Authors Note: Here's another update after the Italian dream adventure holiday. I hope you enjoy the chapter, as always, leave me a review and let me know what you think. Just as a warning, there is a brief reference to abortion and knife play.
His hands had always been cold, in all the time that she had known him, there had been no warmth to his touch. Questing fingers had slid downwards, leaving an icy trail down her spine. There was no one else who could make her shiver the way that he did, who could make her eyelids flutter and her breathing become sharper and more laboured. There was danger in every liaison, he liked it rough and his penchant for knives carried into the bedroom, or wherever they happened to be. She had never been with anyone else like it. Where other men would lathe her nipple with their tongue or tweak it with their fingers, he would ghost a knife across the delicate skin of her breast, the tip resting for a second over the peaked nipple before dragging the edge across porcelain flesh, a thin red streak of blood rising to the surface.
The marks weren't permanent, they faded after a few days, the pressure was simply that. There was no malice behind it. She had seen that knife sever skin, cartilage, muscle and sinew but it was only ever a caress to her, the deadly game twisted into something more satisfying. He had certain proclivities and Harley was more than willing to meet those, to provide him with everything that he could have wanted from their entanglements. He only ever gave her pain, dancing on the border between wrongful hurt and pleasure. She had thought it was love, she had hoped that it was just his way of expressing love and, in a way, she supposed that it was the closest approximation to love that he had. She had wondered on many a dark, lonely night in her cell in Arkham during her sojourn's, if that would be enough for her. Contrary to popular opinion, Harley wanted love in her life, she wanted romance and she wanted to have a life. A conventional life wouldn't be enough for her, she was the type of girl who would gladly set fire to any white picket fence. Still, that didn't mean she wanted to continue to play this cat and mouse game that ruined lives. Arkham Asylum was not a place conducive to good mental health. She'd worked there and she'd been an inmate there, she damn well knew the truth and she'd scream it till her throat was hoarse but she knew that no one would listen to her.
Harley was well aware of her reputation and she was well aware of what people thought of her. The Joker's gal, his girlfriend, his partner in crime? (with a twinge of sorrow her heart whispered never), his fucktoy, a deranged psychopath, the ultimate fall from grace. Well, her life had never been easy or uncomplicated, even before she had met The Joker. Who were they kidding, her life would still have been a shit show if she hadn't met her beloved Mistah J.
Harley grumbled to herself and readjusted her position on the couch. This whole pregnancy situation should have been a dream come true but it wasn't, it felt like a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. She was in a stuffy old manor with a stuffy old butler glaring at her every time she did pretty much anything and an elusive and rather unusual billionaire who she occasionally spoke to. As much as she would hate to admit it to anyone, Harley had rather appreciated his non-judgemental company that night he had found her in the kitchen. She had hoped for days afterwards that he would find his way there again and that they could get to know each other but that hadn't happened. She had barely seen any sight of him for the past week and she had to wonder if he was avoiding her. She wouldn't blame if he was. He had everything he could possibly want and she was a walking psychosis, a blemish on his wonderful life. The longer she had stayed here and the more she had seen, the more bitter she had become. She would have killed to have had a life like this, to have all the luxuries and comforts of the upper class. She would have made a better go of things if she'd been born into privilege and the same could be said for most of the people she knew and had run with her. Her running days were over though. It felt as though a chapter of her life was slowly coming to a close and Harley had no idea what was on the horizon.
She curled up a little on the couch, drawing her knees up to her chest as best as she could. The bump wasn't too big yet but it was already causing her some difficulties. She'd worked out a bit at the gymnasium but had quickly stopped when she discovered that her acrobatic tricks did not work the way they should have when she was contending with morning sickness and the steady growth of another human being inside of her. Harley sniffled and turned over, facing the back of the couch. She wished that Red was here with her. She'd have known exactly what to say and do to help her feel better. Red was the best friend that Harley could ever have asked for. She refused her practically nothing and she was always there to soothe her tears and stroke her hair as Harley recovered from the beatings. Life with The Joker was hard, it was never going to be sunshine and roses and sometimes, she messed up and she had to be punished for it. It was the way of the world and it was the right thing but that didn't mean it hurt any less.
If she was at Red's right now, the other woman would have gathered Harley up into a soft, nurturing embrace and she would have kissed her on the forehead and told her that everything was going to work out alright in the end. When Harley wasn't an emotional wreck, Ivy's thoughts were slightly different and she regularly bemoaned the fact that Harley would never leave a man who wasn't worth the pain, a man who wasn't worth her love. Well, guess what Red? I've done it, I've left and I feel desolate.
Harley sniffled again and screwed her eyes shut, her hands curling into fists as she felt the tears brewing and spilling out onto her cheeks. It had to be the hormones, it absolutely had to be, hormones coupled with the almost overwhelming sense of loss and loneliness and yes, fear. Harley was a big enough girl to admit that she was frightened of what the world was going to look like after she'd become a mother, if she even kept the child. Harley hadn't a single clue as to what she was going to do. When she had fled and thrown herself on the mercy of Batman, she had gone entirely based on instinct. There wasn't too much thought involved, it just kind of happened. She wanted Red, wished she could have gone there, but that was one of the first places that Joker would have looked. Harley didn't know what motherhood would be like, she hadn't wanted a kid so early into her life but she couldn't bear the thought of Joker killing their unborn offspring. It would be painful, she knew that, she had messed up big time after all.
She shuddered at the thought of a forceful abortion and how painful that would be. No, she had made the right decision, as much as it had broken her to do it, it was the right thing. Then why do I feel so lost? The tears were flowing faster now and Harley could feel her breathing picking up, could hear the shuddering gasps that were clawing their way out of her throat. She was about to have a full-on breakdown on possibly one of the plushest and decedent couches she had ever encountered in her life and there was something semi-amusing about that and between the tears, a small huff of laughter managed to escape. Harley's awareness was only for her grief and her body and she couldn't sense anything else beyond that. So, she was surprised, horrified and strangely pleased when she felt calloused, warm hands on her shoulders. Harley ached for physical contact and she turned her head quickly, her gaze meeting that of a concerned Bruce Wayne.
"W-what are you doin' here?" She managed to choke out, her voice wavering with her tears. She reached up, trying to brush the tears from her eyes. She had thought that she would be alone, that the Manor was big enough that she'd have had some privacy to mope and feel sorry for herself and all the decisions that had brought her to this point in her life.
"This is my house Harley, where did you think I would be?" Bruce asked, still appearing concerned but clearly trying to calm her down, engaging her with a slight touch of humour. She liked humour, loved a good gag, and she recognised the hint of humour for it was, a lifeline. She allowed a small chuckle to escape her and she sat up on the couch, straightening her legs out and turning to face him properly.
"Oh, I dunno, probably out at some charity fundraiser or somethin'. Isn't that what you rich types do during the day or is that only for the nights?" Harley asked, her Brooklyn inflection shining through. The crease of worry in Bruce's brow softened and he shook his head.
"I do more than just attend charity fundraisers Harley."
"Hmm, okay, I'll believe ya. Oh! Were you at some big, boring board meeting?" Harley asked, taking a deep breath to try and calm her body and move away from her emotional upset. It would come back to haunt her when she tried to sleep that night, she knew it, but she was happy to take the reprieve now and enjoy it however long it lasted for.
"I wouldn't call them boring meetings." Bruce replied and Harley laughed, more of a titter than a laugh.
"If ya have company stationary, projected figures for the next quarter and sparklin' water bottles then yeah, it's boring." Bruce shook his head again, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye that hadn't been there before. She must have struck a chord.
"Oh! Has anyone ever throw a bottle at the guy from marketing when he's said that sales are down?" Harley metaphorically embraced the brighter, more child-like part of her soul and pulled it into the conversation. He had seen the beginning of her vulnerability and he wouldn't want to talk about it and neither would she. He wasn't her friend after all, he was just a rich bozo who had taken pity on her. Still, if she had to be stuck with pity from any rich guy, she'd rather it was this rich guy. He really was a dish, very easy on the eyes.
"That's not really how we do things at Wayne Enterprises."
"Come on, someone has to have at least wanted to do it." Harley was adamant that she was right and that there was a darker side to his board. "Do ya know that a lot of CEO's and other business execs are clinical psychopaths?" Harley asked, drawing on her knowledge of psychology from her years having studied it. Yeah, she might have gotten A grade's by getting down and dirty with her professors but that didn't mean she didn't know anything at all. She hadn't completely slept her way through her degree, just part of it.
"I didn't know that actually. I doubt we have many psychopaths at Wayne Enterprises." Bruce's tone was light and conversational but there was warmth in his voice and it wasn't something Harley was used to. Mistah J was never like that, even when he was warm it still wasn't quite all there, it wasn't quite right. Despite herself, Harley liked the difference she was experiencing by talking to Bruce.
"I bet ya if I psychoanalysed your board, you'd end up pretty damn surprised." Harley was being almost playful and she sensed that this was a good way to go in the conversation and that he'd be willing to join her. It seemed as though Al was the only one with a ship's mast up their ass.
Bruce's lips twitched upwards into a small smile and Harley giggled. She reached up, placing her hand on Bruce's arm and smiled at him.
"Thanks for cheerin me up. I appreciate it." Harley wouldn't say that she was happy but she was certainly better than she had been before.
"I think I'm gonna have to keep you around 'B man'." Harley laughed again at the slight panic on his face. She'd come back to that at some point but for now, she didn't want to think, she just wanted to be a girl enjoying the company of a good guy.