Harley took the tweezers from the counter top and raised them to her face. She stared at herself in the mirror, a thin and hollow-looking woman staring back at her. It had been a week and a half since they had let the inmates at Arkham free, since she had joined forces with the Joker, and life had never been more insane. She stood there in a lacy black bra, tracing a finger over her exposed rib cage; she hadn't eaten, hadn't had the time to eat, until she was on the brink of starvation, and she couldn't have gotten more than two hours of sleep each night. The coke helped her stay awake and kept her appetite at bay of course, but how long could that possibly last?
It's only so long before the cocaine rots your septum, said an annoying voice in her head, and how many nose bleeds have we had this week, hmm? Ten? More than ten?
"Oh, shut the hell up, Harleen. You're not even there."
By the way, an overdose will lead to a brain hemorrhage.
"Good, then you'll be the first to go," she said, clamping the tweezers around the first stitch in her left cheek. She pulled gently, letting it slide out of her skin slowly, then dropped it in the trash can next to the toilet. She started on the next stitch, then the next, revealing a line of serrated flesh in her wake. It looked better than she had imagined it, a scar that set her apart from everyone else, but linked her forever to the love of her life. In its own way, she thought, it was beautiful.
A shape appeared in the doorway, broad shouldered and commanding.
"Mr. J!" Harley squealed, dropping the tweezers on the counter with excitement. She admired her lover, his purple suspenders draped over his olive green shirt, his stringy hair slicked back gently. Her smile dropped a bit as she realized he looked less than pleased. "Is something wrong?" She asked shyly.
He licked his lips. "Nothing, no, not at all." He strolled towards her menacingly, and she tried to back away, but the counter prevented her from doing so. She had learned already to be wary of him when he looked like that, to make sure he didn't get a hold of her, because if he did...she shuddered a bit, running a finger over the spade-shaped gashes on her thigh. He was almost nose to nose with her now, his hazel eyes boring into hers. "Just that another of my plans has been thwarted by a crazy man in a bat suit, and that all of Gotham is laughing at me, and that that is one joke I have never found to be funny." He reached into his pocket and produced a knife, holding it down at his side.
She swallowed. "Now, Mr. J, you're not going to...to take that out on me - "
He spun her around and held the knife to her throat, staring at her through the mirror. She closed her eyes for a moment, praying for this to be over, knowing all too well what he was capable of. "I know you two had a moment," he said into her ear, smiling to cover up his extreme discontent, "and I'm tired of you hiding it from me. Who is he?"
She swallowed again, blinking quickly. "Come on now, Puddin', you know I don't know! Like you said, he's just some crazy man in a bat suit! Maybe he's a drifter!" The words were convincing, even to her.
Why are you protecting him? Asked Harleen. I thought you wanted him dead. Or is something happening between you and me? Is the infallible Harley Quinn feeling MY feelings? Feeling a little compassion?
Harley did not acknowledge her, but felt a tingle run down her spine. A few days ago, she would have ripped Bruce Wayne's still-beating heart from his chest, and still thought she might. Why was Harleen suddenly so strong again?
J stared at her for a good long time, gripping her cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger. He snarled and licked his lips, still pressing the knife to her throat.
She took a deep breath. It was a risk, and she knew it, but she raised her hand to his and gently wrapped her fingers around it, lowering it to his side. "Mr. J," she said softly, seductively, "you know I would never lie to you. Now why don't we just...put this all behind us and go find that big ugly bat ourselves?" She thought she saw him smile a little, licking his lips at the thought. "What do you say? Maybe we could ask a few questions, maybe satisfy our blood lust on the innocent, get him to come running?"
His slight and reluctant smile grew wider, and he ran a hand down her torso, still clutching the knife.
She smiled a bit at that. "By the way, I AM already down to just a bra." She winked at him, and he laughed, shoving his mouth into hers violently and directing her into the bedroom.
J tossed the grenade through the front window of Wayne Industries, the brick it was tied to smashing the glass into bits. He and Harley ran for cover, laughing wildly, waiting for the explosion to fill the night sky. Seconds later, there was a burst of fire and smoke, pluming from the ritzy marble lobby in scores. They stepped through the hole that had once been a window, broken glass crunching under their feet.
She hadn't let on why she picked this building, the hub of the B-Man himself, to break into and wreak havoc. She had almost fooled herself as she nonchalantly pointed to it, its shiny black facade twisting up into the night sky. But she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would come if they broke into this building, his building. Harleen cringed in her mind when she saw it, unnerved and protesting loudly. Harley smiled at that - she was going to show her once and for all that the two of them were different, even if they shared the same mind. Tonight, she was going to kill Bruce Wayne.
J laughed hysterically as he pulled a gun and sprayed the pristine marble with bullets, sending chips flying everywhere. He turned to her, and nodded toward the elevators. "There has to be a few kiddies burning the midnight oil upstairs. Let's pay them a little visit." She laughed like a child as she skipped towards them, turning a cartwheel for kicks. She couldn't wait to inflict pain and suffering on these imbeciles - perhaps one or two of them even had a wife and kids - the more that suffered, the better.
They stepped into the golden elevator, another marble floored monstrosity. A speaker in the ceiling played music, cheesy and terrible, loudly and proudly. Harley leapt up and put her fist through it, pulling the wires from it and letting it spark. They laughed heartily and kissed.
The doors opened to what appeared to be an empty floor. A large wooden desk was pushed to the left wall, and behind that was a gigantic office with an incredible bay window that overlooked all of Gotham.
"This, I presume, must be Mr. Wayne's office," said Harley, stepping from the elevator towards the desk. J held a hand up to stop her, then pointed to a mirror at the corner of the ceiling and smiled - from under the desk, a woman's high heel shoe was poking out, reflected in the mirror. The shoe's owner quickly realized her mistake and pulled in, moving the rolling chair slightly as she did so.
Harley stopped at the desk and looked over at the candy dish that sat upon it. "Jolly Ranchers," she said calmly, "fuck yeah. I'm taking all of these." She took one from the top, unrolled it and placed it in her mouth. She paused, waiting for movement from the woman, but it never came. In anger, she took the glass candy dish and threw it against the wall, sending glass and Jolly Ranchers flying everywhere. The woman jumped and let out a little whimper, but she did not move. Harley's eyes narrowed - this bitch wanted to play, and this was a game that Harley never lost. She took stack of papers from the desk and spread them everywhere, covering every inch of the desk in white. She turned to J and nonchalantly said, "Do you have any matches? I think I wanna light this desk on fire."
He nodded and laughed, throwing her a matchbook. She caught it and opened it quickly, picking out a match and striking it. The quick smell of sulfur filled her nostrils, and she extended her arm over the desk.
Before she could drop the tiny flame, the woman pushed the rolling chair away and leapt up, her hands up in a defenseless position. "Wait!" She screamed, tears already flowing down her face. "Please...please don't hurt me!"
Harley raised an eyebrow at her and laughed, leaping over the desk nimbly and pushing the receptionist to the wall, her hand wrapped firmly around her neck. "What were you even doing here? You're a receptionist. What could you possibly have been doing? Busy kissing ass? Climbing the corporate ladder?"
J laughed, closing the gap between them and pressing his gun to her forehead, which only made her sob harder. "Usually, when climbing the corporate ladder, the fairer sex usually accomplishes their goal on their knees, if you know what I mean." Harley looked over at him and they both cracked up, laughing for an astonishingly long amount of time.
"Please," whispered the receptionist, "I'll give you anything you want. You can have anything you want. Take my whole purse, it's in the first drawer!" A bit of snot ran from her nose, mixing with her tears. When they laughed at her, she added, "There are business plans in there...architecture, concept cars...all kinds of things, that are worth millions of dollars! Take them, please, just don't hurt me!"
"You see, doll," said J, his grin widening, "we're not really here for your money, or to negotiate. We're just here to shake things up a bit. Because we like to. And we can." He pulled back the hammer on his weapon. "And right now, shaking things up means killing you. No offense or anything."
Harley shrugged. "Really, no hard feelings. It's just the way things go."
The receptionist let out another sob, closing her eyes and waiting for her fate.
But the bullet never came, as J was knocked to the ground before he could do so. Batman was wrestling the gun from his hands, punching him in the mouth as he did so. Harley released her grip on the receptionist, muttering, "You better get out of here before things get really ugly for you," and turning towards the two men on the floor. She leapt upon Batman and wrapped an arm around his neck in a half-nelson, pulling him from J with all of her might. He squirmed, and she wrapped her legs around him to keep him still, trying in vain to suffocate him. J coughed and writhed on the floor, shaking his head to clear his mind for a moment, then leaping up with a laugh. He landed a kick to the Bat's abdomen, then another, forcing an "oomph" sound from him.
Before J could land another, Batman punched Harley in the leg, once, twice, three times, and she cried out in pain, her grip loosening just enough for him to wriggle free. He stood up, striking out at J with his spiked gloves, catching him across his already scarred face. J laughed, clutching his face, doubled over. "You've got me in stitches," he said with a laugh, "get it? Stitches?"
Batman did not laugh, but Harley did, exclaiming, "I got it!" The Bat turned to face her for a moment, and she kicked him across the face, sending him stumbling backwards. He threw a punch at her, barely grazing her jaw, but making her bleed nonetheless. There was a pause, and she licked the blood at the corner of her mouth. "Ouch! You rotten woman beater!" She said, attacking him with everything she had. J attacked as well, fighting rather clumsily compared to his counterparts.
A melee of epic proportions ensued, glass and blood flying everywhere, J stopping only to find something to beat Batman with. Harley was growing tired, her bones and muscles aching with fatigue. She could feel another nose bleed coming on, and it had nothing to do with the fight. There was no way she could continue like this, and it would only be a matter of minutes before Batman got the drop on her.
J turned the desk over and bludgeoned it with the butt of the gun, ripping off one of the wooden legs with fervor. Just as Batman was pinning Harley down, he struck the former over the head with the leg twice, and he fell to the side, panting and sweating.
Harley scrambled to her feet, sweat running down the sides of her face. "Give me the gun," she said, panting and holding her hand out. J hesitated, and she yelled, "GIVE ME THE FUCKING GUN!" Slowly, reluctantly, he picked it up and handed it to her, and she pointed it at the man on the floor. She pulled back the hammer. "I'm going to kill you now," she said, trying to convince herself to pull the trigger.
Another long pause. "If you're going to do it, you better do it soon," said J, his eyebrows raised, a knowing smile on his face. "He's tricky. He'll get right up and fly out of here if you don't watch him. Like a bat."
Her hand shook a bit as Harleen urged her not to pull the trigger. "Shut up," she said aloud, "I'm going to do this. I'm going to get rid of him."
"Really? Are you really going to do it this time?" J stared down at his watch. "Because I taped my soaps and I really want to get home and watch them."
The sound of men screaming and dogs barking from the sidewalk outside broke the silence. Sirens blared as police cruisers screeched to a halt in front of the office building. "Shit!" Exclaimed Harleen, "Next time. I swear you won't be so lucky."
J turned to run, Harley following close behind him, the elevator opening just in time. Just as she was stepping through, she felt a cold coil wrap around her ankles, knocking her to the ground. She wrenched her neck around to see her assailant - Batman had fired at her with his stupid gun, the bastard. She turned to J. "Help!" She yelled, her arm outstretched towards him.
J smiled, waving slightly. "Sorry babes," he said as the doors closed, "I can't have a girl that chokes every time we're down to the wire. Look me up when you think you're ready."
Harleen stared at the closed doors in disbelief, then hit it with her fist. She fumbled with the wire around her feet, trying desperately to break herself free, but it was no use. She glared at Bruce, turning her body to face him and infantry crawling over to him on her elbows, dragging her feet behind her. "You son of a bitch!" She yelled, sustaining a horrible case of rug burn. "What the hell did you do that for? I didn't even shoot you like I was supposed to!"
She reached him and starting punching his arm pathetically, unable to get her arm to fully extend while on the floor. He grabbed her arm and pinned it down, rolling over to face her slowly. "I'm trying to help you. You've saved me twice, and now I'm returning the favor." He no longer spoke in his gravelly Batman voice, but as Bruce Wayne, and she was still, interested in his speech. "Do you understand exactly what it is you're doing? I mean really?" His blue eyes bore into hers. "Maybe you do grasp the possible consequences of your actions, and maybe you like doing...whatever it is that you do. Fine." He leaned in closer. "But I don't think you really know who you're messing with. The Joker is a dangerous man. He can do things you never thought were humanly possible, and you think he's not going to hurt you? Jesus Christ Harleen, look at your face. He doesn't even have to touch you - you'll jump off a cliff for that sociopath. He has total control over you, whether you want to admit it or not."
She scoffed, ripping her arm out of his grip. "First of all Bruce, I didn't save you, I just couldn't kill you. For whatever goddamned reason, you are keeping me tied to my humanity, and I fucking hate it, but the more time I spend with J, the more I realize I want to kill you. Second of all, I know what he's capable of, and call me crazy, it's been done before, but I don't really care. He would never hurt me. I know that's hard for you to understand, but it's hard for any rational human being to understand. I told you before, I am not a rational human being, so you need to stop trying to deconstruct the insanity that is Dr. Harleen Quinzell."
He smiled a bit. "You're referring to yourself as Harleen again?"
"No I - " she stopped, her eyes narrowing at him. "I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response. You have serious deep-seeded issues, and you need help, and that's a lot coming from me. I'm leaving now."
She turned around and started to drag herself towards the stairwell, which was now filled with the hurried footsteps of cops.
"Wait, Harleen," said Bruce, laying a hand on her ankles. She turned her head towards him, and he sighed, taking a blade from his utility belt. "You're not going to be able to make it out like this." He cut her free, and she stood up slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. He stood up as well, getting a look at her, eye-to-eye.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I don't didn't you tell the Joker or anyone else who I was?"
She backed away, stepping on the elevator, her eyes still narrowed. "I don't know," she said as the doors closed.