I was re-reading Joker, which is amazing by the way, and I got to the part where The Joker was crying. And I was just kind of wondering what he might be crying about and what he might be saying. Plus, I was really irritated with the Harley in the book. I thought she was obnoxious and not needed. And slutty. And not the Harley kind of slutty… because really, Harley kind of dresses like a slut, but there is something about her that is just not slutty at all. I don't know. Kind of like Catwoman.
This isn't supposed to be what is happening in the book with Jonny Frost and stuff. It's just a… Well yeah. I think you get it. If not… just read it.
The Joker looked out over his territory. This city was his. He had it burning from underground up. Figuratively, but what he would give to see some actual flames right about now.
"Day well spent, huh puddin'?" Harley asked, coming in the room behind him.
"Depends on the day, Harley." He replied, his hands linking behind his back as he continued to observe his city.
The blonde, makeshift clown flopped on the bed. "Today, Mr. J." she sighed, taking off her mask. "Today was well spent. You killed, uh… Seven people today?"
"Eight." He corrected her.
"Eight people, then." She smiled. "I'd say it was successful, wouldn't you?"
This time The Joker did not respond. Harley tilted her head to the side. Usually on a day like this, he was happy and humming and skipping around saying bad jokes.
She jumped off the bed and put her hands on her hips. She was sporting her regular harlequin outfit. "Hm." She muttered curtly to herself looking down at her outfit. That wasn't a good thing for tonight. She needed something better, something sexier that would get her puddin' out of the grim mood he was in.
Harley skipped into the bathroom and proceeded to look through her clothing.
The Joker clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. Batman had let him kill eight people today. In fact, since he'd left Arkham Asylum he'd caught nothing of the Batman. Not a single whiff of the flying rodent has emerged. Has the Caped Crusader dropped off the map entirely?
The Clown Prince ran his tongue along his scarred bottom lip. Everything seemed so backwards. He wasn't running from anything. He was sitting comfortably in an expensive suite looking down upon the city he claimed to be his. And there was no Dark Knight to try to thwart his evil plots or his murders. He was on free rein.
No rules. No challenge. No Batman.
He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.
"Oh puddin'?" Harley called from behind him. Her voice was deeper. A tone in her voice he recognized all to well.
He frowned. "Not right now, Harley."
"You didn't even look!" she protested.
"I don't have to!" he exclaimed. "I said, 'Not right now'!"
Harley moved up behind him and wrapped her arms comfortingly around his waist. "C'mon, Mr. J. I don't know what's eatin' ya, but this'll cheer you up!"
The Joker licked his lips again. "Harley, I'm going to say this only one more time, and I swear if you don't obey me you will regret it." He lowered his voice. "Not. Right. Now."
"But puddin'—" she started, only to be interrupted by Joker ripping her arms from around him and swiftly turning around and planting a nice slap clear across her cheek.
With a cry of pain, she landed on the ground from the blow. He towered over her. "When I tell you something, you don't defy me!" He told her menacingly. "I gave you three warnings, Harley! THREE!" He held up three fingers. "And you continued! I SAID NO!"
Harley shielded herself with her hands weakly. "I know, Mr. J! I'm sorry!" Tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes.
He hated it when she cried. He hated tears. It was a sign of weakness, which he did not appreciate coming from his right hand woman.
"If you knew then why in the HELL DID YOU CONTINUE?" He yelled, grabbing the front of her low-cut shirt and jerking her upright to face him directly. "WHEN DID YOU THINK THE RULES HAD CHANGED? WHEN YOU CHANGED YOU STUPID, SLUTTY LITTLE OUTFIT TO A NEW SLUTTY LITTLE OUTFIT!"
"I just wanted to do something for your special night, puddin'!" she cried.
The Joker fumed. "DID I SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS NIGHT BEING SPECIAL?" He screamed.
"It's just that… usually on a night like this, you're all happy! And I just wanted you to be happy, puddin'! I swear that's all! I just wanted you to smile—" As soon as the words left her mouth she knew she'd said the wrong thing.
"You wanted me to smile?" he asked, lowering his voice. "Well, then Harley…" There was a deadly pause; a pause which was short-lived. "THEN LOOK AT MY GODDAMN FACE, YOU IDIOT!" He leaned back, holding onto her shirt with one hand. "I'm always smiling, Harley!"
Then, he shoved her backward. She stumbled as she tried to catch her balance and tripped over the bed and fell, hitting her head on the bedpost on her way down. She landed hard on her back and blood immediately spattered the floor, staining her blonde hair.
Deliberately and strictly frowning as he looked down at her collapsed body, he felt a pang of guilt as Harley coughed and tried to hold back her tears. She knew better than to fully break down in front of him.
He sighed as he stood there for a few minutes. Harley remained on the floor, holding back her sobs, but she could not suppress the flood of tears that were now mixed with the blood on the floor. The Joker's stomach dropped every time he looked down at her.
Everything was backwards!
With an irritated grunt, he walked over to her and gathered her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. She was surprised, jumping slightly at his touch. As he picked her up, she turned her tear stained face towards him, squinting at his face. "Puddin'?" she asked.
He didn't answer. He laid her down on the bed, walked to the bathroom, and picked up a washcloth from the floor. He went back to her. "Here." He said, handing Harley the cloth. "For your head."
She took it silently and put it beneath her head. He wondered how deep the gash was, but was able to brush the thought away.
Harley fell asleep in a matter of minutes and The Joker sat beside her on the bed, just looking down at her. The blood was beginning to dry, and the cut on the back of her head was slowing down the bleeding. Well… she wasn't dying.
What was it about this girl that affected him? He wanted her out of his life, but at the same time, he couldn't let her go. Every time he hurt her, he felt guilty and he wanted to fix her. He wanted to see her smile. She wasn't like him. She could choose her ups and downs. He had a permanent mark on his face.
Backwards, backwards. It was all backwards. He was The Joker! He felt no empathy, no guilt, no responsibility, no anything. But Harley… Harley was the exception. He felt everything for her. And that angered him to no extent.
He wanted to wring her neck. To press down so hard on her throat that it either broke in his hand or she just stopped breathing. He wanted her dead. But the thought of her lifeless body, the thought of her actually dying, made his stomach drop, a feeling he was becoming all to familiar with.
He never made a move to harm her. Didn't touch her at all. He just looked at her. He looked at her until it disgusted him to see her face anymore, but he still kept looking. There was something about Harley that entranced him, that drew him to her and her to him. They were incomplete without the other now.
He didn't remember how long he stared at her, but it must have been long enough. The light outside had receded to nothing except the city lights that took over the night sky and the stars were absent. Even the moon was gone from sight.
Finally, The Joker moved away from her and stood by the window. He leaned against the windowsill and stared out at his city again.
Sometime later, there was a quiet moan from the bed. Harley woke up and stretched, wincing at the pain in her head. The Joker did not turn to face her.
Harley looked around. "Puddin'?" she asked, turning to see him by the window. He didn't flinch. "Mr. J? Are you okay?"
He almost chuckled. Selfless as always, concerning herself with him and not the gash on the back of her head. The wound he had caused. His stomach dropped again.
The bed creaked as Harley took. The steps she took were light, but The Joker could hear every pad her shoe-less feet made on the floor. "Puddin'?" she asked, coming up behind him, but staying a safe distance away. "It's okay, puddin'." She told him. "I'm here for you. You don't gotta feel bad about nothing."
She knew. She always knew what he was feeling. It probably took a lot of courage for her to stand up there and say it flat out. That was admirable.
They both stood in silence for a moment.
Finally, Joker turned around and faced her. He took a few steps towards her. She didn't flinch or move away. She was ready for whatever was to come. It was all for him. That's what she lived for. So she was prepared.
The Joker stared her in the eyes for what felt like eternity. Then he fell to his knees in front of her.
Slightly taken aback, her breath caught in her throat. She began to follow him to his knees, but he grasped her hips and buried his painted face into her shirt.
Completely shocked by the sudden explosion of emotion from him, tears sprung to her eyes. She held them back. She'd cried enough for tonight. It wasn't until she heard a strangled sob escape The Joker's lips that the tears broke the barrier.
He was crying. The Joker was crying.
"I don't know what to think anymore, Harley." He choked out, cursing himself silently for the tears that were streaming down his cheeks, his make-up running. "Everything's all wrong. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't remember why I'm here."
Unable to respond, Harley clutched at his head, running her fingers comfortingly through his hair. She couldn't hold him very well because of the way he was grasping her, but she did her best.
"Please, Harley." He whispered. "Please…"
"Okay, Mr. J." she agreed, though he never said what he was asking for. Although, he didn't really have to. "Anything you want, Mr. J."
The Joker looked up at her. He took her arms and pulled her down to kneel with him. He took her face in his hands and ran his fingers through her hair. He reached the gash and his lips lifted in disgust. "Did I do that?" he whispered.
Harley bit her lip, and took his hands out of her hair. "What do you want, puddin'?" she asked. "Whatever you need, I'll get it for ya."
"Harley…" He started, surveying her face. He licked his bottom lip again. "I'm… I'm sorry." He said finally.
She started to cry again. Harley threw her arms around The Joker's neck and clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her in return and buried his head into her neck in an attempt to stop himself from crying again. He was The Joker. The Clown Prince. He doesn't cry.
But for Harley he does.
"Hey," he whispered at last. "Look at me…"
She brought her head back to connect her eyes to his. Finally, she captured his lips with hers. And he let her. Not only did he let her, he welcomed it, and took her lips back with full force.
"I like the outfit." He whispered to her. "You should keep it."
She smiled. Her mini skirt and makeshift harlequin top and done the trick.
"It's a nice change." He smiled back.
"I love you, Mr. J." Harley whispered, kissing his cheeks where his scars lay.
"I know, baby girl." He said.
That was all she needed as conformation, though he would probably never ever say it.
Once again their lips connected. The Joker swept Harley up bridal style and carried her back over to the bed, throwing off the bloodstained pillow so it would not be there as a painful reminder.
Instead of continuing, Harley curled up onto The Joker's chest. He wrapped an arm around her and let her sleep. Eventually, he probably dosed off too, but he doesn't sleep much, so it was short lived.
And even though everything was still backwards, it all felt right lying there with Harley.
Cheesy ending and a super creative title, I know. But I couldn't think of anything better.
Joker/Harley is the best. I'm a firm believer that The Joker loves Harley as much as she loves him. They just love each other in different ways. But I like the idea of The Joker just having a breakdown because he doesn't want to love her.
I dunno… I'll probably write many different versions of The Joker crying. This is my second attempt. I don't know which one I like better. I definitely like the other ending better, though. I know that much.
R&R! It put's a Joker smile on my face.