I glanced at the pages of his charges for the umpteenth time. I swear I had them memorized. "June 15th, two years ago. Does that date ring a bell?" I asked, tilting my head and resting my heavy pen against my lips.
"Nope." He popped the P. "Why, should it?" He grinned a crooked smile. Dark bags hung under his eyes today making him look at least 5 years older. Maybe 10. Still, he looked damn good. Good enough to eat.
"I would hope so." I grimaced despite myself, trying not to glance at the various Polaroid photos for longer than necessary. "You crippled Barbara Gordon, shot her in the spine. Then, while she was unable to move, you undressed her, took pictures of her bloody, broken body and proceeded to mentally torture Commissioner Jim Gordon, her father with them… while he was naked… in a love boat ride of all places. Highly theatrical." I said with a light mix of intrigue and weird admiration. He certainly had ambition! Then I wondered, "Where did you get the money for all of that?" I looked up from the paper with scrutiny and curiosity.
"You'll have to use your imagination for that one, Pumpkin." He dismissed with an uninterested wave of his hand.
I huffed mutely, resisting the urge to cross my arms. It crossed my mind how comfortable I'd gotten with him. It sort of bothered me, but a bigger part of me felt excited by it. I could feel myself getting addicted to him, and the craziness that was him. He hadn't killed me yet. He told me things (Though I tried not to put too much weight on that. I could never tell when it was the truth). "Fine. But Commissioner Gordon… Barbara-" I started, tapping the end of the pen against my paper. I wanted to dissect his brain, to understand him to the fullest extent.
"You want to know why I did it." Stated, not a question. I nodded once, incredibly interested in what his reasoning could be. His face slightly fell. "You really can't guess, Doctor Quinzel?" He purred, matching the tilt of my head. "I thought you of all people would under-stand." The bastard was toying with me. "Ooh, look! The suspense is killing you!" He died laughing. At first I did cross my arms and roll my eyes in annoyance but then, he didn't move again staying eerily still. I looked for signs of breathing. None. As the silence stretched my anxiety grew.
"Cut it out, that's not funny." I said seriously, sitting up straight as a pin. Not so much as a twitch. His smile stayed stretched tightly across his frozen cheeks, eyes staring at nothing. "J." I said with more force, setting my stuff down and running over to him. I touched his clammy skin under his ear, searching for a pulse. As soon as I comprehended there was, in fact, a pulse he jumped at me with a thundering "BOO!" I jumped a foot high and did a weird yelp-squeak-scream thing that got caught in my throat which made his already hysterical laughter boom louder. I was just glad I didn't literally piss myself, but lemme tell ya, it was close.
"Holy shit!" I whispered to myself, grabbing my chest and leaning against the wall for support. I panted as my adrenaline ran wild. "Why?"
"Feel that energy coursing through you right now?" He asked after composing himself, though a slight chuckled lingered in his voice. Wet trails of laugh tears blurred his cheeks. I nodded. "Feel it. Really feel it. What's the most basic, unthinking response you have to it?" He inquired. Doing as instructed I felt the energy rush through my bloodstream. It tickled. So I giggled. Which felt good, so I laughed, which felt great. Then I was crying like he had been. I wiped my eyes with my thumbs careful not to smear anything. "See?" He asked. "For some people, it would be a scream. For you, it's laughter. Are you scared of death?" He asked. Wait, how did we switch places? I felt like the patient now.
"Not really." I denied. "I would say more indifferent." I corrected. "It certainly makes things more interesting. I tend to worry more about execution rather than the end result. Everyone dies. But we weren't talking about me. We were talking about June 15th. Explain it to me." I requested, sitting a bit taller. "Maybe I'm just not thinking big enough." I retook my place at the table, smoothing my stressed hair. He made it sound like his reasoning should have been obvious!
"It had nothing to do with poor, immobile Babs." He dismissed, rolling his eyes. "I have nothing against her. I was sending a message to him. The Bat-man." His eyes moved freely with excitement, helping him enunciate certain words. "I wanted to remind him." He stressed, eyes drilling into mine seriously from across the table. His intense sort of… urgency was exhilarating and I crossed my ankles under the chair, leaning closer to him. Hungry. "I've demonstrated there's no difference between me and everyone else! All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one. Bad. Day. It can happen to anyone. Even Batsy's best friend Gordon. Even the Bat himself. They were naked to make them more vulnerable. I'm a lot of things Harley, but I'm not a perv. Vulnerability or lack thereof alone can drive a guy a bit off his rocker." His eyes never let mine go for a second and now held a certain flavor of humor. I unthinkingly quirked a half smirk in response. "Imagine it, Bats giggling in a corner while I watch him experience things from my point of view, sinking into a unique madness. And… if I remember correctly, you had a bad day once, am I right? I picture you the same way and it. Is. Gloriouuuus, Doctor. What potential you have." He smiled, though his tone was grave.
"Yes, but I didn't go insane." I protested, arching my brow.
"It wasn't a bad enough day. Let me take a swing at it." He divulged, winking his tired eyes. "It wouldn't be hard."
My lips slipped into a sly grin. "Let's get back on topic. So you did all of that just to send a message to Batman?" I affirmed.
"Yep." He nodded simply.
"Do you feel bad about it? Any of this? Ever?" I asked in a neutral tone, no judgment. I couldn't get enough of the mind candy he supplied. Endlessly fascinating.
"I feel the same remorse as I'd feel squishing an ant. My only regret is that I haven't done more." He laughed. I clicked my pen and pressed it to the paper. Total lack of empathy for others. Grand sense of self and need for attention, particularly from Batman. "Life isn't meant to be stale and unchanging. I'm the one who keeps everyone on their toes. I'm the one who keeps everyone entertained. That's why Penguin and I don't get along." He grimaced in distaste. " The old boy's all about order, his way. Everything and everyone under him. What he doesn't realize," He smiled sarcastically with a mocking tone. "Is that his way, is shit."
"Interesting." I nodded. There was something else I wanted to know about. "You've never given out your name." I noted. "Why?"
"I can't remember it. It's pointless anyway." He quipped. "If I did give you a name and you looked me up would you really feel like you've cracked the code based on who I was? Would you really feel like you under-stand me?" A bit of anger simmered in his challenging tone.
I laid my pen down and raised my hands in mock surrender. "Inquiring minds."
"You mean my fans?" He chuckled. Easy, rapid change in emotions, I wrote. I stood and sat on the corner of the table in front of him letting my legs swing freely below me.
"Ya ever been in love?" I asked, grinning cheekily.
"I'm in love with you, Doctor." He replied with a dark undertone and muted grin.
"What?" I asked in confusion (and the smallest pinch of hope), stilling my swinging legs.
"That's what you want to hear, isn't it? I see it when you think you've cracked more of that oh-so-elusive code. You get excited. A bit arrogant. Turned on. Quite shameful, don't you think? Absolutely disgusting, and that's coming from me. Maybe you need a shrink, Pumpkin." He said charmingly. It didn't connect with the words, further confusing me. He stood easily and parted my legs, standing between them and holding my knees while he leaned forward and down to eye level. I didn't move a muscle, but not because I was scared. The way he was looking at me and tightly gripping my legs, not to mention the feel of his body between me was turning me on. I was scared if I moved I would hump him to death.
"Did you just shrink me?" I questioned with the slightest of laughs and a raise of my brow. "You did pretty well." My voice sort of strained.
"Mmm, just look at you." His eyes trailed from my face to my collar bone, across my chest then to my hips. I leaned forward extremely slowly, not even noticing I was doing so. He was magnetic. "Practically dripping, and I've barely even touched you." He continued, reaching his pale fingers out to cup my jaw. His skin was cold and hot at the same time. Holy fuck, he was so close. I felt his breath on my face. This was too much, fighting what I so obviously wanted felt like an uphill battle on a burning unicycle in a blizzard. Impossible. I shot up and kissed him once deeply. I was surprised at my restraint. His lips were chapped, but I didn't mind. The warmth… Ugh…
I jolted awake feeling like I'd taken a cinderblock to the face. Why I had dreamt of that specific session was beyond me, though my subconscious added the touchy bit. That part didn't actually happen, though I wish it did. Squinting against the intruding light of late afternoon I realized I was in an unrecognizable bedroom. No flashy decor. Plain, but furnished. Forgettable. I felt… different. I couldn't explain it, because I didn't understand it myself. I felt… looser? Which was a big, fat conundrum because my body ached from extremely tight muscles and I had a migraine from hell. My heavy eyes blinked furiously as I tried connecting various dots. I was on a large bed, snuggled under blankets. Ugh. My body felt absolutely battered. My limbs felt like soft noodles stuffed with jello. Jelloodles. Ha. I rubbed my temple and I felt the pain in my elbow from landing on it so hard. The skin felt almost crispy which was sort of gross but really interesting, kinda cool and reminded me of potato chips, which made me hungry. My location was a mystery, but I was physically fine, despite the obvious. I tried my best to recall last night but it was difficult, like trying to see through mud. At night. I remembered bits and pieces but most of it was lost. Except him. I remembered all about him.
"Ah, you're awake!" His voice crashed my train of thought off course as he entered the room, no survivors. The imagery made me crack a smile as I slowly sat up and shook my hair out. No telling how I looked right now. I was still in my outfit from the day before. A rich maroon button up shirt, black skinnies... But I didn't feel any shoes. I admired his tattoos. This was only my second time to see them to their full extent. Same for his body. I'd been missing out big time. My eyes drifted to his pale, toned chest and my mouth literally salivated. I wanted to taste him. Remembering he had spoken I tried to regain focus.
"How long have I been out, Puddin'?" I asked. My voice was raspy with sleep. I had absolutely no sense of time. It was sunny, but it could've been 1920 for all I knew. Ooh, that could be fun: HARLEY QUINN THE HARLEQUIN TAKES ON THE GREAT DEPRESSION! I could see it now, me in one of those cool black fedoras and pinstripe suits yelling "outta my way, coppas!" As I take off on a shooting spree. Wait, what was I talking about? FO-CUS.
"About 19 hours now. Hydration?" He asked, offering me a (dirty) glass of clean looking water. Eagerly I took it, but smelled it first to make sure he wasn't about to poison me. It smelled like nothing, so I took that as an okay. I gulped it in a very non-ladylike fashion. Absolute heaven, even my headache started to dissipate.
"Thanks! So, uh, where am I?" I asked. Was this where he had been after he escaped? How boring! But my place probably was too suspicious. He was so smart.
"One of my safe houses in West Gotham." He explained, sitting next to me. His warmth was nice. We weren't in Arkham anymore... I could do whatever I could manage with him and get away with it. Unless hepunished me. Hot. The opportunity would not be passed up. I slid into his lap and kissed him deeply once. Twice. A third time. Each was more delicious than the last and they gave me a strong sense of butterflies. His taste was so unique, much better than my muddled memories. I hoped that wasn't permanent.
My torso pressed against his, clothed chest to bare. One of his hands gripped my hip, the other my face. "It's all over the news. The break in, your disappearance. They connected your little purchase with my escape. I don't think you'll be allowed back except as a patient." He laughed.
"No work? Woo hoo!" I grinned, roughly pushing him flat. He bounced a little against the mattress from and grabbed below my ribs so hard it was painful, sure to leave bruises. I curled around him in the least innocent of ways, grinding my needy hips into his stiffening form. It felt damn good, so I slowed it down to really enjoy the friction. "Then it looks like we have plenty of time for whatever..." I said, licking his chin. I popped the top button of my shirt open, running my nails through my hair. "Whatta ya say, Mistah J. Wanna rev up your Harley?" I asked, biting my full lip. He abruptly flipped us so he was on top (effing control freak) and ripped through my buttons. A couple popped off and hit the wall, adding to my exhilaration. I don't know where it came from, maybe he already had it, but now his long fingers curled around the hilt of a knife. Slowly he ran the dull side of the blade from the middle of my forehead, down the bridge of my nose, past my bra down to the panty line. It tingled every millimeter of the way. Someone else probably would have been alarmed. Disturbed. But he was making me wetter by the second. It being the dull side it was still pretty sharp. He started back up and I arched my back, pressing my torso into the blade. A little pain never hurt anyone! Ha. A spot right under my sternum bled and he dipped his finger in the slow-forming puddle. Really, it felt like more of a sharp sting than an actual cut. Maybe that's just because it was him. If anyone else tried this I'd have a much different reaction. PROPERTY OF THE JOKER, he wrote across my frame. He licked the remainder from his finger then those lips met my neck and he bit roughly. I groaned at the feeling, loving his idea of foreplay. At the same time his long, white, dirty fingers undid my pants and slid under the fabric to play with my panties. My breath hitched in my throat and I slid my pants all the way off, abundantly eager for his touch. Abundantly eager to let him have more, to give him whatever he wanted. He looked me over, taking in every detail and I pulled him closer, if such a thing were even possible. I wished he would stop teasing me. With the same knife he recklessly cut my bra off and my panties. Now they laid in shreds on the floor. "I could just eat you up." The knife ran affectionately over my hair.
"Too bad your vegan, huh?" I taunted, raising my arms above my head to give him the best possible view of his work. His pants were in the way, so I fixed that. Now we were both naked, and holy shit was he a sight for sore eyes! I almost drooled.
"Not today," he growled, gripping my chin. He kissed me red hot, passion in the highest form I'd ever experienced. Passion mixed with pleasure and a spoonful of pain. I wasn't a virgin, not even close, but I had never had clown sex before. Wow, what I had been missing! I took advantage while he was touching me and stole his knife. I waved it smugly and pressed it to his neck, making sure to wound him, at least a little. I liked the view way too much. I liked the illusion of control. I liked all of this and I couldn't care less about how sick it was. Actually, it being so sick made it that much more satisfying. I nicked his arm with the blade and my index finger swirled the blood around in a circle of satisfaction. His beautiful skin made an excellent canvas. PROPERTY OF HARLEY. I wrote on the sensitive space of his naked lower belly. His thumb played with my bottom lip. I bit it. Hard. There was no talking as we made the Beast with Two Backs, but plenty of other noises. I got the message. I was his.
A/N: Sorry about the wait on this one. In the dream sequence, A bit of Joker's dialogue about lunacy is taken from a DC comic, specifically The Killing Joke.