Recipe for Joker fun: take one part Joker and one part Harley. Add a sprinking of drama. Put in a large room and shake. Add ice and serve in a martini glass.
Actually, that's wrong. For real Joker fun, take one part anisette, one part crème de violette, one part Benedictine and one part cream. Serve in a pousse café glass. (Seriously. That's how you make a Joker. I looked it up. Yes, I am that much of a freak. –cough-- And I am totally going to order one next time I'm in a bar. And then I will squee and make references to the Joker and everyone will look at me as if I'm crazy. Which, apparently, I am.)
Ahem.
Anyways, this chapter is… pretty abysmal. I've only checked over it once and I'll probably change something and replace the chapter at a later point, but I've kept you waiting. See, my computer died, for like two weeks. I died a little inside myself. I couldn't write fic, people! It pained me. Anyways, so, now my computer is working again (fingers crossed, touch wood etc.) I figured I'd better stick up a chapter ASAP. Seeing as NaNo starts tomorrow and all. Expect my brain to break. If I update during November, which I intend to do, it will probably be scary and I'll have to change it when my brain starts working again about mid-December.
Um. Yeah. Apologies again for this chapter being less-than-stellar. I haven't been in the Joker's head for a couple of weeks and I think I lost what mojo I had going on there. So uh. Yeah. I'll edit this. I promise. I just want to get it out now so I don't keep you waiting. It's like, do I give you something fairly crappy now, or make you wait for something good? I unno.
I stayed up real late finishing this off and reading it over. It's awkward in places, and I think I contradicted myself, but it's nearing 2 in the morning and I want to get up early to write a novel. So be content! ;-)
The Joker had settled into his corner expecting a long wait. He felt a small buzz of excitement rising as, a scant few minutes later, the day room doors swung open and Dr. Harlequin stepped inside.
He glanced up at one of the nearby cameras. She had been watching him. The thought curved his lips into a smile, though he couldn't have said exactly why.
Look at her: killers closing in on her and not even a falter in her step. The Joker smiled indulgently to himself as he watched her. She seemed just as interested in the psychopaths surrounding her as they were in her.
Hidden in his shadowy corner, the Joker dug his shoulderblades into the back of his chair, feeling a sort of voyeuristic pleasure. Had she felt this, watching him?
He frowned as a short man he vaguely recognized approached his Harley and slunk up behind her, his face barely inches from the back of her head. The Joker's lips twitched in a scowl, his muscles tensing ever-so-slightly. How dare that little turd approach her? Didn't he know who she belonged to?
The Joker was almost tempted to stand and show him the error of his ways, but curiosity overcame his possessive streak. There was time enough for punishment later, after all…
It was worth it to see his girl shriek and jump nearly a foot in the air. The Joker chuckled to himself as he watched Harley turn and berate her attacker. She knew him? Maybe an old patient…
A movement caught his eye, and his scowl deepened as he watched the Riddler come to Harley Quinn's rescue. A worthless nothing like the other guy was one thing, but Eddie really should know better. Something would have to be done…
But Harley, surprisingly, was holding her own. Straight-backed, arms folded, head held high… Something caused her forehead to furrow; Eddie must have asked her a riddle. The thought angered the Joker, made him want to break something. Preferably bones. The reaction was illogical, but the rationality of things rarely worried the Joker. He felt things intensely and seldom felt the need to fight the emotion. His hands constricted on the arms of the chair, nails almost ripping through his gloves.
Through the growing haze of his rage, the Joker noticed a change in his Harlequin's expression. She was smiling. Had she answered the riddle? The Riddler turned away; she must have done. The Joker relaxed completely, smirking to himself. An unexpected feeling of pride suffused him, pride in Harley Quinn for holding her own.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. Pride? For what? For doing what anyone with half a brain should be able to do? She didn't deserve it… She was his doctor, who cared what she did? It's not like she was representing him. Besides, he was supposed to be breaking her down!
He shook his head violently to dislodge the odd sensation. The movement knocked a lock of green hair in front of his eyes and he blew at it distractedly, noticing as he did so that Harley appeared to have lost some of her pluck. Her face was lined, anxious, and she had folded her arms.
Then she spotted him, and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He grinned at her, noting the relief in her eyes as she fled to him like a ship seeking port in a storm.
"Joker," she said, making no attempt to hide the relieved tone in her voice.
"Harley," he greeted her, giving her a slow nod. His sharp eyes noted every movement, every detail. She made no objection to his use of her first name; if she noticed at all, she must have decided to let it go.
Suddenly he smiled warmly. "Take a seat, toots." When she looked around for a chair, he chuckled and patted his knee invitingly. "C'mon, sweets, I won't bite."
Colour rose to her cheeks and she lowered her eyes so that he couldn't read them. It irked him, slightly, but he tried not to let it show, instead patting his thigh again with one gloved hand.
"I can't," she protested. "I know the cameras can't see, but there are the guards – " The regret in her voice was beautiful to hear.
The Joker gave her another smile, this one slow and easy. "They're busy enough with everyone else," he pointed out. "Besides, this little corner is dark enough that they won't be able to see…"
She shook her head emphatically, and he felt a stab of irritation at her refusal to obey. His face contorted into a fierce frown before he shrugged and waved a hand dismissively.
"Alright, drag over another chair. Can't have a pretty girl standing, can we?"
She hesitated. "I… I won't be staying that long, Joker," she said, attempting to regain some form of professionalism. Too late for that.
He shrugged, as if her refusal meant nothing. He reached down the front of his dull, asylum-issue shirt and pulled out her glasses, dangling them from one finger.
"Go on," he told her, his voice low. "Take them."
Harley caught the hint of danger in his voice, pausing mid-movement to look up into his eyes. He held her gaze for long seconds before she blinked and smiled. Something in her eyes changed, in a way the Joker didn't understand. She reached forward easily and took the glasses from his hand, smiling in a strange way as she held them up to her eyes to look them over.
"You didn't break them."
"You seem surprised," the Joker drawled darkly.
She shook her head, then fixed him with an open grin that cheered him up considerably.
He grinned back. "Feelin' better, toots?"
She nodded. "The… the Riddler worried me a little, made me a little nervous."
The Joker frowned and pursed his lips slightly. He wagged his finger at her in mock reproach. "Now now, Harley, no need to be nervous. We'll have no more of that!"
Her mouth contorted as she smothered a giggle. "But, Joker, he… well, I feel almost like he threatened me." She turned to lean against the wall as she talked, and the Joker shifted slightly in his seat to look up at her. "I know I should be used to that sort of thing by now… So many of the inmates here have made some sort of threat or warning." She laughed suddenly, shaking her head in a self-derisive movement. "I guess it just seems a bit more sinister when it comes in riddle form," she said sardonically.
The Joker chuckled despite himself. "Aw, Harls, tell daddy what he said…"
She smiled slightly, looking out at the psychopaths moving around the room. The Joker followed her gaze and was gratified to note that none of them were watching his doctor any longer. Damn right.
"He said, 'Which crime is punishable if attempted, but not punishable if committed?'."
The Joker snorted. Typical. "Eddie's losing his touch," he said nastily. "That one's easy."
"It wouldn't have been very good as a threat if I hadn't got it," Harley pointed out, shifting on her feet.
The Joker just grunted, thoroughly annoyed with the Riddler for the threat. He caught Harley's eye and noted the slight furrow of her brow. He gave her a wide smile.
"Not to worry, Harley-girl," he said cheerfully. "The Riddler's no threat to you. He wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't he?" She dropped down in a crouch at his side, hugging her knees. "He wasn't the only one, anyway. They all really wanted to hurt me. I could see it in their eyes. They wanted to take me, and hurt me, and make me theirs." She looked up at him, her eyes almost pleading. "The guards couldn't have helped me in time. The inmates could have hurt me, even killed me. Why didn't they?"
The Joker grinned slowly, indulgently, reaching down with one gloved hand to run his fingers across the top of her head.
"Because you belong to me, Harley-girl," he said quietly, "and they know it. They won't interfere with anything that belongs to me."
She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Really?"
"Haven't you heard?" His grin turned cheeky. "'When super-villains want to scare each other, they tell Joker stories.'"
He watched a thrill run through her, and she grinned as she shivered, as if the idea both frightened and delighted her. She giggled then, in appreciation perhaps, and rose from her crouch.
"Thanks for my glasses," she said, "though you probably shouldn't have taken them in the first place."
The Joker shrugged a shoulder, as if this was of no consideration. "How are you going to get them out? They'd have asked you to take 'em off before coming in here."
"Same way you got them in," she said impishly. With quick hands she tucked her spectacles down the front of her shirt, hooking the arm of the glasses into the wire of her bra to hold them in place. "There." She grinned at him as if this was some sort of triumph.
"I suppose you have to go now," the Joker said mournfully.
His eyes narrowed slightly: she wasn't paying attention. Harley was looking at him, but her head was tilted to one side, as if she was considering his face. It was most off-putting. Then, without warning, she bent and swept his displaced lock of hair back away from his face.
"There!" She planted her hands on her hips in a disconcerting display of contentment. "Sorry, that was beginning to distract me." She blinked, and her face paled slightly, as if she just realised the liberty she had taken. "U-uh…"
Her fear was as entertaining as her smile. The Joker smirked, leaning forward slightly. He was mildly impressed to note that she didn't lean away, just stood, forehead furrowed, uncertain how he would react.
Finally he chuckled, reaching out to pat her fondly on the bum. The look of utter astonishment on her face set him off, peals of laughter echoing around the room. Various inmates shot him vicious glares, and at the far side of the room the guards shifted at their posts.
Harley drew closer to him – closer! to a laughing Joker! - and away from the stares of the inmates.
"I have to go!" she hissed at him. Immediately she turned and made a beeline for the doors.
The Joker let her go, his laughter still ringing out across the room. She hadn't crossed halfway to the doors when the lights went out.
He blinked in surprise. Incredulous voices rose, muttering, calling out to one another. Powercuts were almost unheard of at Arkham; the asylum had its own generator that cut in automatically if the power went out. Powercuts, in fact, were nearly always due to an escape attempt. Who could it be? Who wasn't in the day-room?
The Joker stood, moving quickly towards the centre of the room, ready to take any advantage to escape himself. He hadn't gone three steps before someone slammed into him, knocking him back a step.
"What the hell?!" he roared, grasping the person's small shoulders.
A feminine whimpering came from the vicinity of his chest as the woman wound her fingers into his shirt.
"It's m-me, J-J-J – "
"Harley?" He blinked in surprise. When the lights had gone out the Joker's mind had turned immediately to other matters; he had all but forgotten she was there.
In the dark. Surrounded by inmates. Hidden from the Joker's possessive gaze…
He narrowed his eyes in the darkness, anger tensing the muscles in his back.
"Something wrong, Harley?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild. He lifted a hand to pat her on the back in something approaching a reassuring manner.
She shook her head, face buried in his shirt.
He frowned in irritation. "Are you sure?"
"'m fine, J-J-Joker. Just got a li'l f-frightened w-when the l-lights w-went out."
Hmm. She hadn't screamed. Whether or not any of the other inmates had found her in the dark, it was still a point in her favour that, in serious danger as she was, she hadn't cried out.
Even so, he would make sure that everyone knew exactly who she belonged to… and that they kept their hands and eyes to themselves. The images that flashed into his mind at that – of bloodied wrists and gaping eye-sockets – brought a grin to his face.
"Nevermind, sweets," the Joker said cheerfully, patting the trembling Harley on the back once more. "Come on, let's go."
She let out a shuddering sigh and pulled back. She took a few deep breaths; the Joker imagined her composing herself, wiping running mascara, straightening her back.
"'Let's go'? B-both of us?"
It was tempting, he had to admit, but no. He sniggered. "I don't think the guards will let me out, Harl', even if you ask 'em nicely."
This earned a light chuckle from Harley. "Aww. They're so mean." She paused. "Um… Which way is the door?"
The Joker looped an arm around her shoulder and steered her in the direction of the door. He had visited the day room so often he could navigate it with his eyes closed – not that it was too difficult, of course, the day room being simply a square. He avoided the milling inmates by whistling his favourite tune to himself. Anyone foolish enough to not heed the warning and get out of the way received a painful blow.
The path cleared as they neared the door, and the Joker fell silent. The guards were talking in frantic whispers, each trying to convince the other to transverse the day-room floor to the blinds on the high day-room windows and open them by hand, so that there would be at least a little light.
The Joker dropped his head down by Harley's ear and hushed her very quietly. His breath must have tickled; she squirmed slightly, but kept silent.
They drew closer to the guards, moving slowly and quietly, until they were a scant couple of inches from the two big men. Their argument had apparently reached a stalemate, and they stood stolidly in front of the doors. The Joker, nearly as tall as they were, drew up directly in front of them, grinning from ear to ear, with Harley silent at his side.
A vague whirring began, just audible above the noise of the day-room. A moment later, the lights came back on. The guards found themselves staring straight into the wide grin of the Joker.
The looks on their faces were worth a week of freedom. Their eyes widened instantly, a mask of terror glazing over their expressions. Seconds passed before years of training kicked in, and each grabbed for his stun-gun.
"Wait!" Harley reached up, placing a small hand over each weapon and gently pushing them down. "He was just escorting me to the doors." She turned her big blue eyes on them, forehead furrowed. "I was stuck out there," she sobbed, "right in the middle of all those criminals!"
The Joker was somewhat taken aback by the high note of hysteria that had crept into her voice. He frowned down at the blonde, but when she looked up to meet his eyes, she winked.
He placed his wrist to his forehead melodramatically. "Oh, the injustice! All I did was help this poor young doctor! What was she to do? Lost out there, in the dark, surrounded by these immoral wastes of flesh!" The last was said with a hint of venom to his voice, but the Joker's tone quickly slipped back into a softer tone. "And you! Standing here when she was out there, in harm's way!"
The guards shifted slightly, looking sidelong at one another in a mixture of guilt and apprehension.
"…so it was left to me to help my doc in her time of need." With a smile, the Joker slipped his arm from Harley's shoulders and gave her a push towards the guards. His gaze flicked from his shrink to the two men, and suddenly he dropped all appearance of affability. The Clown Prince narrowed his eyes, voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. "I don't know what the fuck you think you were doing, fellas, but next time she gets it into her head to come in here, you'd better keep your fucking eyes on her."
The silence stretched.
Harley cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "Um, I'll see you at our next session, Mr. Joker."
He smiled brightly, countenance sunny once more. "Sure thing, Doc. See you round!" He turned smartly and marched back across the room to his corner, laughter rising in his throat.
Dear Joker: You are insane. Stop having goddamn moodswings. PLEASE. You're hurting my brain.
I didn't intend the black-out when I wrote this chapter, but it's given me a wonderful opportunity to bring in the Bat, which I've been thinking of doing for a while now. Also, I didn't intend Harley and the Joker to get quite so chummy quite this early on. Harley may still rally the forces of Professionalism and Sense, but hell, we all know how the story ends.
OH! I forgot to add!
The Joker's quote about villains telling Joker stories to scare one another is one of Trickster's lines in "Underworld Unleashed". So, um, literary allusion, etc.