IX

From that day onward, Harley began to keep a second, secret journal on her dealings with "Mr. J". In it, she wrote some of her more personal and unprofessional thoughts, along with whatever story he had told her that day.

The Joker told Harley a new story about how he had received the Glasgow Smile, everyday. He was a self loathing hit-man who had punished himself with mutilation after he accidentally shot his own daughter during a drunken rage. He was a priest, kidnapped and tortured by the mob after he testified against one of their men in court. He was a comedian who had been mugged by a total stranger outside a club one night. His wife had done it, after he knocked her around one too-many times.

His mother did it. His father. His third grade teacher. A sick doctor. His best friend.

It was never the same story. Sometimes he was the victim. Sometimes, he brought it on himself. Sometimes he did it himself. Sometimes he was a normal person with a life or a family, and sometimes he was a criminal or a pathetic loner. He played every role, he told every lie with a perfect cadence; a convincing air of tragedy or irony or hurt.

The Joker always looked her in the eyes.

It got so that she anticipated it like an ongoing saga… but they didn't just talk about his scars.

"So-so then…" he was having to pause every few words to laugh, "I really was going to show them a magic trick!"

Harley whipped at her eyes, she was already partially hysterical from his last story. She couldn't quite explain what it was—all his stories were terrible. All of them were told in bad taste—she couldn't get enough of it. He knew exactly how to make her laugh. His delivery was like nothing she'd ever heard before.

"But—they were too impatient. I'd already riled 'em with that entrance, so I guess I wasn't surprised when one of them came at me,"

"Oh! Was he big?!" Harley bounced in her seat, totally involved in the story.

"Huge—but stupid. I didn't have any weapons, except for that pencil, but it was good enough—I grabbed his head and-" he made a gesture in midair to help with the mental image of what he'd done.

She burst out laughing, "Was he okay?!"

"No. Deaddeaddead."

Harley was laughing so she didn't notice how close he had come to her. There were tears in her eyes, so she couldn't see that he was leaning over her. She hadn't yet discovered the fact that he wasn't laughing anymore. His face was calm, an inch above her own. Watching.

The door burst open and Harley's laughter was punctuated with the sound of guns being cocked. One of the security guards shouted, "Step back, clown!"

"Oh!" Harley came to her senses, whipping her eyes and looking in horror at the three men, "Oh no, he ain't—he wasn't doing anythin' wrong… he just made me laugh, I'm fine," she assured them, still unable to take the grin from her lips.

The Joker had backed away about a foot and was staring the guards down. There was no fear in him, only curiosity.

"Are you sure, ma'am?"

"Uh-huh. We're fine…"

The guards looked reluctant to leave. Harley wasn't sure what they had thought they were seeing, "Well. That was-" she started to say quietly as the guards turned away and shut the door. The Joker had descended on her the second the security wasn't looking. His twisted lips connected with her mouth and in another moment he had his hands wound into her hair. She was surprised to feel that he was so gentle against her. There was passion and feeling, the same violence and chaotic intensity that was always shrouding him was still present, but subdued. The feral pathos was so subtle; he was actually being tender. Showing some minor restraint. He had thrown caution out with his other inhabitations and yet he suddenly seemed…. Vulnerable?

The word didn't fit with him.

What overwhelmed Harley was the intensity of her own reaction to his touch—to the reality of kissing him, something she hadn't been able to stop herself from imagining since the first moment she saw him. A heat inside her bones had gone from a smoldering presence to a nearly painful flood of red ecstasy pumping through her veins.

He was too soft.

She clutched at the collar of his jumpsuit and pulled him in closer to her; all discretion burned up in an instant by the realisation of her fantasy. It must have only been a second or two that they were turned around each other, because The Joker pulled away, his eyes over her shoulder on the guards as they resumed their post.

"They finally looked away," he murmured in her ear. And then he was back on the other side of the cell, like she could stand to be away from him, now that they had finally touched.

Harley wasn't sure how long she was silent; staring at his mutilated face across the room. There was not an ounce of shame or fear, anywhere in his continence. He looked more relaxed than before, however. There was a hint of satisfaction burning yellow under the smoldering black of his eyes.

"Dr. Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Wanna know how I got these scars?"

Back to the End

Harley pulled herself from her head. It was light. Morning. She must have fallen asleep… she started to pull herself up the brick wall, feeling the unforgiving aches and pains—her body making her pay for not taking care of herself. She glanced at the doorway… he would probably be ready to let her inside again. Heavy and still half-trapped in her heady dreams of the past, Harley contemplated opening the door. She had a staring contest with the knob. Then something else pulled her away.

Hope.

If she could fix this herself… then they could finally be happy. A plan was forming in her mind. Anxiously, Harley realized that she was ready to go through with it—without The Joker.

Harley went back into the apartment, but it was just to grab a few things… She didn't see him. As she left the apartment, she decided she wouldn't see him again, until she had fixed this.

She could fix everything.

Fun Fact: Harley Quinn's character is partially based on a comedian named Arleen Sorkin. She's very funny. Not much of a brooding heroine. More like a kick-ass crime-jester. Like a female version of The Joker. Not that I'm dissing Angst!Harley or anything… she's okay. And she does turn up in this once or twice.

Song of the Chapter: A Perfect Circle, "Weak and Powerless"