Jackpot [Block B]: Human greed is endless,
And they repeat the same mistakes,
If you live leniently and try for success,
You won't make it halfway,
Let's get one thing straight. Harley Quinn is not Harleen Quinzel. Harley was never Harleen. They are two separate entities. Just in one body. Harley is oh so tired of explaining this.
Which is a majority of the reason why she doesn't anymore. She's tired of 'we can help you' and the skeptical eye raises. Mr. J understands though. He understands that Harleen is not just a morphed personality named Harley and Harley is not just Harleen revamped.
He understands and Harley feels the fondness, or pride, he radiates as he traces her jaw with a murmur of "You're my masterpiece." Harley smiles brightly and Harleen isn't quite sure how to feel about being an object of display.
Harleen gets a little loud sometimes, especially at night. She's not allowed to sleep in the bed with Joker. Harley reasons that it's that he likes his space but Harleen bites back bitterly in the back of head that if he truly cared she would have at least a blanket while lying on the cold floor.
Harley is shocked when Joker leaves her to die for a fifth time. Harleen is definitely less shocked. As she slowly bleeds out on the pavement with shrapnel surrounding her as remnants of the explosion, Harley lets a little of Harleen slip through.
She lets the bitter thoughts, emotions, and pain run rampant. The heart crushing disappointment and the pain that stomps on her ribcage. Harley cries for the fifth time since her stint with Joker began. The warm and sticky tears don't stop until she passes out, a blackness engulfing her.
She spends three months in the ICU before being carted off to Arkham again. Harley always hates the healing process the most. It leaves her with nothing but her thoughts, her hands and feet cuffed to her bed railing. Everything always hurts, her body, her thoughts, and her heart. There's nothing to keep her going like the first when she was left with a rose from Mr. J.
She hasn't received a rose since her second time in the hospital and Harley tries so hard to understand. So so hard. She wants to understand why there isn't a rose, an apology, or a visitor. She reasons that he doesn't want to be caught when she can't come up with anything better. Though the lingering words of Harleen always sit in the back of her skull. He doesn't truly care.
Harley always tries brushes it off, Harleen is just like those white coats with their 'I can help' or 'you need to understand' philosophy.
Harley doesn't want to understand.
There's a difference when she arrives at Arkham this time. She's led past her normal cell that had strangely homely feel and to a different part. A scarier one, Harley shivers.
It's later that night when she asks a guard. "Where am I? This isn't my usual cell." She's sitting cross-legged on her thing mattress with her head cocked at the guard.
He smirks, moving towards the glass of her cell. "Well Sugar," Harley releases a guttural snarl at the condescending nickname. "You're in the real looney bin now." Harley briefly wonders what constitutes her as a 'real' looney.
She later knows exactly where she is when she hears Zsasz's manic laughter followed by screams later that night. A bile fills her throat and Harley realizes that she's bitter towards the Joker.
She doesn't dream of him that night.
Followed by the hospital, the evaluation is Harley's least favorite part. It's always a man or woman in a white lab coat with a clipboard looking vaguely nervous there to 'get a look inside her mind.' Harley prefers the word 'pry' instead of 'get a look.'
It's a violation and Harley wishes they would call it that, though part of Harleen sympathizes with the strangers with the clipboard. "So, where should we start?" The person here to invade her mind is a woman this time, in her mid-forties with rapidly graying hair.
Harley takes to whistling, tapping her fingers against the metal arms of the chair due to the restraint of her wrists. The woman is obviously unsettled and Harley wants to smirk. Instead, she leans forward and whispers lowly.
"Aren't we all a little crazy for love?"
She's on the Suicide Squad now. It's a fancy name for 'a bunch of expendable people.' They're on a mission to receive info from some government for . . . something. Harley didn't really listen to the briefing at all. But that's what she has Deadshot for.
"Say, Deadshot," Harley blows a wisp of her purple and red hair from her face. "What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and just rush in?" Harley hates recon. The sniper gives her pointed look.
"No. Especially not with you." Deadshot resumes his eagle gaze on the court building that the official is supposed to come out of.
"Why not?" Harley leans back onto the cement of the roof they're currently on top of, letting a disappointed puff of air escape her lips.
"I have a no clown policy." The metallic taste Harley has come to associate with bitterness fills her mouth. She finds herself spitting back an insult.
His no clown thing must be pretty weak because Harley finds herself kissing him months later. There's no adrenaline or excitement. There is no disgust or hate. The kiss is numb and Harley wonders, only for a split second, if this is how Mr. J feels about her.
He takes her back weeks later. Her heart, though hardened, melts at the sweet nothings whispered in her ear. Harleen notes that they never contained 'I love you.' Harley ignores the thought and enjoys the momentary affection.
He's arrested the next week and Harley is immensely sad. Harleen notes the timing of his return to Harley's heart and his return to his cold cell.
They're at Deadshot's funeral when she meets him again. For the first time Harley doesn't feel a buzz of excitement at the sight of him. Fear shoots through her and she scrambles away at his feral gaze. She ignores the body limp on the ground from his laughing gas and locks her eyes on his.
"You're just like all the other Harleys!" He bellows and Harley flinches upon the realization that she is not his only creation. The chest stomping pain is back.
Harley no longer wants to be the Joker's masterpiece.
a/n: it's been a while since i updated but here is a bonus harley/joker thing that is essentially a rewrite of one of my other stories in the form of a bonus chapter. anyway please review and stuff, see you soon for some more dickbabs i guess.