Harley Quinn held her hands tightly to keep them from shaking. She felt sick on her stomach and horribly anxious from riding the whole way home with the cold metal of Joker's gun on her neck. Her legs felt like jello when he shoved her out of the van and towards their hide out. She didn't know what to do. Would he shoot her? Surely not, they were in love, why would he do that to her? Even if she messed up at the party he would never do that. She meant to much to him. Didn't she?
She stumbled into their room, Joker kicked the door shut behind them with a loaded gun still pointed towards her. He didn't bother to lock it. No one would be coming in tonight. All of the henchmen knew what was going on and were relieved they were not the one's in trouble.
Harley sat on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. She couldn't look at him. She nervously fidgeted with her shaking hands and quickly glanced up at Mr. J, offering a quick smile. He just stared at her with that terrifing look, black eyes burning holes in her.
She swallowed hard, "I-I dunno what ta say Mistah J... I'm sorry,"
"Nooo you're not," he replied.
Harley finally got the courage to look at him for more than three seconds, "I am, I really am. I didn't know... Why are you so mad at me?"
Joker fired the gun, thankfully at the ceiling sending bits of dry wall to the floor, "Why am I so mad?" he roughly grabbed her chin forcing her to face him, "Ya think I shouldn't be? What makes you think your sooo special? You are re-plac-able Harley Quinn. Just like Mime and Spades and everybody else in this building right now," he leaned closer to her and placed the gun on the side of her head, "I could find another Harley Quinn tonight if I wanted to, it wouldn't be hard," he whispered.
Harley held back a sob, tears rushed down her face removing white face paint.
"Should I go find a new toy?" he asked softly cocking his head to one side.
She shook her head no.
Joker let go of her and stood up again, looking down at her, "Ya stiiill aren't so-rry," he dropped the gun.
"It's just that... m-maybe your not so much mad at me puddin' as you are mad th-that Batman didn't come," she looked up at him, "So let's just ya know kiss and make up?" she gave a nervous smile.
Big mistake.
Before she knew what was happening Joker was on top of her. He straddled her on the bed, his hands once again gripping her throat, "Kiss and make up? Hell Harley I didn't realize it was that simple, but apparently this relationship stuff is new to me. I sure am glad I'm fucking a shrink,"
"Mistah J," she choked, "What are ya doin'?" she had thought when he dropped his weapon she was safe.
"We're making up honey," he gave her a Cheshire cat smile.
The Gotham City Police arrived at Bruce Wayne's penthouse shortly the gang of clowns drove away. Ambulances were called for the Joker's victims, though none of them appeared to be alive.
Commissioner Gordon, frustrated that they had arrived to late was speaking with Bruce, "Could I ask you a few questions Mister Wayne?"
"Sure," he replied nonchalantly even though he was really quite eager to go.
"Can you tell me how many men were with the Joker," he took a notepad out of his jacket.
Bruce shrugged indifferently, "I didn't count them. Maybe seven or eight men, one woman,"
"A woman?" Gordon immediately remembered Arkham Asylums security footage of a women in a jester suit, "Could you possibly describe her?"
"She was in costume, had alot of face paint on. Um... she was a blond,"
The police commissioner recalled seeing pictures of Dr. Quinzel when the Gotham PD began investigating her disappearance. She was a blond. He distinctly remembered her fair hair and bright blue eyes.
"Can you think of any other details? For example eye color. It's very important,"
"Why?" Bruce asked doing a little investigating of his own, ever since Batman stopped working with Gordon he had to find other ways of gaining information.
He sighed, "I'm sure you've probably heard that Dr. Harleen Quinzel has been reported missing,"
"Who's Dr. Harleen Quinzel?"
The Batman in disguise acted as if he didn't know. But he did. He knew several things about the Joker's therapist. Upon finding out the young doctor had been assigned to the clown he began doing his research. Harleen Quinzel had blond hair, blue eyes, was 5'8, single, lived alone and had graduated college only three years prior to treating the Joker. He had been concerned about such a young and female doctor spending a session everyday with the Clown Prince of Crime, but he heard she was an extremely qualified doctor despite her lack of experience.
Gordon shook his head at Bruce Wayne's ignorance, "The Joker's former psyhciatrist,"
"Oh," Bruce nodded, "Uh this girl's eye's were... blue, I think,"
Commissioner Gordon nodded and wrote something down, "How did she act? Did she seem hurt or frightened?"
He shook his head, "No,"
Joker sat behind Harley in bed. He had his arms around her as he hungrily kissed down her neck.
Harley looked down at his hands wrapped around her waist, in one he held a knife, "Uuuh Mistah J," she began her voice shaking, "M-maybe ya right. I was really wrong back there... if ya want I'll just sleep on the couch tanight. I'll just go," she squirmed away.
"Ah ah ah Harley," he grabbed her wrist jerking her roughly back to him, "Don't chya know couples should nev-er go to bed aaangry,"
This time he held her tighter, wrapped his arms and legs around her securing her close to him. He bit her neck, she flinched but tried hard not to scream.
"Something wrong sweetheart?" he growled in her ear, "Usually you're just sooo eager to get fucked,"
With that he took the knife he was holding and used it to rip open her dress. She gasped feeling the blade cut her flesh somewhat. Joker pulled down the top of the dress, which was now ripped up the back. Then he let go of her and slid off the bed. Harley thought quickly, to quickly and acted in her first thought. Run. She attempted to escape towards the bedroom door but of course Mr. J caught her. He slammed her back onto the bed, knocking her against the head board. He swiftly removed his trench coat and threw it to the side along with his green vest and suspenders. Harley tried to sit up but he pushed her back again. Her head hit the wood bars of the head board with even more force.
Joker stabbed his knife into the fluffy skirt attached to Harley's dress. Thankfully for her, missing her legs underneath it. He drug the knife downwards ripping the fabric before tugging it off. After realizing he had not cut her legs he decided to correct his mistake. Mr. J made a straight cut across her thigh splashing her black and white tights with fresh, red blood.
Harley screamed unable to hold back anymore. Crying, she made one final attempt to get away. She kicked at him with one of her platform heels before rolling of the bed and onto the floor. But she had not managed to do much damage to the Joker, he was soon upon her again. He jerked her back to him by her arm and pulled of her curly wig. Long, black and red hair spilled out from underneath it.
Struggling against him Harley tried to free herself but it was no use. The Joker liked the challenge. She knew it. He knocked her down and climbed on top of her. With his knees pinning her arms down he tied her two-tone strands of hair to the head board. Harley began sobbing uncontrollably as he returned to the cut he had previously made. It was really bleeding now. Without taking his glaring eyes off of her he made another cut on the opposite leg. She screamed and cried louder but he didn't seem to care. He continued to watch all her emotions with cold, unchanging eyes.
For a few moments he simply sat back and watched them. She was angry, sad, scared, hurting and most of all disappointed. He could clearly tell, she was disappointed in him. She couldn't believe he was doing this to her. Joker could read her like a book. He knew exactly what she had in mind when she moved in. Harley thought they were going to live happily ever after, she thought she could change him. She thought he would never do anything to hurt her. Nothing serious at least. And now his little Harley Quinn was disappointed in him.
Joker began biting at her neck again. He randomly drew on her arm with his knife. Just small, shallow cuts here and there, enough to sting and bleed. He kissed across her neck to her bloodied arm, feeling the little knife wounds beneath his lips, tasting the metallic, bitter taste of blood. He drug his tongue slowly across her wounded arm before kissing her mouth. Forcing her to taste her own blood as his tongue plunged into inside.
Harley had given up, she lay there defeated. What more could she do? Cry, that's all. She was unable to move and there was no way Joker would stop now. She felt his knife dig painfully into her upper arm. She screamed into his mouth, her body continuing to shake with sobs.
Joker pulled away, "Shh sh sh," he stroked her face with the dull end of the knife, "Daddy's gonna make it aaall better," he said as he cut open her tights.
"It doesn't make any sense," Bruce said shaking his head.
He stared down at a newspaper article about the Joker's escape from Arkham Asylum. It included a few quotes from Harleen Quinzel as well as a photograph of the doctor. Bruce read it over and over again.
"Are you quite certain it was her, sir?" Alfred placed a cup of coffee on the end table beside him.
"Thanks," Bruce glanced up from the paper, "And yes, I'm pretty sure. She had a lot of make up on but you could still see the resemblance. And she called herself Harley Quinn,"
The butler thought for a moment, "Harleen Quinzel, Harley Quinn,"
"Exactly," he sipped the coffee, "I just don't understand. She didn't act like she was being held against her will. She seemed... happy,"
He recalled the way Harley had looked at the Joker and how eager she had been to impress him.
"You should have seen her Alfred," he began again, "She watched him with such admiration, such love. You could just see it on her face how much she cared about him. He even after he knocked her down," he looked at Alfred, "How could someone who spent everyday with that man possibly feel anything for him?"
"Maybe Master Wayne," Alfred replied, "That's exactly why she feels something for him,"
Harley laid in the dark breathing heavily. She had never hurt so badly. She could feel cold, sticky blood covering arms and legs. Joker snored lightly beside her. The night had been a blur. He cut her almost the entire time. Usually she enjoyed attention from Mr. J, not tonight.
Her hair remained in knots, connecting her to the headboard. But even without the restraints she couldn't move. She was so weak with blood loss and she could tell some of the cuts were still bleeding. She rubbed her eyes, still wet with tears. She had cried so much, she didn't think she could cry anymore if she wanted to.
Why would he do this to me, she thought. She just began to pity him, he had no empathy. He must have had such an awful childhood. Poor Mistah J, she looked at him, his back towards her.
Harley tried to shift in bed. Her legs felt tingly, like they were asleep. In fact her whole body felt somewhat numb. A dizzy feeling began to overcome her. She blinked trying to keep her heavy eyelids open though her attempts were failed ones. Slowly she blacked out.
I am a sick individual... but I really liked writing this chapter.
More Bruce stuff and I added Alfred cuz he's pretty friggin' awesome. The whole "That's exactly why she feels something for him," line came to me in a vision... not really. I could just totally see Micheal Caine saying that.
Anyway thanks im-batman for proof reading and thanks to everyone who's reading. Don't be shy, I like reviews (I promise I won't stalk you). Next chapter will be out (hopefully) soon.