clenched. His tongue darted out and he smirked, building the smile back upon his face layer by layer. Harley caught a flash of something from the dark as henchmen brought out mirrors. Lots of them. They were gluing them to the wall with a hot glue gun.
"Mirrors?"
"Yehah… because I'm soooo pretty!" He sniggered to himself. There was no humour in his voice though. She could tell that Joker believed that he was repulsive. Just like everyone else thought. Harley wondered how often people had told him he was disgusting and experienced an unexpected kernel of sympathy lodge in her chest.
"I didn't see you bring these in," she observed dryly, as mirror after mirror was brought in. The sheer quantity surprised her and she caught sight of her reflection. Hair tangled, cheeks flushed and her mouth a red stained mess.
"Well duh, princess, they have been here for about a week. Yeah a week," he confirmed.
Harley watched them cover all the walls and randomly place free standing mirrors around the room. It was a labyrinth of reflections. What he said though made Harley pause.
"A week? But my lecture - my lecture was two days ago."
"Right," he purred. The self-confidence and satisfaction was blatant and Harley realised she had been playing another game with him without knowing the rules. Worse, she had thought she was winning.
"You planned this a long time ago? Why did you let me think I had manipulated you into this?" Her surprise startled her into asking. She was used to be underestimating by everyone and using this to her advantage but she'd never been evaluated so correctly and pushed so firmly onto the back foot.
Joker giggled. "Because the idea of you manipulating me turned me on." He leaned into her, crowding her.
"Honestly?"
"Princess, haven't you figured out that I'm the wrong guy to go to for hon-es-ty!" He shook his head, disbelieving. "Women."
He pulled himself fluidly to his feet and yanked her up less gracefully. "Now Princess, things are going to get a little dramatic in here. Messy if I have anything to say about it, so if you could just park it, uh, over by them there hostages and stay out of my way that would be super."
"What about my painting," She pointed a finger at where it lay on the ground.
"I'll post it to you."
"Promise?" She cocked her head as she asked. God help her, was she flirting with him?
He threw his hands in the air. "Sheesh princess, shut up or I'll burn you as the welcome wagon." He proceeded to mutter under his breath. She caught words like 'demanding,' and 'trying to conduct a heist here,' his words warm with anger. She had genuinely frustrated him and that made Harley grin.
Good to know she could annoy him too if she wanted to. It somewhat made up for the impotent rage she felt when he had treated her like a pet.
Harley moved herself with as much dignity as she manage before Joker could take it into his head to force her.
As she was ingratiating herself with the other hostages, the glass shattered out of the window. Harley flinched and covered her head with her hands.
In the eerie silence that followed, Joker's cackling laugh echoed dissonantly in the room as sharp as the glass shards cracking under his feet. His garish smile filled about seven of the mirrors and it was impossible to guess where he was standing in the room. He flashed one toothy grin before fitting a clown mask down over his face. He could be any one of the henchmen in the room now. Like a carnival game where you had to pick which of the cups hid the ball but the worker moved them in increasingly complex patterns.
She saw the sliding shadow in the mirrors. So Gordon had definitely sent in Batman. Harley speculated whether anyone else was capable of dealing with Joker. Whether Joker would accept anyone else?
"I don't want to play games," Batman growled.
"This isn't a game. No noooooo this is a masque ball. Why else would we all be wearing such pretty disguises?" His voice filtered through though the source remained unknown.
Harley kept her head down but tracked the movement from the corner of her eyes. Her palms were sweaty as she clenched her fists. Occasionally a tasteless clown mask would loom into the mirror closest to her but she had no way of knowing whether it was Joker. Her body was poised for action, ready to run or fight as necessary.
With the startling realisation this scheme had been in development for weeks, before Jonathan had even told her to nudge Joker towards the museum, Harley knew he could have set any number of traps, explosives or back exits.
Batman seized one masked figure and furiously ripped off the mask. He met the wide rolling eyes of some generic lunatic. He punched him hard in the face. The man crumpled in on himself.
One of the henchmen slammed against a mirror near the hostages and the woman closest to Harley clutched her hand. Harley looked at the gripping hand, surprised. She didn't not particularly give off a supportive vibe. The hostages clearly hadn't been able to hear what Joker and Harley had said to each other or if they had, they hadn't comprehended the complexity of their relationship. They must genuinely believe she was here under duress. This was a relief; in the back of her mind Harley turned over the fact this was twice she'd been seen in his company. They were beginning to look chummy. As exciting as all this was, Harley wasn't ready to trade her freedom for a thrill.
Harley covered the woman's hands with her own and squeezed, indulging the charade, just as a round of gunfire echoed through the room. One of the mirrors exploded bodily when a bullet hit it and a shard cut through the throat of a clown lurking behind it.
He swayed on his feet, his neck a gaping ruin, an obscene parody of a smile. Harley could only guess by the spray of blood that covered her and a few of the hostages that it was the end of his short life. Had it amounted to much, she wondered.
Batman cursed. "Idiots." The bullets had come from the police and could have just as easily hurt him or a hostage.
That obvious fact didn't stop them sending more shots into the museum blindly hoping they hit something. Harley slumped forward, hands thrown back over her head and her ears. She could only hear muffled shouting now and the snaps as bullets whizzed by. Her own breathing was loud and ragged and she could not only feel, but listen to, the thud of her heart.
The hot blood slid down Harley's face and a small portion crept into her mouth. She tried to ignore it but it was potent, lying thick on her tongue. The combination of the smell and taste of the blood, and the adrenalin was waking something in her that never seemed far from the surface these days.
Of all the emotions and reactions she could be experiencing right now in this hectic chaos she dully noted that above the fear, the self-preservation, the anxiousness, was the fact that she was horny as hell.
Joker sure knew how to take a girl out on the town. Or more specifically, her kind of girl.
Harley wondered what Joker thought of blood as an aphrodisiac. She supposed he got himself off over a barrel of gasoline or stroking his knives.
This frustrated Harley because above anything in that moment she wanted him to slowly lick the blood off her before turning his mouth to other sensitive parts of her body. With the wave of adrenaline riding her body, she was willing to risk let his teeth near her.
But this was never going to happen, she reminded herself, because for Harley to sleep with him he would have to want her more than anything else. Crave her. Even more than chaos and disorder.
That was as likely as Jonathan becoming a monk.
Harley realised her breathing was shallow, almost as if she was panting. Good god! Was this what the man had reduced her to? A bitch in heat. Harley forced herself to look up, fuelled by her exasperation at herself. He would not make a puppet of her. And she would not rely on him. With new determination, she began scanning for an escape. She was going to get herself the hell out of here.
There were fewer mirrors now and certainly less henchmen. It was still dark and the action seemed further away. Her eyes adjusted marginally. They were headed towards the stairs. Good. Take that brutish violence with them.
There were footsteps on the stairs, no elevator to ease the way, softly scuffing. The doors were kicked in and twenty little red dots slid over the hostages bodies. That SWAT team of Gordon's was always late to the party. They brought torches with them to flood the room with light.
Harley's chest bloomed with red from the lazer points.
Behind enemy lines now and all for Jonathans fucking painting.
….
The woman across the table was beautiful. She was bloodied, pallid and under florescent light but still lovely. And very familiar. Despite all the beauty there was something unsettling about her eyes. They didn't meet his very often but when they did, he found himself wishing they wouldn't.
Gordon cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain professional. He had seen the security footage and witnessed Joker threaten to rape her against a window. What made her special? Why had he singled her out? Odder still, she hadn't been at the museum beforehand. Joker had brought her with him. He recognised her name too, it was sitting on the tip of his tongue.
Harleen Quinzel stared at him calmly, probably too serenely for someone who had been in such a life threatening situation. It could merely be post-traumatic stress or a defence mechanism but Gordon doubted it. Harleen was not all she seemed.
"Ms Quinzel-"
"Doctor," she corrected.
"Dr Quinzel. I apologise for keeping you here. I understand it must be inconvenient."
"Not at all, Commissioner. I understand the severity of the situation."
Gordon shifted in his chair. "Did he, Joker… did he?" Gordon was having trouble asking the question.
"Did he sexually violate me?" Harleen's tone remained neutral. "No."
Gordon let out a breath, relieved Joker hadn't followed through on this particular threat.
"Do you have any reason why Joker would involve you in such a display?"
There was a pause while she considered the question.
"He knows I'm a psychiatrist." The response was short and simple, lacking much insight.
Gordon nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I read that was your profession. Do you have any association with Julian Crane?"
"Jonathan," she corrected automatically and froze.
Gordon smiled slowly and their eyes met again. He saw something cold stir in their depths but quickly it was replaced by a mischievous glint, her face a picture of charm.
"Touché, Commissioner."
"You wouldn't have admitted to the association?"
Harleen leaned back in her chair and shrugged. "Jonathan and I were friends but his name is not as palatable as it once was. Is this relevant?"
"Just trying to determine what kind of woman The Joker would choose to involve in his games."
Harleen propped her chin up on the table. "Joker dislikes order, descriptions and categories. Psychiatrists try and diagnose everything. Once you give something a name it's less frightening."
"Joker?" He noticed she shortened the normal title he was gifted with.
One shoulder lifted. "We're on a first name basis now."
"Does it make him less frightening?"
"No."
It was the first time he saw genuine fear in her. He was pleased to see a human reaction because he was starting to piece together why he knew her face, her name. She wasn't finished talking yet.
"If we diagnose Joker he wouldn't be a symbol of crazed mania, would he? He would simply be a delusional pathetic man shouting at the ghosts with his fire sticks. You can't send a message if you are weak. I suppose he wanted to make a mockery of the chance I might ever know what's wrong with him."
"What would you say is wrong with The Joker?" Gordon prompted.
"How long do you have?"
"Seriously, Dr Quinzel."
"You're asking my professional opinion?"
Gordon nodded. Her spine straightened and her face turned thoughtful.
"He's smart. Very intelligent and he is well trained. He is charismatic and could quite easily draw a decent following if he invested in subtle methods rather than shock tactics. He is also not nearly as insane as he'd like you to think."
Gordon opened his mouth to protest. No sane man dangled a person tied to a painting out window and set them on fire.
Sensing he disagreed, Harleen didn't allow him to interrupt. "He is deeply disturbed, unhinged, and a sadists and a masochist. But he is calculating and cunning. He is crazy but Joker is no lunatic. Well not entirely."
Gordon didn't like the fondness she spoke about him with but he pressed for more information that would be useful.
"Would this get him out of an insanity plea bargain?" Gordon sounded eager now.
Harleen narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Possibly, if well-argued and supported. But it would be extremely difficult. Why?"
"Because we caught him. Batman got him at the museum."
AN: Apologies for the delay. Have been on holiday. I don't often recommend songs but Michelle Branch's Hopeless Romantic is really accurate for this pairing. Please review!
