Life and Death

Chapter 4

"There are women, for whom giving birth is a shock... An assault that brings things to the surface, the existence of which she was quite unaware."
- Vinterbørn (Winter's Child) - Dea Trier Mørch

The first months of the baby's life followed a certain pattern. Sometimes she forgot about the past for weeks, sometimes it was clawing at her chest. Certain things made the images sweep through her brain, like the color returning to black and white negatives.

Harley's earlier life was buried six feet under, submerged in the thickest waters and forgotten. But never erased; things like violent heights and overturned vehicles brought fragments back to life. She guarded herself closely, nothing must ever slip through. Not even newer memories, of an empty onesie, a lifeless bundle.

She remembered the Joker's cold fingers against her cheekbone, stroking the bruise and setting her free with his words: "There is no past."

When she was with him, she never thought back. But some nights when he wasn't around, that composure slipped just a tiny bit, enough to bring her down into the endless recess of her mind. She remembered.

.

.

.

In the very beginning she had not thought much about what was happening with her. Only an unconscious movement now and then, a coy smile on her lips as her hand traced her belly.

"It's like a child having a child," Ivy had grumbled when she found out. "I bet they'll hatch in your womb and devour each other alive, like sharks."

The thought made Harley daydream, flattered and happy at once at the thought of a matching pair for her and Mr. J. She couldn't stop smiling at the thought. "You're gonna like 'em, Red! My babies won't be carnivorous", she had assured her with a grin. Her plant friend had scoffed in disgust, but Harley had not paid her any mind.

She was out of her cage, the device in her neck was gone and she was free again. She was with her Puddin' and she was still his Harley Quinn. His queen in the spotlight, his partner, his other half. But her body was changing and his wasn't. She had never had any trouble keeping up with him before, but her body betrayed her as the weeks passed by. He stayed the same.

Harley was supposed to be immortal, untouchable, but suddenly that changed and none of them had expected the consequences.

One day they were leaving an unsuccessful business deal in a downtown district. The Joker had been dealing with a mob boss but the meeting didn't go as planned and they left. He intended to send a 'greeting' to the boss in question later; a missile packed neatly in a gift box. He and Harley had taken off in different directions to meet up by the car later; he knew she wanted to play before he sent his own men after the doomed man.

Harley had been skipping through the alley with her mallet in hand, distracting the stupid goons who ran after her like headless chickens, while the Joker took another route. She loved playing tag, watching them look around in blind desperation as she sat perched on a roof top and laughed at them. They were a lot stupider than Mr. J's men, and nowhere that cool. She watched them fumble around, sweating in their tight cheap suits.

"Where the hell did she go?" they screamed down below. "You were supposed to keep track of her!"

Harley grinned and spun some tasteless gum around her finger before stuffing it into her mouth again and spitting it in the direction of the goon below. He looked around in confusion as the wet gum hit his face. She stood up and used a drainpipe to swing herself to the ground.

She landed between two men, catching them off guard. She swung her mallet and beat both of them to the ground, just for fun. Standing with her hips wide apart, she raised her weapon again when two more men came running from behind. Harley turned around as the most muscular man of the group approached her - this gangster lord hired body, not brains.

"Come on, Beefy!" she cheered. "I'm waiting for ya!"

The nausea hit her out of absolutely nowhere, like a punch to her stomach. Her mouth watered, her stomach twisted and she felt a thickness steadily rising in the back of her throat. The force of it was distracting, enough to make her stop in her tracks as she tried to force it back.

She blinked and swallowed thickly, just as gunshots rang out and she automatically crouched. For a few moments she only felt the intense urge to be sick, her mallet colliding with the ground.
Ow, let me keep those pancakes.

She could hear steps approaching slowly, shoes grinding against the dirty concrete. Someone roughly grabbed her from behind and locked her arms in a vice grip behind her back.

"Now, now, what's this?"

Harley looked up at the body in front of her as much as she could - someone was forcing her head down. Through a growing cold-sweat, she saw blue dress pants and shiny black shoes. She was restrained by a couple of men, everyone corning her. If her head wasn't spinning with nausea she would already have bashed their brains out.

Stupid sickness. It usually appeared early in the morning and was gone in a hour or two, but it could strike at the most inconvenient times. It was almost funny, how that overwhelming feeling could strip her of all willpower for just a few moments and render her helpless.

"Well, Miss Quinn, how lovely of you to make an appearance tonight," the person in front of her said. Harley took a deep breath, leaned forward and threw up all over his pants.

.
.

From her position chained to the floor and ceiling she was almost completely immobile, but that fact didn't keep her from glaring daggers at her captors.

She needed to kill them. It was the only thing left to focus on, an instinct that grew inside of her, an itch she desperately needed to scratch. The men who guarded her in the empty basement didn't pay her much attention. Even if they had been guarding her with aimed shotguns, that was the least of her concerns.

When she came around, her immediate reaction had been something else, vividly painted in a hue she recognized - fear. She tried to feel if there was a warm rush between her legs, but there was no way to know.
Faded memories from a white bleached place, metal bars and tiled floors had sent her head into a frenzy - was it too late? Memories of dark, fleshy blood burned underneath her eyelids.

The little thing located between her pelvis bones was only so safe. Even if it was small enough to be sheltered by her bones - small like the blueberries she liked to put on her pancakes - any trauma could make her body decide to drop it. Just like that.

Her second thought was Mr. J, and that was equally worrisome. Her Puddin' should always be at the fore-front of her brain and she hated herself for thinking about the baby before him. But she knew that he must have gotten out safely, there was no way they managed to capture him. No one in this city but Batman was competent enough.

Separate, meet up. That was the rule.

The rule she broke when she didn't get to the surface in time all those months ago and the Bat caught her, and today she had broken it again. She hated herself for letting him down. A second wave of nausea filled her, the taste burning in her mouth and she wished that someone could at least have let her wash herself off - honestly, did none of these men have a woman in their life?

She was going to kill them. It played out before her in perfect harmony, how she would sever their heads from their bodies, riddle them with holes until they couldn't be identified with anything else than their teeth – to send a clear message – then she would go for the boss. The thought made her smile widely. She clenched her legs almost instinctively, as if she could protect the baby better that way. The chains were wrapped around her chest, keeping her arms behind her back and her tightly legs together.

One of the guards sent her an uneasy glance when she squirmed. Harley intensified her glare until he flinched and looked away. He was of normal build and didn't look as stupid as those who had chased her back in the alley, nor as beefy as the guys who had restrained her. It had not taken her long to figure out that these men were amateurs, sitting a few feet away from her in an old couch and lazily checking their phones.

"What're we gonna do with her?" the insecure guard asked.

"Boss is pissed," the other man hissed. "She ruined his suit."

Harley grinned. "Get him a clown suit instead. I'm sure we have some extra."

The first guy looked at her. "You should be afraid."

Her smile grew, blood-shed playing on her lips. "Do share! Is your big boss preparing a little cuffs and huffs?"

The other guy nudged him hard. "Shut it, idiot. Don't talk to her. She's fucking insane."

Mr. Insecure looked away.

"Aww, are you afraid of a lady? I'll be nice, I promise." Harley tried to wriggle in her chains, moving her hips and legs subtly from side to side without result.

"Hey," she spoke loudly to get their attention again, "Isn't there anyone here who knows how to treat a lady right? How heartless can you be to tie up an innocent – " she made an exaggerated grimace and feigned a sob, "woman."

"You are just as bad as him," Mr. Insecure spat.

"I'm being cool. I haven't done anything." Harley made an attempt to raise her hands in display of innocence.
"All these straps are tied very tightly. Actually it's getting hard to breathe. Didn't your oh-so-mighty boss say to take me alive? I'm feeling my air supply cut off, I can't breathe –"

"Shut up!" the other guy roared. He made an irritated gesture towards Mr. Insecure who carefully moved closer.

Harley smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you, I'll remember this." Pluck his eyes out like candy.

"You're not getting out of here until boss is done with you," he warned her as he moved to slightly loosen one of the straps around her chest that was connected to another chain, going to the ceiling.

"Who is he, anyway? The Yakuza?"

"Gag her," the guard in charge ordered and the Mr. Insecure picked up a thick cloth from his pocket.

Harley grinned at him. "Please?"

He slapped her across her face before wrapping the cloth around her head.

"She is a fucking freak," he commented and walked over to his companion. "No wonder she partners with the Joker."

"Idiot. She's just a whore."

"Then why did boss bring her here, if not for ransom? Do you know how much cash she's worth? Did you hear what the clown did last time she was gone?"

"I said shut it, idiot!" The grumpier guard shot a look at Harley, who watched them with sparkling eyes.
She tried to inch forward, slowly and carefully. Apparently her guards felt so confident in the imaginary power of their boss, they didn't care about her little wriggling.

Mommy will give you a show, don't you worry. We'll be out of here before Puddin' even realizes I'm gone.

Her entire body was aching from being in that position, her back unnaturally arched and her arms stuck behind her back, and the nausea had settled faintly in the back of her throat. The voices were chattering back and forth, breaking her concentration. She would kill a man for a Capri Sun juice box. Well, she'd kill anyway.

She knew none of this would have happened if she had been her usual self, without the sudden exhaustion and nausea, the aching in her body. She couldn't let Puddin' down again.

As her guards her lost interest in her again and stared into their phones, busy answering calls, she carefully started moving back and forth, like she was crawling in extremely shallow water. If she could get loose enough, she could use the wall as leverage and jump onto the guard's back.

A cracking sound came from the ceiling. The paint cracked around the thick loop where the chain was attached, and the men immediately looked up. Harley stayed perfectly still.

"What the -"

Another crack made the debris rain down from the broken paint. The ceiling shook. The guards stood up and immediately ran to the entrance, drawing their guns. Harley moved more quickly, jerking back and forth as the chains burned her skin. A last push - she used all her strength to push herself back against the wall and then propelled forward, just as the metal loop in the ceiling gave in and the chains loosened.

She fell forward heavily, landing on her stomach. It was like someone had squeezed all air out of her, she grasped the floor and ripped the gag off herself. Maybe she just imagined the pain from landing like that, her belly and hips taking the strain.

She saw the guards back into the room, their backs against her, and a heavy object on the floor. Harley detangled her arms from the chains and put her hands on the ground to slowly heave herself up. Before she had time to grasp the weapon, she saw two bullets exiting the men's bodies, blood splattering everywhere.

When she raised her gaze, she saw heavy black boots with gold chains as shoe laces. A red smiling mouth was painted on the front, soaked in red. He must have been stepping through the bodies to get to her.

"Puddin?"

.

He was not as happy to see her as she had expected. It caught her completely off guard, so she could not do much more than to silently follow as he dragged her out of the warehouse, the screams fading behind them. His grip around her arm was bruising her, not in the good way.

She was confused by his rage, the way he shoved her into his car and then left again. She waited for several minutes, feeling her breathing slow down and the same giddiness taking over. Then he returned, smelling like blood and his face was dark and hostile. He said nothing on the whole ride home and she let him be. The way he aggressively tried to run over the pedestrians without even laughing was warning enough.

When they got back to the penthouse he ignored her. Harley wanted to proclaim her gratitude, but he disappeared into his weapon room without even looking at her.

Eventually she sent Frost to get her pancakes and decided to take a bubble bath while she tried to untangle the situation. She carefully washed the dirt off herself in pink bubbles and tried to push the uneasiness away. She couldn't think of what she did wrong. Aside from getting caught and held hostage, a voice reminded her. You broke the rule.

There was a distance between them now, she could feel it. An unspoken, wordless distance that had manifested itself in the fact that she had a weakness.

The Joker never showed weakness. By allowing her in, he had already created the greatest disadvantage he could possibly have, and today had been a result of that. Someone had tried to use her against him.

His Harley Quinn was not the same anymore and she had not even been able to defend herself. It was pathetic. She sat in the bath, her lower lip trembling as the thoughts washed over her. She cried pitifully to herself for a while, until the sadness dissolved.

She eventually dried herself off and slipped into her pink pajamas with a big chocolate pudding print in front. She found some candy in a drawer and planlessly munched on it for a while. Then she laid down in their enormous bed, wide awake. He wasn't there and it was painful like nothing else.

She got up again and paced through the rooms until she ended up in front of the torn door leading to his massive weapon storage room. She pushed it open, fully knowing she was entering the wolf's den, but he was her Puddin'.

"Mistah J?"

His face was contorted. "All this just to let you play," he snarled as he approached her.

She folded her arms in front of her chest with a defiant pout. "I was gonna take care of them!"

In the next moment she was pressed against the wall, his arm across her chest holding her in place. "Harley," he laughed humorlessly, "I'm running out of ways to keep you... here." His burning gaze bore into hers and his grip kept her from moving an inch. His hands gripped her wrists mercilessly.

"I'm sorry Puddin', I didn't mean to get caught. I messed up..."

He clenched his jaw tightly. She couldn't stand to see the look in his eyes - something fleeting that he tried to hide with more violence. Something that was more vulnerable than she had ever seen, and the Joker did not do weakness. In the end it didn't matter if he decided to punish her for this; he was still the man she jumped for, the man she would die for and tear out her very soul for.

Harley cupped his face in her hands, ignoring the way he glared at her. Those blue eyes seemed to flash with barely contained wrath but it didn't convince her. He tried to ruffle up his feathers whenever he could.

"Thank you," she said softly and pecked at his lips, before wrapping her arms around his thin body with crushing force. She buried her face against his chest. Normally he never wanted closeness when he was angry, but the fact that he had not shoved her away already told her something.

He didn't reciprocate the embrace, but it didn't matter. He let her cling to him, pressing her nose against the fabric of his silky shirt and just breathing him in. None of them said anything, but she noticed his breathing eventually slowing down and his muscles relaxing slightly. She let herself almost melt into him, letting her presence remind him.

She didn't know how much time passed before her sleepiness took over and she reluctantly let go of him. He turned away from her without a word and returned to his weapons, and she let him be. Harley practically skipped on the way back to the bedroom. She almost scared the living daylight of a henchman that was guarding the main room when she appeared like a pink and fluffy apparition with a dreamy smile on her face.

She curled up underneath the purple blankets in their bed and felt content again. One hand instinctively placed over her stomach, briefly wondering how the little blueberry was doing.

Sometime in the morning hours she awoke to the sound of rustling covers. The Joker got into the bed with his back turned against her, not acknowledging her.

But she understood.

She understood what it reminded him of, what would happen if she lost it.
The endless months, the darkness.

So she curled up next to him, burying her face against his shoulder and wordlessly soothing him.

.

.

None of them ever spoke of that moment, the moment they handled in their own ways. None of them would ever say it, but things had changed. It couldn't be denied anymore.

Harley insisted on participating in heists and performances in the club like usual, but the Joker didn't separate from her again. He watched every move she took, or sent Frost to guard her. As the months passed by he remained estranged to the baby, as if he just didn't care that something was growing inside of her. But she got glimpses of him sometimes, that made her realize that maybe, he was more aware than she thought.

For Harley, her awareness of "Baby" was limited to an abundance of nicknames and stuffed animals, until the very day when the illusion shattered. Baby had been a voice and a dream in her head, a loud heartbeat that the doctor showed her, nothing else.

The day finally came, her hormones urging her on and leading her on her way to the final destination. Like swimming down a stream, she could only follow. It was a very strange feeling; she found it funny in its inescapability. There was no way to turn back, no way to stop this or even ask for a break – she was left to her body's natural urges, like something higher above was gracing her with power. Lying on the medical table in their basement, she could only wait.

Every contraction that arched her back and left her breathless told her it was time. The pain traveled from her ribs down to her abdomen and her spine gave a loud crack. Her ribs expanded forcefully with every breath as if her very insides were breaking, opening up. It was time for the thing inside of her to hatch.

But Harley never hesitated, and she did not mind pain. She had thrown herself into the stream, into the unknown ahead, with impatience. Fearless and free from worries, she saw Mr. J pick up the sharp knife. She focused on his eyes, knowing he would end it for her. She urged him on with a smile.

Afterwards she rested with Jaylie close to her, the tips of their noses touching. She let her wrap her small, warm hand around her index finger and giggled.

She looked into the baby's eyes, that deep blue, steady gaze. She was still moving in slow, dreamlike movements as if she was halfway there and halfway somewhere else, in the other world where she had been for so many months. Small and clueless. Soft, with a certain newborn scent. Still unfamiliar with this bright world, after her long time floating in darkness.

It was something Harley never thought she could comprehend. A natural instinct – but all of her instincts were twisted and turned. Harleen maybe would have known in a different way, the natural way. Deep inside, she had wished for another kind of life.

Live fast, die young. There was no guarantee for tomorrow, maybe not even the next hour, and Harley had never cared. Whatever happened was a new game. Eat or be eaten. Sink or swim. Everyone for themselves in the end.

That's how the world worked.

She never thought it was possible for her heart to stretch for anyone else than Mr. J.

But this baby.

Mr. J's child. Yet, one half of her heart was darkened. Jay-Jay was gone, before she even got to see him take a single breath. There was a void in her chest, an emptiness, just like in her belly.

This living baby could be gone in the blink of an eye, too. Her life could disappear like a candle blown out by the smallest fan. Maybe that was why J didn't even look at her. The voices agreed.

For the first time she ignored the thoughts and pulled the baby to her chest. Jaylie whimpered, and then gurgled. Her soft, squishy face pressed into Harley's collarbone.

She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining she was holding both of her children. One of them had shimmering green hair on his head and the same pale skin as his sister. Her beautiful, perfect son with J's face and curious eyes. He was gone long before she knew about his existence, and now he faded.

She felt the newborn child's heartbeats against her own, slow like they were underwater.

This weakness felt like strength.

Hush little baby, don't say a word. Momma's gonna kill for you the whole damn world. And if they don't laugh at our jokes, Momma's gonna stab out their goddamn throats.

To be continued. Next time we'll see J's perspective.

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Love, Crystalinee