There's nothing that can make a person jump quite like the banging of an angry hand on a door when said person was lost in thought. Harley jumped at the pounding, and looked over her shoulder in surprise at the closed bathroom door, first wondering if she had actually heard it, and then dreading that she'd heard it.
Joker slammed his fist against the door again, and then bit his thumbnail, waiting for a reply. "Harley, open up," he shouted, letting out a sigh of exasperation. Harley sank lower into the bath and blew bubbles. She leaned her head back and sighed.
"It's open!" she called back.
"Oh, so I am allowed to see you now, huh?" he muttered as he opened the door behind her. "You have no idea how difficult it is to get an appointment with you, Dr. Quinzel." Joker closed the door behind him, awkwardly remaining near it. He wore his orange Arkham jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and fingerless white tie gloves. The sleeves were torn out of the purple tailcoat over the jumpsuit, the colors clashing with his emerald hair falling into his eyes. Joker smoothed it back.
"Haha, very funny," Harley taunted. "I can see why they call you the Joker."
"Yeah, well." He watched the back of her head, crossing his arms. "I didn't think I was going to actually shoot him, you know," he pursed his lips. It was about as close to an apology as he'd gotten this week. Harley rolled her eyes.
"An' how many times when you've played Russian Roulette has the bullet been in the last chamber?" she said over her shoulder.
"Every now and again I can take five shots to the head before the bullet," Joker muttered irritably. Harley sighed and ran her hand up to the bun she'd tied on the top of her head before dropping her hand back in the water.
"What do ya want?" she asked. She didn't know how she wanted to feel about him right now. They hadn't really spoken since the fight after their successful return from nearly destroying Gotham.
"I want you to come back."
"But I didn't go anywhere," Harley whined. "Unless the bath is off limits and I wasn't told. Do ya need to shoot it?" Joker rolled his eyes.
"Sarcasm will get you a bullet," he hedged, but there wasn't any malice behind it.
"Fine. Go get your gun," she snapped. "Empty it of bullets. Do you wanna play a game?" she asked in her best creepy imitation. Joker tried to hide his smile, but failed miserably, laughing a bit.
"I don't want to kill you," he insisted quietly.
"Well ya coulda fooled me," she muttered. Joker rolled his eyes.
"I'm— I'm sorry," he snapped, and he ran his hand through his hair. "That's all I wanted to say." Harley peeked over her shoulder in surprise. She stared at him for a second before looking down.
"I'm sorry too."
"Good. I hate it when you fight me," he sighed. "I didn't mean to clip the bird-brat's wings, honest! Even if it does infuriate me that you've taken such a liking to him."
"Well ya didn't hafta yell at me in front of people, either," Harley mumbled as she sank back down into the bath.
"I'm trying to be patient with you," Joker hissed, glaring at the back of her head. "I don't know where your loyalty lies, and normally when that's in question, I just… eliminate the problem. I don't want to outright kill you," he repeated. He paced the length of the bathroom as he spoke, passing the bathtub and back to the door. Harley sat back up, the water dripping off her shoulders.
"I've always made it clear where my loyalties lie," she defended, "and you just refuse ta see it. I don't know what else I could do."
He spun around to look at her. "Then... why!? Why'd you go and… and fall for him then?" Joker snapped.
"I fell for you!" Harley cried. "I'm still here aren't I? Ya killed Dent, and pushed Ivy away, and tried ta kill Catwoman, and I never get ta see Crane, and ya shot him, but I'm still here!"
"Not like you used to be," he said shortly. She groaned and sank back in the water.
"Refer to the list above," she muttered. Harley flicked the drain open with her toe and grabbed her towel as she climbed out of the tub and dried herself off. Joker remained in front of the door so she couldn't leave.
"So you're angry at what I've done to your… friends. And you're angry that I shouted at you?" He cocked his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed like he was genuinely trying to understand, brow knit tightly in frustration, but the synapses just wouldn't fire. She wrapped herself in the towel.
"No. Ya know what? No. I'm not angry." Harley tried to step toward the door. "Can I leave now?"
"You always want to leave," Joker snapped. "And you are angry. Go ahead. Be angry. I take it back."
"You take what back?" she demanded. "You can't take any of it back!"
"I do. I take back my apology." He turned his nose up. Joker grinned. "I wanted to kill him. It was supposed to be pointed at his head." Harley stared at him and clenched her jaw.
"Fine then I take it back! I am mad at you, and I don't want to talk ta you. Maybe I'll go visit Crane or… or go see how John Doe and his brother are." She tried to step around him. "Let me out."
"No." Joker grinned.
"Then what do you want?" Harley demanded.
"Asking all the wrong questions, as usual," he snapped, grabbing her shoulders and backing her further into the room with a smile. "I don't want anything from you, Harley." He laughed cruelly, slamming her against the wall by her shoulders. "Not anymore." Harley's eyes had gone wide, her breathing speeding up frantically.
"Puddin, let me go," she begged. The Joker chuckled and shook his head.
"Why? You don't give a bat's ass about me anymore, so why let you go?" He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Cuz… Puddin… you're hurtin' me," she breathed, looking him in the eyes. He hesitated, but finally released her.
"You don't love me," he said angrily, walking to the door, "and you can't love him. You can't have both; might as well be neither." He wrenched the door open and walked out through the bedroom to the living room. Harley caught her breath for a moment before she registered what he'd said.
"And what's that supposed ta mean!?" She marched out after him.
"It's supposed 'ta mean' I'm done with you sneaking around, coming and going as you please!" he snapped, his fists clenching at his sides, his eyes combing the room.
"So what?" Harley crossed her arms across her chest. "You don't control what I think or do." His gaze snapped to her, his eyes flashing.
"You think you—" Joker threw back his head and laughed cruelly— "You could've fooled me, Doll!" He took a step toward her again, but stopped. "Are you forgetting what you are? Who you are?!"
Harley scoffed. "I'm me, and I'm sorry if that disappoints ya… Your Highness," she added sarcastically. "But you don't tell me what to do." She turned back into the bedroom.
"That doesn't matter anymore," Joker shouted after her. "Do you really think you have a choice? He can't love you back and you know it! You're a monster, just like me!"
"You're the one who shot him!" Harley came back and stood in the doorway.
"And you're the one he thought would save him, yet you stood and did nothing."
Joker grinned triumphantly, his eyes blazing behind the hair cutting shadows across his gaunt face.
"You did this—" Harley exhaled sharply. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"
"I don't do anything on purpose," he snapped. "And you only get a choice between me and the bat-brat if we give you one. I want you. He won't."
"Well he was the one who wanted me when you didn't even want me around! Now what? You're jealous?"
"I'm not jealous!" he shouted.
"You always get really defensive when you're jealous," she teased with a smirk.
"And you never fight me when you know I'm right," Joker hissed.
"Well then it's a good thing I'm fighting you on this," she snapped.
"How am I wrong?" he snapped right back, crossing his arms. "By all means. Explain."
"It's not about being right or wrong," Harley shook her head. "It's about the cost of you wanting ta win! Congratulations! Ya beat the Bats and stole their stuff. Congrats, ya shot Nightwing and ruined their morale. You won, congratulations!" She slammed the door in his face. There was silence, a horrible tension as her words sank in, and then she heard him laugh. She'd heard that laugh before. Nothing she'd said was wrong, but her defiant tone was. He laughed now as he normally laughed before emptying his gun into an ally's chest.
Joker kicked the bedroom door open, laughing as he advanced on her. He grabbed her arm and threw her to the floor.
"I gained nothing. I destroyed their vehicles, took their food, burned a few buildings to the ground— they're resilient. They'll rebuild. Hell, I didn't even kill Nightwing. Somehow, a bullet to the chest can't even break the little prick's spirit," he grinned, kneeling and grabbing her by the throat. "I didn't win. If anything, I lost you to him." Harley pried his hands off her neck and kicked him away before scrambling across the floor.
"St-stay back," she gasped as she clutched the towel around herself. She tried to think of what to do; she'd stupidly gotten herself into this situation. The whole thing. Going to see Dick, betraying him to Joker and getting him shot, and choosing to fight with Joker about it instead of letting it go. She should have just let it go. Why couldn't she? "I'm sorry!"
"You were never sorry. And you don't have a choice anymore." He got to his feet again, coming towards her. "I can't trust you."
"Yes ya can Puddin." Her eyes started to water. "I betrayed him for ya. I…" I Broke his heart.
"That's right, you did." He knelt in front of her again. "Unless you couldn't do as you were told?" he breathed, catching her face in his hand despite her struggling.
"Of course I can," Harley gasped. "Mistah J, please," she begged. He laughed.
"As if," he mocked. "If I was to tell you to finish the job, would you? You'd end your precious Nightwing's life?" Her blood ran cold, and she pushed his hand away.
"No."
"Then I can't trust you." Joker smiled at her ruefully, and then grabbed a fistful of her damp hair, dragging her out of the bedroom. Harley cried out, her hands grasping at her scalp.
"Stop it," she pleaded.
"Sorry, Doll, I didn't want to do this," he sighed, and Harley yanked herself away from him, his fingers tearing the bun out of her hair.
"Stay away from me," she warned as she backed away from him. "You need ta think about this Puddin."
"What is there to think about?" He huffed, as if her constant struggling only inconvenienced him. "Shall I wait for you to betray me later? Once you've had time to think about it?" Harley stared at him.
"You… you're going to kill me?" she asked incredulously. "That's what you want?"
"Well I'm having a hard time choosing." He frowned. "Contrary to popular belief, my mind can be changed, and believe it or not; I do love you. But there's just no way to regain your love now." Joker walked to the cluttered table beside the couch. "And sadly, you know too much to let you live. A gun is so impersonal, so… do I drop you from the window? Drown you? Stick with the classics?" He picked up his silver dagger with long, slender fingers.
"No, stop!" Harley backed up and yelped when she ran into the wall. "You— You can't." She'd been through so much with him, given up everyone for him… it seemed impossible she was in this situation right now. She'd always told herself that he was all she had, and the possibility that she'd been wrong the whole time left her frozen. She was who she was and how she was because of him, and he was going to turn on her?!
"I truly do love you," he assured her again, advancing on her with the knife. "That's why I'm doing this. Terribly sorry, Doll."
"No… no you're not! If you love me, you won't hurt me." It shocked her how much she sounded like Dick, but instead of showing it, she stuck her chin out defiantly.
"I am. I'm doing this for you, Harleen," Joker insisted.
"No," she breathed, her eyes flicking down to the knife. Joker nodded.
"Just don't struggle. I'll make it fast!" He lunged at her. Harley screamed as she jumped out of the way. She scrambled to the side and had to catch herself on the couch. She turned to stare at the Joker in surprise.
"It'll be slower the more you keep fighting me," he growled, and this time he lunged and caught her arm, his other hand swinging around to stab her with the knife. Harley caught his hand and kneed him in the stomach. Joker doubled over, and she gasped, releasing him and backing away.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to— Are you okay?"
"Stop making this more difficult than it already is!" he shouted at her, lunging and grabbing her hair again.
"Puddin!" she cried. She tried to pry his hand away to release the pressure on her scalp. Joker swung the knife again, catching her side, the blade scraping her skin. Harley yelped and grabbed his wrist, twisting the knife from his hand. She shoved him away and scrambled back.
"Stay away from me," she gasped. "You're crazy!"
"Funny, that's what I always thought you loved about me! Sorry I'm not a twenty-something Fabio-haired white knight for you to gawk at—" he ran at her, the knife raised above his head. She had one hand clutched against the cut on her side, but raised the other reflexively. She cried out as the knife gashed into her forearm. Releasing her side, she thrust her palm under his chin, snapping his head back. Blood smeared along the underside of his chin, and she dazedly looked at her palm and then at the cut on her side, bleeding onto the towel. She tucked her wounded arm against her side, blood dripping down her fingertips, as she peeked over at Joker.
"P-Puddin?"
Blood dripped from where he'd bitten his lip when she'd hit him, and he staggered back, his head spinning. She'd hit him hard. The knife clattered to the floor.
"Harley—" he coughed, pinching his eyes closed as he dropped to one knee in an attempt to steady himself.
"I didn't mean—" She'd taken a step toward him again, but she hesitated. He was trying to kill her, but her first reaction was to check to see if he was okay. She took a breath to steady herself. "Are you okay?" She cradled her arm across her chest. Joker spat blood on the floor.
"Last chance," he breathed, wide eyes fixed on the knife a foot away.
"Last chance to…" Harley backed up a step again and glanced around desperately.
Joker screamed furiously and snatched the dagger up off of the floor, racing towards her again. He narrowly missed grabbing her as she lunged for the bedroom door. She let out a strangled noise as she slammed the door shut and locked it behind her. The blade pelted through the wood with a hollow crack, and she could hear him cackling furiously on the other side. Backing away, she stared at the door as she pinned the towel to her with her arm to keep it from falling. Joker ripped the knife out of the door and pounded on it. Harley jumped.
"This will be better for both of us if you just stop fighting me," he shouted, his words choked. Harley looked frantically around the room. She dashed toward the closet, catching herself on the bed when she slipped, and started pulling clothes out.
"Harley! Open the door!" Joker screamed, and she could hear him kicking it, trying to throw it open.
"Oh God," she sniffled as she held her hand out and looked at the mess she was making. Blood was smearing all over her clothes from the blood dripping from her wounded arm. She tried to dress as one handed as she could, automatically putting on her most familiar clothes. Her top was on and her jacket thrown on the bed when she couldn't struggle one handed anymore. Jeez Louise, Harls, she mentally grumbled in frustration as she buttoned her shorts, her fingers slick with blood, you're gonna hafta find new clothes. If the shorts were any tighter, she would. You'd think running away from psychopaths and starving would keep ya in shape, she thought sarcastically and pulled her boots on. Now wasn't the time to be bothered by her vanity, but she couldn't help it. Start popping seams, an' people'll think you're…
Harley froze.
Her back was stiff against the wall as she stared into space, her mouth hanging open in horror. It didn't make sense. It's not like there was enough food to binge on, despite her cravings. Harley winced, her hand flying over her flat stomach. There wasn't as much exercise opportunities, but she knew she'd been... active, very active…
"Harley!" She jumped as Joker pounded on the door again. She whimpered and blinked away her tears.
Focus. Don't think about…. Just focus. Get dressed, she looked at the bloody clothes she'd discarded and pulled her utility belt out. Get medical. She hurried over to the bathroom as she buckled her belt on. Get out. Flinging the medicine cabinet open, she started sweeping the contents of each shelf into her arms. Some things fell as she rushed back into the bedroom, but she dumped what she had on her jacket. Get dressed. Get medical. She glanced over to the nightstand where her grappling gun and revolver were. Get out.
She lunged over to the nightstand and grabbed the gun; she holstered it into her belt as she picked up the grappling hook. Her eyes fell on a pocket knife. She snatched it up too, and her hand brushed against the small comm Dick had given her, making it skid across the surface of the nightstand. She stared at it as she shoved the knife in her boot and hesitated. Get out. Grabbing it, she shoved it into a belt pocket before she could think about it.
Her focus was on the door as she bunched her jacket and all its contents into her arms. Harley backed toward the window and shifted her bundle to her injured arm, gripping the grappling gun tighter in the other hand. Get out, she told herself. Turning around, she kicked the glass out of the window. She made sure to fire the grappling hook before she jumped, worried about aiming and gripping with her non dominant hand. A few things jostled out of her arms when she landed, but she stopped just long enough to make sure none of the items were one of her weapons and to let the cording retract into the gun before sprinting down the street.
Get out of Arkham. Get out of Arkham. Harley tried not to think about anything else but getting as far away as she could. She was going to break down if she thought about everything crashing down around her all at once. Joker turning against her meant all of Uptown and Arkham was hostile territory, and he'd actually tried to kill her... The man she'd been with for years, the man she'd loved for years, was trying to murder her. The fact that she'd betrayed Dick and nearly destroyed Gotham in the process to please Joker meant that she couldn't turn to him. He probably hated her. He might even be dead. Harley tripped on a concrete lip of the cracking street. Don't think about it, she was practically hyperventilating, don't think about it. She held her pile of supplies protectively against her stomach. But if I'm…
She might not have a choice.
Harley ran past a woman who watched her curiously but didn't slow even when she reached the Arkham wall. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't stop until she found herself at a dead end. Panting, she looked up at the buildings around her before sliding down the wall and dropping her jacket beside her. She leaned her head back for a second and closed her eyes.
You're pregnant.
Gasping, she opened her eyes. I don't know that, she tried to comfort herself. I could be imaginin' things. I'm crazy, remember? She glanced down at her jacket and the supplies that had spilled out onto the ground.
You're crazy, but not a moron. Harley stared at the blood running down her arm in rivers.
"No… I'm injured," she muttered, trying to distract herself. So how bout that gets taken care of first. She dug around through the supplies she'd gotten, trying to distract herself. She pulled out a full bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured it over the wound.
"Oh for the love of…" she trailed off with a hiss. "Sweet molasses that hurts," she muttered as she poured most of the bottled onto her arm, washing off the blood.
You can swear you know. The baby can't hear you yet.
"Shut up," Harley hissed.
Now you're talking to yourself. That's never a good sign.
"Talkin' to yourself can be very healthy actually," Harley defended.
You know there's a fine line, Doctor. Harley rolled her eyes and focused on taping the gash on her arm closed. She couldn't stop her mind from wandering.
She hadn't even been thinking about it. When was the last time she'd had her period? Had she even been with one of them at a time she could get pregnant? And, oh God… who would be the father? Harley hiccuped through a sob as she tried to wrap the gauze tightly around her arm through her trembling. As a gymnast, her period had never been exactly consistent, and she was trying to count back. The only thing keeping her from breaking down was the knowledge that she was usually careful, unless she was…
Drunk. Unless you were completely wasted on a large amount of alcohol stashed away for bargaining purposes. Harley leaned her head back against the wall for a moment. She started rolling the hem of her shirt up to expose the cut on her side. The last time she could remember having her period was a couple of weeks before that night with Dick.
"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, leaning her head back again as she tried to blink through the tears. That was over two months ago. Close to three.
Oh so now you swear.
"Stop it." Harley fisted her hands in her hair. "Stop it, stop it, stop it. I don't know what to do," she breathed.
Get dressed. Get medical. Get out.
She looked down at the cut on her side and hesitantly picked her medical supplies back up. The cut wasn't bad, she just needed to cover it so it wouldn't continue to bleed into her shirt. She quickly bandaged it, doing the work mechanically, her body numb. She could distinctly remember Joker's behavior around that time. He hadn't wanted to be with her, and anything that could be considered being with him had left something to be desired and probably wouldn't have gotten her pregnant, anyway. It had to be Nightwing.
Setting aside her supplies, Harley looked around her. She shook everything off her jacket and carefully pulled it on.
Shouldn't you be happy? That's one mystery solved. She carefully pushed herself to her feet with her good arm.
"But I betrayed him," she whispered and leaned her forehead against the cool brick wall. If only I'd known. What woulda I done? He probably hates me. She squeezed her eyes closed.
If it makes you feel better, you were pregnant with his child when you betrayed him. Harley groaned and sank back down to her knees. She didn't know what to do or where to go, let alone if she actually was pregnant. If she was pregnant with Dick's child… Arkham would never be safe. Joker would kill her, but Dick…
He could get her out of here. Harley looked around before down at what she'd brought with her. She quickly gathered up anything useful that she could fit into her pockets. Pulling the hair bands off her wrist, she tied her hair up into pigtails before peeking into her jacket sleeve. She was already bleeding through the bandage; she hadn't wrapped it tight enough. But it didn't matter, she'd been here too long. Glancing nervously at the tops of the buildings around her, Harley scurried to the end of the alley, her hand at her side at the pain each jolt caused. She paused at the edge of the building and peeked around before continuing at a walk. The idea of running sounded painful.
Now that she was moving, Harley realized she still had no idea where to go. She walked toward the bridge, but knew she'd probably get shot if she actually made it there. After a second of hesitation, she wove through the buildings to walk along the wall. She pulled the comm out of her pocket and stared at it. He was probably in Midtown Gotham, if he was even alive. She closed her fist around the comm and looked around as she walked, but she didn't see any of the Bats. There was no other choice.
She pressed the comm into her ear, turning it on. She took a deep breath.
"Hey um… Dick, it's me. Where are you? I need..." she cut off, her hand falling away from her ear, her steps faltering. She'd found him. And he wasn't alone. She clenched the comm in her hand. Horrible guilt, anger, despair, jealousy, disbelief, betrayal, and hurt twisted through her at the sight of his arms wrapped around Batgirl. Their lips locked together in the light of the blazing sunset. She stood rooted in place, arms wrapped around her waist as she whispered quietly to herself, "...help."
This literally couldn't get any worse, Harley thought to herself. Her boots sloshed through the muck in the sewer, and she tried to shuffle over to find drier ground. She could barely see her hands in front of her face let alone where she was going, and she was doing her best to try and remember the way Joker had taken her. She was certain she was lost. And the darkness not only made that worse, but it left a clean slate for the image burned into her mind to haunt her.
Dick, screaming over Batgirl's marred body after he'd had to be the one to pull the trigger. She'd seen him furious, in agony, in anguish; she'd been the one to cause it. But she'd never seen him broken like that.
And the Infected had been after her.
Each of them had had their vocal cords carefully cut, meaning they'd come from Arkham. Instead of coming after her like she thought Joker would do, he'd sent his army. And instead of finding her, they'd found Batgirl.
You don't have to blame yourself. It's the Joker's fault. But she did blame herself. And Dick would too. She was the reason the woman he loved was dead.
She tripped on something and had to catch her fall. Yelping in pain from the gash in her arm, she quickly pushed herself back up. Her palms were slick with slime and blood, and she wiped them on her shorts, hoping there was nothing in here that could Infect her as she felt the sharp sting of new scratches on her palms. She felt like she'd been wandering for hours already and had no real way of knowing where she was in Gotham. The Bats could've found the tunnel they'd used already and sealed it up, too.
The sound of footsteps echoed ahead, and Harley immediately pressed herself against the wall. Please don't be an Infected. Please don't be an Infected, she chanted to herself over and over as they came closer. She watched a flashlight beam take a corner up ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. Infected didn't carry flashlights. As the footsteps faded away again, she realized it was probably one of the Bats looking for the access tunnel. Which meant two things. They hadn't found it, and she was in Midtown.
Harley walked the rest of the tunnel with her neck craned up toward the ceiling, looking for the small prick of light that would indicate a manhole cover. A small beam of sunlight came through a tunnel that branched to her left, and her body practically slumped with relief. She sloshed over to the ladder and hurried up it, slipping once, and when she got to the top, she braced her shoulders against the cover and agonizingly pushed it out of the way. She peeked her head out and glanced around the dark street above. It looked deserted.
Climbing out slowly, she pushed herself back onto her feet. She took a moment just to stand there and relax. Too many things had happened, and there hadn't been a second to stop and breathe. Not that stopping to think about it was any more relaxing; it actually made her feel like hyperventilating again.
The only thing to do was to keep moving. Harley walked over to the nearest street corner and peered up at the dark street sign. Spinning around, she tried to orient herself; it had been over a year since she'd been in Gotham. She headed toward the park.
There were very few things that Harley was sure of as fact, especially after tonight, but there was one thing she knew for sure. Despite Poison Ivy's cold exterior and haughty manner, and despite Harley's constant favoritism to Joker, and the fact that both of them were certifiably crazy, Ivy would always be there for her. Ivy may have a very good front for pretending to hate everyone, but she'd never turned Harley away. She'd always patched her up and let her stay, only to have her go back to Joker and repeat the whole messy process. And she always left Harley a way to get in touch with her.
So Harley wasn't surprised when she got to the park that Ivy was already waiting for her. The sight of her friend made Harley nearly burst into tears, and she was sniffling when she walked up to Ivy.
"Oh for the love of…" Ivy muttered, "don't cry."
"I'm sorry," Harley mumbled.
"You know you can't just walk into Gotham like this," Ivy scolded her, but she tossed Harley a backpack. "I gathered up some supplies in case Arkham had gone to hell. Have you been eating?" Harley stared at the backpack in her hands.
"It's orange."
Ivy rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, do you want me to take it back?"
"No!" Harley clung to the backpack, and Ivy stared at her.
"What happened?" Harley looked at her with wide eyes, and she grit her teeth but didn't say anything. "Harls. What. Happened?" Ivy pressed.
"He came after me." She stared down at the backpack in her hands. "With a knife." Ivy's back was stiff as she stared at her.
"You're hurt," she commented mildly before taking the backpack from Harley. She pulled out some medical supplies she'd snuck out of the tower before stripping Harley's jacket off. Harley complied meekly and watched her pull the bloody bandages off.
"I'm sorry."
"Do not apologize for this," Ivy warned. She hated this part. She hated having to see her friend in pain, knowing the whole time she'd go back to the Joker. Harley was quiet for a long time as Ivy dressed the wound.
"I can't stay in Arkham."
"Obviously," Ivy muttered, wishing Harley meant permanently, not just until the Joker calmed down. "We can try and find a place for you to hide here." Harley shook her head.
"If I stay in Gotham, he's gonna kill me."
"Maybe not," Ivy argued. "He's tried to kill you before, and he always changes his mind and wants you back again."
"No," Harley shook her head, "not this time." Ivy paused cleaning her wound and stared at her. She realized for the first time that Harley wasn't planning on going back to the Joker this time.
"But... you can't just leave. We can hide you here in Gotham, and I can bring you supplies," Ivy begged. Harley shook her head. Ivy knew it was nearly impossible too; the Bats were still searching every house. "There has to be something. Selina! We can go to Selina, and—"
"—I'm pregnant, Red," Harley finally told her. "And it's not Joker's." Ivy stared at her, her mouth hanging open mid-word.
"You're pregnant?"
"At least I think I am," she sighed. "And I was gonna tell Nightwing," she ran her hand up through her bangs, ignoring the open wound, and tugged on her pigtail as she started pacing, "but Batgirl was there… and we fought… And... I got Batgirl killed, Red." She stopped and stared at Ivy. "Mistah J let all those zombies out there to kill me, and now she's dead. And Dick hates me. I got the woman he loves murdered!"
"Hold on— she's not the woman he loves." Ivy took Harley's hand, steering her back so she could bandage up the cut on her arm. "He's head over heels for you, last time I checked."
"You didn't see his face," Harley breathed.
"You don't hear the commotion it's caused back at their headquarters. I'm telling you. He's stirred up more trouble than Red Hood has with me." Ivy pulled her closer and lifted Harley's shirt up a bit to look at the cut on her side.
"But…. Batgirl's dead because of me. She's dead."
"What a tragedy, she was always a joy," Ivy rolled her eyes. Harley sank to the ground.
"Don't say that... I got a Bat killed, and ya still wanna tell me he loves me? That I could stay in Gotham?"
"Harley, where else are you going to go?!" Ivy huffed. "You want to leave Gotham? There isn't anything out there!"
"Then tell me where I can go!" Harley cried. "Where in this zombie infested city is going to be safe for me? We both know he'll find me if he finds out I'm…" she choked off and buried her head in her knees. "I don't know what to do."
"Harley, breathe." Ivy grabbed her shoulders. "Take a deep breath."
"What do I do, Red?" She looked up at her, eyes desperate. "Tell me what to do."
Ivy watched her, her lips pursed. "You're sure you don't want to see him?" Harley visibly flinched. She watched Harley for a moment longer, and then nodded.
"Okay. Let's get you out of the city. You'll need supplies. And way more than I brought." She grabbed Harley's unhurt wrist and started toward Wayne Tower.
"What are you doin'?" Harley demanded. "You're gonna get yourself in trouble!"
"Well this is what you get," Ivy snapped back. "You won't stay, and I'm not sending you into hell unprepared." They stopped about a block away, and Ivy glanced around the corner. "Okay. I'll be right back. Stay here, and... hidden, or whatever." Ivy looked at her worriedly. "Just stay, okay?" she took a deep breath. "Don't— don't run off." Harley grabbed her arm.
"Please don't tell anyone about… about me." If anyone found out about her situation, it could get back to Dick.
"I'm not stupid," Ivy sighed, grabbing the backpack and disappearing down the street.
Harley waited in the shadows, the moonlight not touching her at all where she stood in the overhang of a building doorway. Maybe it used to be a lawyers' office, there were names on the door, but none that she'd known. They must not have been one of the many shitty firms hired to represent the failing case that was the Joker. He pleaded innocent every time. He'd been the worst case anyone could inherit.
"Here," Ivy said, panting as she returned and stepped up into the alcove with Harley, who jumped. She'd been lost in thought. "This one has clothes, food, ammo—" I tried to get everything you'd need. I even threw in some baby stuff." Ivy handed back the bag, and Harley pulled her close and hugged her.
"You should come with me."
"You shouldn't be leaving," Ivy muttered, but she held Harley tighter.
"What other option is there?" Harley breathed.
"I don't know," Ivy sighed. "Just… Don't die. Get yourself somewhere safe. Find a farm to live in. Just live."
"Tell Dick I'm sorry about Batgirl." She pulled back from Ivy before reconsidering her words. "No, don't tell him anything."
"Your secret is safe," Ivy sighed. Harley hesitated. The thought of actually leaving was daunting now. She glanced over to Arkham, considering going back to Joker. But even she knew that when he was like this she needed to get away from him, especially if she thought she was pregnant. And even if Dick didn't hate her for everything she'd done, everyone else in Gotham would. She'd helped cripple Gotham's infrastructure, and caused one of the Bats' deaths. She wouldn't be welcome here.
"I really screwed everything up, didn't I?" she whispered.
"You kinda did," Ivy stroked her cheek. "Be careful, Harley."
"Since when am I careful?" she sniffled. "We're standing here so clearly I'm not careful."
"Just be careful," she repeated, hugging her tight, her throat closing. Harley squeezed her in return before quickly letting go. She was already starting to feel like she should extend her time here with Ivy, so she knew she needed to leave. If she let herself linger, she would keep finding reasons to stay, and then she might let herself be convinced to. Or she could get caught. She knew she had to leave.
Because Joker terrified her.
She'd learned to respect and love the fear and crazy, but that didn't mean she'd forgotten what he was capable of. He had nearly killed Selina, let Ivy go— she'd be dead if he'd wanted to retaliate against her leaving— which worried Harley, too. He'd found a way into Gotham, he'd known about Dick and her and used it to his benefit while destroying the two of them along the way, and killed Batgirl. If he could find her, he would kill her; because even if he did forgive her, he'd eventually find out she was pregnant. And if she knew it wasn't his, he would too. She knew she wouldn't survive that if she stayed in Gotham.
It was a testament to her fear of him that she wasn't even positive she was pregnant, and she was preparing to flee.
"So first things first," Harley sniffled, "when I get out of the city, I'm finding a pregnancy test." Ivy nodded seriously.
"Goodbye, Harley. And good luck."
Harley nodded in return. Saying goodbye to Ivy was ranked up with some of the more painful occurrences of the evening. But there were so many things she'd realized tonight. All of them too late.
"I'll see ya later, Red." She jerked her head in a weak nod before turning and marching quickly away.
The first thing she was certain of after everything that had happened was that she would be back. She didn't know how or when, but this wouldn't be goodbye. She'd see Ivy again.
She stayed in the dark shadows as she made her way to the one bridge the Bats had left out of Gotham. How to get to the mainland barely even crossed her mind; the bridge was meant to keep things out not in, and she had more important things on her mind.
Batgirl was dead now, and it was because Joker had sent those Infected after her. Even if Dick didn't hate her because of that, all of the other Bat's would, and all of Gotham. She'd also been forced to see what everyone had been trying to tell her all along. Joker didn't love her.
He never loved you. Harley angrily grit her teeth. Years. She'd given up years of her life to him. Instead of being hurt, now she was angry. She tried to remember how crushed and terrified she'd been hours ago, but realizing that not even Dick could help her had changed her, and she couldn't put herself back in that mindset. She'd given herself completely to Joker, and he'd turned on her now. She should be brokenhearted... but being pregnant changed that. If she didn't have him, and she didn't have Dick, this baby was all she had. Harley delicately touched her stomach.
And that's how she knew she couldn't lament being pregnant. This baby was the result of all those times with Dick. All of those gentle touches and soft words. If all of those times were over, at least she had this piece of him. It was also a reminder of Joker's betrayal; he'd turned against her, and despite her feelings, she would protect this baby. She would teach herself to hate him.
But she wouldn't hate Dick.
Despite him lying to her about Batgirl. Despite her standing there, watching him profess his love for her; hearing him mourn her. She couldn't hate him. In fact, it was one of the worst realizations of all— In that moment when she was broken and afraid, when he was the only person she could turn to... in that heartbreaking moment when she'd found him with Batgirl, she knew. It was the moment she knew what she'd tried to deny all along.
Harley loved Dick.
Which brought her to the worst realization of them all: She'd realized too late.