Okay – a few people like. Phew! I shall post a bit more then. As I said, this is mainly snippets – I know I kind of planted a seed with the mysterious newspaper article in the last chapter but you'll forgive me for not elaborating… yet. I'm going to take all these ingredients and put them into an actual story length story, but for now, I love to hear what you think of what I've already got.
Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shitty fuck. Harley clenched her fists tightly; she was actually done for. Not only had she been caught, but she'd been caught red handed. Her own stupid fault! Why had she ever listened to Ivy? Because Jack told you not to, her mind reminded her.
Jack. That was a name she couldn't even think of. She couldn't risk them finding out she was linked to the Joker.
"Ms Quinzel, we know you're linked with the Joker."
Oh fuckedy fuck.
"I most certainly am not," Harley defended vehemently, all the while desperately searching for a way out of this mess. She was in a windowless room, stripped of all weapons. The only door was guarded by two cops with very dangerous looking machine guns. Gordon sat opposite her with his arms folded, regarding her carefully. Only a cold white table separated them. She tried her damnedest to rearrange her expression into that of an innocent person, but even if she could it wouldn't do any good. These guys well and truly had her number.
The commissioner sighed. "Ms Quinzel, your finger prints have been matched to countless crime scenes. We may not have been able to match the prints of your associate… he's remarkably thorough like that. But, the Joker likes to leave his calling card, doesn't he?"
Associate? Jack would love to hear himself called that. He'd also like to take the playing card Gordon was toying with and carve him a new smile.
"Look, Harleen," Harley noted the change in tone, the shift in stance, the way Gordon gave her a little smile of assurance; she knew that look, it was the look Jack gave her when he was trying to get her to admit to something she didn't want to. Mind you, she didn't think Gordon was about to throw a knife at her head if she didn't. "Whatever he's got on you, we can help you. We can offer you protection."
Harley scoffed; "No," she said, chuckling. "You can't."
"You had a great thing going for you," the commissioner continued. "You graduated first in your class, published three papers on criminal psychosis in your first two years at Arkham… says here that your superiors had you pegged as the best thing to happen to that place in years. You were destined for greatness… and then you met the Joker."
"Who's reports have you been reading? Crane's? That's a very reliable source, Commissioner."
Gordon paused, then gave a quick nod to the cops on the door. They looked uneasy, but left all the same. When the door had closed, he turned back to Harley.
"Harleen," he said, kindly. "The Joker's dangerous. You must know that if you've spent time with him. I don't suppose you got those scars by playing in a sand box."
Bad move Gordon, touchy subject.
"He didn't give me these," Harley spat, having had just about enough. Would they just prosecute her already? "And you're wasting your time keeping me here, he's not going to come for me."
Gordon looked genuinely surprised.
"I don't know if you're familiar with police procedure Harleen, but I'm keeping you here for questioning, not as bait."
Harley bit her lip and said nothing. Gordon hadn't even considered that the Joker might want to rescue her; was it wishful thinking on her part? Had she just made a huge mistake and planted a seed in Gordon's mind that she would regret?
"You wanna question, so question." She muttered, deflated. Gordon's brow furrowed, but he got up and undid her cuffs. When she was free she shrugged off her red leather jacket and stripped off her gloves; the two things that reminded her of her Joker, for he had given them to her. She shook out her hair, and stared straight at the man before her. "What do you want to know?"
Gordon almost chuckled; "You're going to tell me?"
"Ask me your questions; I won't lie."
"Why the hell not?"
"I figure I'm going down either way." Harley replied, looking him right in the eye. He shrugged;
"I guess it depends on your answers." Gordon parried, leaning his elbows on the table. "Now, the security cameras detected two women; one was you. Who was the other?"
Harley's eyebrow's raised; "You didn't catch her?"
Gordon didn't answer, but repeated his earlier question. Harley's mind had flown into overdrive; Ivy had escaped, she would tell Jack what had happened, or Jack would find her and get it out of her somehow, and then he would come… Suddenly, Harley remembered. She remembered the way his eyes had gone so cold when he'd shouted at her to get out. She remembered the burn of his fist in her face. Most of all, she remembered her own tears splashing onto the flagstone while he threw her jacket out after her. He didn't look back. Not once. That night, she'd spent the evening crying herself to sleep on Ivy's couch. He'd spent it blowing up a sky scraper.
"It was Poison Ivy," she told him, knowing that the woman would never want her to take all the credit.
"Do you know Poison Ivy's true identity?"
"Sure, as well as she knows mine." And Jack's. Harley rolled her eyes. "Geez Commissioner, I thought you had a lifetime of experience with super villains. We don't chat."
"Why did you break into the security vault, Harleen?" Gordon asked gently, "I think we both know you weren't looking for diamonds."
"Oh no, I was," Harley replied, fervently. "I wanted a great big diamond. All for myself." So that Jack would see that I don't need him. Well, that had blown up in her face; she had messed it up, while his evening of chaos had gone uninterrupted. She needed him, he didn't need her. She wanted him… but he wasn't by her side, so he clearly didn't want her. If that was true, what on earth had she gone and thrown her life away for?
Harley dropped her head, bashing the table with force. Gordon flinched, but he didn't speak. He waited, and watched.
Harley went over and over their last words. He'd told her he was sick of her, that he didn't want to play their game any more. She'd told him that her life was not a game. She'd brought up things she shouldn't have done; she shouldn't have mentioned his mother. She shouldn't have mentioned that moment of weakness that he'd had; she knew he'd trusted her never to speak of it. She was stupid, it was her fault.
"I wasn't working with Ivy," Harley said, finally. "I had the idea, she went along with it. We're not a femme fatale tag team, it was just a one off… to cheer me up. You're right, I used to work with the Joker. But I don't anymore."
"Why not?"
"Let's call it trouble in paradise. He threw me out on my ass." Harley cursed herself, there were tears welling in her eyes. Damnit! Gordon sat back, frowning. He'd seen them.
"Harleen, exactly how closely did you work with him?"
"I'm a lady Commissioner, I don't kiss and tell." Harley retorted, but her heart wasn't in it. She bit her lip as she said it, and was reminded of him. The taste of him on her lips, it would linger forever. "Something I learned at Arkham – in fact, I wrote a paper on it – is that to truly understand a murderous psychopath, you have to be a little bit tapped yourself."
Gordon sighed. "Harleen, you're not a psychopath. You're not even a killer. I haven't got any murders to pin on you, just a couple of robberies, a break in or two. You don't owe this creep anything, just take a look at what's happened to you since you got involved with him. I can get you your life back."
For the first time, Harley allowed herself to be hopeful. She saw that the Commissioner was not lying. He really would help her, she could go back to a semi normal life. All she would have to do would be to turn in the man she loved.
"Just tell me where I can find him, Harleen," Gordon pressed. "I won't hurt him, I swear. I just want him off the streets."
"I…" Harley started, just as the lights began to flicker. She frowned, but the man before her didn't even seem to notice. He just kept asking that question. "I can't," she muttered, shaking her head. "I can't tell you that."
"You can," Gordon insisted. "What's stopping you?"
"I…" the lights went out. Gordon jumped to his feet. Harley could only whisper; "I love him."
The Commissioner's police radio crackled into life. For a moment, Harley thought she was imagining it, but when she saw the horror in Gordon's eyes, flashing in the green light from the screen, she knew it was really there. Laughter. Maniacal, psychotic laughter. The laughter of the Joker.
Harley's eyes grew wide, and without thinking she dived for the commissioner over the table, just as an explosion blew the door clean off it's hinges. They both hit the floor hard, but Gordon landed harder. He laid there, dazed but alive. Harley pushed herself upright, hardly daring to believe that the figure amid the smouldering dust cloud was that of her lover.
"J-Jack?" she whispered, coughing despite herself. The smoke cleared, and there was that grin. His eyes were no longer cold; they flickered with the light of chaos.
"Turns out," he began, eyes flicking to the stirring commissioner. "Turns out I got used to having a woman's touch around the place,"
Harley saw red, and not the red of her attire. "That's why you want me back?" she demanded, "To clean up your secret lair?"
The Joker lowered his head and stared up at her, smirking sardonically; "I ran out of socks."
"Ran out of… are you actually… what the hell are you doing coming after me if you're just going to keep treating me like shit?" she screamed. "You can't do this to me anymore, okay? Just – just –" he was approaching, getting closer and closer, the tails of his purple coat brushing over the barely conscious form Gordon as he stepped over him towards her. His hands had just reached hers when Harley lost it completely, she tore her hands away and jumped back away from him. "NO!" she screeched, as manically as he could have done. "Get the hell away from me!"
"You heard the lady, Joker," Foolish, foolish Gordon choked from the floor. The Joker's eyes clouded and his eyes narrowed in annoyance. He did not want Gordon interfering with his private life. That was not funny. He grabbed the lapels of the commissioner's jacket and lifted him off the ground with unnatural ease. Gordon was not deterred. "Leave Ms Quinzel alone; she's not coming with you."
The Joker roared with anger and brought Gordon slamming down onto the interrogation table in seconds. The commissioner spluttered and gasped; all the wind had been knocked out of him. He barely had time to struggle before the knife was at his throat.
Harley saw it and flew forward, just as half the GPD finally made it through the rubble and swarmed into the room.
"Freeze!" the one in front hollered, but when he saw his CO pinned to the white table, he faltered and held out an arm to stop his fellow officers. The Joker laughed in Gordon's face, his cracked makeup covering what little trace of humanity he had left.
"Care to make any more demands, commissioner? Hmm? HMM?" he shook the man so much that the blade caught his chin, a deep cut slicing across his jaw. Harley glanced fearfully at the officers, but their eyes were fixed on their commander. The Joker was still in full swing.
"Maybe you'd like a little harlequin of your own, huh? I could have gotcha one… maybe if you'd asked nicely. But I can't let you just take mine..." Gordon could feel the Joker's breath on his skin; the knife now pressed against the inside of his mouth. "Did she tell tales, commissioner? Did she tell you how I got these scars? She did, didn't she? It's a good job she's here, now she can tell your loved ones how you got yours…"
"No, Mr J," Harley said suddenly, taking hold of his arm. "I didn't tell him anything about you." The Joker wasn't listening. "Baby, come on,"she hissed; "we gotta get out of here!"
There was silence; Harley was about to try again, to make him listen however she could, when Gordon flew across the room, crashing into his own men and sending them tumbling like bowling pins. The Joker spun around, his arms held out wide, oblivious to the weapons pointed at his head.
"I gotta get out of here," he corrected, glaring at her. "You're an ungrateful little pincushion aren't you?"
"Get down on the damn floor you asshole!" Gordon yelled, his gun drawn and directed at the clown in his interrogation room. "NOW!"
"Do you mind commissioner, we're kinda having a moment here,"
"To hell with it, Joker, I don't have time for your games. Get down on the floor or I'll shoot!"
Harley leapt in front of her lover, shielding him from the commissioner; "No way, I didn't stop him killing you so you could blow him to hell,"
"Oh, he's not going to hurt me Harley baby," the Joker sneered, and grabbed her around the waist pulling her tight against him. "Not when I've got you here anyway." He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back so he could whisper in her ear. "Now make a wish!" She heard the pin of the grenade fall, and lifted her hands to her ears just in time. The wall behind them exploded, leaving them exposed to the elements. The Joker kept hold of his girl until the dust cleared, then he looked her in the eye for the first time that day.
"You wanna come with me, beautiful?" he murmured, his dark eyes sparkling. Harley thought for a moment about the commissioner's offer, but she knew it would never be enough. She didn't want to live without Jack; she couldn't. She looked right back at him, then smiled.
"Always," she whispered. He grinned, and his eyes lit up.
"Time to fly sweet cheeks! Here's a little trick I learned from the bat boy…"
Harley's stomach lurched, and air rushed past her ears. They were flying through the air, strung up by a wire attached to a departing plane. Bullets rushed past her feet, but she knew Gordon wouldn't aim at her. The GPD building shrunk quickly, and soon enough they were inside a rather rickety old plane.