Disclaimer: All characters used in this fic are the property of DC Comics and are based on the characters in The Dark Knight. I only own the plot.
Chapter 5: Don't Leave Me Hanging
A/N: Now we return to the Clown Prince of Crime and his little Harlequinn.
Song: Riot by Three Days Grace
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this!" Harley flailed around the apartment in her new apparel: A skin-tight black and red body suit that made her look like a jester. Go figure. Judging by that stupid grin plastered on his painted face, the Joker was clearly enjoying himself with a glass of whiskey, his dark coat thrown over the back of a nearby chair.
He grinned, biting the inside of his cheek. "It really doesn't look that bad," he laughed. "Aww... You're ruining everything with that face, Harley. Lighten up."
Harley pushed her hair out of her eyes and glared at him furiously. Her usual serene expression had been wiped away by one of rage straight from the depths of hell. His words and laughter did little to lift her spirits. At this point, she was going to do everything in her power just to piss him off. But it seemed that her attempt wasn't having any affect whatsoever.
"There's something you should know," she spat, crossing the room and poking him in the chest with her finger. "I'm not your goddamn plaything!"
Before she knew what had happened, she had knocked the whiskey right out of the bastard's hand. The instant she realized what she had done, Harley knew that she would be six feet under, facing the depths of hell and damnation. Or worse. But the feeling of dread was suddenly, and surprisingly, imprisoned behind a wall of accomplishment, blocking out her fears of an inevitable doom at the hands of a madman.
For a brief moment, she felt as though she could take on Gotham, Batman, her inner demons that had so cruelly tortured her. Unfortunately, Harley's sense of achievement was shattered and replaced with a horrid pain as she felt herself being slammed into a nearby wall; the stinging sensation growing rapidly and flooding her body like some kind of vicious poison. An ear-splitting shriek uncontrollably erupted from her lungs, only to be cut off by a rough hand over her mouth. The single thread that kept her body and consciousness linked was the pain. The bloodlust in the room was like a thick haze: disconcerting and suffocating.
The tip of the Joker's knife was steadily forcing its way through the tender flesh of her jaw; warm blood oozing to the surface of the wound that would permanently leave his mark, not only upon her skin, but upon her very soul. His grip on her throat began to constrict with every breath she took, until she was left gasping for even the tiniest bit of air.
"Let me... go..." Harley's words came out in small, painful gasps at irregular intervals, nearly losing consciousness each time. She cracked her eyes open, ignoring the slight film of gray obscuring her vision. Her captor was mere inches from her face, seemingly transfixed with the sight of blood trickling down her neck.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
As if reading her very thoughts, the Joker turned his harsh gaze to face her, and the eyes of the Devil himself began to bore into her, watching, waiting for her to move, even slightly. Harley faded in and out of the darkness, returning each time to stare into the scarred face of a demon from the pits of hell.
He growled as he rolled his tongue along the inside of his mouth, watching her intently. "Poor choice of words, doll."
Harley heard the harsh laughter escape his lips, and felt herself plummeting into the dark abyss below. The end had come and snatched her away, dragging her life into the pits. Oh, what had she done to deserve such a thing? She'd lived a good, honest life for the most part. And she'd done everything in her power to correct her past mistakes. So, why was she being punished like this? At the hands of a madman?
I'm going to die... I'm going to die... I'm going... to...
As she faded into the looming unconsciousness, surrounded by loud, familiar voices. She heard herself gasp as her failing heartbeat echoed through the empty void of her darkest dreams. Harley opened her eyes and found herself standing on air, surrounded by nothing but darkness and frightening sounds of the past. Blurred faces swirled around her, each bringing their own haunting words:
"Can you really handle something like this...? ...not the kind of work I see you doing..."
"You're a failure... but a failure... what you are... you're sickening..."
"But... things couldn't get much worse, right?"
"Worthless! ...lazy, good-for-nothing... I hate you!'"
"Harley...? Harley... What the hell is wrong with..."
The voices of people she knew; people she loved; people who had impacted her life at some point began spinning wildly around her within the void in which she saw herself standing. Their distorted faces flashed through her mind as if they were being torn from her memory by a vicious storm. One moment they were there, only to be swept away by an unseen force, completely wiped from existence within her now fragile mind.
Let me go... Let me go... Let me...
"Go!"
Harley awoke and found herself screaming. She knew that she was now in a different room than the one she had passed out in, regardless of the darkness that enveloped it. The only light was that of the moon that entered the room from the window. The silvery glaze fell upon a leather couch that was seated by a table, the wood glinting and catching her eye. She glanced around, suddenly realizing that she was on a bed, still dressed in her stupid outfit. She brushed her hair aside, and felt a strip of gauze where the Joker had cut her. The thought of him doing something so humane was completely abnormal.
Harley jumped when she finally noticed the sound of the buzzing television in the room. It was staring at her from a cabinet set against the far wall that the couch was facing. Several messages scrawled across the bottom of the news screen, many of them moving too fast for her to read. When she turned her attention to the news report itself, she was horrified to see that the news reporter was standing in front of the wreckage of Arkham Asylum. The rubble had been blocked off by police, and several paramedics and helicopters were also on the scene, sifting through the rubble for any survivors.
"This just in," the reporter said. "The Gotham City Police Department has once again recieved a message to the city from the Joker. Let's take a look."
The screen went black for a few moments, giving way to a surge of static. The picture then showed, the camera focusing in on the face of the Joker.
"You want to put an end to this chaos?" His words were deadpan, serious, frightening. "Then Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. The 'Dark Knight' hasn't spread his wings for three days, and... just look at all the people who died in Arkham. You want order in Gotham, but you won't turn yourself in. You can't have it both ways. We tried doing this the easy way, but you wouldn't take it. So, we're gonna raise the stakes. Here's how it's gonna work: People will die every hour of every day until you turn yourself in. Don't try to hide, because the longer you hide, the longer it will take for all the bad dreams to go away. I know you're out there, and I know you're watching this. Think about Gotham. Think about all the innocent people who will pay for your unwillingness to cooperate... Like this lovely girl here."
The camera moved from the Joker to a limp body in the corner of the room which Harley easily identified as her own. The television blared with the Joker's insane cackle, the camera then returning to him.
"It's still your decision, but ah... the clock. Is. Ticking."
The tape then focused on a concrete wall, where the body of yet another Batman impersonator hung, his face carved up into a smile; writing scrawled on the wall beside the body, a clear message written in the man's blood: "Don't leave me hanging."
The tape went black, but the audio remained, the Joker's sickening laughter ringing from the television set before it returned to the news broadcast. Harley sat back down on the bed, dazed at what she had seen.
"Don't leave me hanging."
Those words stuck in her head for some reason, and she was unable to clear them from her thoughts. She saw that message, that face, and heard his laughter everywhere. For some reason, even his manic laughter made her feel... safe. She found it to be somewhat soothing. But why? Then it hit her like a speeding train.
Oh, heaven forbid... I'm... I'm in love with the Joker...
I know this one is a little shorter than the others. In regards to the the HarleyxJoker thing, they just fit together. Please review.