Joker tossed his purple trench coat on the floor and flopped down in bed.
"So what did ya do to um, what's his face?" Harley asked closing the bedroom door behind her.
"What waaas his face, past tense cause he's very dead," Joker corrected, "And ya know when the song says uh, before your guts rip out your chest," he emphasized the "t", "Let's just say I was uh, in-spir-ed by that lyric,"
She laughed and sat in bed beside him, "So how'd I do tonight Mistah J?" she asked while stroking his greasy curls.
"You were a faantastic stripper Harl, missed your calling I'd say," he responded, "I told ya you could do it,"
She giggled, excited that he approved of her performance, "Ya so silly,"
"Yeah," he chucked staring at the ceiling.
"But ya know what?" she said tracing the hexagon pattern on his shirt with her finger, "You had ta stay backstage sooo ya didn't completely see the show, right?"
He nodded.
"So I was thinkin' maybe I'll do it again, ya know, just for you,"
"Sure," he shrugged sleepily.
"Kay, I'll be right back," she dashed off excitedly to change.
After fixing her hair and make up as well as changing into another costume she returned from the bathroom to find Mr. J asleep. She sighed with some disappointment, but it was understandable. It was late. Harley walked to his side and carefully loosened his tie. She unbuttoned his green vest and unhooked his suspenders. She smiled, she had never seen him like this. Only once in Arkham had she seen him sleep but that wasn't the same. That was a drug induced sleep. She still cringed to think about that day, she felt the fear creeping in her heart that she had felt while she stared hopelessly into his cell. That fear that he would sleep forever, it still chilled her. She gently stroked the chartreuse strands of hair of his forehead. But that was all over now and they were finally together.
He looked so harmless and innocent asleep before her. Or at least as harmless and innocent a man can look while covered in make up and blood. She noticed flecks of blood mingling with his white face paint. It must have been DiMarco's blood, it covered his hands and up his arms ending just under his rolled up sleeves. She decided she should wipe it off.
Harley made her way back to the bathroom, which was small and dirty. She wondered if the previous owner's even had any wash clothes. But after searching for a few moments she found some ratty, stained clothes piled in a drawer beneath the sink. She dampened and couple of them and returned to Mr. J. who was still asleep.
She gently wiped DiMarco's blood of off Joker's forearms. Thankfully it was not completely dried and came off fairly easy, leaving slight stains here and there. The she began to wipe his face with the second wash cloth. She hoped Mr. J wouldn't mind that she was removing his make up along with the blood splatters.
Seeing his pale flesh beneath the heavy clown make up reminded her of Arkham. They hadn't let him wear make up there, not until she bought some for him. Harley carefully removed his lipstick which was smeared chaotically across his scars. Her fingers lingered across the scar tissue for a moment, she loved the way it felt. The sensation reminded her of the first day she had felt them beneath her finger tips. That day changed everything, she knew she would never be the same. She was in love. Slowly, she wiped the face paint of his eyes and forehead, all done.
She sat the now bloody, make up covered wash cloths on the nightstand beside her. Then crawled in bed beside him. She snuggled up against him, wrapping her arms around his. Harley slowly fell asleep.
Rain pounded hard against the windows. It was so loud, why was it so loud? He couldn't stand the sound but he couldn't make it stop. Lightning flashed outside, it lit up the entire room with a quick white flash before it was gone. Gone, in a matter of moments leaving eerie shadows through out the room. He wanted the light to come back so badly. But in his heart he knew it wouldn't, things would never be okay. Thunder boomed making him jump slightly. He waited for the lightning to soundlessly relieve him for a brief moment. It did but retreated once again, he was terrified without it. But the darkness was a blessing and a curse. It was frightening but it hid the face before him.
He tried to recall his surroundings but could barley remember where he was. All he knew was he was in a small room. And inside the room nothing hung on the dirty walls but a mirror. A large oval shaped mirror. He stared into it unable to see what reflected in it due to the darkness. His dark siloette stared back at him only to be reveiled in color with a brilliant flash of lightning. And when the bolts of white light split the sky, casting light into the room he saw them. The stitches. Angry, black wires weaving in and out of his cheeks. He hated them.
Another flash of light. He quickly closed his eyes to avoid the sight of them but it didn't matter. He saw them anyway. It now seemed impossible to close his eyes. He tried to turn away from the reflection but he couldn't move. His legs grew numb. This was who he was now. He gazed at the now darkened reflection. He could never escape this.
He felt along the insides of his wounds. The stitches pricked the tip of his tongue. He touched them from the outside, stiff, swollen and lined with course stitches. He hated them so much. He gritted his teeth forgetting his previous feelings of confusion and fear. Anger took over as he felt the sides of his once whole face. He gripped the stitch closest to the corner of his mouth and swiftly pulled it. Blood spurt out and splattered the mirror. He felt the other corner of his mouth for another lose stitch. After finding it he jerked it out like the other one. He pulled a small pocket knife out of his back pants pocket. Slowly he worked each stitch loose with the knife before harshly pulling them out leaving behind nothing but tiny holes and blood.
The lightning once again lit up his small room. His reflection was much different now, blood dripped steadily down his chin. He glared at the man in the mirror. He breathed heavily, his mouth racked with pain.
Then he noticed something behind his reflection, he couldn't quite make out what it was. The shape grew behind him. A dark looming figure, it seemed both familiar and horrific. He wanted to run, something about the figure did not seem right. His legs still felt as though they were sleeping though, he could not move...
Harley woke abruptly after feeling Mr J shift in bed. She rubbed her eyes, he must have been waking up. Joker was still asleep however. He twitched, clenching and unclenching his fists. Harley sat up.
"Mistah J, you alright?" she asked.
Being asleep, he didn't respond. He only continued to twitch and shake. His expression, fearful and in pain.
"Mistah J, Joker?" she shook his shoulder slightly attempting to wake him.
"No, no, no," he whimpered gripping the sheets in his fist.
He was having a nightmare, Harley had never imagined this. She just assumed someone like him was above such fears. But her heart went out to him in his vulnerable state. She stroked his face.
"Shhh, it's okay. You're dreamin' Mistah J. Just wake up," she cooed, "It's okay, it's okay,"
Her comforting did not seem to affect him. He seemed to get worse as the moments passed. Harley could only imagine what was happening in his subconscious to cause this. She took his hand, feeling afraid for him.
"It's okay puddin'," she continued for the tenth time despite the fact it was getting them no where, "Do ya remembah when we first met?" she began to simply talk him through his nightmare, "I do, it was the best day of my life. I realize that now, at first I was scared. Of course I wasn't gonna show you that, no. But ya not so scary are ya puddin'. In fact I think ya pretty scared yourself," she took his hand, "Remembah the first time I kissed ya. I nevah kissed anyone before you Mistah J, not like that. And it was like nothing I eva felt before in my whole life. Ya so special. I don't know how I lived without ya. I guess I wasn't really livin' huh? Ya know the things ya say about people becoming who they really are? Well, I see now that's true. I've nevah felt as good as I do right now. Not pleasing anybody, just bein' Harley. It's great and I have you to thank Mistah J. If only more people would listen to ya. I wish they weren't so scared,"
He was squeezing her hand so tightly now she worried he might accidentally break something. But soon relaxed, breathing heavily he slowly let go of her sore hand. She sighed with relief the the ordeal was over. She pushed away his hair which clung to the cold sweat on his forehead. The she layed back down, even closer to him the time.
"That's it puddin'," she whispered, "Everything's okay. Some day you're gonna get bettah and we're gonna leave Gotham. We're gonna go some place where no one will hurt ya. We'll be so happy together Mistah J,"
In Harley's mind the Joker was not as bad as he seemed. But not many people viewed him the way she did. Probably because they never say moments like this. And not just the moments when he appeared more human, the moments when he was vulnerable. When he was scared or rather terrified. At that moment Harley knew she was doing the right thing. No matter what society said, she had to stay by him. He needed her.
"I'm here, don't be afraid. You're not alone, not anymore," she rubbed his chest.
He needed someone to love him, to care for him. Harley decided she'd do just that.
Another Joker nightmare, I like writing those. Obviously it's another flashback but this one has more of a weird nightmareish twist to it. It's actually based on some things that happen to me in nightmares. I don't wanna over explain things but I was so pleased with this dream because it's not just a scar nightmare, it has so much deeper meaning. It's about becoming the Joker. In the nightmare he's forced to look in the mirror, at his stitches. He can't move away or close his eyes, he has to face the reality of his situation. I had him rip the stitches out because one: I think that character would do something like that, two: it would make the scars worse therefore accepting his new deformity. As for the figure in the background, that was the Joker... I could explain more but I'll let you think about what happens next and why he was freaking out. Things tend to be scarier when it's left up to the reader's imagination.
Harley comforting Joker: yeah it's kinda fluffy, but I really wanted to show Harley's unconditional love for Joker. As well as how she views him. Not as a murdering, insane clown but as a frightened little boy. She thinks he's that simple and she thinks she can change him. I think that's an important element in the Joker Harley relationship.