TITLE: Vitiate

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: Joker/Harleen Quinzell

WARNINGS: Angst, obsession, violence, swearing, sex

NOTES: I realized half way through I switched back to 3rd person POV! My bad!

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: A J/HQ with a twist, meaning the Joker is the obsessive one.

"If you meet your master today, kill him." – unknown*

She was becoming a distraction. Once he'd broken her he should have ended it there.

Not her. It. The sex. The constant urge to kiss her, touch her, and bury himself within her moist heat, every. Fucking. Day.

He constantly had to remind himself that he had work to do. Work she would be a part of, instrumental to. Work that would drive the Batman fucking ape-shit when all was said and done. The sweet, innocent, little Doctor Quinzel was now the Joker's mindless slave. She adored him. Worshipped him. Anyone would have to be blind not to see it. And the Batman was a smart boy. He'd realize right away exactly what he'd done. Bats was undoubtedly searching for him right now- and Harley's corpse. He'd never dare to dream she was still alive, not after this long. It still amazed Joker on a daily basis.

What was it about her that made him constantly hard as a rock and eager to blissfully drown in her affection? It was a singular experience, he had to admit. One he could not recall ever having. She never tried to hurt him, or demand he do things he didn't want to do. Although, truthfully, she couldn't even dream of the very few things he would not allow a beautiful girl to do to him. Yet, a few times after he'd finally brought her up from the basement, she'd jumped him in the dark and grabbed his crotch. The first time he shrank away with a terrified gasp, his heart in his throat. He'd slapped her hard for that and refused to look at her for a week. He didn't know what had happened to unsettle him so badly; he'd realized it was her almost instantly. He couldn't think of a reason her touch would make him nearly panic.

Another time he was sleeping. She'd said later on that all she'd done was touch his face. From then on, if he fell asleep before her, she slept on the couch. He didn't remember much of that night, but he remembered waking up to gut-wrenching fear. It was an unfamiliar feeling, yet it also seemed second nature to him. He suspected it had been a natural state of mind in his previous life.

He attacked her, striking blindly. She was able to flee after the first blow-he was only half-awake. And when he finally came back to himself he was sitting in the corner of the room, his back to the wall, clutching his head as if in agony. His face was wet with tears and Harley was kneeling in front of him weeping, begging his forgiveness.

He was shocked. And confused. He wasn't sure what the hell had happened, but there was still a strange feeling twisting his guts. Her left eye was swelling shut. Her nose was bleeding. He reached up with a shaking hand to wipe his face and his hands came away blood-stained. His skin stung. When he looked in a mirror he saw five deep scratches on his face.

It was deeply troubling. He hadn't felt fear in so long he was sure he was immune to it. Was it the fact that she'd caught him off-guard both times? That he hadn't known it was her right away? Or was it just the feelings generated were so horribly intense and consuming? Not the mafia, not the police, not the Bat, and certainly not the asylum had ever made him feel.. so…

He winced as he remembered that the Asylum, had, in fact been a source of great misery and trauma for him. But it wasn't just that nasty business with Andy that had made him react so violently. It was something else. Something he knew he couldn't bear to remember. So he did his best to forget again. He told Harley to never sneak up on him again or touch him in his sleep. He knew she wouldn't anyway, but he didn't want to kill her on accident. It would be too much of a waste.

And he had a sickened feeling he might actually miss her. She was now adept at pleasing him. She had done nothing to anger or upset him in weeks. He had actually tried to find a reason a few times.

And once she aroused his interest, he didn't stop (couldn't stop) until they were finished. He tried hard to stay away from her, especially when his crew was around. If she showed a foot out of their bedroom when the men were about he dragged her back in the second he spotted her. After killing one man for raping her he'd still noticed them watching her. The lust in their eyes was unmistakable and he found himself violently furious when he caught them watching her. More then one man had lost his eyes and tongue in retaliation. The men watched their former fellows twitch and bleed out on the floor and still they looked at her.

He knew he was hiding her away like buried treasure, snarling and attacking like a dog protecting his favorite bone. It wasn't right. But he found himself unable to stop. Even worse, he didn't want to stop. He loved seeing her beneath him, face flushed, breasts bouncing as he rode her hard. She sucked his cock so good it made him want to scream some times. It took little effort to wring orgasms out of her. And it was fun! She was a tasty little thing and he took great pleasure in devouring her. The more they did it, the more he wanted it.

The most intense time, he'd yanked her skirt up, tugged her panties aside and buried himself within her with one quick thrust. A groan of relief escaped him as he did and he heard it echoed as she whimpered in his ear. He set upon her like a wild beast, pounding into her furiously. His choked cries were drowned out by her ecstatic wails. She rained kisses upon his sweating brow as he drove into her again and again. And when she came, she clamped down on him so hard he couldn't help but come too, a harsh moan tearing from his throat. And when he collapsed on top of her and she clutched him tight, he found that he did not hate it like he had at first.

After all, she was warm and sweet and so very soft. And he was cruel and hard and so sharp, but he had begun to melt in her arms in those moments when he was still hazy and shaking from his release.

It seemed her new mission in life was only to make him happy. And she was good at it. A few days ago he'd just returned from robbing Gotham National Trust. He and his men had split the money. It wasn't for any of his plans; it was just that they'd needed money. The house he'd found was totally empty, they needed food and Harley demanded cleaning supplies. More guns and ammo were necessary, and the boys had also been so kind as to stock a tiny bar in the filthy living room and buy a TV.

She cleaned and cooked as if he cared. She had to know he would sleep in the dirt if he had to and wouldn't mind one bit. He wondered what she was thinking. Then it all became clear as she followed him into the bedroom and began to unbuckle his belt and tug at his trousers. Did she think all he cared about was sex? Because he didn't. But, he reasoned, she thought it made him happy. She was a simple creature with simple tastes, not like him. All she wanted to do was make him happy. He didn't understand it, or her. But wasn't this what he'd wanted? The woman who had once been so sure of herself, so proud, was reduced to his willing and eager slave. As her hot mouth engulfed him, he found he didn't remember why this was a bad thing.

She was manipulating him, whether she knew it or not. He realized it, yet he did nothing, which was even worse. He fretted over his growing attachment to her (not love, of course, not even close), over his violent jealousy, and then she made him forget it all with her pretty mouth or her inviting flesh. It was deeply troubling. She was a tool for his use. Not someone to grow jealous over, not someone to distract him from his goals. But she was becoming a distraction. And what use did she have lately besides eager lover? He didn't need a maid, or a cook, or a girlfriend. He needed a pawn. But her role had changed, somehow.

He'd had plans for her, he hadn't forgotten, had he? It had been something devious. Something to put her in her place. Something to horrify the Bats and really piss him off. But it seemed like they had instead fallen into a predictable pattern, like a regular couple. It had to stop. And it would.

The big day was only a few hours away. His men were busy getting drunk when Harley had come up behind him (clearing her throat as she always did now to let him know it was her behind him) and pulled his over coat and jacket off.

"Come lay down." She murmured softly. The day had been a long one and ultimately disappointing (he had been hoping to see the Batman, even if only for a moment), and he had been far too busy to even spare her a glance for days. She took off his vest, tie, shirt, and pants. She sat behind him and began to knead the knots out of his shoulders. He groaned softly. She gave really good back rubs. She really rubbed hard and his muscles felt like jelly when she was done. A few times he'd fallen asleep, but mostly he got aroused. Once she worked her way down on either side of his spine, and as he felt his eyelids drooping shut she worked her way back up quicker and with lighter touches. It never failed to send chills up his spine and make him hard as a rock.

Usually these sessions always ended in sex. But he wasn't quite sure he was in the mood. Her growing power over him was becoming intolerable. He refused to acknowledge her attempts to arouse him, and after a few minutes he quickly rolled away from her and burrowed under the covers.

"What's a matter, puddin'?" she cooed. "Ratman will show up next time, I'm sure of it!" she tried to sound cheerful, as if that could be the only thing possibly bothering him. He told himself again and again that he still needed her. He had big plans for the morning and he wasn't going to ruin them by killing her now. He needed her for one more day. One more day and he could slit her open like a pig and dance in her entrails. One more day and he could dangle her in front of the Bats nose and laugh when he failed to save her.

A part of him was beginning to think that in one more day he would be thoroughly besotted- at least, as much as one such as him could be – and all his plans would go down the drain.

"You remember what tomorrow is, right?" he hissed menacingly from under the blankets.

"Sure do, puddin'!" she giggled. "We're gonna teach the Bat a thing or three!" He felt his eyes nearly pop loose from his skull.

"We?" he sat up, flinging blankets away. "WE?!" She immediately cowered away, bringing a hand up to shield her face.

"You are, puddin'! I meant you are!" Teach her a lesson! His mind screamed. Just who does she think she is? He smiled, slowly, a twisted grin that never failed to scare her senseless. "I'm sorry Mistah J! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it!" she gasped, leaping off the bed and backing away.

"Yes, my dear. I will show Batman just how terrible I can be. And you will help me, and you won't screw up, will you?" he said, rising from the bed and revealing a knife.

"O-of course I will! I won't let you down, I promise!"

"I know you won't let me down, Harley. Because you know what will happen if you do, isn't that right?" he smirked. She shivered and her gaze dropped.

"Yes, sir." She whispered, shivering.

"Good girl." He sneered. He climbed back into bed as she made a hasty retreat.

He woke to find it still dark. He looked around in confusion, wondering what had woken him when he heard noise from the next room. He grabbed his Glock and stepped outside. She was wearing a mouth-watering ensemble and for a long moment he couldn't tear her eyes away.

"You think he'll like it?" she asked and heard one of his men mumble 'Yeah, yeah.' Like he couldn't give a shit either way. The man was either blind or gay, because he was about to rip the little outfit off and screw her brains out. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore his body's insistent demands. This is becoming a problem, he tried to argue, I don't need to screw her every five minutes!

But I want to!

She had high-heeled boots on that came up to mid-thigh. One black, one red, both very shiny. She had a black and red corset on, tiny black panties, and two gloves that went up to her mid-upper arm. One was black and the other red- like everything she wore. She did a pirouette and gasped when she caught him staring. Her lips were blood red lined with black. She had thick black eye liner and red eye shadow, and her face was very white.

"You like it?" she chirped. He could only nod, stupidly, all internal arguments ceased. She smiled and wantonly licked her lips.

"One thing is missing." He ground out through suddenly parched lips.

"What?" she gracefully danced forward.

"This." He said, grabbing her arm and brandishing a knife. She immediately tried to recoil.

"Now, now, I'm not going to cut anything off. I just want to send Batsy a little message, that's all." She began to shake in fear, but no longer tried to escape. "Where to begin…" he trailed off, musingly. Her back? Her shoulder and upper arm? Her chest? Her thighs? They were creamy and beautiful. They were unmarked. And any mark he made there would ignite the righteous fury and indignation he loved so much in the Bat.

He dropped to his knees and held the point against the outside of her thigh. He began to make neat slices, carving his name and a few other things besides. When he was done, she was shivering, but the look on her face was anything but frightened. 'Property of Joker' seeped blood down her leg. "How do you like that?" he smiled up at her.

"I love it!" she gushed, and as usual her enthusiasm was completely genuine. He leaned close and kissed the wounds, swiping his tongue across them, sampling her blood. She was so yummy. She was like a drug. He was addicted, and despised himself for it. But it did not make him want her any less.

"Tomorrow night the Bat is going to see you for the first time. He's going to be very upset with me, I think." Harley giggled.

That night was the best in her recollection. He devoured every inch of her like a starving man. He made her scream until her throat was raw. When he collapsed on top of her with a gasp she held him close and for the first time he actually wrapped his arms around her instead of tensing in her arms and then shoving her to the floor like he usually did. It filled her with joy and fear. He never held her. Never. Yet he clung to her as though she'd be torn away. What exactly was he planning? Her role was very small and she hadn't thought to question it, but his performance this night seemed like he had gone out of his way to make it the best and burn it into his memory so he'd never forget. Did he plan on leaving her? Using her as bat-bait while he escaped? Something didn't seem right. But she couldn't bear to question him and ruin the moment.

It didn't matter anyway, whatever he wanted her to do, she would do. No problems, no questions asked. He murmured drowsily and squeezed her. She smiled.

***

He was ready. They were ready.

The plan was to rob Wayne Pharmaceuticals. His men would get the boring, run-of-the-mill drugs that normal people seemed to covet. They would sell them, pop them, whatever they pleased, he couldn't care less. He was after something much more interesting. Actually, several something's.

In Arkham he had bullied a certain recipe out of a certain scrawny former Doctor. There were several key ingredients. Wayne Pharmaceuticals was the only place in Gotham that had them. The place had top-of-the-line security. But he had several skilled members of his crew who easily and eagerly dismantled the alarms. They headed to the labs and storage. Everything he needed was there. Joker found all the items quickly, chuckling in amusement. Harley helped the men stuff duffel bags full of Oxycotin, Tramadol, Vicodin, Codine, and other boring drugs.

He was stuffing his finds into his own bag when he heard his men begin to choke. He looked up and saw smoke filling the room. He snarled in rage.

"Not yet, damn it!" he hissed under his breath. The bastard never showed up when the clown wanted to see him and when he wasn't ready the Bat was early! He shot to his feet.

"The show doesn't start till later, Batsy, if you wouldn't mind..?" he yelled as he took off running. Harley and his men were quick on his heels. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a large black shape barreling through the smoke. He couldn't help but trip over his own feet at the sight. He did love his Bat, after all. The man was simply magnificent, and his entrances were always spec-tac-ular!

He scrambled to his feet with a peal of laughter and kicked a door open that led to a stair well.

"The building is surrounded, Joker!" the dark knight snarled. Joker fled upstairs, Harley and his men scrambling after him.

"That prick! How dare he invite GCPD?" Joker snarled. He had anticipated all of this, just not so damn early. He could escape on the roof, he'd already planned to after all, but not yet! He cursed as he tore up the remaining flights and shot out onto the roof. He heard cries from the stairwell. The bat had already caught up to his men. He scanned the roof as Harley stumbled out the door.

"He's coming!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" he snarled. "He's early! Everything is ruined!" the last word came out a shriek. Harley flinched. He ran his fingers through his hair and snarled, drawing his Glock. "I am NOT ready. I need these chemicals." He ran toward the ledge, Harley at his heels. The Bat emerged from the stairwell and ran at them, full tilt.

He grabbed Harley, jerked her close, and held her in front of himself like a shield as Bats drew near.

"Heya Bats, long time no see! Unfortunately you caught me a tad early! I was all set to make tea and cakes for us!" The dark knight said nothing, his blue eyes flashing beautifully with anger- just the way Joker liked them! "Oh! How rude of me, I forgot to make introductions! Harley, this is Batman. Batman, this is Harley!" his voice sped up a little as he sought to keep the man at bay for a few precious seconds.

"Dr. Quinzell?" the Bat said, his expression suddenly, gorgeously, horrified. Just as he'd hoped. He shivered and felt a peal of laughter well up.

"At your service." Harley bowed and murmured in her bedroom voice. Joker couldn't help but grin.

"What have you done?" the Bat hissed, his voice full of that lovely rage, those ice-blue eyes locking with Joker's again.

"Honestly? Not much. The poor girl just couldn't help herself!" he giggled wildly. "She was smitten like a kitten, couldn't keep her hands off me!"

"That's right." She cooed. Batman blinked in astonishment and Joker couldn't help but laugh. As he did he stepped closer to the edge. A move that didn't go unnoticed by his dear, dark detective, who also edged forward.

Harley stayed in her place, between the two opposing forces.

"Dr. Quinzell-" Bats began, his expression wary.

"Harley!" she brazenly cut him off, her chin jutting outward in defiance, her hands on her hips. One hand trailed down to her thigh, and he grinned at the rage in the Bat's blue eyes as he saw the clown's earlier handiwork with the knife.

"…Harley, I don't know what he's done or said to you-"

"And believe me, you probably don't want to!" Joker cut in, giggling as he took another step back. He glanced behind him. The next roof over was only about a ten feet drop. The alley in between, however, was about a twelve-story drop. He was sure he could make it, even with the gun and duffel bag. The question was: could he make it without damaging the contents within?

The bat stepped forward again. Joker grabbed Harley and wrenched her close.

"Harley, listen to me, you don't have to do this. He's using you! That's what he does. He doesn't care about you!" Joker felt Harley stiffen in his grasp and shot an annoyed glare at the dark knight.

"Shows what you know, jerk! You don't know anything! Why don't you fly home, bat boy?" she sneered. Joker shot the Bat a smug grin.

"I don't want to hurt you-" Joker laughed.

"Oh, of course you do- don't listen to him Harley, he loves nothing more than abusing clowns!"

"No problem, puddin'!" she grinned and suddenly a gorgeous, huge knife was in her hands.

"Smart girl!" he giggled.

She attacked. She was at once beautiful and deadly. He stared in dumb shock as she flipped around the Bat with little effort, dodging his attacks. He knew he should be using her distraction to escape, but he was having a hard time tearing his eyes away.

"Kick his ass, sea bass!**" he shrieked, laughing hysterically. She put on a good show, but it quickly became apparent that it was little more than that. Or perhaps the Bat was just too damn good and kicking the shit out of people. He assumed it was the latter. Soon Harley was pinned in his grasp like a struggling butterfly. He was about to make a run for in when Harley shrieked in rage and brought her pointy heel down with all her force onto the Bat's foot. He snarled but didn't let her go. Joker eyed the drop behind him. He needed a running start. The only way was an even greater distraction. He'd not had time to rig any bombs. But there was one thing he could try. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. Maybe even literally. He chuckled, ignoring that it came out rather forced.

"Harley, come on, already!" he snapped, as though impatient. She began to struggle like an angry cat, writhing and clawing until the Bat released her with a curse. Joker grabbed her again and dragged her near.

"Bats it has been such fun, but I can't hang out anymore, Mom wants me home for dinner and I so hate to disappoint her!" He dragged Harley to the edge, smiling at her look of smug superiority. "Harley did I ever tell you that you're the best doctor ever?" She graced him with her most beautiful smile as the Dark Knight edged closer still. He kissed those painted lips and shoved.

She fell between buildings with a gorgeous scream. The Bat gasped and dove after her with no hesitation. Joker watched them fall for only a moment before he raced to the edge himself and leapt. He made it to the other roof without incident. He didn't bother to look and see what had become of Harley. She had fulfilled her purpose. Not quite how he'd imagined it, to be sure, but she had just the same.

For a brief moment, as he ran, he felt a pang of… Something he didn't quite like. He thought of Harley writhing beneath him, the way she held him, the way she looked at him. He had a sudden irrational thought that he'd made a mistake. Then he had a near irresistible urge to make sure the Bat had caught her in time.

But the thought was fleeting. He had more important things to do. Worrying about his former shrink was pointless and stupid and he was neither of those things. It would be easy enough to forget her. He was good at forgetting things he didn't want to remember. She was a distraction first and foremost. One he'd never needed. She wasn't important in the grand scheme of things and never had been. He didn't – wouldn't – care what became of her.

She was only a doctor after all. And not even a very good one, when you got to the brass tacks. He tried to laugh, but for some odd reason it stuck in his throat.

The End

A/N: So sorry for the delay, I hope this makes up for it! Reviews are love! Sorry for posting and deleting then reposting I saw WAY too many errors and probably still missed a few!

* - From an old Marilyn Manson T-Shirt I have.

** - Yes that is totally from 'Dumb and Dumber'.