I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee
That made him turn around (hey ya)
And I'd be the immediate forgiveness
In Eurydice
Imagine being loved by me!
Talk / Hozier
The scissors snipped in various directions, uneven and messy, ruining the long blonde waves with the purposefully shoddy cut. It fell around my shoulders in a lopsided bob. Forever vain, I ensured I left enough for a decent cut once I made it out.
Looking in the mirror, I grimaced, noticing exactly how much better I looked since being abducted. My dark circles remained but were drastically reduced, my skin looked glowy, and I had put on all the weight I had lost since Pam went missing and a bit more, though I knew I needed it. My usual routine of liquor and smokes for dinner had made my body go from a softened athlete's frame to heroin-chic on the extreme end. Now, after several hot and greasy nights of take-out with J, I felt much more comfortable in my skin, cheeks no longer hollowed, eyes no longer sunken in, hip bones no longer poking out sharply.
I needed to offset that. Oh, he isn't going to like this.
"Frost. I need a favor." I stepped out of the bathroom, and he glanced at my new haircut warily, before raising an eyebrow. "Brace yourself."
He grunted, covering his eyes and reaching into his pocket. "Hit me."
"Well, actually. Funny thing. I need you to hit me. "
He looked up at me, measuring my expression seriously before he laughed, really laughed. A hearty from the gut kind of laugh that boomed through the hotel room. "No way in fucking hell. J would make instruments from my ligaments."
"Johnny–" I started, only to be cut off quickly.
"No, I choose life." He kept laughing, shaking his head.
"J won't know."
" Oh, Yes, he will. He knows everything. He's like fucking Santa." Frost shuddered, visibly becoming more twitchy as the conversation went on.
"Johnny, who would tell him?"
"Wouldn't need to." He shook his head emphatically, "He would smell it in the air. And then he would make me a vegetable."
"Listen," I growled. "I need someone to hit me. I can't do it myself because sniffing out self-inflicted injuries is what fucks most cover stories. If you don't do it, I'll have to ask someone else."
"And they can die." Johnny nodded, seeming okay with the trade.
"I guess you're right." I shrugged, trying to go for nonchalant, but unable to wipe the glare from my face. "I mean, I just hope they don't do any permanent damage." I sighed dramatically at this. "I mean, think about how upset he'll be when he finds out I had to go find a random criminal to beat me up because his guy- whose charge I was left in— refused to help me… I wonder how he would take that?"
It was his turn to glare at me, before reaching into his pocket to withdraw his kit. I waited for him to finish ingesting the pill, before he reached for a beer beside him that I hadn't noticed, taking a long drink before looking back at me. "Fine. But only because you've put me in a corner here."
"Thank you, Frostie." I smiled, and he rolled his eyes.
"You two are the only ones I don't maul for calling me that, you know?"
"Aw, come on, Frostie, " I purred meanly. "You know you're just a big teddy bear."
"Bears bite," He snarked, flipping me off.
"Then get up and get snapping." I started, as he lit a cigarette, standing. "You're up, Teddy."
"Whatever. Where do I start?"
"What? You never beat a woman before?" I laughed.
"Not one that I'm trying to avoid hurting seriously."
"We're looking for no scars or internal bleeding, and preferably no broken bones if you can do it."
He snorted. "Not gonna break any bones."
"Other than my nose."
He cursed, taking a deep pull before nodding. "You're gonna get my ass kicked, you know?"
"He isn't gonna be mad. As if he cares," I rolled my eyes. "Joker had given me plenty of bumps and bruises."
"Yeah, but that was him, Miss Harley." He shook his head. "He doesn't like when people touch his stuff."
I bristled at the statement, glaring at him. "I am not The Jokers fucking stuff. He does not own me, and he doesn't get to fucking pretend he does."
"That isn't what I meant and you know it." He growled. "You know the culture, don't pretend you don't."
"Oh? Do I?" I sneered, before shaking my head. "Maybe I do know the backward and frankly sexist traditions, but that doesn't mean I intend to emulate them or allow anyone else to force me into a fucking cookie-cutter mold of some goddamn kept woman. I am a fucking Doctor. I am not some teenage stripper he brought home to screw and I'm not gonna act like one."
He groaned, "I swear you're missing the point on purpose."
"I'm not missing anything. I'm dodging. "
"Whatever. Are we doing this here?"
"Unless you have a better- Fuck!" I groaned, hand coming up to cup my nose after his first shot.
"Are you—"
" No," I growled, taking a deep breath, and inspecting my nose with feather-light fingers that ached. It was broken, but not enough. "Yes. Do it again." I grunted, looking back up at him without fixing the nose.
"It's broken already, Miss—"
"Not enough!" I roared, "Are you trying to get me caught you worthless waste of goddamn—" A second crack made me cry out, but this time, when I reached up, I was unable to lay fingers on the cartilage, pain shooting through me. I ran my tongue over my teeth twice, obsessively, to ensure they were all in place and undamaged. Finally, I looked up at Frost, whose face dropped, fear entering his eyes quickly, as he reached for another cigarette with trembling fingers.
"Fuck. He is gonna boil me alive."
"Oh shut up, we aren't finished." I considered. "He would have cut me."
"No way in fucking hell." He was entirely serious now. "You'll have to do that yourself or someone else."
"Oh please—"
"No. J can read scars like handwriting, and I'm not signing my name on you, Miss Harley. That sounds worse than a death sentence."
"I don't want scars—"
"No."
"Fine, fine." I growled, "But that is gonna make this harder."
"You could just… you know. Not." He tried again to convince me. "I mean, no offense Harley, but I'm not such bad company, and I don't wanna be the one to have to tell J that his girlfriend ditched."
"I am not his girlfriend." I snapped, eyes wide. "I–" I shook my head. "Do you think I'm crazy, or something?"
"You don't want me to answer that."
"Probably not." I sighed. "Let's get this over with. Aim mostly for the torso, and don't hold back. I'll say something if it's too much." Considering he hits like my mother, I doubt that will happen. "My safe word is octopus, by the way." I winked.
He tried to hold in a laugh, but it escaped and his tired eyes met mine again. "You may not be his girlfriend, but I think you may be his fucking soulmate."
Joker sat at the familiar table, the room lit up this time, as his pathetic public defender reviewed his case across the room with a nervous expression and eyes that flitted up to him in fear every few minutes. He sighed heavily, head in his hands. This was going exactly as he had thought it would, but he couldn't deny that he found this part incredibly tedious. He wanted to get it over with. Get back to Arkham and observe. He had gone through the possibilities in his head again and again, but he still wasn't entirely sure that he had considered all of the options. She had a strange habit of surprising him. A certain, forgive the pun, wild card element to her, that he couldn't deny was incredibly attractive.
James Gordon opened the door, looking tired, and smelling of Marlboro reds. Joker wondered if it would be out of the question to ask to have one. He wondered how long he had even been out, the drugs Batman had given him had certainly complicated the timeline on his end at least. How could he accurately study her behavior if he didn't even have a baseline for how long it had been?
Gordon sat at the table, retrieving something from his pocket that he sat on the table with a bleak expression. Glancing down, he took in the cherry red vape. His nose wrinkled at it, eyes narrowing as he remembered Harley's smug face after the purchase. Petty bitch.
Gordon watched his reaction, mouth a thin hard line. The DNA found on the inner lip of the vape confirmed that Dr. Quinzel had used it. Gordon didn't know what to make of this- his instincts were screaming at him that there was something he was missing. However, he didn't allow that to show. Instead only asking a simple question.
"Where is Dr. Quinzel?"
The clown rolled his eyes, head falling back. "More of this. I gotta tell you, Commissioner. I would think you have bigger problems than one little doctor. I mean, Gotham is a big city."
"She used this." He pointed to it, still grey-rocking the criminal. "Why?"
Joker grinned. "Oh, well, when she's a good girl she gets her nicotine fix. I mean, it's hard enough being chained to a bed. Can you imagine quitting cold turkey at the same time? What can I say? I'm a generous man."
A good girl ? Sick Bastard. Gordon's stomach churned though he recognized that the clown was aiming for that, finding his discomfort hilarious. He kept his face serious, but J could see the disgust in his eyes, and he giggled.
"What is it, Jimmy? Didn't realize that I am a red-blooded man who had needs? And that maybe those needs aren't so different from your own? Come on, you've seen my shrink. Can you really blame me for taking her for a ride?" He grinned.
Sick bastard. "You are admitting to raping her?"
He rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'm not a rapist. I'm only joking Commissioner. Come on, it's like you don't even know me."
"Tell me then. Tell me where Dr. Quinzel is, and what you did to her. Let me get her home to her brother."
Joker blinked quickly, a touch of shock on his face for only a fraction of a second, but it disappeared before Jim could question it, and the man laughed again.
"And her lover? " He giggled. "I know he's alive."
"My client—-"
"Hey, can you get the hell out of here?" Joker glanced up at the public defender, cutting him off, and he blinked. "I'm cool with going back to Arkham, which is where I will be sent the moment this is over. You can save your time for my day in court. A day that will never come if I have my way. Your breathing is irritating me, and if you don't stop it, I will."
The defender didn't need to be told twice, exiting the room quickly. Jim considered what Joker had said, his eyebrows coming together. What does he have planned?
After the door closed behind the lawyer, J grinned.
"You know. You and your friend are awfully presumptuous. Why are you so sure that she wants to come back? Maybe Harls is enjoying her vacation away from her boring boyfriend and her high-handed friends."
Gordon watched his face, his words registering. "You are trying to convince me… That she is happy that you tried to kill her boyfriend, that you have injured and abducted her? Can you explain to me in what world that would make sense?"
"In one where you know about my powers of persuasion." He grinned, eyes dark again. "Come on, Commissioner, you remember my old friend? Harvey Dent? I was so disappointed to see your response, but I suppose the turnabout is fair play. Did you consider that maybe I decided to try again? Do it better? No mistakes this time."
Gordon's stomach was in his knees, and his head swam at the thought, wondering exactly what he would mean by that, what kind of work he had been doing on the good doctor, and exactly how far into the plan he had gotten before being captured.
"What did you do, you monster ?"
"Eh, I'd hate to spoil the ending." He sighed, leaning back, shrugging.
Looking in the mirror at my black eyes, I took a heavy breath as I reached up, gasping to myself as I gripped the flesh. Don't be a pussy, you've done this before. A sob escaped as I cracked it back into place, and I half-heartedly tried to stunt the blood flow that started up immediately again. I resisted the urge to clean my face. After a moment I dropped the hand, cleaning the sink quickly. I was glad I had sent Johnny for food and a new vape. I wouldn't keep it long, but I needed nicotine. Looking in the mirror I put on my best impression of a victim, trembling unsteadily, but it wasn't convincing anymore. I blinked at the woman in the mirror, glaring again. Stop.
I took a breath, rolling through images in my head, movies, TV, and even my own friends. It was good to keep a rolodex of reactions on hand, but this one was gonna be hard. Digging deep I remembered the wide-eyed desperation in Guy's eyes as he stared at his mutilated body. I focused in on that image, imagining the horror of witnessing something so profoundly horrible happen to me. That didn't work. Being around J is rubbing off on me. I rolled my eyes, I couldn't even force empathy anymore. Fantastic. But I can put on a mask.
I made my eyes wide, frantic. I let the pain in my body cause a tremor, making the effect more believable. My lips quivered. Good enough. Looking in the mirror, I let the face drop, satisfied with the effect. I glanced down at my clothes. I had changed into a thin tank that my sweat and blood had stained, along with my bike shorts, which still hadn't been washed, leading them to be sweaty, and disgusting from a night of dancing, perfect for them to find me in. I smelled like shit and looked worse. Perfect. I worked to matt my hair, teasing, and then flattening it, the new shortcut making the work easy. Looking at my neck, I grunted as I took in the littering of hickeys. This isn't good. I didn't like being a victim. It pissed me off, honestly. It hurt my pride. But it seemed as though I had to play the victim. Again.
Johnny returned soon, and taking in my battered face, he nearly whimpered. "I can't believe I let you talk me into that. He is going to kill me."
"Oh, hush. I'll tell him it was self-inflicted."
"Why are you so comfortable lying to him?"
I shrugged. "He's a man. Lying to men is pretty mandatory."
"Oh?"
"I mean, yeah. I don't lie to him as much as other guys? Don't have to. He doesn't ask stupid questions, or make dumb assumptions." I offered but shrugged. "But not lying to men is kind of a fool's errand. Men don't want the truth more often than not."
"I would almost feel bad for him if you didn't sound so much like him."
"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "Stop with this. We had this fight already. You just don't want me to go. Little do you know, this conversation makes me want to leave more. "
He rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Here's your tacos."
"Nice." We sat down, me on the bed, him in the chair across the room, I cracked open the strawberry watermelon vape, puffing on it several times.
"You know, he isn't here," Johnny smirked. "Punishing him isn't really gonna work."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't know what you mean. And anyway, I'm starting to prefer this. Smoother. And it helps with my sweet tooth. I need to keep an eye on that. I've been gaining a fuckton of weight since I got here. J is a bad influence."
"You can say that again," He snickered. "But I don't know why you would care so much. J isn't the type to care." He shrugged.
I blinked at him. "I'm going to try to sidestep the fact that you just implied that I care about my appearance and weight, not because it is my body and I have to live it in, but because the disfigured clown may disapprove of my weight gain. But please know that it made my bones itchy."
He rolled his eyes. "God forbid someone cares what their partner thinks of the way they look."
"I've already told you—"
"I didn't say boyfriend this time and don't even try to pretend you two aren't bumpin' uglies. I've lost enough sleep because of you two to know that is bullshit." He gave me a pointed look, and I rolled my eyes, embarrassed though I tried to hide it.
"Shut up."
"Sure thing." He ate in silence for a long moment, while connecting the laptop to the internet. Finally, he spoke again. "What's the move?"
"This blood needs to dry, so I'll be sleeping here, in the morning, you will need to move me to a position you don't care about the cops finding. Then you will use a new burner phone that you discard immediately after to call in an anonymous tip that you had seen a man with a clown mask outside of the building. The police will send someone and I will be found piss-soaked and bleeding. Perfect victim." I grumbled.
"You're weirdly good at this." He made it sound like a question.
I shrugged. "Masks are easy."
"Masks?"
"Pretending, I guess?"
"You do it a lot?"
"Yeah." I shrugged again. "It's a necessary trait. If you wanna get ahead that is. Only reason I've made it as far as I have."
"So you just… lie?"
"I consider it… faking it until I make it. Only a little more literally than the phrase suggests."
"So that's why all the…" He gestured to my clothes, before laughing. "Not a good example, but I was referring to the expensive shit you're usually wearing. It doesn't really match your personality."
"Because I'm not wearing my personality when I wear that shit. Presentation is fifty percent of perception. The way you look is integral to how you are seen. You cannot make up for bad presentation. Without taking that into account you will always fail in your pursuits."
"Sounds manipulative."
"I don't understand what is so wrong about that," I sighed, finishing my third taco before continuing. "I mean, what's so wrong with helping people to understand my point of view? What is manipulation but more successful persuasion?"
"I'm not judging," He assured, "Working for J teaches you very quickly that morality is subjective."
"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "Why are we talking about this?"
"Just making conversation."
"Worried I'm gonna hurt your boss?"
He snorted. "J can take care of himself, trust me."
"Then why?"
"I guess…" He considered. "I guess I'm trying to understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why?" He asked. "I mean… I'm not trying to hurt his chances but.. You've kinda got the world going for you. Why risk screwing it up for him?"
"I'm not—"
"You slept with him." He said flatly. "You have to like him at least a little bit. I just… color me curious."
I glared at him, deciding if I would answer.
"Hey, no pressure. I'm just curious."
"I'll tell you if you tell me why you work for him."
"Pay's good." He shrugged.
"Good enough to ignore the kind of beatings he gives?"
Frost looked away, mouth screwed up as though he had bitten a lemon. "I've known J for a lot of years, Miss Harley."
"So it's a sunk cost fallacy?"
"Huh? What's that?"
"It's this thing people do. They've put so much time into something already, it feels ridiculous to consider ending it to start over with a new situation. Though it's mostly used to describe relationships that aren't going anywhere."
Johnny's eyebrow cocked. "Where would I even want to go? Life is pretty good. I own my place, I spend more money than I have any right to lay my hands on, and there's a party every night. That seems worth an odd beating every now and then."
"Fair enough."
"Your turn."
I took a breath, part of me wanting to back out, but alas, I liked Johnny and didn't want to hurt our newly developing friendship.
"I guess… He doesn't mind the bad shit." I made a noncommittal gesture. "He doesn't… expect me to do things I can't do. He doesn't… make me feel… bad? I feel… safe being a piece of shit. I guess." I laughed affectionately against my will, before controlling my expression. "Weird to describe any part of knowing him as safe, I suppose. Maybe I am crazy. But it's just nice to have someone around who is entirely unphased by my terrible behavior."
Johnny nodded, understanding. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Like I said before. Morality. Subjective. And he's always treated it like it's multiple choice, anyway."
"He's… not what I expected. That's for sure." I chuckled. "Ironically, I wasn't expecting him to be so… Funny. "
Johnny's eyebrows raised again. "Well, it is in the name."
"True, but… I don't know. I had thought it was only a performance. And he is a hell of a performer. Makes it hard to trust him." Johnny watched me with skeptical eyes, and I rolled my eyes. "I'm aware I'm a hypocrite."
"As long as you know." He shrugged, digging back into his food, as I reached for the remote, settling on a horror movie, smiling as the amorphous goo began its ramage, wishing I had the company of the man who recommended the movie so highly. I cuddled up to one of the pillows, shivering in the cold room, but ready to enjoy some schlocky brutality.
