A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter. The quotes in italics are from the song "Hospital Beds" by Cold War Kids.

I don't own the characters, I just own their emotions. Muahaha! Also, I am putting the prologue in with the first chapter because it's too confusing with the drop down box for chapters.

Chapter 11: Pay the Price

You'll just say the worst of me,

With a hope they'll understand

No, they know you're just a boy

So grow up and be that man

Little baby, kicking, you scream and whine

Victims pay the price eventually

The cost? Let's see…your life.

"Mother Superior," Coheed and Cambria

"Bruce Wayne…" I repeated, dumbstruck.

"Yes, the richest man in the city. How the hell would you know him?"

"What, you think I don't have a social life?" I asked indignantly.

"Well, frankly, yes." He snapped.

"Ok, fine, I know it was a bit sudden. We've been friends for years, and he called me yesterday saying he wanted to get together and who am I to say no?" I walked toward him, "It's not like you own me or something."

"Oh, yes, I do." We were finally facing each other, "When you step into this warehouse every day, and I resist the urge to strangle you until you turn blue, Harley, I do own you. You know I keep you around because I love you."

"Oh there you fucking go again, throwing that word around! You don't love me and you know it! You just want to lull me into a false sense of security so that you can turn around and, as you put it, strangle me until I turn blue! Well, you know what? I stay around because I want to do the same to you, Joker! We have the same goals in this relationship and we're at a standstill! What do you care if I go out to a restaurant with a man?" I exclaimed.

"Well, maybe I'm fucking jealous then, alright?!" he screamed at me, "Maybe I don't want to hear that you're out there seeing other men and getting yourself all dressed up and made up! Maybe I don't want to know that you don't give a shit about me!"

"Because I don't!" I yelled back, "I don't give a shit about me! Finally you fucking comprehend! You are such an idiot! You think other men won't notice all of this?"

"Of course I do! And I don't want that for you! I want you to be with me, don't you understand?!"

"I do understand and I don't want to be with you! Don't you fucking get it, or are you too blinded by your own feelings to listen to me?! I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU!!! I never was and never will be because of what you did to me!" Furious tears were forming in my eyes, "I could never forgive you! I need to kill you to make sure that you don't ruin any more people's lives like you did mine! I need to prove to myself – and to my family – that I can win over you! It's an eye for an eye, and you already took my eyes, so guess what? Get ready to be fucking blinded!"

Ok, I thought I was pretty clever. You would too. Admit it.

"So you want to exact vengeance on me? Is that it? Do you really think that your family would have wanted that for you? To be a killer?" he asked.

"Don't start with that psycho bullshit! I am the psychologist here, not you! Remember, I treated you."

"Well, that didn't exactly pan out, did it?" he said snidely.

"Oh shut up!" I snapped, face growing hot, "God damn it, you twist and you turn and you leave nothing left to say. This discussion is not about my intentions; this discussion is about the fact that I went on a date with Bruce Wayne."

"Oh, so it was a date now, huh? Did he take you home, Harley? Did he kiss you? I have to know, because I want to know how pissed off I need to be when I pummel him." He cracked his knuckles.

"That's none of your business." I said petulantly.

"You little bitch," he said incredulously, "Don't patronize me."

"You're letting me."

"Why the fuck do I love you?! You're so fucking frustrating!" he made an apostrophe to the ceiling.

"I don't know, honestly. I'd really love to know why you care so much about me, Mister J. I could use a good laugh right now." I collapsed in the chair.

"Because you're ridiculously clever, intelligent, reckless, determined, selfish, and beautiful; what else is there to say about you? You're so reserved yet you throw caution to the wind. I don't know; you're just so unpredictable. That's why I love the most about you. You're like me in a way, except maybe not as insane."

"I would certainly hope not." My ice-driven heart warmed a little at his description, albeit a not so becoming one.

"But you're pretty damn close," he pointed out.

"Ok, we don't need to elaborate." I said with a dead-pan face.

"Ah, goddamn it, you got me off topic again!" he exclaimed, wagging his finger at me, "You're good at that."

"You do that pretty well on your own." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Ok, shut up now." He snapped, "I'm not done yelling at you for going on a date without my permission."

"Who the fuck are you, my fath…" My mouth clamped shut.

My father. Another topic I didn't want to talk about anymore.

I had another flashback to my past in that moment.

There's nothing to do here, just whine and complain

In bed at the hospital

Coming and going

Asleep and awake in bed at the hospital

The stark white hospital, my father pacing back and forth in front of the operating room, biting his nails fervently; he would glance at me and Maggie occasionally. I was so young then, and Maggie even younger. I suppose I was old enough to comprehend the situation. My mom could die at any moment on that table, but somehow I held it together. I had always been the backbone of the family.

My dad was falling to pieces in front of my eyes; he had been since Mom was diagnosed. He was too dependent on her; she was the love of his life. In my mind, the main reason I didn't want my Mom to leave us was because my father would never be able to handle the magnitude of raising two little girls alone without her help. He just couldn't. He knew it himself.

Maggie struggled a bit in her sleep, whimpering.

I stroked her dark hair back from her forehead, and asked, "Daddy?"

He didn't hear me.

"Daddy? Maggie is so heavy." She had been lying on my lap for at least 3 hours.

"Sweetheart, your mommy isn't out yet." He said distractedly, not even glancing in my direction as he spoke to me.

"Daddy, I'm so tired." I whined.

His eyes grew wild, and he whipped around to face me, "Do you want your mom to die, Harleen?"

My lower lip trembled in fear, "No, Daddy, I'm just so tired. Maggie is, too."

"I know, honey, I know." His face softened, "Daddy needs sleep, too. But I have to worry about your mom right now."

"Ok," I said quietly.

It seemed endless, waiting for Mom to come out of surgery.

Our doctor stepped out of the room, handing his gloves to one of the attending nurses. He saw us, and stepped forward.

I could hear my father's pounding heart even from where I sat a few feet away. His face was blanched paler than I had ever seen it, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words could come out.

The doctor smiled, "She's fine. She has stabilized and we managed to remove 99 percent of the cancer from her ovaries. She will never be able to reproduce again, but there is no doubt that she will survive this."

My father exhaled with relief, almost falling to his knees on the floor.

Maggie stirred awake, "Harley, what…?"

"Mommy's ok, Maggie. She's not sick anymore." I grinned.

"That's…good…" and she drifted off again.

"We will take her to her room," the doctor was saying, "You and girls can visit her once she wakes up from the anesthesia."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Chase." My father shook the man's head vehemently, "You are a wonderful man, and an incredible surgeon."

"Please, Mr. Quinzel, you don't need to thank me." Dr. Chase said modestly, "You have been a good friend to me all these years; it was the least I could do."

Tell me the story of how you ended up here

I've heard it all in the hospital

I saw my mother soon after that. My dad carried the still fast-asleep Maggie into the room, and held my hand. I clutched it tighter when I saw my mother. She looked so peaceful lying in her bed, but so thin, so worn. I was so used to the robust and energetic Mom I had before.

Now, before my eyes, she had wasted away to almost nothing, and her head was shaved bald. She would wear a wig for the rest of her life.

Tears sprang to my eyes, purely from confusion and fright. This couldn't be my mommy. At this point, I hadn't seen her in almost 3 months, and what a change had come of that. My father wouldn't allow us to go to chemotherapy with her.

"Mommy…" I touched her hand, and her eyes opened slowly.

She smiled a little groggily, "Harley, honey…what are you…doing here?"

"I wanted to see you, Mommy." I said.

"Well, I'm ok now, sweetie." She looked at my father, "Henry…"

"Maria," he said. I swore I saw tears in his eyes, too.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Feeling a little drowsy, but no worse for the wear." She replied with a weary smile.

"Dr. Chase said you are going to be fine." He came closer to the bed, "He said you can home in a week or so. The cancer is pretty much beat."

She frowned, "It will never be gone, Henry."

"I know," he said, taken aback at her harsh words, "But it's gone for now, and we need to be thankful for that."

Her face softened, "Of course. How's Maggie holding up?"

"She had no idea what was going on," he said, putting her on one of the chairs in the room, "She was asleep the entire time."

"That's good," she said, looking relieved, "I'd rather her never remember this."

But I always would. They forgot about that.

Put out the fire boys

Put out the fire on us

Put out the fire boys

Don't stop, don't stop

…

"Harley?" I was forced back to reality. The Joker was staring concernedly at me.

"What?" I asked, "What's your problem?"

"You totally blanked out for a minute there."

"Oh…I'm sorry. I was just remembering…my parents." I said quietly.

"What about them?"

"When I was younger, a much simpler time then," I mused.

"My childhood was far from simple." He said bitterly.

"I know," I tried to sound gentle, "You told me all about it."

"Do you really miss them that much?"

"Yeah, I do." I snapped, "And I wouldn't have to remember them so much if you hadn't decided to blow them up."

"I didn't intend for them to die. That was just an unfortunate side effect of the fire." He shrugged.

My mouth was agape unattractively, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Huh?"

"How can you be so emotionless about this situation?"

"Because I have killed a lot of people in my life, Harley." He said, "I have grown to be callous."

"Well, I still haven't." I said hotly, "Who was it that you intended on killing when you started that fire, anyway?"

"You and the prick," he answered promptly.

"His name was John," I said, closing my eyes, asking God to give me patience.

"I don't give a shit."

"Well, I did." I stood up, "If you're not going to talk about this like a decent human being, then I am just going to walk out right now."

"Fine, do it. I don't care. I don't care if you come back." He threw his arms up in the air in exasperation, "I don't want to be around you if you're going to act like a little baby about everything. Go home and take a Midol or something."

"This is so not about me being on my period!"

"Then quit acting like it!"

"How the fuck would you know? It's not like you're the world's finest expert on women!"

"And clearly you're not the expert on men!"

"I'm leaving!"

"Then go!"

"I will!" I picked up my purse and stormed towards the door.

"Just walk away then, like you always do! I know you'll regret this!"

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed at him, and slammed the door behind me. I stalked down the hallway, furious at him, at myself, at all the bad hands I'd been dealt in the stupid game called Life.

He poked his head out the door, watching my retreating figure, "Fine, walk away! You know you'll come back to me!"

"Not on your life!" I called, and pushed past a surprised Antoine.

"Miss Harley, where are you…?" Antoine asked.

I interrupted, "Home. He knows I'm going. Don't bother stopping me."

"Um, alright, then." He said awkwardly.

I walked outside and hailed a cab, "Wayne Enterprises, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed, "Hello, Bruce? Are you free? Well, you're about to be. I'm coming down for a visit."