Chapter 12: He'll Never Cut Her Strings
It smelt of mold and she could feel the moisture in the air as she made her way through the entrance of the theater the Joker had taken as a base. It wasn't cold as outside, though. Her body gave a quiver beneath its over-sized jacket at that thought as Harley steadily walked through the halls, eyes glancing to and fro for any sign of him. She passed what had once been a break room for the actors in the place's glory days; it now served as their makeshift kitchen. Only a few thugs raised eyes to her figure—surprise, surprise back again. The other open rooms were much the same. He wasn't in any of them. That did not slow her pounding heart, however.
She crept up to a brightly painted door and turned the handle, noticing that more of the aqua paint was peeling off. Hesitantly she opened it. The room was empty.
Her drumming heart suddenly slowed. He wasn't there. She let out a long breath and after unbuttoning it, deposited his coat on the rumpled bed that she more often than not had the discomfort of sleeping in. The Joker had never been keen on physical contact. He despised holding hands, kissing, and just about any other intimate act. Their contact was brief, unless otherwise stated. Had his small, minuscule gestures of affection been all a ploy?
She stared back at the irritatingly colored door and shut it quickly. She stripped of her night clothes and began frantically throwing open drawers, pulling out wads of fabric desperately. She dressed warmly and looked at the chaotic disarray she had created. She didn't care. She turned her back on the room, grabbing a thick, black jacket before leaving.
She was departing more than just the room; she was departing everything. She had denied his cunning for a year, secretly knowing the truth, but refusing to believe it out of some ideal hope she had; but now it was all clear and she had had enough. She was sick of hoping for something she knew would never happen. The world, as dark and cruel as it could be was more forgiving than the life she had chosen and it seemed it would welcome her back. Bruce had proven that to her in some way.
She was filled with the impulse to just get out and never return. It didn't matter how rational it seemed; she wanted it and as long as the Joker wasn't around she could obtain it with no problem; she'd deal with the consequences of the action later. She calmly walked down the hall and began to pass the kitchen, but this time she did not meet the same silence she had before.
"Where you going, Harley, back to the Batman?"
Her heart stopped at the smug inquiry from one of the thugs. They did little to antagonize in the absence of the Boss—they came to injury otherwise. That meant he was back. Shit; whatever semblance of a plan she'd had was suddenly in need of a change. She twisted back to stare at the man who had spoken, glancing as far as she could into the room without moving. She didn't see him, but she knew he was in there, and now very interested in her.
"Batman," she furrowed her brow in confusion—play it off.
"Yeah," another chimed, "Batman. Billy saw ya run into him after you ran away from here."
Harley laughed; this she could do. "Billy's also a drunk who spends his nights nursing a magnum of vodka. And you trust a drunkard's words?"
"Well, I was with him," the thug that had begun the conversation stated with a smirk. He was a young, red-headed lad named Leon. Harley held back her glower, "Fine," she sighed, "so I ran into the Bat. I came back didn't I? At least I wasn't killed or something. I'm lucky he didn't turn me in."
"Yeah," her heart picked up again in fright at the sound of that crooning voice, "that is interesting. Actually...that's the key question here."
And he appeared, sans coat into the light of the kitchen doorway, his head craned down. He smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow at her. He was demanding an answer. Harley tried not to show her growing unease. "It really is, isn't it? But I can't speak for the man." She forced her voice not to tremble and shrugged. "Maybe he had a lot on his agenda. Who can say with that goof?"
"I bet you could," Leon stated. "I mean you've been gone three days, right? You spend all of those with him?"
"Seriously, what would he want with me? Some old couple was taking care of me," the lie came so easily, "apparently whoever Batsy is got them to look after me. When I was able to get my senses together I came back. Besides, Leon, right? I really don't think it's your business as what 'lil Harley does. So why don't you shut your yap?!" Her voice had risen quickly, more so than it ever had before. Harley blinked.
The Joker saw merely watched. Perhaps he too was a little taken back. Leon frowned deeply. "When'd you get so saucy?"
"When you get so nosy? What ya gonna do cuss me out? Curse my names to the heavens?" She twittered. "Idiotic, flea bitten whelp." She muttered. The man was out of his seat and had her by the coat lapels. Harley's nose flared.
"Go on, hit me." Leon bit.
Harley laughed, "Hit you? No, no..." She grinned and brought her knee up and into his groin. "I'd prefer that." He yelped and fell backwards, clutching himself. "You...bitch," he squeaked.
The Joker laughed, lowly at first and then it grew and he was laughing full out. Harley clenched her fists, but that didn't conceal the tremor that shot through her. That wasn't his enjoying someone else's pain laugh. That was a laugh that slowly grew more disdainful. Was it directed at her or Leon? She bit her lip, but the Joker was at her side within minutes.
"Now don't you go no where, Harls," he patted her head, "we need to have a little...tal-k." He popped the last letter and was then gone. She heard his footsteps heading towards their shared room. She backed up and began walking quickly towards the door. She had only made it into the hall when she heard the slam resound down the hallway. That made her quicken even more.
"Oh, puddin'..." That made her break out into a full-fledged run. So maybe he hadn't liked the chaotic mess? She let out a frightened squeak, hearing his bounding footsteps now as he ran to catch her. The exit was just ahead of her. She grabbed the handle and was able to pull open the door a good fraction, but then a purple-gloved hand stopped her from opening it further.
She desperately pulled on the handle. She needed out, but then another hand wrapped around her waist and hauled her back. She squealed and turned around lashing out. She wanted out! She wanted out! The Joker easily overpowered her and held her pressed against the door. He towered over her while holding her wrists above her head.
"Where ya goin'?" The lilt was not playful.
"I want a pack of cigarettes." Her voice was small
"You don't smoke."
"About time I started then."
He gripped her wrists tighter, "We're going to try this again. Where are ya going, Harley?"
She clenched her eyes at his growl.
"You weren't thinking about just up and leaving me were you? Are you leaving me for the Bat? Hmmm?"
"No, I just w-wanted f-fresh air."
"Our room doesn't say so."
"I couldn't find any clothes."
He was silent then he pulled her off the door and began to drag her down the hall. She fought back vainly.
He paused outside their room and twisted her so her back was to the door. He leaned forward and opened it slightly. "You know you've not fought back in a while," he grinned, but it quickly faded. Next thing she knew she was flying backwards, stumbling through the door as she tried to find footing. The Joker raced after her. He pulled her forward, shut the door and then flung her like a rag doll. Her skull met the aqua surface sharply. She screamed at the pain and felt the gash form on her head, staining the paint red as her legs buckled and she crumpled to the floor.
Then she saw the knife glittering in the light. Her heart skipped a beat in terror. How would he use it this time?
Prompt #39, Aqua.
It had to happen eventually...This is the longest chapter thus far...And here he is, folks, finally, The Joker. Notify me of any typos...they are easy to be fixed.
