A/N – This chapter includes graphic imagery and references to drug use.

Chapter 5 – Guilt and Depression

It had been five days since Joker threw Harley out of their hideout. So far he had not tried to contact her, which didn't come as a complete surprise. She imagined he was overwhelmed by his own problems at the moment. Her injuries had mostly healed and the bruises faded to a dull brownish yellow. After having several therapy sessions with herself she was finally back to her usual upbeat, positive, happy self, for the most part at least. She was worried about Mr. J and was getting a little anxious to get back to the hideout to check up on him. Ivy had picked up on this over the past few days and suspected Harley would be leaving her brownstone relatively soon. She was happy but twitchy and distracted, sure signs that she planned on taking off.

The two villainesses were in Ivy's kitchen putting away the groceries they had just returned with from their shopping trip together. Ivy noticed the overabundance of candy and sugary breakfast cereal Harley had purchased, yet another red flag that she was about to run back to Joker. Harley had once told her that Joker didn't eat often, which didn't shock Ivy given J's physique, but that in order to maintain his manic energy levels he tended to eat a lot of sweets. He got through the day primarily off of caffeine and sugar rushes.

"So what do want to do tonight Harley? We can watch some romantic comedies on Netflix or maybe go out to the Iceberg and mingle a bit, now that you're feeling better. What do you think?"

Harley didn't turn to meet her gaze, just continued futzing around in the cabinet as she answered over her shoulder.

"Gee, I don't know Red. I've got some stuff I gotta take care of later." Ivy rolled her eyes dramatically behind her back.

"In other words you're going back to J, aren't you?" Harley slowly turned, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Are ya mad?"

"No, I'm worried. Harley, you have no idea what you're going to be walking into over there. What if he's still crazed and homicidal?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"I dunno, but Doc Q seems to think it's time I go home and I agree with her. I at least have to check on him. If he's still off his nut, I guess I'll come back."

"I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were going armed."

"I'll bring my pop gun with me. Better?"

"No. Your pop gun only fires rubber bullets. How about bringing something lethal just in case he tries to attack you again?" Harley shook her head rapidly.

"Nuh-uh. Red, I'll be fine, really."

"When are you planning on leaving?" She bit her lip.

"Um, I called Lewis twenty minutes ago. He should be here soon." Ivy sighed.

"Fine. You better call me and let me know what the hell is going on over there." Harley bounded across the floor and gave Ivy a bear hug.

"Thanks for understanding. I will I promise!" She gave Ivy a bright smile as they both heard the sound of a car horn out front. "That'll be Lewis. I gotta run Red. Thanks again!"

Harley grabbed her shopping bags and her duffel and sprinted out to the car. She was nervous about what kind of state she'd find him in when she got there. Lewis hopped out and helped her put her bags in the trunk.

"Hey girl, you hear from J yet?"

"No Lewis, have you?" They both got into the front seat of the car.

"Not me, but I know he called some of the other guys to go over there. Must have sent them off on some big job cause I haven't heard back from them either."

"I hope he's okay Lewis. I know he's taking B-man's death pretty hard." Lewis flashed her a cockeyed grin.

"Don't worry about J-man, he's tough. I'm sure he's cool by now."

"Lewis, I really hope you're right."

They made their way across town and pulled up behind the Chinese bathhouse that served as their lair.

"Do me a favor Lewis. Stay right here until I call you okay?"

"You sure you don't want me to go in with you?"

"Not until I know what we're dealing with."

She got out of the car and opened the back door with her key. The smell hit her like a freight train. Harley gagged then covered her nose and mouth with her hand. It was the smell of death and decay and it was inescapable. She took a deep breath and tried to breathe through her mouth as she cautiously entered the first floor of the lair. There were two large rooms on the first floor. The first had once been an entertainment area where old men would gather to sit, talk and enjoy the company of pretty girls. It was furnished with many couches, chairs and low tables. The other room held the baths. There were three different tubs in all. One held cool water, one warm and the last was very hot. You were supposed to soak in the super-hot water for as long as you could then get directly into the cool water, as it's supposed to be good for the skin.

As she entered the first room she saw the source of the horrible smell. Several of the henchmen were lying dead in puddles of congealed blood around the room. Some had been shot, others brutally mutilated. There was another body that she didn't recognize. He was a young black man wearing baggy pants and a hoodie. She had never seen him before in her life. The next thing she noticed was the wide array of prescription bottles and narcotics spread across the tables. She cautiously stepped around the bodies and blood to get a closer look. She saw a large bag of cocaine, a short straw and several lines of the substance already cut on a mirror next to it. She picked up the prescription bottles reading the names of the drugs out loud.

"Vicodin, Hydromorphone, Fentanyl, Klonopin, Valium and Xanax. Oh Mistah J, what are you doing to yourself?"

There was a bag of pills next to the coke that she assumed were Ecstasy or as they called it these days, Molly. She looked over at the dead guy she hadn't recognized and realized he must have been the dealer that brought all of this to J. She hoped some of this stuff was just what the guy had on him at the time and not what J had specifically asked for. She made her way across the room where she was actually met with a pleasant aroma. It reminded her of beef stew. She opened the door to the baths to investigate the source of the smell and had to swallow down a mouthful of bile when she discovered it. Ernie, one of their henchmen was floating in the hot bath. He was very obviously dead and the water was tinged a rusty color. The heat of the bath must have simmered the body for days basically turning the pool into a giant Ernie soup. She gagged again and fled up the stairs to the second floor.

There were bodies here as well. She carefully stepped over one to get to Joker's office which took up the bulk of this floor. She slowly opened the door and her heart sank as she stared in agony at a shrine dedicated to Batman. Anything and everything J had ever kept of Batsy's was in here, carefully arranged and surrounded by candles. Every newspaper clipping and photo were hung on the walls and taped to the desk. Joker had dressed one of the dead henchmen in the Batman costume he kept for giggles and duct taped him into his chair in the center of this altar he had built. She sighed heavily and shook her head. It was worse than she had imagined.

The third floor was in a similar state as the first two and she had still not found any sign of J. Finally she made it up to the fourth floor landing. She drew in a sharp breath as she opened to door. The damage was incredible. She padded down the hallway to the living room, so far this floor at least seemed free of dead bodies but there was no sign of Joker. She turned to head towards the bedroom but stopped halfway once she reached the doorway to the bathroom. Sitting in the empty claw foot bathtub was J, naked, his head hanging down. He apparently hadn't even heard her come in. On the closed toilet lid sat a half empty bottle of Jim Beam, a bloody pair of tweezers and a blood stained towel.

"Oh, Puddin. What have you done to yourself?"

He slowly raised his head to look at her. His eyes were glossy and he looked very gaunt, more so than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes and traces of blood on his upper lip. She stepped into the bathroom and saw the floor of the tub was smeared with blood as well.

"Hey Harls. I didn't think you'd be back."

She walked over to the tub and kneeled down beside it as she looked him over. He had scabs on his knuckles and knees but that's not where the blood was coming from. It appeared he was bleeding from the soles of his feet.

"What happened?"

"Oh, this?" His voice was flat and somber. He pointed to his feet. "Glass. I couldn't get it all out."

She sighed as she stood and reached beneath the vanity to fish out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bottle of peroxide and some cotton balls. She picked up the bottle of bourbon and set it on the sink, grabbed the tweezers and sterilized them with the alcohol as she sat down on the toilet lid.

"Lemme see." He leaned back and put his right foot up on the edge of the tub. "Jesus Christ Mistah J. You've made one hell of a mess of yourself."

She dampened a cotton ball with alcohol and cleaned the wounds he had made trying to dig out the tiny shards of glass. He hissed through his teeth. She began the lengthy task of pulling splinters of shattered mirror from his flesh. He remained silent, his head tipped back and resting on the edge of the tub as he stared at the ceiling.

"I see you decided to redecorate while I was gone. I can't say I'm a fan."

He huffed out a short bark of a laugh then winced as she dug into his foot to extract a shard that was buried deeply into his flesh. He lifted his head to look at her.

"Yeah, sorry about that Poo, but I don't really remember too much of it."

She pulled the last splinter out and poured peroxide over the entire mess. It bubbled and turned pink as it mixed with his blood. She looked up and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well, I'm not surprised, considering that vast amounts of drugs I found downstairs." He bent his head back down and stared at the end of the tub but didn't respond. "Gimme your other foot."

He complied and remained still and quiet as she repeated the process on his other mutilated foot.

"So I noticed you had company while I was away. Out of curiosity, besides Lewis, do we have any henchmen left?"

"Oh c'mon Harls, henchmen are a dime a dozen. It doesn't matter anyway since I won't be needing them anymore." She looked up from her work.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. What's the point of having henchmen when the only reason I ever had for doing what I do is gone? What's the point of anything anymore now that he's gone?" She dug into his foot with the tweezers a little more viciously than was actually necessary. "Ow, easy Harl!"

"I don't like this defeatist talk outta you Pud. I get that you're sad about Bats, I get that you feel a little lost right now, that's to be expected after a loss, but you're the freaking Clown Prince of Crime! You're the scariest and most notorious villain in all of Gotham, hell, in all the damn world! You never quit. You never give up. It's one of the things I've always admired about you. You'll get through this and you'll eventually move on. It's just gonna take some time Puddin." He scoffed.

"Yeah? Well that was then and this is now. Everything is different now and I've got nobody to blame but me." She looked up and met his eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You're feeling guilty?" He sat up abruptly, jerking his foot out of her hand as he did so.

"Bats is dead and I'm the one who killed him! Do you understand how that makes me feel? Do you understand that it might make me re-evaluate my life? I thought this is what I always wanted! But it's not! I want the game to continue! I want my playmate back! I need him Harley, but he's gone and it's all my fault!" he yelled.

Harley calmly grabbed the ankle of the foot she was working on and gently tugged until he let her resume her work.

"Yes Pud, I do understand. I'm a shrink, remember? But you can't just give up on everything." He sighed.

"I just don't see the point in anything anymore. Why even go on?" She slapped the bottom of his foot, hard. "Yowch! What the hell, Harl?" He glared at her with his brows drawn together. She stared back at him.

"If you want to mope around and feel sorry for yourself, go right ahead but don't expect me to feel sorry for you." She poured peroxide over his foot. "Stay put. I need to find the first aid kit." She stood and looked back down at him. It struck her again how emaciated he looked. "When's the last time you ate?" He shrugged.

"A few days ago, I guess." Her eyes traveled back to the pink smear of blood under his nose. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"And how much coke have you been doing?" He shrugged and looked guilty. "Look, we're going to talk about this, but not right now. Right now I'm going to bandage you up, get you dressed and Lewis is going to take us to the warehouse in Tri-Corner Yards. Then you're getting a hot meal, a shower and a decent night's sleep in a real bed, even if I have to sedate you and I don't expect any argument out of you! Understood?"

He cracked a half smile as she glared down at him, her lips puckered into a little moue of disappointment.

"Yes, mom."

She made a sound of annoyance in the back of her throat and went to the kitchen to see if the first aid kit was still in one piece. She found it under the sink where it belonged. She walked to the bedroom to get something for J to put on. She found a pair of boxers, sweats, a t-shirt, socks and slippers for him to wear at least until they got to the warehouse. They both kept a partial wardrobe there in case of emergency. She slathered his feet in antibiotic ointment and bandaged them then helped him out of the tub and into his clothes. He hissed as he tried to walk on his damaged feet. She couldn't recall ever seeing him so weak. She guessed he hadn't eaten anything since the day she left and she was sure the blood loss wasn't helping the situation. She put her arm around his waist and helped him to the elevator, it was obvious he wasn't making the stairs in this condition. As they got out on the first floor J sniffed the air.

"Why does it smell like beef stew over here?"

"It's not beef, Puddin. It's Ernie."

"Eeewwww. I forgot all about that. Too bad Croc is in Arkham, he'd have enjoyed a little boiled Ernie."

Harley stuck her tongue out in disgust.

"Gross. I like Croc fine, but his eating habits are just disgusting." She sat J down in a chair near the door. "Stay right here, I'm gonna get Lewis to help you to the car. I'll be right back."

As soon as she was out of the door Joker darted as quickly as he could manage over to the table, palmed the bag of cocaine and several of the prescription bottles and stuck them in the pockets of his baggy sweats. He sat back down just as Lewis came into the room. Lewis's nose wrinkled as he looked around.

"Dang J-man, you must have had one hell of a party up in here!" He pointed to one of the dead henchmen. "This shit right here makes me glad I'm the designated driver though." He chuckled.

"Yes Lewis, apparently I did hang the cats out to dry." Lewis helped J up.

"C'mon boss, let's get you outta here. It smells like shit in here. Shit and beef stew."

Joker threw his head back and chortled. Harley heard him from the doorway and smiled. If he could still laugh, he'd eventually be okay. She was almost sure of it although she suspected it might be some time before he was back to his old self again.

They didn't talk much during the ride from Chinatown to Tri-Corner yards. Joker was exhausted and dozed for most of the drive. Harley had Lewis hop out at Smiling Buddha and get them some take-out. As he got back into the car with the food Joker woke up and his stomach growled loudly and he suddenly realized how incredibly hungry he was. When they reached the warehouse the first order of business was food. Joker dove into the Chinese take-out, wolfing down large forkfuls and washing it down with cold Zesti.

"Slow down Pud. You're gonna make yourself sick."

"Sorry Poo, I'm just starving."

"I bet. You've had to have lost at least five pounds since I saw you last. You can't afford to lose that kind of weight. You're too skinny as it is." She was fairly sure the coke had a lot to do with that.

They finished their meal and since J was having a hard time getting around on his wounded feet she decided to run him a bath instead of a shower. As she busied herself, J stashed the drugs he had in his pockets inside of the pocket of one of his suit coats in his wardrobe. If Harley found it he had no doubt there'd be hell to pay. He was feeling okay at the moment but he knew sooner or later the darkness was going to drag him down again and he was going to need something to take the edge off.

"Your bath is ready Pud. C'mon I'll help you." She helped him out of his clothes and into the hot water. He sighed as his tense muscles finally began to relax. Harley sat on the edge of the tub, squeezed shampoo into her hand and gently massaged it into his scalp. "You scared me you know. The night of the stadium bombing, I mean."

"I know Pumpkin but I needed you not to be near me or I don't know what would have happened."

"You said some pretty horrible things to me, you know."

"I know, but it was the only thing I could think of to keep you away for a while. If it makes any difference, I didn't mean it Harley." He heard her sniffle and he grabbed her hand as he turned to meet her big blue eyes.

"You sure? I mean if you said it you must have thought about it at some point, right?"

"Not at all Pumpkin. I tried to think of the thing that would hurt you the most to get you out of there. I could have really hurt you if you'd stayed. I lost myself for a while there."

"Well you succeeded." She said as a tear rolled down one cheek.

"Daddy's sorry, Poohbear. Really." She nodded her head.

"Okay. Apology accepted." He let go of her hand and she used it to brush her tears away.

By the time he was finished in the bath it was late in the evening. Harley entered the bedroom carrying a glass of water and a small pill.

"Here Mistah J, I need you to take this."

"What is it?"

"Ambien. You need a good solid night's sleep. You look like a stiff wind would blow you over right now." He rolled his eyes but took the pill washing it down with the water. He pulled back the duvet and settled into his usual side of the bed. "Okay, goodnight Mistah J." She turned to leave the room.

"Harley." She turned back to look at him.

"Yeah Pud?" He lifted her side of the covers.

"Stay with me. Please?"

She smiled both inside and out. She wasn't sure exactly how he was feeling and since he had made no previous move to be affectionate in any way she had figured he wanted to be left alone. She had missed his warmth next to her in bed the entire time she was at Ivy's. She slipped between the sheets and turned onto her side to look at him. He still looked sad, she could see it in his eyes.

"You okay Puddin?" He sighed.

"No Harls, I'm not." He slid his arms around her drawing her close to his chest. "But this is helping a little." Doctor Quinzel chimed in.

This is a good sign. His being able to take comfort in another person indicates that at least some of his coping mechanisms are working correctly. It's a sign that he'll make it through this in time.

Harley raised her eyes to his.

"Just remember that I love you Puddin, no matter what, and I'll always be here when you need me."

He didn't answer her in words, instead pressing his lips to hers. He enjoyed the feel of her body against his, the softness of her lips the sweet scent of her shampoo. He took his comfort in her that night and before dropping off to sleep satiated, found himself thinking how grateful he was to have her in his life.