~Chapter Eleven - Lithium~
She breathes deeply before entering his cell. She's made the doctor swear he won't say a word that he brought her down here. He deliberately looks up when she enters the room, and for the briefest of seconds, makes eye contact. Before he blinks, and his expression lights up - sort of.
She thinks immediately of the time he thought she was "Jenny" and how horribly careful he'd been, almost to the point of unnerving her. So very out of character for him to ask, "I'm not hurting you, am I?" in the middle of everything. She knows there's part of him that isn't completely dead, as much as he'd like it to be.
He thinks of her succumbing readily to his fingertips, her pale, creamy white skin accented by her dark red hair. He knows his blood's racing, almost like a vampire when it sees its prey. He remembers her laughter applying his makeup and when he would deliberately smear it across her cheek, and just how hot she made his blood run.
She thinks it's rather odd that sex is his therapy, but to each their own right? Even if their habits aren't all that tasteful. She accepts it, its part of who he is, she isn't going to change it.
He's sort of pissed she ran out on him, but in that briefest of seconds when he meets her eyes, he realizes that its probably been almost five years for her, too, and that thought alone, and it rushes all over again. He knows he's turning a rather light pink in his face, but he'll blame it on the heat. He realizes she hasn't cheated. And maybe, for just the briefest of tiny moments, he feels just the warmth of her breath on his cheek.
She is still his. She is still all his. And he grins triumphantly at his trophy. She's learned well. She's got bad, bad reasons for returning, but he doesn't care.
"You're back," he says deliberately, his eyes choosing to twinkle.
"Whaddya want, Mistah J?" she says in her old voice, shoving him a plastic Jell-O cup and a biodegradable spoon. "Take of the damned straight-jacket," she says to the guard. He ain't gonna do nothin'."
Joker leers at her, his expression saying louder than words ever could, how do you know I won't?
She opens her own lemon-flavor pudding, and licks off the foil top, never taking her eyes off him, as though to say, I don't. You won't do anything, cause I'm yours, I am all yours.
The guard reluctantly lets him out of the straight jacket. Joker resists his urge to rub his sore shoulder, and simply relaxes.
"Now ya leave," she says stubbornly, continuing to spoon pudding into her mouth. "Scram, beat it."
She was spoiling her ruby red lips by doing that, but he'd smear the makeup anyway. Might as well taste a little. He grins. She always is sexiest when she's pissed.
The guard leaves, and she pulls out her cell phone. Joker watches the camera's go black. His grin grows wider as he opens his own chocolate cake. She always did know his favorites. "Haven't forgotten," he mumbles with pleasure.
"Never," she says thinking of the person he used to be.
"Knew you'd do it," he said.
"Do what?" she asks innocently, getting out of her chair to rub his aching shoulder. How she knows where it hurts, he doesn't bother to ask. God, though, she's a brilliant bitch.
"Come for me," if she caught his innuendo, she didn't say anything. "Oooh, Harley..." Oh God just the shoulder rubbing brought back so many good, delicious things.
"Glad you're happy to see me," she says, keeping her tone even.
"What?" he asks, feigning innocence, remembering right then he'd threaten to kill her if she came back, well that was before he found out the street people aren't too fond of his face. So, nah, he hadn't really meant it, just wanted to scare the hell out of her. Like usual. But she didn't need to know he'd missed her.
"That about me returnin', Jacks, You said..."
"And I still might," he growls. Doesn't she know better by now?
"Then you do remember, Puddin'!" She kisses him lightly on the forehead. He wants more of that, wants to know if lemon and chocolate mix, and considering them two, it would probably make a not-so-bad combination.
"Harley, come on," he coaxes. He reaches up to pull her down to his mouth, duly noting she doesn't fight. They kiss, tangling tongues with each other, exchanging lemon and chocolate flavors. She sits in his lap, not caring she's in front of two way mirror. They can gape all they want to. And Dr. Cunningam can go insanely jealous. "They're watchin' us Puddin'." She whispers as she nibbles on his ear. "They're never gonna..." But he does what he does best, only stops her by kissing again. The lighted room goes completely dark. "What's goin' on Jacks?" she asks, pulling out of the kiss.
"Shh...to old times.." he grins in the inky darkness as Albuerto opens the door, not looking a bit surprised to see her there. "And. Right. On. Schedule." he turns back to her. "You choose. You coming, or not?"
Dr Cunningam would think the worst of her. Can always have another Harliquin. Damn. "You know always, Mista J," she says, though the words ring hollow in her ears. She loves him, and he's destroying himself, letting the world burn with it.
She aches with desire. Can she pretend again? Every little bit? She wants Jacks to love her for her, but it just isn't possible. The Joker can't love Harliquin just as much as the tattoo on her shoulder proves it. She takes her old Harliquin mask from the henchmen and gets into the vehicle. Mista J plays the cards, lets her place his bets…