AN: I'm sorry this one took so long to get out. I have been dealing with a lot personally recently, and I haven't been dealing well. I apologize. I am genuinely thankful to everyone who reads this, and especially the ones who comment, That really makes my whole day brighter, there really is no other way to say it. So once again, thank you.
I bet there's rich folks eatin' in a fancy dining car
They're probably drinkin' coffee and smoking big cigars
Well, I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free
But those people keep a-movin', and that's what tortures me
Folsom Prison Blues / Johnny Cash.
I sniffed at the hand, before smirking at him wryly. "You're ridiculous."
"And you still laughed."
"No, I didn't"
"Uh- Yes, you did." He pulled a face, eyes flitting to the clock before resting on my face again.
"You're ridiculous." I shook my head. "Is there anything you would like to discuss today?"
He sighed deeply, "Why am I leading my therapy session, Dr. Quinzel?" He groaned at me with a long tortured expression- before smiling what my mother would have called a 'shit-eating' grin.
"Because I'm the only doctor willing to be in a room alone with you after you decided to play 'Pop-goes-the-eyeball' with Dr. Phillips, and I have no desire to fight you over something as benign as our topic of discussion?" I said dryly, finishing with a flat smile, and wide eyes.
"Yeah, I guess that tracks." He sighed, "Can we talk about music?"
"Music?"
"Yeah." His tone was disjointed.
"Okay. What about music do you want to talk about?"
"I never realized." He paused, seemingly trying to formulate his next sentence. "I never realized, how often I heard music, outside."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I- Uh- never played it myself, but everywhere you go, you hear it, you know? But not in here. Here it's always so quiet. Other than the buzzing."
My eyebrows came together, "The buzzing?"
"The lights." His hand came up, pointing at it, and I nodded.
"So, would you say you miss music?"
He snorted, "No." he shook his head. "I mean- most of it- uh- sucks, but" He paused again, looking at me. "I miss- what it- uh- comes with, you know?"
"What does it come with?"
"You know." And though he didn't say it out loud, the answer in his eyes burned me. Forced me to face that same temptation, always right within teeths reach- but I cannot bite.
Freedom.
I didn't realize I had allowed the silence to stretch until I broke it.
"What kind doesn't suck?"
His head turned, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at me, lost.
"You said most music sucks. What kind doesn't?"
His eyebrow quirked and he tilted his head in consideration. "Depends on my mood? I guess?" he seemed confused by the question and clearly wanted to move on.
"Are you often uncomfortable talking about your interests?"
His eyes flashed to me, mouth flattening, unamused. "I'm not uncomfortable, I just thought it was a stupid question. I don't mind talking about my interests." He grinned. "For instance, I find the concept of Epiphenomenalism very inter-"
"No, I would like to hear about your musical preferences." No way was I gonna let him turn his therapy session into a goddamn lecture hall.
His mouth flattened, and his eyebrow quirked, "I thought you didn't want to fight me?"
"And I thought you weren't uncomfortable? You seem very defensive."
His eyes narrowed, and he suddenly laughed, hand coming up to his forehead. "This is ridiculous."
"I agree." I smiled. "I've been listening to a lot of Indie stuff, these days, but I used to be very up-to-date." I laughed shaking my head. "When I was in college I used to burn people CDs, like, ten bucks a pop."
Joker nodded, eyes narrowing, "You know, I only ever charged five?"
"Yeah, but I was surrounded by a bunch of kids with Daddy's money, couldn't risk an undersell," I snickered, and he laughed back.
"You're pretty funny," he shook his head. "And I don't know, a bit of this, a bit of that, I don't really pay attention to genre."
"If you don't tell me, I'll just have to note that it's circus music." I nodded, Showing my teeth as if to say, unfortunate.
He sighed, "I don't know, Harley, I really don't pay attention to that stuff."
"Mr. J." I dropped a warning tone, not appreciating the pet name, and he sighed deeply.
"Sorry. Okay, okay. If I'm being honest I guess I like classic rock?" He shrugged.
"That's such a dude answer." I snickered, writing it. "God, I think the clown music would be better- at least that original."
He shook his head, laughing silently. "All that work to get me to open up and the moment I do you make fun of me?"
"Oh, boo-hoo Mr. J." I laughed. "If you wanted a nice Doctor maybe you should have stuck with Phillips."
He chuckled. "That is two."
"Two what?"
"Two jokes about the doctor that I mutilated with my bare hands in this very room. Both were told during the same session. Doc, either you have a sick sense of humor or you must be trying to impress me."
I pulled a face. "It's not on purpose. Pam says I say some of the most awful things without even meaning to."
He pushed out his scarred lower lip into a pout. "Aw, does that mean it isn't for my benefit?"
"Don't flatter yourself," I said breezily, and he laughed again.
"I knew I liked you," he said, shaking his head with that same smile that I was beginning to find myself returning. "Who's Pam?" He questioned.
"My…" I paused considering whether to answer, before rolling my eyes at the idea of a shortened first name and knowing that she is my best friend is somehow private, when if he had enough newspapers he could put more than that together just from how often we're together. "She's my best friend. She was my neighbor growing up, and when her half-brother was there too We were like the Three Musketeers growing up. Or more accurately The three little assholes. I feel kinda bad for it now." I laughed.
J smirked, "I was a fine upstanding citizen of course."
"Of course," I intoned solemnly nodding at him before a small smile of my own refused to hide, no matter how much I told myself I should.
The day was hanging around my shoulders like a two-ton weight. Ever since the end of Mr. J and I's session today, there had been a feeling, a bit of a cold weight in my chest, constricting my chest, and making it hard to breathe normally. Something about his eyes. Like there was a joke I didn't get yet. I couldn't wait to shake off the day and fall into bed, only after my liquid dinner of course. I cursed my lock under my breath again, shaking my head in irritation at the damn thing. Of course, the landlord replaces a shitty lock with a shittier lock.
There was a pungent garlic odor that I was picking up before I even opened my apartment door, but once I did, I relaxed, hearing distant voices of friends. I wondered exactly what I was walking into- a small panic curled at the bottom of my spine and my stomach filled with lead and bile, as I considered her putting together some kind of anti-Joker intervention. Fuck. I had known Pam was worried, but was she this worried? Maybe if I go get a hotel they'll be gone in the morning? I can say I pulled an all-nighter? My lip curled at the thought, and I cursed myself for being a coward.
I made my way to the kitchen and saw Jack cooking something that smelled supremely Italian, and Pam, and Eddie were sitting at my kitchen table, chatting and laughing over a bottle of tequila. As I leaned on the frame of the door, I watched them silently for a moment, honestly considering going to bed, leaving them all here. Maybe that would discourage further impromptu visits. I was getting sick of having my me-time interrupted by busybodies. But then Pam's eyes flashed to mine, having heard me, or seen me from her peripheral vision, it didn't matter, because I was going to be sitting with them now. No real choice to it. Choice. What a Joke. I thought bitterly, as a wide grin covered my lips. "Breaking and entering is a crime," I jokingly chided and she giggled at me shaking her head.
"Hush, shouldn't have given me the spare then." I rolled my eyes before sitting. "Don't act like you aren't happy to see us," she laughed. "I even brought your boyfriend to make us dinner."
"Pam," I warned.
"We're just friends, Pam." Jack shook his head, smiling at me, placing garlic bread cut into triangles, all piled into a cloth-lined bread basket that I knew good and damn well wasn't mine. Wish he would stop bringing his stupid uptown shit in here. "No need for anything too serious, huh?" He nudged me with his elbow, smiling again.
I looked up at him gratefully, "This smells great Jack, thank you." I changed the subject quickly, seeing Pam's mouth open, not trashed by any means, but just one too many shots deep to see that her response would have been unwanted. "What are you making?" I nodded to the stove.
"Oh, It's just Gnocchi with Confit garlic. Time-Consuming but easy, I can teach you if you like?" he nudged me lightly again, turning to carry everyone's plate to the table in a surprisingly impressive display of strength.("I was a waiter in college" he would explain later,)
"CON-fee?" I said with a wrinkled nose, not caring for the sound of that.
Jack chuckled, setting the plate of, admittedly fucking gorgeous pasta and salad in front of me, I sniffed at it as he opened his mouth to explain, and it smelled amazing.
"All confit means is slow-cooked in fat. Just makes the garlic taste better."
And as if to punctuate his sentence my stomach growled loudly, and angrily, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks as Jack's chuckle repeated itself and he took his seat beside me. I need to start having Lunch more often.
The gnocchi, which I had eaten before, was delicious, and I had emptied my plate before Jack had hardly begun, rising to check for leftovers and returning to the table with a plate piled high.
As the conversation continued, eating turned to drinking, and drinking turned to dancing around the apartment, while Jack giggled on the couch, completely red-faced. The alcohol had begun to work on unwinding the giant ball of stress that was tangled between my ribs, and I was feeling good. When I was finally able to rouse him standing, and dancing, it wasn't long before we were a tangle of writhing limbs again, escaping to my bedroom, while Eddie and Pam kept the party going.
"You send a lot of mixed signals, you know?" Jack laughed against my shoulder, causing me to shiver, and pull his lips to mine, as I pushed him down into a sitting position on my bed.
"Oh?" I laughed breathlessly against his lips, cheeks burning from the liquor as I pulled his shirt off, and leaned back, wrapping my arms around his neck to support myself. "Should I stop?"
Jack mimed zipping his lips and pulled me forward to those lips again. His hand traveled from my hip, up, untucking the silky cream color blouse I wore, and sliding under, splaying out across my back, pushing us closer together, and I whimpered at the touch, causing him to moan.
"God, Harley," His voice was thick with lust, "You're perfect, you're just perfect."
I silenced him with my lips as his hands worked the clasp on my bra.
Suddenly, a sensation started in my stomach, feeling more like butterflies than anything. But as we continued, it started to intensify, turning from excitement to discomfort. Returning to that stress, that cold chill on my bones, that I tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away- hoping I could enjoy this. Let me enjoy this. Please, I just want to feel good.
But it didn't. I couldn't
Pulling back, I looked into Jack's wide eyes, mirroring my own, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, not just from the passion but from a growing panic. The taste in my mouth changed, no longer sweet but a metallic tang. The room began to blur at the edges, and my mouth began to fill with saliva uncontrollably.
"Harley?" His hand came up, cupping my cheek softly, and stroking. "What's wrong? You're trembling."
"Uh…" I stopped, swallowing suddenly, and turning my head. "I need to…" I scrambled off of his lap, falling onto the floor for a moment as I did, but righting myself just as quickly.
"Harley?" Jack seemed confused, and very worried "What's going on? You're all pale."
"I- excuse me!" I turned, swung my door open, and dashed into the bathroom just in time- stomach heaving and all that gorgeous pasta coming back up twice as quickly as it went down. I became aware of cool hands holding my hair back and then even a cool cloth on my forehead as I continued dry heaving, but I didn't look up to confirm the identity of my volunteer nursemaid.
"Fuck" I groaned into the bowl, "I didn't die."
"And that's a negative?" Pam's voice came from the doorway, concerned, but laughing.
"It is if I'm not gonna feel better," I grumbled.
"Was it the booze?" Jack asked, reaching out to wipe my forehead with the rag again, but I pushed his hand away, shrugging.
"Probably," I said, hoping Pam would drop it, and looking up at Pam it was clear she wanted to argue, to bring up my tolerance, but after my pleading look, she just pressed her lips together with a sigh, and shook her head. "It's no big deal, guys, I barfed, who cares."
"I don't," Ed interjected, and I smiled at him gratefully, "And I'd like to go home now- and since I am your chauffeur for the night, you are going home as well, Dr. Isley." He held out his elbow.
Pam looked over at him shrewdly, before sighing again, "Fine, but only because I need to get some sleep before the meeting tomorrow."
They continued arguing down the hall, and I smiled down into the toilet, before grimacing and flushing quickly. "Sorry, I wasted all that food, Jack. It tasted good." I promised.
He laughed quietly. "Eh, No big deal." He was quiet for a moment, and I could tell he wanted to ask.
"It wasn't you." I laughed again, surprised at the nearly gravelly tone. "I just. Freaked." I shrugged, and Jack visibly relaxed, smiling.
"Hey, it's no big deal. Like I said, you're worth waiting for." He blushed, and I smiled at him, softening to him yet again, at his understanding. Where did you come from Jack Ryder? I thought to myself with a smile.
Suddenly, I could hear my cell phone in the next room, and I started to stand, but before I could Jack had gone, and come back with the phone, and was handing it to me.
"I have legs you know?" I rolled my eyes before looking at the phone. Joan Leland.
My stomach dropped, and I stared for just a moment before answering begging the name to change. "Joan? What's wrong?" I asked, but I knew there would only be a couple of reasons that Joan would be calling me this late, and suddenly the feeling I had all day, ever since my session with the Joker, made sense and I found my breaths coming in gasps.
Jack stared, wide-eyed, his hands coming to rub my arms, mouthing what's wrong?
"Oh, thank god, I was terrified, I thought you might still be there, sometimes you stay so late I thought-"
"Joan!" I barked, "What are you talking about?" But I knew, I knew, I knew, I knew, I knew.
"He escaped- Arkham- he killed- god they don't even know how many-"
"Who, Joan" I interrupted in the same tone, praying she would give me a different answer.
"The Joker. He- He's gone, Harleen."
AN: Please Comment with your thoughts! I am always happy to hear them. Also- I had a conversation with a friend who reads UD, and she said that she always sees Harley as Margot Robbie, even in this story, which I find interesting. I do have one person in mind who I think would be perfect to be Harley in my universe, but I would love to hear who you picture. Also... I really want to hear any guesses about where we are going.