An array of thunder and ligtening cracked overhead, illuminating the night sky over Gotham. It wasn't all too surprising that it was raining again, only this time, it had seemed a severe thunderstorm had decided to grace the city. It only added to the ambiance that was already provided by the loud cars and the whirring of passing trains.
At the Joker's penthouse, no lights were visible, the windows all dimmed and dark. The club had closed at 12:00, which was actually an earlier closing time than usual, and every patron had already scattered on home, no sign that anyone had ever been at the place. Well, except for the mess of spilled booze and glitter that was.
But even though the club was clearly closed, and no other soul lingered around, the Joker was not asleep. He wasn't even out riding around the city, as one might've expected. Other rogues saw this as their chance to get the last laugh around town since he hadn't even seemed to have shown his face since his grand performance at the charity bash. It was a little cause for suspicion, perhaps it even baffled Batman that his greatest adversary seemed to be hiding in the shadows, but it was time he should probably enjoy while it lasted. Some other villain was bound to keep him occupied, so for the first time in awhile, the Joker was the lowest concern on his list.
Sure, it wasn't like the clown hadn't considered going out that night; heck, even if it was to just drive around and fire shots at some unsuspecting citizen, but he was just finding he didn't have the energy for that. That could be accounted to the long nights he didn't get any sleep; and if he did get any sleep, it was one to two hours at the least, before the nightmares set in.
And this just so happened to be another one of those late nights.
The Joker had grown all-too accustomed to these after the past couple of weeks; they were tiresome, they were cumbersome; yet anytime he had tried to lay down and even attempted to get any meager amount of sleep, his mind had fuzzed and the same, repetitive dreams ran re-runs in his head. It had become routine by now.
So, if anyone had to ask why he was up at 2:04 in the morning, sitting in his office, with a half-empty whiskey bottle, that was the reason. Not that he'd say that that was the reason, he'd probably just pull his pistol out and shoot the wall until they left him alone. The boys had been hesitant to leave that night, but he'd made darn sure to let them know there'd be consequences if they didn't leave. That'd been all it taken, though as always, Frost had been a bit more stubborn.
Needless to say, his usually-favorite right-hand man had not been on his good side since he'd given him those photographs from Harley's ultrasound. Of course it hadn't exactly been Frost's fault he had them, that-that plant had just given them to him, and probably forced him to hand them over. Yeah, yeah that was probably it. Frost wouldn't do anything to tick his own boss off, he'd always been the most careful and obedient of all the henchmen he'd ever had.
Then again...
He really had seemed to be handing those off at his own freewill; if Ivy had done anything to make him do it, he would've looked more hypnotized, his eyes would've been glazed over; he wouldn't have been so direct and insistant. At least it wouldn't be happening again, Joker had already made it clear what would happen if he caught Frost trying to slip another one onto his desk, or even, into it. He didn't make light on his threats, even to people he liked.
It'd been a few days and another week since he'd gotten the others; the burnt trash in the can had long since been disposed of, and the can was now next to his desk, clear of debris. Currently, he stood in front of a window, staring out at the rain that trickled down the glass. His arms hung at his sides loosely, one hand limply hanging onto an empty shot glass. Though his vision was fixed on the city outside, his mind was somewhere else.
Somewhere...somewhere foreign, someplace he didn't know...
Another flash of lightening flashed, illumating his face momentarily. In the reflection of the glass, his face looked to be quite vacant of any depictable emotion. Dark bags had made themselves at home underneath his eyes, and his eyelids looked half-open from the lack of sleep. His hair was a tousled mess, and his robe was only halfly-tied together, exposing a rather ugly scar on his shoulder, left from the stitches that had been undone the prior evening.
His eyes, usually cold, or alert, looked dead.
Where, oh where did your mind go to tonight...
Somewhere old, somewhere new...who even really knew.
Where did your mind go tonight, where has it gone the other nights?
He knew. He knew where it had gone tonight, where it went the other nights.
Where oh where did it go...
Did it go back to the trailer with the little boy? The white room? The dingy apartment with the young man?
Well that was the point, it had gone to all three places tonight. It had gone back to the trailer first, at 12:30, when he'd first fallen asleep after tossing for thirty minutes.
There'd been cops, oh so many cops, and a woman being hauled out on an ambulance. The little boy had been there, he'd sat in the corner, quiet, minding his own business, but would not speak to the cop who was asking him questions. He'd been led out to the cop car, taking to another building. He'd been quiet, not asking for his parents, not crying. Instead, he was led into a dark, dimly lit room with a table and chairs. A nice man had come in, and had asked him even more questions.
Questions, questions-words-words-he hated words. He wanted him to shut up.
He'd woken up. Another thirty minutes, he fell back asleep. 1:15, he was in the white room with the dirty bed.
A nice man and woman came into the room, both dressed like they had money. The woman spelled like lilac, probably because of some expensive perfume. They both smiled at him, talking to him politely, asking if he wanted to come home with them. The woman had even had a stuffed bear for him, a stuffed bear with a blue bow tie.
He didn't leave with them that day. But he was left with the bear.
When they'd came back the next day, the bear was on the floor, with it's head torn clean off. Bits of fluffing scattered the floor, and red paint was smeared everywhere.
Once more, he'd woken up. 5 minutes passed, even though he willed not to fall asleep, he did. Another whole hour passed. And then, then he'd been in the dingy apartment.
The young woman, the pretty young woman in the sundress, she sat at the kitchen table, flipping through a magazine catalogue. He-the man-was standing behind her, speaking on a phone. His voice was angry-no, desperate? It seemed to be pleading with whomever was on the other end of the phone line. Finally, the young man had slammed the phone back onto it's receiver, and smacked the wall with his fist, leaving a small dent in the plaster.
This had startled the pretty woman, who had attempted to speak calmly to the man, but he'd only lashed out at her. Something about being laid off from a job again, how it was the third time that this had happened. The woman had tried to speak softly to him again, but he'd headed into the bathroom, where he proceeded to splash cold water in his face in an effort to calm down. He stared at his reflection for a good minute, then threw open the medicine cabinet, fumbling around for some pill bottle.
He found it. He opened the cap, and three little white pills fell into the palm of his hand. He stared at them, as the bathroom door cracked open behind him. Thin, pale arms wrapped around him from behind, and he felt hot breath tickling at his ear.
"It'll be okay, we can make it..."
That was the last time. He'd woken up after that, and ever since then, had been in his study. He didn't even know why he was in this specific room, on top of that; it'd almost been like he'd been sleepwalking, with the way he'd seemed to walk on auto, like he wasn't in control of his movements. The only light that was on was the desk lamp, he didn't even remember turning the damn thing on.
When he had seemed to regain control of his limbs, he'd proceeded to dousing down half of the old whiskey he'd left on the shelf. It was, surprisingly, the same bottle that he'd started on the prior week, he'd only just now finishing it off. His ears buzzed and felt warm from his copious consumptions of alcohol that night, but it didn't faze him. In his mind, he was still lost, trying to play connect the dots.
What did these dreams mean? What did they have in common?
Who's the boy, who's the man...who's that woman?
The only conclusion he could come to was that that boy-and the man, must've been the same person. But why would he be dreaming about them, unless they were him. That made sense, but he hated that it made sense. He barely even remembred half his old life, no thanks to a damaged psyche and his descent into the chemicals, followed by the electroshock therapy at Arkham. He'd surely thought nothing was left his mind, save for his new memories, save for who he was. Back when Harley...back when she'd been Harleen, she'd always suspected he had repressed memories, and that the fake stories he told her were always figments of what he could remember...
Back then, he'd only laughed.
He'd gone along with it, because he was a good little boy and wanted to have the nice doctor convinced he was getting better, that she was curing him. After Harleen was gone and Harley was born, he'd told her that the memories he'd told her about had really been nothing than what he'd said they were in the first place; fake little sob stories to gain sympathy. And that time, she hadn't spouted off anything about repressed memories; that was a sure sign that Harleen was gone.
Though, she did have her little psychiatrist moments every now and then. Had used to. He'd be damned if he'd let her stick around enough to use reverse psychology on him to convince him to keep the baby. She would've done it; there was no doubt she would've at least tried.
Feisty minx...
But the more he thought about it, maybe...maybe Harleen had had a point after all. It bothered him, it truly bothered him that these could be possible memories. It'd never occurred to him until now; but they kept re-occurring so much, he was beginning to feel like he knew the people in his dreams.
This isn't how I wanted it, no no-I'm supposed to be mysterious. No one's supposed to know where I came from, not even I know-do I? Do I know?
His lips tugged into a sharp curl. Another flash of lightening, more thunder. Turning from the window, he started pacing the room like a caged animal. His fingers were curled around the glass tightly, to the point of where it looked like it was cracking.
No, no! This is only happening-you know why is this happening. This is only happening because Harley's not here. She could make these nightmares stop. She always could.
"No, no, no-no. No." His pace quickened. "Stop it. Shut up. I don't need her, I never did. I was fine before she came along, it's her fault I'm like this now."
Like what, J?
"You know, emotional. I'm...feeling stuff, I don't like it." Sharply turning back to his desk, he stormed over to it. "I never felt anything before she came along. It's her fault."
Heck, he'd never even had nightmares before she'd came into his life. Any nightmare he had had was completely normal, at least, as normal as could be for him. But he didn't understand these, he didn't want these-yet why did they persist?
Ah yes...blame it all on her. Blame everyone else except for yourself. Sounds logical.
It wasn't logical. It wasn't. But had anything he'd done really been logical?
Possibly...
But he didn't wanna think about it right now.
He was hunched over his desk now, the glass turned upside down. His hand rested on it, before he ended up swiping it aside. It hit the ground and shattered, Joker turning and grabbing at his face, all but screaming into his hands. His mind was far too clouded to think straight anymore; the effect of the alcohol was numbing the voices, they weren't a problem now. But he was still very much bothered, oh no. Just because the voices, and-and the thoughts, might be leaving him alone for now, would not mean he could easily go back to sleep.
He hadn't had a moment's rest, not since he'd been shot. Every night since then had been like this. What was the point of going back to sleep dare he risk another nightmare, a possible memory, fluttering in like it was nobody else's business. He'd done everything he could to snuff them out; sleeping pills, alcohol, none of it had worked. There was only one thing that had ever worked, in the past...when the nightmares had been tamer. When they hadn't persisted night after night...but that was only because Harley had been there.
Somehow, just having her there had been enough to scare them off. The minute she left, it was just...continous, on a loop. Like when she'd been locked up. Only this time, they were escalating to an extreme point.
Slumping into his chair, he sat there in a dull stupor for a solid two minutes. Something buzzed loudly in his head, his eye lids lifting slightly. His arms had been dangling off the armrests, but he lifted them, and scooted his seat forward, closer to the drawer.
Why was he doing this-why-he didn't care-
In the faint light of the lamp, he fumbled and gripped the drawer, sliding it around. Several files and stacks of papers were moved around before he was met with a very, very thin piece of paper. He curled it into his fist, pulling it out slowly. The photo was all but crumpled by the time it was in his viewpoint, in the light. The tiny fetus came into view, still nothing but a blob. Yet he stared anyways.
Frost had said Ivy had given him these...she'd told him that Harley wanted him to have it...to see it. She still thought, even after he'd almost beat their child out of her, when he'd kicked her out to the streets...that he'd seriously want to be involved in all of this? That he'd grow into the loving and caring father she hoped he would be?
He couldn't help but chuckle at this thought. Never giving up...such a persistant little bird. So stubborn. That was a part of Harleen that carried over to her when she became Harley, she always had to get her way. She was possessive, she always protected the things she loved. She would go crazy if anyone said or even looked bad at her puddin'.
He'd loved that about her, it made for entertainment whenever they had a guest(that guest being some unfortunate cliental). He'd loved what she'd become; truly, truly, she had been his greatest creation. She had been a force in his life, a force that was just as much to be reckoned with as he was. He remembered her first assignment; and how she'd come out of that crappy old bar with the money. He'd handed her the gun from the car window, telling her to go back in and finish business.
At first, she'd questioned it...protesting, saying that they already had the money...he'd said nothing else, just giving her a look, before rolling the window back up. He hadn't actually expected to hear her go back into the bar, but he couldn't deny the mad grin that had come over his face when he heard the gunshot go off. When she came back, and opened the car door, she was covered in blood and grinning just as big as he was.
"I did it, Mistah J. Ya proud of me?" She'd had a wad of pink bubblegum in her mouth, chewing on it as she spoke. Still grinning, he had just nodded and patted her face like she was a child.
"Very proud, baby. You did very good, tonight."
He'd pinched her cheek, and she beamed proudly, sliding into the car seat in front of him.
That was the night he'd rewarded her with her favorite necklace; the custom-made one, the choker with the huge gold letters that spelled out "Puddin" on it. God, he'd hated that nickname...but it had kinda grown on him overtime, and she'd been so happy when he presented her with her reward. She'd only ever gotten things if she'd done something good; which was quite often. She was always so eager to please him, and he liked it. She'd always done half the work one of his men could do and be done with it quicker than they could.
Plus there were other things she did that...that the men just possibly couldn't do. Little tasks, like shooting people and collecting money, were not the only things she could do to please him. So many wonderful nights in bed...on that bearskin rug, even. The night she came home, they'd spent it on that rug, sipping on her favorite grape soda.
Now...now where was she? Off in some part of the city, trying to keep a low level profile so Bats wouldn't find her and haul her back to that Waller bitch, back to that horrid prison where she'd no doubt rot the rest of her life? And to think, he'd left her to that. He'd sacrificed his best possession into the hands of the city, all because she was pregnant.
Despite it having been only a few weeks, it felt like an eternity. He'd ignored letting himself think about this for too long before; but now that he held this picture, and probably because he was drunk, he'd let his mind wander off. He'd let himself think about her, let himself actually ponder if he was really willing to let her slip out of his fingers again.
This...this whole situation was stupid. Kicked out...she was gone, all because of this stupid baby. A part of him had considered , at one point, letting her come back and have the kid, but there was still no way in hell he wanted to be a father; it just wouldn't work. Harley was all he wanted-well, that and total control over Gotham.
But you know Harley wants the baby. You know that. She won't let you hurt it.
Of course she wouldn't. She'd made that very clear already...but, what else could he do? He just couldn't be a father. Not only because of...obvious reasons, but for some other reason he just couldn't pinpoint. Maybe it had something to do with the supposed memories coming back, or-or maybe he just didn't want someone else to care about...
No, that isn't it. I don't love out of free will. I can't.
Blinking at the photograph, he sneered and tossed it back into the drawer.
These weeks had been four weeks too long. He could figure out what to do about the whole baby thing later, he just knew he needed his Looney Tune back, and he needed her back as soon as possible. He didn't want anymore of these nightmares bothering him ever again.
As a kid, Harley recalled the time her dad had taken her to the local convenience store after her first gymnastic competition and bought her some candy-a giant lollipop, if she remembered correctly. She also remembered seeing him attempt to discreetly slip painkillers into his jacket sleeve, only to take them out when she'd spotted him. At the time, she'd not understood why he'd been trying to steal medication, but now, years later, she understood.
Little crimes like that had probably been what had landed him in jail, amongst other things.
She didn't know why she remembered that right now, but it was probably because she was in currently in a convenience store. She had been walking through the aisles, carrying a basket with a box of off-brand poptarts and a loaf of bread inside, and had come across a little girl trying to convince her mother to buy her a gigantic lollipop that was sitting on the counter near the register. It'd taken her a moment to shake herself out of remembering, and she'd quickly turned down another aisle to avoid being caught staring.
It was a little after 8, probably not the best time to be doing your grocery shopping. But daytime meant more people, and more chance of being spotted. She just didn't like that risk hanging over her head. Plus, she liked going out at nighttime, it was more quiet, at least, in the stores. Not many people were out shopping, or if they were, they were probably at some mega mart downtown.
The black wig still made her scalp itch, and by now, the glasses were making her eyes ache. With the convulsing faces she'd been pulling off, some old man had even taken the time to ask her if she was okay. Putting on a smile, she'd just nodded and rushed off down another aisle to look at cereal. She really just wanted to finish her shopping and get back to the apartment; reruns of Desperate Housewives were being aired tonight and she'd be damned if she missed even one episode.
It wasn't a fun life; going out at night to shop at some quiet little shop, watching television, and reading whatever magazines Ivy brought her, but it was something to pass time, sometimes even the little blonde kid in the apartment complex, Teddy, would show up, and they'd have a chat. He was a weird kid, never really seeming to want to talk about his parents much...not that Harley could blame him; he reminded her an awful lot of her at that age. But aside from that, her life didn't carry much excitement to it these days. It wasn't like she could go out and break into any jewelry stores, or hit up any bars for that matter. Alcohol was a no-no until the baby came, which she'd been even more perturbed to find out whilst reading in the baby book her doctor had given her. No coffee, no alcohol; no smoking, even.
And on top of that, her feet had begun to swell on her that morning. It wasn't gonna be long before she'd have to buy a new pair of shoes, and they'd have to be flats on top of that! No heels! Geez, being pregnant was already proving to be a buzzkill.
Tossing a box of Cookie Crips into her basket, she padded around the corner to another aisle, the medication aisle to be exact. Dr. Hoffman had already written down what vitamins to get, and now was the stage she'd wanna start taking them at; not that she wanted to, she was already grouchy enough having to deal with no caffeine and no high heels. Scanning the shelves, she spotted the one stocked full of pre-natal vitamins and plucked one off the shelf to investigate.
Whilst turning a bottle over in one hand, she heard a door bell jingle and the little girl giggling as she and her mother left the shop. Their feet padded out, and another pair seemed to pad right in. A tiny pair, like another child had entered the store. Harley paid it no mind until the footsteps seemed to stop right next to her. She looked down right as a small hand tugged at her jacket, and was a little stunned to find a little girl facing her. It wasn't the same little girl as before, this girl was a bit older, and her eyes were wide, her pupils huge. Like she'd seen something that had spooked her badly.
Harley opened her mouth, about to ask the girl what she wanted or where her mother or father was, as she wasn't in the mood to really be bothered right now; but to her surprise, the girl spoke first. Her voice came out very quiet and meek, her words coming out very rehearsed, like she'd been told what to say.
"He's waiting for you. Outside. He wants to see you." she said simply, not even sparing a blink. "Don't keep him waiting."
And just like that, the girl turned and left, the bell tied to the top of the door giving off a tiny jingle as it closed. Dumbfounded, Harley tore her eyes away from where the girl had gone and looked at the floor, thoughts racing through her mind. She felt her heartbeaten quicken, and her blood going warm.
He's waiting for you...he wants to see you...
He?
Slowly but surely, it all sunk in.
"Puddin'..."
Don't keep him waiting...
The vitamin bottle hit the inside of the basket and she headed to the checkout.
It'd taken a moment and a half to pay for her goods; the old lady in front of her had insisted on counting every little dime and dollar for her groceries and had turned up a dollar short, having spent the next five minutes digging through her purse for loose change. By the time Harley finally had left the store, she made an instant beeline down the street. She didn't know where he'd be; although she had a good idea. Her heart was all but beating out of her the chest by the time she was halfway down the sidewalk, and she stopped.
Bags in hand, she turned. She was beside an alleyway now; a dimly lit one, fog emitting from it. It gave off an ominous vibe, yet she began to walk into it. Halfway in, a figure emerged from behind a garbage container, dressed in an all-too familiar purple coat and hat. The brim covered his face until he looked up, but Harley didn't need to see his face to know who it was.
Although, it was one of those rare occasions where she met him without a smile on her face. He bore the same emotions, looking up at her with something that could be described as longing, yet his eyes looked cold, tired. Neither one uttered a word to each other, the Joker only eyeing his former queen up and down. Her appearance was so mundane to what he was used to seeing; it almost took him a moment to register that it was her. He stepped closer to her, Harley remaining frozen where she stood. His hand grabbed her arm and she almost jerked away, but he held tight, snarling in response. A glare seemed to flash over his eyes, and she held her breath.
Still, he said nothing. Only grasping at her jacket, he began to slide her sleeve upwards, revealing her harlequin-pattern tattoo. This warranted a smile, and he released her arm, probably with more force than he needed to. Harley, stepping back, slid her sleeve back down, huffing.
"Satisfied now?"
"No."
An individual near the couple could be heard shouting for a taxi, repeatedly, but it was promptly ignored. Harley shifted her bags in her hands, and eyed her Mister J. It was her turn to scrutinize now that he'd done his fair share of staring, and even in the dim light of the alley, she could almost pinpoint a matching pair of dark bags under her eyes. Though, to be fair, it did look like he'd tried to cover them up, but to no avail.
She also noted how he was wearing one of his best suits underneath that coat. It matched that coat, and that hat. It was his special outfit; the one he stated he only ever wore to really special occasions. Shifting one bag to her other hand, she placed her free hand on her hip and coyly smirked.
"What's this, got all dressed up? Just for me?" she remarked. "I don't think I've seen you wear that getup in a long time."
"Speak for yourself, soccer mom." The Joker snapped, snatching up his new cane from where it'd been laying against the garbage bin. "That's gotta be ten times worse those outfits you wore those times you played doctor. Hell, you're even wearing those damn glasses again..."
He'd lifted the cane, pointing it towards her. It lowered, wobbling a bit in mid air as he really took her appearance in. For just a second, the black hair transformed back into that blonde bun she'd been wearing in their first session, the grey shirt, black jacket, and baggy pants turning into the wine-red blouse and black pencil skirt she'd had on. He remembered that session as plain as day, it was hard to forget. After all the doctors he'd had, it'd been the greatest surprise of his life to find a fresh, impressionable mind like hers, an eagerness to learn, to please. She'd been nothing but a little mouse then.
Her appearance melted back into the black hair and grey shirt, a quiet expression on her very-plain face. No lipstick, barely any makeup at all. Her eyes were half-squinted, and her mouth was pressed into a tight line.
The cane gave off a light tap as the butt of it hit the cobblestone.
"...of course, those glasses did melt when you..." His voice trailed off. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, the tightness still on her face. Any sentence he'd had going was now gone.
As a means of saying "forget it", he muttered something under his breath and craned his neck to the side, tapping his cane against the ground, before returning his focus back to her.
"But you...god, you look different. Is that what happens when I leave you alone for what, a week?"
"Two weeks, puddin'..." So quiet, she sounded. "Almost three."
He just nodded, several soft growls coming from his throat, though he didn't open his mouth.
"I've..." She fiddled with her fingers, having set the bags down. Managing the tiniest smile possible, she stepped forward. "I've missed you. I've really missed you..."
"Huh..." Was the only sound he made, the only thing he said, both hands now resting on the cane. He didn't look at her, looked anywhere but her. The smile disappeared off her face, a huge frown replacing it. Her brows bent in anger.
"Mistah J..."
Still nothing.
"Why are you here? Why aren't you talking to me?"
Clenching his jaw, the Joker's eyes travelled back in her direction. He couldn't look at her; there was just such an accusatory look in her eyes, such a pained expression...it'd only been three weeks, almost, she hadn't forgotten what happened...and clearly, she hadn't forgiven him either. She was expecting him to say something about it, he had to say something about it.
One hand had slipped from his cane, and was now curled into a fist. He uncurled, curled it, several times.
"Because, I'm thinking..."
"Thinkin'? About what?"
"About..." He sucked in his lower lip, biting on it. "God, I don't know. Why I even came here...I don't even know why-"
"Why? Haven't you missed me?" There it was again, the accusation. "I thought ya'd finally be wantin' to see me. Didn't you forget Belle Reve? How long I was gone?"
The Joker inhaled deeply, his grip on the cane tightening. Was she really gonna play the guilt-trip card? That was usually his job, he couldn't say he was too fond of the shoe being on the other foot. He didn't wanna be reminded of those other times, he didn't need to be. They'd happened, they were done, they were gone.
"What about the other times, puddin'? The other times we fought, either I came back or you came lookin' for me." He turned her back to her, but she came closer to him, her feet splashing through a mud puddle. "What's the deal this time? Why don't you wanna talk to me?"
"Baby, please-please-shut up-" He pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, pinching it.
"No, I wanna know! I've been thinkin' on this ever since you kicked me out! Why should now be any different?"
"Harls-damn it! Damn it! Shut up!" Joker spun around, the glare flashing over his eyes a second time. His loudness was enough to silence her, thankfully no passerbys were nearby to have heard it. Tossing his cane to the side, he grabbed her by the arm and tossed her against the wall nearby, his hand wrapping around her throat. He was all but seething, his shoulders heaving up and down like an angry bull that'd been released into the fighting ring. The heat of his anger was practically radiating off him, as he snarled, growled, digging his fingers into her throat. Harley pathetically choked, grabbing onto his arm, trying to free herself. It was all in vain.
His fingers pressed in even harder, the nails now scratching the surface of her skin.
"Shut up, just shut up. You don't get to give me that spiel for the hundreth time, I don't wanna hear it." He all-but sounded like a growling tiger, Harley his prey. She gave up trying to free herself, feeling her head start to spin.
"Little Harley Quinn, little bitty Harley...you aren't the doctor anymore. You can't talk to me like I'm the patient!" Now he was shaking her, her head wobbling like a bobblehead's. Her face had turned a shade of light purple. "I I only wanted to talk, I simply wanted to talk, that's the only reason I even came out here. Do not make me regret it."
At last, the air came surging back in her lungs. His hand went back to picking his cane up, but he didn't tear his eyes off her. Harley wheezed, the color coming back to her face and the purple disappearing. She pressed her own hand against her throat, where she swore she could still feel his fingers pressed against it.
For just a split second, she almost imagined him doing the same thing to their child.
He wouldn't...he would. Remember what Ivy said? Is it gonna be a double funeral for you and your kid?
It made her wince.
"If that was your idea of talkin', that was a pretty sad idea." she said, bitterness heavy in her tone as she glared over at him. "Do I need to remind you that I'm still pregnant? You were that close to killing your kid for the second time."
"And I would've continued gladly if it meant that little nuisance being out of our lives." Joker snapped. "Fuck-fuck, this whole situation! It's ridiculous! This is ridiculous, Harls! This is exactly why I told you to stay on that damn pill, how do you fuck up something that simple?"
"Yeah? Well how did you fuck up by not putting on a condom?" Harley retorted, shooting up from the wall. Her purse was all but hanging loosely off her arm at this rate, but she didn't notice or care. "Last I checked, that was a pretty simple act too. If you didn't want anything leakin' you should've kept your dick covered."
"Har-my-what-" The Joker practically sputtered, partly from anger, partly from embarrassment. An approaching Harley was shoved back to the wall again and he jabbed his bony finger at her, the other hand all but crushing his cane.
"You slut. You'll shut your mouth if you know what's good for you."
"Ooh, or what? You'll choke me again?" Harley dared, fluttering her eyelashes at him, teasing a smirk. "Or what about your cane? You gonna hit me with that?"
The Joker grunted. He dropped the cane, grabbing Harley by the shoulders, roughly. Their faces were level, the gazes intent and serious. Harley's coy smirk remained, and Joker snarled, grabbing her by the chin with one hand, the other staying grasped on her shoulder.
"Do not..." He squeezed her chin, tightly, pulling her closer to him until their noses touched. "Tempt me, little girl. You know I will. I'll do it, and you'll be left a bleeding, crying, blubbering little mess in this alleyway. How would you enjoy that? Huh?"
Harley's smirk still didn't faze. She kept staring at J, curling her smirk to the side the best she could despite his hold on her chin. Grunting again, he let it go, and her head fell back against the wall. She giggled, despite the little pang of pain she felt from the impact, and let her head wobble to the side. Her giggles only grew louder, this seeming to frustrate Joker. He held fast onto her with both hands now, and shook her. Shook her several times, but her giggles just kept escalating. Letting out an angry scream, his fist smacked her in the jaw, but even then, her giggles didn't stop. Several times, finally, before he yelled.
"What is so funny? Just what is so damn funny, Harls?!" Joker all but roared, delivering another slap to her face. "Tell me!"
It was a wonder the store clerk in the building they were next to hadn't heard them, but last Harley had checked, he'd gone off to the back room of the store with an iPod and earbuds, so there were slim chances he'd be coming out to investigate. Harley's giggles softened, even as she was shook one more time, and finally, slammed violently into the garbage container.
It became quiet, save for the Joker's heavy breathing and Harley's ceased giggling. Her purse was now on the ground, resting in a mud puddle, alongside Joker's cane. He released her, but she stayed back against the container. Taking small breaths to calm herself, she straightened, as Joker turned away from her, facing the road ahead of them.
"I'll tell ya what was so funny, puddin'..." His eyes shifted back to her. "You got off track. I still don't know what you were wantin' to talk to me about."
"That...was it...that was all?" He was almost tempted to say this, it being his current thought, but he shouldn't have been surprised. She actually had a point. And why, why should he be expecting her to still be phased, by almost being choked, slapped, punched? It happened every time they fought, only those times sometimes she'd be delivering just as many punches back at him.
She hadn't done anything this time, except...giggle. Just like how he'd do nothing but laugh when Bats hit him, even when he knocked his damn teeth out...and the first time, the very first time he'd ever layed a blow on her, he'd given her some very simple advice.
"If you're going to be with me, if you insist on it-" She'd been sniffling, clutching her sore jaw, while he retrieved a package of frozen peas from the freezer. "You have to do what I do, Harley. It's actually very simple."
"You mean I have to suck it up?" Her lower lip was blubbering, even as she took the frozen peas and pressed it to her bruise. Joker had laughed, and shaken his head.
"No...no, not at all. You just have to...smile, through the pain. Laugh at it. After all..." He placed his hand in her hair, stroking it, letting his fingers intertwine as she looked at him, her eyes still misty. "What is pain, but a temporary thing?"
And now, here she was...giggling. Laughing...
He had taught her well, hadn't he?
He couldn't help but smile himself now. Running his hand over his jaw, he let off a soft chuckle, much more different than the loud yelling he'd been doing previously. It was almost amazing how his moods could easily shift, but she'd caught him. In the midst of his entire outburst, he had almost forgotten why he'd even sought her out in the first place.
Not that that was a conversation he wanted to have after their little altercation, this was sure to go over well. He'd already left a couple of nice bruises on her face and neck, but she didn't even look phased. She was still smirking at him, and it was frustrating.
Regaining his ever-lost composure, the Joker tipped his hat back and cleared his throat, shoving both hands into his coat pockets. Harley cocked her head, waiting patiently for him to speak.
"Ah...yeah. Yeah, I was gonna-I was gonna talk to you..." he mumbled. His fingers could be seen twiddling inside of his pockets, and he bounced up and down on his feet, slowly, thoughtfully. An ambulance siren echoed in the night air as he contemplated his next choice of words. Harley's coming back would depend on this; he had such a gift for words, that even just speaking to someone would be enough to unnerve them. Whatever he said, would have to convince her to come back.
He wasn't going to leave here without her.
"Harls..." She looked up at him, having previously been kicking at the mud puddle her purse was still laying in. "I...I've come to realize that-perhaps, my choice of actions those three weeks ago were a bit...how do I say this, harsh?"
Harley only replied with a mean laugh at this, crossing her arms. Joker gave her a warning look and continued.
"Yes-yes, so I may have overreacted just a tad-"
"Yeah, just a little bit."
"Shush. Anyways, as I was saying, I understand I probably overreacted by just a little bit." The Joker moved to take his hat off, gathering it in his hands. "I guess...what I'm trying to say is, despite everything that's happened..."
"Sorry? Is that what you're tryin' to say?" Harley interrupted, causing him to grunt out of annoyance and smack her with his hat.
"Quit interrupting me! God! Of course I'm not trying to say sorry, what do you take me for? A good two-shoes?" At this, Harley just shrugged, her arms still folded.
"Alright, yeah. Fair enough. So what are you tryin' to say then?"
"I want you to come back." He rushed this sentence out, almost wanting to squeeze his eyes shut. He sounded like a little kid trying to ask their parent for an allowance, a bigger allowance at that, but he tried to not let his desperation show.
His queen's eyes widened, one eyebrow lifting in disbelief. Her mouth agape, she released a surprised gasp, one that sounded as equally disbelieving as her face looked. He almost thought she was gonna laugh at him, in fact he fully expected it; other times she would've just thrown her arms around him and squealed "yes" over and over again until he was certain he'd gone deaf.
She'd asked why now should be any different, just because of the baby. And she wasn't throwing her arms around him or squealing yet; instead, she looked like she was trying to register what he'd just told her.
"You...want-you want me to come back?" She blinked, several times. "After...after tryin' to kill our baby? Even after I begged you not to?"
"Your baby. Your baby, pumpkin. I already told ya I want nothing to do with the brat."
"No, puddin', it's still your baby too. I didn't make it by myself." Harley defiantly stated, uncrossing her arms. She strolled right in front of him, anger evident on her face. "Why? If you don't want it, why do you want me to come back? You'll just try killin' it again for all I know."
She stooped over, picking her purse up from the ground. It was the Joker's turn to have his eyes widened, though, he wasn't entirely surprised that that had been her response. He groaned, as she turned back to face him.
"Yeah, no thanks. I was scared half to death, and ya sprained my damn wrist. If you think I'm comin' back then that's just-that's just hilarious." Throwing the strap over shoulder, she began to walk back to where she'd left her bags. Out of protest, the Joker headed after her, several angry grunts could be heard before he snatched her by the arm.
"Hey, lemme go!" She yanked, almost tempted to kick him off of her. But his grip was surprisingly not that tight. He was only holding on long enough to get her to look at him, it seemed.
"Harls-darling, please. I understand, I understand why you're angry but if I promised you I wouldn't hurt the baby-" Now the desperation was obvious in his voice, but he made an attempt to mask it as he spoke again. Harley tried yanking away but he pulled her back. She stumbled.
"Mistah J-"
"If I promised you that, would you come back then? Huh?" The only thing he got from her was a tiny huff, and he sighed. Releasing her arm, he almost thought she'd bolt right then and there; but she stayed. She held her arm defensively, but stayed put. Waiting, waiting and thinking, like she was seriously considering his proposition. Geez, why hadn't he just mentioned not killing the baby in the first place, that would've been a one-way ticket to winning her favor.
Dubiously, she eyed him, her lips in a pout.
"You promise you won't hurt it?" she half-whispered.
"I swear it. I never-ever, break a promise, poo, you know that."
More hesitation. Finally, she nodded. A tiny smile.
"Okay...okay! Okay puddin', I'll come back."
This; this was the response he wanted. His own grin returned and he let out a joyous laugh, stepping back.
"That's my girl, I knew you still had some sense left in there!" he remarked, sliding his hat back on. Opening his arms, he braced himself for the impact as Harley threw himself into her arms, squealing and digging her hands into his back, pressing her face close against his shoulder.
"Oh honey, honey I missed you so much. I'm so happy." Part of him winced as she cried into his coat, but he only chuckled, patting her hair, albeit the hair being a wig. It felt too fake, he'd wondered for a second if she'd actually dyed it.
"I'm happy too, pumpkin. It's been so quiet without your perky little face around the club." This just caused Harley to hug him tighter, and he was sure he felt a bone break. "Oof, hey. Lighten up a bit will ya?"
"Ooh, sorry. Sorry, Mistah J." Her arms loosened and she sighed happily, nuzzling against his coat. "Sorry-I'm just-I'm so happy. I was hopin' for this-Pammy, you know, she said you wouldn't ever warm up to havin' a baby-I told her! I told her you would! I get to come back now and you won't hurt it, we'll have a little clown of our own! I'm so excited now, puddin'! Aren't you?"
Shit.
She'd misunderstood him.
She thought-she thought he was gonna let her keep it, still? Oh...oh hell no.
Chuckling nervously, he started prying her off of him.
"Heh...um, yeah, baby, about that-"
"And you know what? I've already got a bunch of baby stuff for the nursery, you won't have to worry about paying for anything!" She continued rambling on, now playing with the folds of his coat even as he pushed her back. "I've got a crib-of course, I'll probably still buy a few knick-knacks for the rest of the place, I haven't exactly decided on a theme yet-"
"Harley-"
"Oh, oh! A circus theme! Wouldn't a little circus tent over the crib look cute?"
"HARLEY!"
He practically barked, causing her to emit a mousey squeak. Her hands dropped from his coat.
"What? What's wrong?"
"We're not-I'm not-" Sighing, he rubbed his forehead and let his hand fall down his face. Dragging over his nose, his mouth. "Okay, how do I put this gently...I didn't say you could keep the kid..."
The happy expression on her face vanished in an instant. She slowly stepped back from him.
"What...? What do you mean, I thought you said-"
"I said I wouldn't hurt it. That's what I said. I didn't say nothing about keeping it." As he continued, Harley felt her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. No...no-no, this wasn't-this wasn't how this was supposed to go...he was supposed to be okay now! This-no, this wasn't fair. This was not fair!
"But-but puddin'-"
"But what? What, Harley? What did you think?" He cackled, facepalming. "Oh my god, you really thought I'd be okay by now? Didn't my actions earlier make it obvious I still wasn't okay with this whole thing? How much more clearer do I need to make myself, even Frost would've gotten the point by now."
"You're not makin' any damn sense, puddin'! What are we gonna do if you're not killin' it, then? Am I supposed to kill it? I ain't doing that!"
"I never said you had to, Harls. No one's gonna die...we just...you have the baby, and...well..."
It was now that Harley realized where this was going.
"No...no! No! Give it up? Is that it? I don't wanna do that either!" She protested, her voice growing loud enough to alert passerbys. They looked for a second, only to quickly scurried away, not wanting to get involved in whatever was going on. Mistah J growled and turned away from her, and this time, she grabbed him by the hand, not like him, who had continously snatched her arm.
"Puddin'...I wanna have this baby. You don't understand. I really-really wanna have this baby, I wanna raise it. I don't want anyone else to raise it but me, I'm it's momma."
"Being a little selfish, aren't you?"
"Selfishness has nothin' to do with this!" Harley snapped, digging her nails into his hand. He shifted, yanking his hand free. "Why can't you just let me have this one thing? Please! You always said I could have anything I wanted, why can't I have this baby?"
"I told you why. It wouldn't-" The Joker lowered his voice, not wishing to attract the attention of anymore passerbys like Harley had done. "It wouldn't work for us, Harls. We can't have kids, that's it. We just can't. Our lives were not-meant, for children."
Harley squinted at him, she detected something in his voice. The desperation was back perhaps, but there was something else.
"You're lying..."
"I'm not-"
"You are! You're lying! There's something else, what is it?"
His whole expression darkened, telling her she'd struck a nerve. Shifting on his feet, he avoided eye contact and looked anywhere but her, anywhere, before delivering his reply.
"I don't know."
"Bullshit. What is it?"
"I don't know!"
"What is it, Mistah J? What is it?" She kept prodding, even poking at his chest several times. "Why? What's the real reason you don't want this baby, what is it?"
This was enough to break him. Her hand was slapped away from him and he tore his hat off, screaming angrily, and throwing it into the same puddle her purse had fallen into . Grumbling, and growling, he spun away from Harley, mumbling something to himself that she couldn't understand. No audible answer. She figured as much.
He was the same way anytime she'd tried getting a real answer out of him back at the asylum, back when she was naive and petty. She was still petty now, sure, and he was still the same stubborn ass she'd known back then. He wasn't gonna tell her anything. Not a single thing.
Or maybe he really didn't know. But who was she to figure out? She thought she understood everything about him...evidently, she did not.
"I think Pammy was right all along. You don't care. You can't even give me a real reason, can you?" He didn't answer, he didn't look. Not even sparing him a smile, she shook her head at him, sadly, quietly.
"That's what I thought."
She scooped up her shopping bags from where they still sat, some puddle water having leaked through to the loaf of bread. The sound of her apparent departure was enough to shake Joker to look over at her, and he opened his mouth, not speaking just yet, but instead, simply lifting his finger to point. He hadn't realized until now his hands were violently shaking.
"Harley...Harley Quinn, don't you dare walk away from me. Don't you even dare." His voice sounded almost choked, but it wasn't enough to change Harley's mind. She did stop, to turn around to him, giving him a sad smile.
"Then stop me." she dared. "If you really care, stop me. Because unless you grow a fuckin' pair and let me have my baby, I'm walkin' away."
His finger stayed frozen in mid-air, quivering, shaking, wobbling. It began to lower, and he looked down. Unable to speak, his legs felt glued to the ground. He couldn't move, though his mind screamed at him to. So many voices were screaming at him right now, he couldn't make sense of any of them. Harley stared, waiting, watching him...but nothing. Nothing.
So much disappointment weighed her mood down, she felt an ache somewhere in her chest. But she couldn't bring herself to say much else. This confrontation had reached it's climax, and had gone nowhere.
Turning her back for the last time, she heaved a huge sigh. Her throat felt swollen, and tight. She took a small step forward, and when she didn't hear him coming after her, continued, right out of the alley.
This was enough to shake him from his sullenness, and he started in her direction.
"Harley!"
She didn't stop walking, continuing out onto the road, across it. Joker stopped himself at the edge of the alley, part of him wanted to keep walking, part of him was screaming to go after her, part of him told him to stay put.
"No one walks away from me, Harley Quinn! You get back here right now or so help me God-I'll make you come back myself! And I promise, it won't be pretty!"
Thankfully by now, no one was out to even witness this altercation, not even the store clerk. He really must've had his music turned up to the max. Now across the street, standing beneath a streetlight, Harley stopped. She stayed, frozen in the same position.
Don't look back. Don't even look back at him, Harls.
She didn't. Strongly tempted, as much as she was, her gaze stayed forward. Her eyes were burning with tears which were aching to escape, her throat now fully swollen to the point of where she couldn't even bring herself to speak.
Don't. Don't.
Don't look back.
"Harley!" Shut up, please shut up-oh god. "If you don't come back right now-"
No, please-please-
"-then you can't come back at all. That's my final warning, Harley! Harley!"
At last, tears started leaking, staining her face. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, releasing a choked sob.
Don't cry over him, don't. You've wasted enough tears on him. Think of your baby.
Yeah...her baby. Not his baby. He didn't deserve it.
Ivy really had been right this whole time.
Gripping the bags tightly, she straightened her form, and continued walking away. Kept walking, not stopping. By now, the Joker had stopped yelling after her, the only thing he could muster was a weak cry of her name before moving to the other side of the alley, grabbing onto the wall. He watched her, watched her for as long as he possibly could before she disappeared from his view.
You let her go again, J...you pussy. You let her go.
What aren't you admitting to yourself? Why can't she have the baby?
That pain in his chest returned, even bigger this time. But it wasn't a physical pain, he knew it. He knew why it was back.
Curling his fist into a tight ball, he smacked it straight into the brick wall several times before finally falling face first against the wall, screaming as loud as he possibly could.
Gone. She was gone again. Gone for good.
And this time, it was his fault.
No, no she could still come back. She'll get over this. She always had.
No. This wasn't true. That wasn't going to happen now.
He sensed it, felt in his heart, as he padded his way back to the lamborghini. Alone.
Author's Note: So...I think I said the time skip would be happening soon, I'm not sure if I said if it would be in this chapter or not. However, it will be occurring in the next chapter, I guarantee that. But boy howdyyyy was this chapter a nice piece of angst, this is the first time in awhile I've actually gotten to write a really serious moment between these two since the fourth chapter. It was interesting getting a chance to really delve into their minds I think, and to have them actually discuss what they did, since they didn't really do much of that when Harley found out she was pregnant. A lot of that happened too fast, and now was the chance for them to sit down(not literally, metaphorically) and confront the issue. I feel like I may have had Joker get a little too violent but honestly, I think it's how he'd react. As a reminder for anyone still reading this, I don't ship this pairing in the sense that I find it to be relationship goals; these two are both mentally unstable people, and of course, no argument between them will ever end without someone getting hurt, whether it be mentally or physically. But I do promise, that these two are eventually gonna come back together...unfortunately, it might take another eight to nine months before they're ready to confront each other again. In the meantime, more stuff's about to go down in the next following chapters before Baby Quinn even makes an appearance, so just hang on tight, kids. The good stuff has yet to come. ;)