Chapter Sixteen: Another Way
"NO!" Bruce's voice rang out as Harley's finger began to squeeze the trigger.
As the gun clicked empty against her temple, Bruce tackled her to the ground, pushing her gunhand away from her body and pinning her arm against the floor. Surprise crossed her face as Harley stared at the malfunctioning weapon in her hand before pulling the trigger to test it a second time. A loud bang rang out as a bullet imbedded itself into the wall nearby. She struggled against Bruce to bring the gun up again to her head, but his fingers wrested the weapon from her hand, tossing it across the room towards Hush. Breathing heavily, she narrowed her eyes at him, still pinned under the weight of his chest.
"How dare you take the choice away from me." Hard edges lined her voice, cold and betrayed.
"I am not going to watch you kill yourself, Harley," Bruce said, anger in his eyes, but also compassion and worry. "That is never the answer."
"Then what is?" Her anger in return, accusing. "If I don't stop myself, I will kill more innocents and neither of us wants that. This is the only way."
His weight lifted off her, and Bruce shifted to sit back on his knees, giving her room to sit up. Eyes scanning the room, she noted Hush in the same spot, watching impartially as the scene played out. Bruce shook his head at her. "There are people who can help you, Harley. If you give them a chance, they can help you change."
Harley could feel the tears at the corners of her eyes. "I am not going to Arkham. Do you have any idea what happens behind those walls? Because I do." Her eyes grew wide. "Not only will I feel more trapped than I am now, but they'll just put me in a padded room and medicate me into catatonia because no amount of therapy can ever fix what's been done to me. The doctors there don't care what happens to the patients." Her eyes pleaded with him. "I'd be just another roster number, destined to wilt away, dying slowly. I won't let them do that to me. Not when I have a choice."
And she collapsed into herself, pulling her knees up to press her forehead against them. Something the late Peyton Riley always did. Her arms wrapped around her legs, and she felt the tears flow down her cheeks much as they did when she broke down in front of Thomas a few weeks back, and she felt her mind transported back to those moments in the hotel room. A warm hand touched her head, an attempt to comfort as she lost herself inside her emotions. Her sobs pierced the air, echoing off the blank walls and back to her ears. Worthless Harley.
"There are other options." Bruce spoke. Not Thomas, she had to remind herself. Bruce's voice was nearer than before, his hand was the one on her head. "I can talk to the police on your behalf, get you sent somewhere out of Gotham with good doctors who won't do that to you. People who genuinely want to help you. You don't have to give up."
Her head whipped up, staring into his concerned hazel eyes as he retracted his hand. "I won't be caged like that." More anger. "Might as well go back to Mr. J if I want that kind of treatment. People who pretend they know what's best for you but in reality, they all just seek to control you." Her eyes flashed at him as she released her hold on her legs. "I won't be a puppet to anyone else. I'd rather die."
A look of pity crossed Bruce's face and she sneered. "What, Wayne? You feel bad for the broken doll now that you know her story? Fuck you. I don't want your pity. You served your purpose. Now get the fuck out of here and go back to your life of money-grubbing bimbos and all-nighters."
Gracefully, she stood in one motion. Bruce got to his feet, as well, looking down at her. "I refuse to believe that you kidnapped me only so you could tell me your life story. You wanted me here for something more and while you may be right that I do feel bad for you, it's not because you're broken. It's because you want to throw your life away before seeing if there is another way. A way you can be fixed. And I can... no, I want to help you with that, if you let me." He held out his hand to her. "Let me help you, Harley."
For a moment, she stared at his outstretched palm, seeing hope in her future. A lifeline. The possibility of a life without all the boundaries imposed on her, sending her demons back where they belonged. Her shaking hand began to rise to take his, but at the last second, she pulled her hand away, turning from the compassionate gaze of the billionaire. "No."
"Harley-" Bruce began.
"Get out." Her voice was trembling as she spoke, not looking at him.
"Don't do this," he pleaded with her.
Her rage swirled inside her, bubbling over. Whirling around, the knife from her pocket back in her hand, she brandished it before Bruce. "Get out before we both regret it."
She could see the disappointment in his eyes. "Fine." He walked towards the door, his hand on the knob, before his head swiveled to look back at her. "But remember, there is always another way, Harley. When you're ready, come find me." Then he was gone.
Hush moved for the first time to poke his head out the door before nodding in confirmation that the billionaire was nowhere to be seen. In silence, they gathered all evidence of their misdeeds and went out the back entrance to the waiting van. As Hush tossed everything inside, Harley stared down the alley, trying to collect her thoughts, replaying the past couple hours in her mind. Letting it all wash over her and through her before expelling it out in one long whoosh of air. She needed to regain her sense of self, not to be lost in the role. And when Thomas was finished, she climbed back into the passengers seat and rested, listening to the peaceful hum of the engine.
Only once they cleared several city blocks did Thomas speak. "Damn, you're good." And he let out an impressed whistle that broke the tension.
Harley began to laugh. A laughter that was harsh, yet distinctly feminine, like bells clanging against a wall. A glance at Thomas' bandaged head made her laugh even harder, as the night's events escaped her through joyful merriment until her sides hurt. A smile crossed his face but he didn't join in, merely enjoyed her amusement in his introverted way. After several minutes and an increase of abdominal pain from her glee, she calmed down enough to look out the window at the skyline of Gotham, a wide grin splitting across her face.
"Did you see his face when I pulled the trigger?" Harley had removed the bullet from the chamber on the ride over, a planned maneuver to grab attention with the brutal act of attempted suicide. And it worked perfectly. "I thought he was going to shit himself."
"A brilliant idea. Sold the entire bit," Thomas agreed. "Your performance was spectacular. Very convincing. I was about to dive across the room to stop you even though I knew what you were doing. I'll admit, it was good enough to make me wonder about your mental state."
Directing her smile over to him, she said, "You still should. After all, I'm a raving psychotic. I'm just glad I was able to hold it together so you didn't have to get involved. It's hella dangerous for me to allow my emotions to take me over like that. I was drawing on a lot of memories and they stirred my pot something good."
"Will there be any residual problems?"
Harley shook her head. "I'll take care of my pent up aggression later. I'll be fine, but it's cute that you're worried."
"I've invested far too much into you to not be worried," Thomas said. "Is this the right place for the drop?"
The van pulled in an old junk yard, often used by the mafia as a dumping ground. They wouldn't notice another empty van amongst the rest of their leftovers. She pointed to a decent parking spot and Thomas stopped the vehicle. There was no need to scrub down the van, so they merely grabbed their gear and left the yard behind, walking towards where Thomas left two of his unregistered cars. He tossed her a set of keys and dumped his bag in the trunk of the car he'd be driving. And then, with great care, he unwrapped the bandages from his head.
"Oh, sweet god, you have no idea how good this feels." His eyes closed in rapture as the fresh, cool air ran across his bare facial skin.
Harley smiled. "Actually, I think you just got your first glimpse of what it feels like to be me."
His blue eyes cracked open, flicking over at her. "Explains a lot," he said. "So what's next?"
"I'll need you to send me his itinerary for the next week. Then I start with the build up phase. He seems much more amenable than I thought he'd be, so we may be able to press the final phase earlier than I thought."
Thomas nodded. "Bruce has always been full of surprises, especially when it comes to a pretty face in distress."
"Ever the flirt, Thomas," she teased, flipping her hair behind her in a girly way.
Laughing, he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. "You know you love it."
With her arms wrapped around him, she squeezed gently. "Flattery will get you everywhere."
Pulling back a little to gaze down at her face, his eyebrow raised. "Oh, really?" His voice dropped into something more primal, his sexual energy increasing. The hands, that were wrapped around her, massaged her back lightly through her jacket. His joking smirk was only a mask for his true intentions. She could feel the evidence of that pressing against her stomach.
The temptation was delicious to her, wanting to claim him, to feel his body writhing beneath hers, but Harley remembered the promise she made herself and forced away her own growing energy with great effort. "What happened to not wanting to be the rebound guy?"
"Knowing you, you've already had ten of them by now."
Gently touching his cheek with her gloved hand, she smiled. "True. But right now, you're high on the action of tonight. And so am I. From experience, there is nothing like great sex after a successful run." She couldn't believe she had the strength to say the next words. "And as much as I want to tear your clothes off right now and make you scream my name in the throes of passion, I think we both know that being so impulsive will only lead to disaster."
"For someone who claims to have no self-control, you show a remarkable amount of restraint."
"I have a good friend who keeps reminding me that I can do it," she said and then stretched up to press a light kiss on his lips. A friendly, quick peck to thank him before pulling away. "But if you need some relief, there are some hookers who use the motel I'm staying at. I could arrange something."
Again, the tension broke between them as he laughed. "I think I'll somehow make it."
With a wink, she walked over to her borrowed car and got in. It had been a great night. So much accomplished, so much yet to do. Harley had to remind herself not to get overconfident. That was the worst thing any criminal could do, because that was always when some screw got knocked loose. And without Mr. J's obsessive personality guiding her actions and making her paranoid about every move, she had a far better chance of success in her endeavors. Driving back to her motel, Harley felt elated and ready for whatever would come next.
Mr. J watched as the cars drove off, the smell of exhaust and rubber penetrating his senses. Judging by the interaction, Harley had gone off to sate her lust. A trifle. Insignificant that hands, not his own, were upon her. Her bed might be warmed by another body but her soul would always belong to him, thinking dark thoughts in the night of greasepaint and gasoline. Wishing she could end the dance but unable to live without it. Her entire life was defined by it. And Harley could never escape her true destiny, a fiddle that was out of tune when not in his hands.
Taking out his phone, he made a familiar phone call. "CCTV wipe on Jackson between Howard and Lexington for five hours." And hung up without another word. Livingston would handle it.
His sloppy girl had left so many loose ends behind since her departure. Bodies not properly dumped, lovers still breathing, neighbors aware of her presence at her pathetic motel room. It was against his interests to let her rot in the back of a police car, but she certainly deserved it. The victim of her own stupidity. Harley had many good qualities but she, so often, missed the details. And Mr. J was there to keep her unknowingly in check. Corpses incinerated, lovers removed, neighbors threatened. Always watching. Her silent guardian. Whoever she chose to quench her desire would be dead by morning. His hands wiping her scent off of used flesh.
Harley was clueless. Focused when needed but blinded on both sides. She never could see the obvious, staring her right in the face. Everything was so clear and the clock was ticking down, each second leading to her inevitable confrontation. The copy cat had been active with petty stunts but the identity was known. An overly complicated operation to be turned upside down. So lost in plans, it would never be seen. Heard. Felt. Mr. J saw the conclusion and couldn't help but laugh.
A joke that would shatter her world and remind her where she belonged.
Harley stood across the street, no makeup, no costume, watching the entrance to his downtown penthouse. Her heavy coat covered her body, but she left the hood down, her blond hair flying around in the gusts that blew between buildings. His pretty date was exiting the car, excited to be bedded by the billionaire. A little bit of sociopath had to be lurking behind the exterior of Bruce Wayne to shamelessly use women and cast them aside as he did. A rarity that he was seen with the same woman twice. But they kept coming, hoping they would be the one. None of them ever could be. From her analysis of his actions, he had proven that he both needed a damsel and a warrior, someone who had strength and yet needed him. Harley Quinn was the perfect candidate.
It had been just over a week since she kidnapped him but it wasn't their first encounter since then. She had snuck into a press conference, a couple days prior, to watch him speak on some facet of Wayne Enterprises. At one point, while following his script notes, his eyes scanned the crowd. When they landed on her, his voice nearly cracked, covering up his reaction with a cough. Harley did nothing in return, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. The point was made that she was still alive. Thanks to his nobility. And then she disappeared into the crowd before he could locate her again.
As the driver's door was opened for him, Bruce stood, looking around the block for a second, as she hoped he would. His wandering eyes passed her silhouette briefly, continuing to scan, before darting back to focus completely on her in surprise. Harley raised her hand in greeting. In turn, he put up his forefinger to silently ask her to wait a minute. It didn't take long for his date to be sent on her way, confused and pissed off at her dismissal. And then Bruce was walking across the cold pavement of the street towards his former abductor.
"Harley," he said, as he approached, keeping a decent distance from her. Smart of him.
"Bruce." She nodded back to him, her hands in her pocket.
"You look well."
"I feel better," she said, purposefully being as awkward as she could, drawing upon memories of her days in high school. "I, uh, wanted to thank you. For, you know, stopping me."
The concern in his eyes came back. "Are you alright?"
Again, she nodded. "I've been thinking about what you said. About there being another way. I don't want to live like this anymore."
"I know some people-" Always the same line from him. She waved a hand to stop him from continuing.
"No. I'll just wind up imprisoned and then I'm left with only one choice." She didn't need to say what that choice was. They both understood her meaning. "But while I might not be able to live my life the way it used to be, you know, when I was a doctor, I want to try to be better. Go off and live somewhere quietly where they don't know my face or name."
"As much as I know you don't want to hear it, Harley," he said, his breath steaming against the cold. "You can't just walk away from your past, not without confronting what's happened. You've hurt a lot of people because of your actions. And while I, now, understand that it wasn't necessarily in your control, tell me, don't they deserve as much peace as you?"
"By what? Dragging me before the courts so some shrinks can announce what everyone knows? That I'm insane, that the Joker somehow twisted my mind? How is that going to grant anyone peace? I've murdered, tortured, and done god knows what to hundreds of people in my time. Nothing is ever going to give the survivors or the families of my victims any peace." She wrung her hands in front of her. "When it comes down to it, I'm suffering far more than any of them ever have. And I want it to stop. I want to stop hurting." Tears filled her eyes, burning against her chilled lashes. "You told me to come find you, so I did, because I have no other person to turn to. But if all you're going to do is keep telling me to turn myself in, then I'll just say goodbye now."
Harley could see the war behind his eyes. The struggle between wanting to help the damsel and letting the police handle her. He wasn't worried about what she would to do him, but rather the harm she would cause out on the streets, whether to others, or herself. Bruce knew her story, understood that she was out of control and way beyond his skills, but at the same time, he could see the pain inside her and the plea for help. And maybe if he spent some time talking with her, he could eventually convince her to seek out real help. Behind her tears, she studied every nuance of his posture, the little ticks of his face, and knew what his decision would be.
"Why don't you come inside?" Bruce asked, waving a hand towards the building.
Men were so easy to manipulate.
"How long do you think it will take?" Thomas asked her, later the same evening.
Harley shrugged as she stuffed a drive-thru taco into her mouth, the shell crunching loudly against her teeth. The motel room hadn't seen maid service since she checked in. The rumpled bedding she sat on was stained with reddish-brown streaks, old blood from nights that she was too tired to clean herself up before sleep. Thomas sat across from her in a tiny chair, the small table next to him holding a laptop and multiple sheets of notes. The room was cramped, but it had become home to her.
Still chewing, she said, "Hard to tell. But tonight went very well." She grabbed her drink off the table, taking a swig to swallow down her food. "Did you get the photos?"
His foot pushed a case, that was on the floor, towards her. Wiping her hands on her pants, she picked it up and opened it. A camera lay inside, digital, expensive, with all the extras that any member of the paparazzi would love. A wicked grin crossed her face as she turned it on, scanning the photos that Thomas was tasked to take. Long shots, from the building adjacent to Bruce's penthouse, revealed Harley inside, sitting down with the playboy on one of his expensive leather couches. For the most part, the pictures showed completely innocent behavior between them. But a couple of the photos could be construed in another way. A handshake as they made a deal. A gentle touch on her shoulder as he tried to comfort her while she cried. A friendly hug before she left.
"The news is going to have a field day with these," she commented as she flipped through the camera's contents.
"It's not enough," he said.
Harley looked up. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head. It may take a couple of weeks but I'll get you something juicier."
"I hope you're not planning on sleeping with him." While his tone was joking, she couldn't help but notice the thread of jealousy hidden within.
Putting the camera back into its case, she picked up her taco again with a grin. "He'll never be worthy of my many skills. Not to mention, I could lose control and kill him by accident, and that would completely defeat the purpose of our game."
"Does that happen often? Losing control?" He sounded worried.
After swallowing another bite, she nodded. "Enough that I wouldn't want to risk it. The smallest thing can swing my emotions from one state to another. You've seen it happen a couple of times on a much lower level, but trust me when I say that it gets much worse."
"How much worse?"
"You don't want to ever know," she said, putting down her food again, completely serious. "Listen, I know I've been putting off your questions about the story I told Bruce. About my past. But know this, I didn't leave much out of that story. My life is a fucking disaster, filled with pain, passion, and death. And I'm perfectly okay with it."
Thomas shook his head in disbelief. "How can you be so cavalier about this?"
"Because I'm not like the rest of them out there." Her hand waved towards the door. "I've been trying to make it clear to you since day one. My mind is a storm of unfettered emotions that are constantly begging to be unleashed. I love letting go, just giving in and feeling whatever flows through me." She closed her eyes. "To feel the cut of a blade against skin, or a warm body underneath me, screaming in agony. To see flames towering high in a monument to my glory, or the passion that pain brings me, wrapping around me like an old friend." She shuddered at the vivid imagery in her mind, feeling her dark side rising.
"Harley?"
She didn't hear him, lost inside her head. "I want to roll around in blood, feel its wet slickness cover my body. I want to scream until my throat gives out with a wrath so violent that the city quivers in fear." Her eyelids cracked open, seeking the anxiety that lay just beneath the surface of the man before her. With slow, sensual movements, Harley climbed off the bed, converging on him. "I want to be naked, raw, depraved, enjoying the sensation of another's flesh against my own."
Thomas' pale skin became flushed at her last words. His energy enticed her inner beast, a lamb sitting still before her lion. Waiting to be her prey. Her hands dipped down to his lap and she ran her fingernails across his upper thighs, backing off before she touched the growing bulge in his pants. Thomas grasped her wrists, pulling them to his chest and looking into her eyes with a heated gaze. "Is that really what you want?"
Her lips curled upwards in an evil smile as she straddled his thighs. Harley brought her face close to his, until their lips were only an inch apart. Breathily, she murmured, "You have no idea."
And she kissed him harshly, her lips bruising against his as her hands rose to stroke the side of his neck. Thomas' arms wrapped around her back, jerking her closer until she could feel his hard length between her legs. A moan escaped him, vibrating against her lips as her fingers slipped into the softness of his red hair, her nails scratching against his scalp. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, the taste of mint greeting her, and she found that she no longer cared about the silent promise she made to herself. Everything inside her craved him.
But as his fingers slid under her shirt to run up and down her back gently, she became annoyed at his softness, needing the rough caresses that she was used to. Inspired to press his limits, she bit down on his lower lip, hard enough to enjoy the groan of pain that escaped him, savoring the blood that flowed from his new wound. His hands stilled on her back, uncertain about the direction she was going. Amused, she giggled against his lip, her nails scraping back down to the front of his neck. Thomas was accustomed to more gentile lover, it seemed, and that made her determined to push him beyond his limitations.
Her fingers stretched out to circle his throat as she nibbled at his lips. Before he knew what was happening, she squeezed hard, relishing the guttural sound his throat made as it was forced closed. Thomas' hands immediately came up to pull her choking hands away but she held firm, leaning back to stare into his panicked eyes. It had been too long since she watched the light fade away from someone's eyes as her hands controlled their ability to breathe. Seeing that in Thomas delighted her so much that she didn't want to stop. Harley wanted nothing more than to see her friend's eyes slowly glaze over until the void collected him.
Suddenly she was pushed off him, landing on the floor in a heap. Thomas was touching his throat in relief, gasping in a breath before saying, "What the fuck was that?"
"What?" She smirked from her position on the floor, her eyelids fluttering in innocence. "Can't handle a little rough foreplay?"
Her hands reached up to grasp his thighs again but he grabbed them, thrusting them away from him and stood, looking down at her with that same expression that she had seen so many times on others. The one that doubted her sanity. "You are seriously messed up."
Her smirk dropped, replaced by anger at his declaration. Getting to her feet, Harley faced him directly, eyes flashing with anger. "You fucking know who I am, asshole. What I am. And yet you still come back time and time again. So don't you fucking dare say that to me." She couldn't prevent her hand from flying up and slapping him in her wrath.
Thomas' eyes became dark, the same rage underneath that had his own hands around her neck almost a month ago. For a moment, she believed he may have understood her a little more, switching from lust to rage as quickly as she often did. But no, his rage was built on humiliation and the pain she caused him. Not the nonsensical ramblings of her wild tempest of emotions. And when he shoved her in return, her body falling backwards onto the bed, she had to force down the desire to attack him. No, she needed to see how he would proceed next, hoping he would let the rage drive him into his own destruction.
But Thomas didn't make another move, instead staring down at her, his eyes cold and menacing. "Never strike me again, Harley Quinn." The unspoken threat was implied.
The use of her chosen name shocked the anger out of her system as she watched him leave the motel room. The door slammed behind him. Harley felt her emotions settle down to a state of numbness as she resigned herself to the fact that she really was poison to everything she touched. Hearing his car screeching out of the parking lot, she picked up her half-eaten taco and sighed. "I tried to warn you, Thomas."
A/N: I hope all you Mr. J fans are happy that his POV has returned. I told you it would be awhile and I'm glad to be writing from his perspective again. Which of course means that there isn't too much left of this story. Maybe three or four more chapters. As for this chapter, I wanted to reiterate how messed up Harley's emotions are, and how out of control she can get. She's been pretty laid back for awhile so I thought it was time to ramp it up again.
And as always, thank you for reading! Please, if you can, take the time to let me know what you think of the story thus far if you haven't before. I'd love some feedback. Cheers!