Disclaimer: DC Comics owns Batman and sadly, the Joker! Please don't sue.
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Hissing, Harleen clenched her teeth together as the Joker drew the needle through her torn flesh for the last time. The suture held and he hummed some tune she'd never heard before as he finished stitching her up with surprisingly nimble fingers.
Raising one eyebrow, he tilted his head as he studied her briefly. "One of my finest jobs! I guarantee no scars." The Joker burst into a fit of giggles
Harleen had found herself seated on the desk in the nurse's office when the Joker decided she needed at least two stitches in her throat. She was tempted to touch the wound, but didn't. "No scars? I don't care about scars."
The Joker stopped laughing mid-guffaw and cast serious eyes her way. "You should care - you wanna end up like me?" He licked his scarred lip for emphasis. "So Harleen, on to business... you know, I really hate your name."
"My name? Why?"
"It sounds like a French whore shopping her goods on the Champs Élysées." He grinned broadly. "You're about as far from a whore as I've ever seen."
Harleen could feel herself blushing under the mask; there was a definite compliment in there for her. "Gee, thanks, I think."
The Joker bounced excitedly on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. "You're really very amusing, Harley."
Harley... Harleen thought for a moment and found she liked his nickname for her.
"Yes, you and I are going to go far, my little Harley Quinn."
"Isn't a Harlequin a clown?" She asked with a frown.
The Joker nodded as he tossed the needle he'd used to stitch her up. "Umm-hmm."
Harleen snorted. "Do I look like a clown to you?"
Without warning, Harleen found herself flattened against the hard oak desk top. The Joker loomed over her with a deep frown; his dark, fathomless eyes were a void of emptiness she felt herself being sucked into. "Yeah, you do, Harley. I know you're a smart girl so remember to mind your p's and q's else I'll be tempted to co-rrect you."
She stayed quiet; watching as humor lightened the Joker's gaze.
He straightened himself and studied her with a burning intensity which made her wriggle just a tad where she lay. "I've been just dying to see what's underneath this mask… " The Joker grabbed another needle from the medical kit and thumbed it thoughtfully. "So how 'bout it, my little clown girl, wanna let Uncle Joker take a peek?"
Harleen blinked. "They'll know." She desperately wanted the mask off, but she didn't want any grief from Thurmond or his goons.
"No way around it I'm afraid," The Joker confirmed. "but you'll be coming with me so they won't be able to do much but gnash their teeth." He waggled the needle in front of her. "Ready, sugarlips?"
Before she could utter a sound, the Joker seized her by the shoulder and tossed her onto her stomach. Harleen grimaced as she felt his lean, warm body pressing against her rear and lower back as he went to work on the mask.
Strangely, she felt no fear as she had earlier.
'Why aren't I afraid? I should be terrified.'
Dexterous fingers slid under the strap at the base of her skull as he delicately fit the needle into the tiny lock at the crown of her head. The strange little scrapings and clicking let her know the Joker was picking the lock. "Just whistle while you work. Put on that grrr-in and start right in to whistle loud and long. Just hum a merry tune."
"Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?" Harleen asked as he continued to hum happily.
"My mother was fond of that movie and I was fond of her," he stopped moving for a moment before resuming his lock picking. "Now shut up so I can think here, Harley."
There was such a lack of malice in his words, Harleen couldn't stifle the manic giggle that escaped her.
"Glad you find my tribulations am-u-sing," The Joker muttered. "The lock is starting to give."
A cold click startled Harleen and she jumped; her backside colliding with the Joker's pelvis.
He lowered his head so his lips nearly touched her ear. "Ooohhh Harley, better watch out, my luscious little peach - I have stronger willpower than most men, but not when you rub me the, uh, right way." His hot breath was like fire against her ear. "Get my, ah, drift?"
Obediently, Harleen flattened herself against the desk.
"Good girl!" The Joker slapped her across the ass before straightening himself. "So here goes!"
Long fingers pried themselves under her mask, loosening the straps as they wriggled beneath the plastic. A gentle tugging started and a whoosh of air touched skin which had been covered for years; Harleen trembled as the cool tickling sensation inched upward.
Her fingers flexed as suddenly pain bloomed around the area of her left eye. "Ow!" Harleen cried out indignantly.
Instantly, she was face to face with the Joker, perched on the edge of the desk between his knees.
The Joker's forehead was wrinkled with disbelief. He craned his head to the left and again gently pried the mask away from her face.
Harleen cried out again as sharp pain stabbed around her left eye.
"Hmmm... " The Joker chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "It would seem we have a teensy problem here, doll."
"What?"
The Joker stared her in the eye unflinchingly. "This masssk," he spat the word out in disgust. "has been on so long its fused to the skin around your left eye. I won't be able to get it off without resorting to a little, uh, surgery." He tried to hide the last word behind a cough, but Harleen caught it nonetheless.
"You mean you'd need to cut it off?" Harleen felt her heart clench in her chest.
"Yeah," the Joker sighed. "and I won't lie to you, Harley girl, if I cut it off, no matter how del-ic-ately - it's gonna hurt like a bitch. Not to mention, you'll collect your first scar." He tapped the mask back into place. "I'd better leave this for your godfather and the doctors to deal with."
Harleen stared at him, awestruck. This was the first person since her mother who had told her the plain truth and without any ulterior motives; for a mass murdering psycho, the Joker was treating her very kindly. She licked her lips nervously.
"You said earlier you wanted to give me a job."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah, but my jobs require you to leave the safety of your little nest."
She stared at the drab gray fabric covering his chest. "I want to go with you." Harleen wasn't sure why she trusted this man - this monster - but she did. He could have slaughtered her a dozen times since he'd first caught up with her in the solarium, but he hadn't. Why would he kill her on the streets of Gotham?
"I'm leaving here tonight, Harley," The Joker licked his lips. "So your little mask is gonna have to go."
Harleen reached up and touched the smooth plastic for the last time. If she was going to be forced out into the viciousness of Gotham, Harleen was determined to become more monstrous than any of the scum this city produced. They thought she was a murderer, so why not become everything they thought she was?
Looking up, Harleen swallowed tightly.
The Joker was waiting patiently, a faint expression of amusement, perhaps, playing around his eyes. He was strong - he was everything Harleen needed to be if she wanted to survive this world. There was little softness in him, if any, but a brutal honesty oozed from his pores.
It was as though his scars screamed, 'Look at me! See the world for what it is - petty, mercurial, uncaring, unfair!'
"Cut it off." Harleen whispered the words, but there was steel in the tone.
The Joker flipped open the med kit without looking and began rifling through it one handed. "You understand how much this is going to hurt? I won't be able to do anything for the pain, Harley." He glanced into the kit on the desk and pulled out a fair sized razor blade. "Ah, perrr-fect."
He pulled the mask a little and severed the bottom swiftly; exposing her lips and chin, allowing the plastic to drop soundlessly to the carpet. The Joker pulled open a desk drawer and rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out an old fashioned wooden ruler.
Tapping her upper lip gently, he smiled; scars stretching broadly. "Open up, Harleykins." She obediently opened her mouth and he snorted as he set the ruler across her jaw. "Nice choppers considering how they've taken care of you here. Now feel free to bite down once I get started." Leaning forward, he pressed his cheek against her jaw. "Try to remember not to struggle, I know you're gonna want to fight me. I don't want to slip and, ah, make this worse than it, uh, is gonna be."
Harleen bit down on the ruler; the taste of stale wood gagging her and reminding her of the pencils she once chewed in junior high. Clutching at the edge of the desk, driving her stubby nails into the wood, she nodded at him as he pulled away from her.
"Shall we, my flower?" The Joker smiled as he reached for her.
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Making short work of the mask, the Joker stood back to study where he'd need to make his incisions. The only plastic left on Harley's face was a diamond shape covering her left eye and extending up just past her eyebrow, to the side of her nose, and down to the top of her cheekbone.
The rest of her face was bare and he took a few precious seconds to study her profile before he started cutting.
Harley was rather pretty, though by no means a stunner, but the gauntness of her features left a bad taste in his mouth. She looked like an escapee from Auschwitz with her hollowed cheeks and pointy collarbones... he was going to have to get her to eat something once they got the hell out of Arkham.
'Spaghetti, fried chicken, buckets of ice cream, Hershey bars... what the hell else do women complain gets them fat?' The Joker asked himself, frowning. 'Chinese? Maybe some French food - there was a nice little bistro on 5th and Cordero - oh hell! I burned that joint down three years ago!' He'd been pissed when they refused to serve him after a particularly brutal bank heist; now he wished he had exercised a little more self control. Wasn't French food full of calories?
There was something about an anorexic woman which made his skin crawl, and not much really bothered him, but Harleen was about three sizes up from a living skeleton. No way would he be able to tolerate her presence looking like this.
Women should have some flesh on their bones - something jiggly for him to grab onto and play with. And even though he had zero intention of playing with little Harley in such a manner, the Joker wasn't about to share quarters with a living bag of bones.
He was aware that with his... smile he was quite the hypocrite with his opinion about Harley's looks, but tough there were a few things left in the world which still bothered him and starvation was one of them.
Harley's lips were full and perfectly shaped, like a cupid's bow, and her oval face had all the markings of classic loveliness; high cheekbones, a soft chin, small, snub nose, which he curtailed the urge to pinch, and wide, deep blue eyes with the type of lashes models would have killed for.
She was far too petite, her rack would never be as large as he enjoyed seeing on a woman, but her body would have some nice curves in the future - once she ate something substantial.
He almost felt bad about the little operation he was about to perform.
Sighing, the Joker decided there was no time like the present and leaned over Harley with the blade twitching in his fingers.
Grasping the plastic, he pulled and sliced through delicate skin quickly and efficiently. Ignoring the screams welling up in Harley's throat, gagging her, the Joker just kept cutting; keeping his incisions as close to the surface of the skin as possible.
He had no desire to see his little Harley Quinn maimed as he had been.
Frowning as warm blood dribbled down his fingers, the Joker tightened his grip on the now slippery blade. Feeling her beginning to shake beneath him he finished the last stroke and pulled the gory plastic diamond away from Harley's face.
A raw, bloody diamond stretched over Harley's left eye where the plastic had once been; scarlet beads slowly rolled down her ashen face before dripping off her chin like ruddy tears. Her eyelid and the delicate skin just under her eye had been spared due to the eyehole of the mask. He knew all too well that without plastic surgery she was going to have a scar, but hers would be a minor blemish compared to his own.
The Joker had been as careful as any surgeon would have been under such primitive circumstances. She would experience discoloration and a difference in skin texture - the diamond would stand out like a sore thumb - but good makeup application would cover her little flaw for the most part.
He reached out and tenderly stroked her trembling jaw. "I'm sorry about the pain, really. Wanna give me the ruler?" Harley opened her mouth just a hair and he whipped the ruler from between her lips. The wood was neatly cracked in half and he experienced the slightest pang of guilt, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
'She asked me to do it.' The Joker reminded himself.
He doubted he would have felt any remorse at all except for the fact Harley reminded him of a little girl on some level; a lost child. And the one thing the Joker prided himself on was never intentionally targeting children... unless they had the misfortune of being present at the wrong time like one of his bank jobs or on those ferries, but he'd never carved or raised his hand to a child.
Harley was weeping, but no noise came from her throat.
Unsure what to do, the Joker patted her on the shoulder. "You're a trooper, kiddo."
He grunted and stumbled backward under the impact of Harley's body as she threw herself against him; her thin arms wrapped around his middle. The Joker glanced around nervously as she began to mewl like a kitten and hot tears soaked through his shirt. It occurred to him he could bomb ferries filled with thousands of people, murder a police commissioner, filet a wannabe Batman on film - but he couldn't handle one injured, weepy woman?
So he stood, arms in the air, with Harley crying all over him, too petrified to move.
A knock sounded at the door, throwing the Joker into action.
He shoved Harley off him and flashed a disgusted look in her direction. "Get a hold of yourself, woman!"
One of the guards, the stupid one, what was his name? Ah, Peterman. Peterman stuck his head through the door and recoiled in shock upon seeing Harley laid out on the desk, her face bloody. "She give you a problem? Sanchez and I can… "
"Don't be ridiculous!" The Joker snarled. "Harley and I have come to a mutual agreement. If the little lady and I do have prob-lems, I think I can take care of her on my own. Capice?"
Peterman swallowed thickly. "Yes, sir."
The Joker made his way around the desk at a steady pace. "So why exactly are you disturbing me?"
"T-the car you a-asked for… " Peterman was so terrified he was stuttering uncontrollably.
The Joker sighed. 'If only I didn't have to deal with morons on a daily basis,' he thought to himself, 'but since most of humanity is made up of those with inferior intellects... what can one do?'
"Yes? What about the car?" He asked politely as though speaking to a small child.
"It's here," Peterman blurted. "How you gonna get to it?"
The Joker smiled as pleasantly as his scarred face allowed. "Magic. Now, answer a question for me, Mr. Peterman. Is Dr. Thurmond still on the premises?"
Peterman nodded quickly.
"Good," The Joker drawled softly. "Very, very good. I would really like to have a word with him before Harley and I leave. Got a cell phone?"
Instantly, a small blue cell phone was shoved into the Joker's hand.
Smirking, he flipped the phone open and dialed a familiar number; humming happily as he waited for the call to go through. He noticed Harley was on her feet, swaying slightly, her skin rapidly taking on the pallor of a corpse. "Peterman, be a gentleman and help Miss Harley if you would be so kind."
The chunky guard seemed reluctant, but he was far too terrified of the Joker to refuse. He just made it to Harley's side before her blue eyes rolled up into her head and unconsciousness claimed her. She slumped into the guard's arms and he held her with a look of utter revulsion.
The Joker's eyes narrowed.
"Yeah?"
"Billy-boy!" The Joker chirped excitedly. "Is everything set to go?"
A deep laugh greeted his ears. "Hell yeah! Tommy is waiting outside in the car for you."
"And my dear friend, Co-mmissioner Gordon?"
"He's plenty busy trying to find that Amberton brat."
The Joker chuckled. "Right on track, Billy!" He paused. "You've got the kid, right?"
Billy sighed. "Sadly, yeah I do. The little bastard's been whining all night! 'I want my mother!' 'I want ice cream!' 'I gotta pee!' The little sonofabitch is driving me to drink!"
"I'll entertain him when I get there. Say, I'm going to have a few guests along for the ride so make sure my bed has clean sheets and the, uh, guest room is fully stocked."
"Will do, boss." Billy sighed. "Oh, your boyfriend, Finley's called half a dozen times to see if you've arrived yet."
The Joker's lips drew into a thin, hard line which gave his permanent smile a slightly deranged look. "Oh really? Invite Earl the Pearl over for tea and crumpets - I'll take care of him when I arrive."
"Sounds good, boss."
Ending the call, the Joker smacked his lips. "Oh Peterman, be a dear and call Sanchez in here for me."
Dumping Harley in the nurse's chair, Peterman was clearly only too glad to get as far away from her as possible. Watching the guard lumber away through narrowed eyes, the Joker sighed. "Again, it seems I have to do everything myself." Scooping Harley into his arms, he was surprised at how light she was and alarmed at how many bones he was feeling. "Tsk-tsk, Dr. Thurmond," he hissed softly. "You and I need to have a talk about how to treat a lady."
The minute the guards reappeared, the Joker was all genial smiles and light. "Boys, now comes the part where you earn all that money Finley slipped you..."
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-Author's note- Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter! I've been quite ill with the flu, not an excuse, but the truth. I will be more consistent in the future with my updates, I hope you stick with me. Thanks so much to all those who took the time to review! I really appreciate all the thoughts and the constructive criticism. Please read and review!