Chapter 21

Harley really hated it how slowly the time passed when you had to wait for something. Especially since she couldn't recall ever having been this excited about anything before. All she wanted was to show the world her new self. Her true self. And now she had to wait for almost an entire week to do just that! At least she got to spend time with the Joker and that kept her mind off of everything else. For a while. He taught her things, like how to fight using knives (she said she didn't want to hurt him, to which he had only laughed), or practice shooting. Harley even started bonding with a couple of the guys. They were starting to get used to the idea of having a woman in the house. Starting to. Not everyone was adaptable. (Jerry being one of them.)

Friday arrived and it was obvious who was most looking forward to the party they were going to crash. Harley was getting ready for the night and she wondered what to wear. It was a hard pick between the leather pants and the skirt, but eventually, she decided against the skirt, thinking that the pants would look way cooler combined with the corset. She grabbed the red boots to go with the outfit. When she looked in the one single full length mirror in the bedroom, she had to admit that she looked… badass. That's the first word that came to her mind. Everything fit like a glove and accentuated her curves. She also felt more confident being slightly taller in the heels. But there was still something missing. Makeup. She wasn't going to be able to match him without it. She went into the bathroom and locked the door, just in case he'd come in. She wanted it to be a surprise. Searching through the cabinet, she managed to find what she was looking for. White, black and red. Suddenly, there was a banging on the door and she jumped a little. The Joker's voice came from the other side. "Harley, doll, it's time to go."

"I'm almost done!" she assured him. "I'll be right out!" Feeling a bit stressed, she roughly applied the white makeup across her face, but leaving her ears. Then she put some black around her eyes. Not as much as he would and a little bit neater too. She looked at the small box of red paint in her hand, but instead of using that, she grabbed some dark red lipstick and painted her lips with it. She looked in the mirror again. Not too shabby. It was after all her first time, so it would have to do. There would be plenty of time to create her own personal look later. But there was still one more thing she had to do. During the week, they had collected some more necessities for her, including scrunchies to put her hair up. She grabbed two black ones and then used them to put her hair up in messy pigtails. It was the best she could come up with, but when she looked in the mirror at the finished result, it actually looked fitting. Rather childlike. Innocent. Good, she thought. Then they'll be even more surprised when they find out I'm anything but.

The Joker tapped his right foot against the floor, impatiently waiting for his partner in crime to come out of the bathroom. Just as he was about to bang on the door again, ready to break it down this time, she stepped out. Harley put her arms out and twirled for him. "Well, what do you think?" she asked, hoping for a compliment.

"What do I think?" he repeated her question with raised eyebrows and moved in closer to her. Her heart beat faster with his every move. She didn't know what he was going to do or say. He always kept her on edge. He put one finger under her chin and brought her face up so he could have a proper look. "Hmm…"

"What?" she breathed. "Don't you like it?" she asked, afraid he'd disapprove of her look.

"No," he confessed and her heart sank. "I love it." He brought his face down and kissed her on the lips. His hand remained under her chin and moved the other one to rest on the small of her back to pull her closer. Harley never wanted him to stop, but they had a job to do, so the moment was short-lived. "Let's go."

Three minutes later and they were off. Joker and Harley got into the back of a black SUV with tinted windows. Two of the guys were up front, already wearing their clown masks. Behind them followed a van of more clowns and they were heavily armed. When the thought hit her, Harley realized that she was not. What was she going to use? As always, she didn't have to worry. The Joker had it all thought through. "Here," he said and took out a .45 pistol from inside his purple great coat. "You might find it useful." He held it out for her to take and she did, without hesitation. Her fingers closed around it. In her hand, it felt heavier than it actually was. She was given a lot of responsibility and she felt the weight of that. He trusted her. That was a thought just as reassuring as it was frightening. Failing was not an option. She would use it well and wisely.

"Thanks," she said quietly with a small smile. Not two seconds after, the car came to a stop.

"We're here boss."

The dining hall was filled with members of the Arkham staff; doctors, nurses and orderlies alike. Of course, not every member of the staff was present. There was always someone who had other plans during Dr. Arkham's annual party. The host excused himself as he heard the doorbell and went to open for whoever the straggler was. Maybe Dr. Conner had changed his mind after all? Dr. Arkham dropped his glass of champagne to the floor when a vaguely familiar, yet horrifying face, looked up at him. Harley Quinn batted her eyes and smiled, baring her teeth. "Sorry I'm late," she said and Dr. Arkham now saw the company she was followed by. Clowns. And they had guns. "You have no idea how genuinely heartbroken I was when I didn't receive an invite," Harley continued and put on her best sad pout, but it was gone in a second and she was smiling again, her voice was filled with sheer glee. "So… I decided to just invite myself!" She giggled. "Oh! And I brought a date." The Joker stepped up from behind the door and put one arm around Harley. "Hope you don't mind."

"Evening, doc," the Joker flashed a smile of his own. "Nice place ya got." Dr. Arkham's mouth was shaped like an oval. Was this really happening, or was it a dream? An illusion, perhaps? Had he had too much to drink already? His eyes fell on the woman before him once more and he was afraid that she would be just the person he thought she was.

"Dr. Quinzel?" he asked and the shock was evident in his voice.

"Sorry, Dr. Quinzel isn't in now," Harley answered. "But I can make an appointment." She brought her gun up and pressed the barrel to his forehead. "Now will you let us in, or what?" Her gleefulness was gone, replaced by a hostility Dr. Arkham had never witnessed before. Not from her. What choice did he have? Without a word, he stepped aside and Harley kept the gun on him until the doorway was clear. She stepped over the threshold and there was a cracking noise when her left boot tramped on the broken champagne glass. "All right, move," she told him with a nod towards the dining hall and Dr. Arkham obeyed. It was hard to do otherwise when a gun was pressed against the back of your head.

The guests were happy to see their host return, but once a bunch of armed clowns came into the light, they froze on the spot, unable to move. Afraid to move, lest they'd get a bullet through their brains. The clowns spread across the room and surrounded everyone. A couple of them went to search through the rest of the house to make sure there was no one left out who might try to escape or call the cops. No one was surprised when the Joker walked into the room. The clowns were an obvious hint as to who was coming. But who was the woman aiming a gun at Dr. Arkham? Several of the doctors exchanged looks and each look read the same: It can't be her, can it? Oh, but it could. It was. "Well, well," Harley said. "You all seem to be enjoying yourselves. I've already expressed my deepest disappointment to Dr. Arkham here at finding out I wasn't invited. I didn't get a call, no e-mail, not as much as a note! Not from any single one of you! Not even you…" Harley's gaze shifted and landed on the one person she had called "friend" at Arkham. "Joan." Joan Leland looked beyond confused. She was probably thinking the same as Dr. Arkham. Was this really happening?

"Harley," Joan said. "What has he done to you?" Harley could read the same question on every single face in the room.

"What has he done to me?" Harley said, looking at Joan. "I think the better question would be: what have you all done to me?" She finally brought the gun down and used it to gesture to all of her previous colleagues. Dr. Arkham knew better than to try to escape just because he wasn't being held at gunpoint for the moment. There were plenty others in the room who could take him down in the matter of a split second. Harley went on. "What have you ever done for me? Always taking me as nothing but a silly, stupid little blonde!" Her eyes drifted to Dr. Hugo Strange, who looked dead serious and disgusted by her. "Well, then I guess the joke's on you, because guess what? I'm not even a real blonde." She brought her left hand up and flipped her pigtail. No one laughed. They were not amused in the slightest. "But I guess you were right. I didn't fit in at Arkham. I wasn't meant to be a doctor. I know that now." Harley looked over to the Joker, who had been watching her all this time. He remained silent and she took that as a good sign. It meant she was doing well on her own. Then she heard a voice. A voice that made her want to puke.

"Harley, whatever he's done to you, whatever he's forcing you to do… you don't have to do it." Oh yes. It was Patrick. He stood right beside the buffet table, stuffed with various kinds of treats.

"Patrick!" Harley exclaimed with an exaggerated smile and moved over to him. "How've you been?" she asked and got dangerously close, using the gun to caress his cheek.

"Good," he answered, stammering slightly. He eyed the gun in her hand. "You?" he asked out of politeness and maybe also because he was trying to keep her distracted until someone came to the rescue. But nobody would be coming to save them. Not tonight.

"Never been better. Ya still think I'm pretty?" She showed off her outfit. He shook his head.

"No. Not like this." Harley frowned.

"And here I get all dressed up for nuthin'! You know just how to treat a girl, don't ya, Patrick?" She was being sarcastic. Anyone in that room could tell. "You brought me to a nice restaurant and you even ordered my food for me! I'm sure that cod was tasty for you, but for me…" Harley chuckled and shook her head. "Did you know I hate fish?" Before he could answer, she did it for him. "No, of course you didn't, because you never asked!" She raised her voice at the end, showing her anger. "You know," she began more calmly, "I only agreed to go out with you because I wanted to be nice. And how do you repay me?" One glance at the buffet table next to her and she grabbed a handful of various nuts she spotted in a bowl and then forced them into Patrick's mouth. "By forcing goddamn fish down my throat!" she yelled as Patrick fell on his knees before her, spitting out the nuts and coughing. He looked up when he felt something cold to his head. Harley was aiming the gun again, ready to pull the trigger. Patrick's eyes found hers. He pleaded. Begged.

"Harley, please. I'm sorry. You don't have to –" BANG! Everyone jumped and screamed. Two of the clowns fired into the roof to shut them up. They did.

Blood was gathering into a pool by Harley's feet, getting bigger and bigger, soaking the carpet. Dr. Arkham stared in horror at the corpse on his floor. Harley turned back to him and grabbed one of the chairs by the dining table and put it down in front of him. "Have a seat, doc," she said and forced him to sit by pressing down his shoulder with her free hand. She wasn't finished with him.

"Harley," he began, but shut his mouth closed as Harley fired a bullet into the roof.

"That's Harley Quinn for you," she said. "That's right, that's my name now," she added, seeing the puzzled look on his face.

"Whatever you're going to do to me, just get it over with," Dr. Arkham said. "Let the others go."

"Oh, but I'm not going to do anything to you," Harley reassured him using her sweetest voice and had a seat on his lap. He was clearly appalled by this and leaned as far back as he could. "After all, if you hadn't hired me in the first place, I never would have met my soulmate."

"Your…?" Dr. Arkham glanced over to the Joker and then back to Harley, even more disgusted than he ever was before. "Your soulmate?"

"Believe me, doc," the Joker spoke for the first time in minutes. "I have a hard time believing it myself." Harley got up dusted herself off.

"Well, well, it's been a pleasure, but I think it's time for us to call it a night." Dr. Arkham remained in his seat. He was just as confused as everyone else. Was that it?

"You mean…" he hesitated. "You mean you're not going to kill us?" Harley rolled her eyes.

"No, silly! If I did, who's gonna tell the rest of the world that there's a new crook in town?" The Joker cleared his throat and Harley turned to him.

"Do you mind if I borrow that?" he asked and glanced down at the gun in her hand. She knew better than to assume it was a question. He wasn't asking. She gave it to him and he didn't even have to look to find his target. The bullet went straight through the orderly's chest and he fell to the floor. Harley thought she'd seen him before, but didn't know his name. While everyone else around the wounded orderly stepped away, Joan was the only one who got down on her knees and tried to stop the blood flow.

"Carter, hold on," Harley heard her say. So that's Carter. She could tell by the uncertainty in Joan's voice that even she knew there was no way to save him now. The Joker gave Harley her gun back.

"I always hated that guy," he said, the contempt evident in his voice and in his eyes. Harley laughed.

Twenty minutes later, the GCPD pulled up outside Dr. Arkham's house. The clowns were long gone. Commissioner Gordon entered the dining hall. Two dead bodies lay on the floor and there was blood all over. Over the phone, Dr. Arkham had already told him who had done it. Gordon had not believed him. It couldn't have been her. Harleen Quinzel wouldn't hurt a fly. And he was right. Turns out, it wasn't her. When Gordon turned around to look at the wall behind him, it was covered in letters drawn with blood. No. Harleen Quinzel was innocent, for she was never there. Gordon felt the blood drain from his face as he read the writing on the wall. Harley Quinn was here.

A/N: Hey guys! I am so sorry for not updating in a while! I kind of lost inspiration, but last night when I sat down and forced myself to write, everything flowed smoothly! This chapter is also a little longer than most others, so hopefully that makes up for it! Finally, Harley got her big reveal! You might be unhappy to hear that this was actually the last chapter, but don't worry, there will be an epilogue! Yes, I've always planned to have an epilogue to this story to give you a sense of what Harley and the Joker's life together is like sometime after her creation. I can also tell you that Batman will make an appearance. ;) I think this is a good time for me to end this story, because next week I'm off to college which I'm sure will leave me much less time to write, but I will keep up with it as much as I can! If you like Joker/Harley stories, I do have other fics that are about the Suicide Squad versions of them and I'm more likely to write more stories with them than with these "Dark Knight" versions. Thank you all for reading! Stay tuned for the epilogue! :)