CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Man in the front got a sinister grin

I walked slowly up to the metal doors and knocked softly. I had decided I had come too far to let this go. I mean, he had ruined me, he had scarred me, and there was no turning back. There was nothing to turn back too. I was in no state to face my family and doubted I ever would be again, my best friend was dead, fiancé left me and I was working shit detail. I had enough of this life. If he decided to end it, at least I could promise myself to die fighting.

By this time it was dark and I was fed up with it all anyways. It was now or never.

I knocked again, this time much louder than I intended. I heard movement and voices. The door creaked open and a terrified looking man stuck his face out.

"What..what do you want?" He stammered, gripping the door so hard that his fingers were turning white. He looked as if he had been beaten.

"I need to see Урод. He knows I am coming." He left the door quickly and I heard some chatter. He returned a few minutes later.

"Who sent you?" At this, I stepped into the light from the door and pointed at my new facial scars. His eyes grew wide, but he understood immediately. He let me pass.

After being checked for a wire or any weapons, and a secondary pass through a metal detector, I was lead into a small makeshift room that was serving as his office. Apparently the knife was of no consequence to them. Good, it was the only thing keeping me from losing what little of a mind I had left.

There was nothing other than a desk and two chairs; one on either side. I sat down and waited for "The Freak" to join me. What kind of name was that anyways, moreover, how did he earn it? I probably didn't want to know the details.

Soon enough he entered the room and sat across from me, two Rottweilers in tow. They dutifully laid on his feet, but they looked as if they could attack at any moment. I slipped the knife from my pocket and set it in my lap.

I looked up only to find a heavily scarred Chechen sitting across from me. I guess he was still alive. His left eye had a long scar over it that continued down to his cheek bone. From what I could see, his eye was heavily damaged. His arms were covered in tiny marks and little cuts but on both forearms I had caught a glimpse of a few Russian characters carved into his arm. A few more glances and I was able to see that they both spelled Урод.

It all was coming together. He used to be the Chechen, but when he was hired by the Joker, he developed a new persona. We sat in a few moments of silence until his thick accent cut the tension.

"What is it that you are looking for?" He asked. His eyes bore into mine, presumably to find the real reason I was here. He had no idea. Hell, I didn't even know.

"I know that you are working for the Joker. I need to see him." I tightened my grip on the knife.

"I do not know what you are saying. I work for no one." He looked smug yet slightly shocked. I clicked open the knife, stood and slammed it into the table. Both him and his dogs jumped slightly, the dogs more so. I returned to my seat and pulled out the Joker card as he examined the knife.

"This is… what you want with him?" He asked, a little more nervous than before. What was his deal? I soundlessly slid the card across to him. He also examined it.

"Wait." He walked out of the room and I could hear the same mumbling again, but at this range, I knew it must be Russian. I could hear a dial tone, which was soon replaced with the yelling of Chechen. From his tone, he was asking questions and was irritated. I waited a few more moments and he walked back in.

"I cannot help you. As I said, I don't work for Joker-man." He handed me the knife and the Joker card. His palms were sweaty "I also advise you keep this between us, if not, the outcome will be bad. For us both." For whatever reason, I decided this was the end and I was happy with that. It was over. He didn't want me or care about me anymore. Good. He was really messing with my life. I was happy before, wasn't I?

I mean, I was secure but that was it. Nothing new, nothing exciting. My life was boring. But if that meant that I got to keep on living, then I guess that's how it should be.

I walked back to the nearest station and rode back to my hotel. My ride was uneventful, thankfully. Actually, there were no people in my mono-car. That was quite strange, but I guess it was late. I quickly hopped off and walked the two blocks.

I had an eerie feeling the whole time. It wasn't like someone was watching me, it was like something horrible was going to happen. I marched on through the poorly lit streets. There were numerous alleys and the place smelled of decay. Of what, I don't know, which is probably for the best.

I shuffled to my new home. I was looking forward to crawling into bed. I struggled to find my key card nervously. Who knew what lurked in the shadows. I wiped some debris off the card and headed out and towards my room.

As I got closer, I knew something was wrong. I could see that my door was cracked open and the light was pouring on the sidewalk. Not this again. I slowed my pace and pulled out the knife. I slowly pushed open the door to find it empty. I quickly hurried in and locked everything that would lock on my door.

I checked the bathroom, but it was also Joker free. What the hell? At least it was something out of the ordinary, something to get the adrenaline pumping. But, I think I had enough for tonight. I quickly undressed and buried myself in the covers. I drifted off in no time.

I was abruptly awakened by something heavy landing by my feet. I sat up, heart beating and blood rushing, and tried to rub the blurriness from my eyes. The room was still pitch black, but I could hear movement of several people. My hands fumbled onto the night stand for the knife. I raised it to the source of noise and tried to back into the corner. The lights flicked on.

My eyes instinctively scrunched shut. It was followed by deep growl.

"Get you stuff, we're leaving, Harley." I opened one eye and could see the black of his eyes and the red of his lips. My other eye shot open and I blinked a few times to make sure I was really seeing him. I couldn't think, let alone move. What could I do?

He started to rummage though the hotel room, breaking and defacing things as he went. His henchmen followed, occasionally glancing at me. I was still in the corner with the knife tightly clenched in my hand and tears streaming down my face. Once everything that could be ruined had, he turned again to me.

"Harley, you know I'm not patient. I said time to go." His final word was a deep growl. He grabbed the duffle bag and through it down into my lap and headed towards the door. He started to give orders to his men, orders I couldn't hear, but I hear something along the lines of sound the alarm, but he would have no reason to say that.

He was soon done and walked back towards me. I jumped to my feet and started stuffing anything of mine that I could grab. He smiled at me and took in a deep breath. He removed his coat and his gloves, folding them both neatly on the desk.

"Ya know, I heard you stopped by my, ehm, office. You missed my hours of operations by just a few minutes." I stopped what I had been doing just to stare at him.

"What do you want with me, Joker. Your signature has already ruined my life." I pointed to my scars.

"I think they're quite nice." He walked over and tilted my head up to meet his. His eyes bore into mine. He moved his face so close that our noses were touching. I dare not move, but really didn't want him to touch me. I could smell him; it was an odd sweat and metallic mixture. But there was something else, an under laying smell of a soft mint. It disgusted and intrigued me at the same time.

He gripped my elbows. "It's like I signed my artwork. My best masterpiece." He smiled slightly. I understood the true meaning of those words. In short, he owned me and we both knew it.

"What are you talking about, I'm not an object and belong to no one." Red would be so proud of me. Like I said, if I was going to die, I was going to die fighting. My stare deepened. "Again, what do you want with me?"

"I could ask you the same thing. You came after me, I just left ya subtle hints."

"Subtle! Subtle? Not only did you disfigure me, you killed Crane and left him in my home. Now, you have broken into my hotel and ruined everything you could get your hands on." My anger was rising, but his smile remained. "And, how dare you involve me in your little plans and then dispose of me like a piece of gum? You know you could have never left Arkham without me." I smiled at him. We both know he owed me that.

"The funny things is, you didn't seem all that against it."

"Well, you did have a gun to my head, quite literally." I stepped back and folded my arms.

"And you had the advantage of a head start out the door. You could have told any one of them what happened." He stepped closer again, his arms mocking my position.

"To which you would have responded with a massacre."

"Too true. Like I said, Harley, you better get a hold of your temper."

"There is no one here to stop me. I'm pissed and you better damn well know it. Like I said, what do you want with me, what good could I do you?"

"I'm here. You have your uses, your great at escapes and you make a wonderful hostage." He smiled darkly and took another step forward. I swung my hand at his face but he caught my wrist mid swing, and pushed me down onto the edge of the bed. He slowly pulled out a small hand gun. He paused for a while, almost as if he was thinking something over. He sat down next to me and let the gun rest on his lap. He looked almost…depressed.

"I don't think I have ever told you this, but, uh, you…saved me."

"From what?" I asked. My tone was cocky and we both knew it, but he had no reaction, in fact, he leaned over and held his face in his hand. He took another deep breath.

"Back at Arkham. The beatings and tortures. I'm not crazy, but others sure seem to think so or at least they…disagree. It seems I have made quite a few enemies. There are only a few that see where I'm coming from. That's why I need you. I want to save you too."

"From what?" I asked again. This time I was softer n my tone, started to feel the pity for him crawl back into my chest.

"Yourself." His voice had dropped an octave or so; it was only a low rumble. His grin slid across his face, taunting me, entrapping me.

"Huh?"

"The longer you keep up this `Harleen' routine, the more you are going to lose yourself. Your true self. He straightened his posture and moved a bit closer to me.

"This is m-"

"No, no it's not. My face paint, my mask is who I am. The scars are who I am. I have seen another side if you. Unprofessional, unbarred, unpredictable and so…free. I came to cut lose your binds. And that is why I shared my mark, my scars with you. I came to make sure they don't go to waste."

"So you intended for me to survive your attack? You planned this all out?" I asked accusingly.

"Enough, we need to go…now." His voice became stern again as he stood. The gun was aimed back at my head.

"See? Great hostage. I called it." I did not move or show any amusement at all. "Aww, come on, you should really smile more. It's not like I can kill you now, like I said, I have uses for you. Are you ready yet?" His voice was reassuring and sincere, but his gun stayed pointed at me. He glanced over at the door and then again at me. He gave me a once over.

"I suggest you get dressed, but then again, I am enjoying the view. Least I know you're not wired. You spent a little too much time with Gordon for my tastes." I now understood why I was getting the continuous looks from his minions. Last night, I had fallen asleep in just my bra and underwear. I covered my rapidly reddening face in my hands and quickly pulled out the sheets and draped them around myself.

"I didn't notice." I smiled back at him, blushing a bit. His lips upturned into what looked like his first sincere smile of that night.

"I thought you may have felt a draft." I laughed again and was starting to feel at ease. He really wasn't that bad. Well, if you got past the guns, knives, and general unpredictability.

Suddenly, the door was kicked open, which made us both jump and J had stepped back a bit. He kept his gun pointed at me, as the shadow walked in. It was the Batman.

Author's Note: Okay, I don't really like the beginning of this chapter, but have rewritten t about four times and this is about as good as it's going to get.

As far as the story goes, I am actually getting a lot done since school is out, which is why I hadn't been updating. And I keep forgetting to add these little Authors Notes and the thanks to all my reviewers.

Speaking of which, I want to thank a few of my reviewers, I really love to hear what you think and I am still upholding my review for review policy.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, In order of appearance:

Dr. Doodle

OzziBaz

Platinim13

makoto4ever

Kiwi-kisses-are-sour

I also want to address a small plot point. I want to point out that this story is taking place in the perspective of Harley Quinn, which means she has less knowledge than the reader. This also means that some of the other characters will seem a bit off at times and this is most time intentional, it is based off of Harley's perception of what she sees in going on at that moment. So, if the Joker is acting a bit too lovey-dovey, it's only because Harley sees it that way, she chooses to ignore the manipulation and lies.

Thank you so much for reading!