Chapter Text
Harleen faded in and out of consciousness, and was grateful for it. When the pain subsided and she came back to herself, she couldn't quite remember where she was or what was going on. At first, she would remember she was Dr. Harleen Quinzel, psychiarist to the infamous Joker, whose dark eyes glittered down at her as her eyes refocused in the dimly lit room. Then the pain would come again, twisting her body, every muscle tensing painfully as she writhed against her leather bindings. She would've screamed- she wanted to scream- but her jaw clamped down on the leather he'd placed in her mouth, even her lungs and vocal chords tensing so that only a muffled guttural wail eminated from deep within her chest, cutting off in a strangled gurgle as the pain reached it's crescendo and she passed out once more.
In that place, time had no meaning. Harleen was transported back to various times in her life. Her darkened bedroom, streetlights cutting harsh beams through her broken blinds. Her father, stinking of booze, thick clammy hands groping beneath her blankets in the dark, the pain, the fear. Silent tears. Her shrill voice audible above her father's hasty shushing. "Daddy." The Joker's grin materializing out of the bars of light she stared hard at, waiting for it to all be over.
Her brother's friends following her home after school, pushing her into the alley, all older than her, no chance at fighting back. She'd dropped her books, trying to gather them up, being dragged away by each arm. Being punched, kicked- her brother's wide eyes watching it all from a distance, silently fascinated. The hot stinking piss spraying all over her as the boys laughed. Harleen didn't cry anymore by then.
She came back to herself slowly, one sense at a time. The deep purr of an expensive car. Men talking. Turning corners- her head lolling, blonde hair loose and wild. Chill night air. The Joker's laugh. Harleen opened her eyes with great effort, peering around at the interior of a long limousine. A bunch of strange men stared back at her from across the limo, some smiling, others with blank, impassable expressions. They were all sharply dressed, either in suits or dark dress clothes. Harleen's hands went to her temples, pressing gingerly at them, stinging sunburned skin on either side, where he'd shocked her for those long hours. That eternity. Harleen shuddered, a chill coursing through her body, then looked down. She was wearing a shimmery black dress, very short, complete with black heels, jewelry and matching purse. She almost blushed- this was not something she would have ever worn herself, and rearranged her legs to try and regain some modesty. The men just laughed, and Harleen felt sick as the old memories assaulted her.
His face seemed to materialize out of the dark, Harleen wondered silently how she could have missed him sitting there, near the front. The Joker's eyes flicked all over her body, then he moved forward, closing the small distance between them, and reached a hand out to grasp her face, wiping at some bit of smudged make-up there. Harleen felt like a deer caught in headlights, frozen, until one of the men cleared his throat and spoke.
"Uh, boss. She looks kinda, rough around the edges. You sure it'll be alright?"
The Joker was still staring at Harleen's face, holding her there, even as she stared at the floor, trying to avoid him, but too frightened to slap his hand away.
"It'll be fine." He purred after a moment. "He likes them a little rough. Likes to play the white knight." The Joker giggled to himself a little, before stifling it and moving back to his seat. He reclined in the seat, stretching like some big cat, before fixing Harleen with a stare once more.
"We're going to visit some friends, Harley. This man..." He produced a picture of some beefy guy in a suit, a high class whore on each arm, laughing in a nightclub. The photo was grainy and taken from far away. "...was nice enough to take care of some of my establishments while I was on vacation." He flashed her a grin. "Now that I'm back, we need to have a little chat with him, but he hasn't been returning my calls." The Joker gave a heartbroken frown. "You're going to help sweeten the deal a little." Harleen began to sweat a little, but the Joker waved her away. "Nothing you can't handle, darling. You're just going to walk in and order a drink. My man inside will make sure you get called up to meet our friend here." He tapped the photo. "Just smile, play nice. Find a way to get him to come outside. A smoke, maybe something a little more..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. "Fun. We'll be waiting for you outside. Easy-peasy."
Harleen was barely listening, eyes darting back and forth between the strange and silent men, and the ever-talkative Joker. He was letting her out, alone? Seriously? Maybe she could find someone to help her. Get to a payphone, or ask to use someone's cell, then call the police. He's not even sending anyone in with me, she thought, but he seemed to notice where her mind was going, and moved over to plunk down beside her, draping one arm over her bare shoulders in an uncomfortably tight embrace. "I can see you're nervous." He said, "Here's something that might cheer you up." He clicked a tiny remote control held in his other hand, and a small flat screen tv she hadn't noticed flicked to life. It was tuned to the local news show, letting Harleen know it was the evening the day after everything had happened at the Asylum. As the Joker increased the volume, her heart dropped to her feet, skin going cold.
"...identified as his new therapist, Miss Harleen Quinzel. Preliminary reports tell us that Miss Quinzel did in fact aid in the Joker's escape from Arkham, as it was her ID badge that was used to allow the unknown assailants into the facility during yesterday's riot and the subsequent escape of many of Gotham's most notorious criminals. The Joker and Miss Quinzel's whereabouts are unknown at this time. Police are advising people to stay indoors..."
Photos of Harleen faded in and out as the reporter continued speaking, detailing Harleen's past achievements, even going so far as to include the rumours about her ill-gotten psych degree. Harleen just scowled at it, angry tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Did none of them even consider the possibility that she had been manipulated, taken against her will? They painted her as a lovesick fool, doting on her criminal lover. Harleen felt her hands ball into fists, until her nails began to pierce skin and she forced them open. Meanwhile, the Joker was drinking in her reactions with barely restrained glee. When Harleen finally spoke, it came out as a rough whisper, her voice scratchy and raw from... she couldn't remember.
"They all think I'm just an idiot." She whispered, half to herself, staring forward blankly, not really seeing her surroundings anymore.
"Of course they do." he whispered, drawing her close, "But that's just perfect. They'll never see you coming." The Joker grinned at her from the side, so good naturedly that Harleen couldn't stop herself from smiling a little. She wiped at the angry tears as he laughed quietly to himself. The limo pulled to a stop, and one of the strangers held the door open politely. Chill night air drifted in, along with the pulsing base of club music behind concrete walls. Harleen took a deep breath, steeling herself, before climbing out of the vehicle. The Joker swatted her ass on the way out, and she stifled a squeal, scowling back at him, but the door was already shut, the vehicle pulling away to disappear down a side alley. Harleen shivered, the thin dress making her feel naked, and hurried up to the door.
There was a line of people waiting to get into the club, stretching far around the block. Harleen's palms started sweating as she approached- she never went clubbing, and didn't know anything about it beyond what she'd seen in some movies. With each step, her dread increased, until she was standing before a formidable looking man dressed in black, holding a clip board, whom she assumed to be the bouncer. He was listening to something from the little device in his ear, and paused to look her up and down. A half cooked explanation died on her lips as he wordlessly unclipped the barrier, waving her through. The couple at the front of the line glared and cursed at her as she hurried inside, and Harleen allowed herself a moment of triumph, grinning and making a face at them over her shoulder.
Inside, the music was a palpable thing- it hit her like a wall as the inner doors opened, pulsing along with the various coloured lights and laser beams that sliced their way across the massive dance floor. Harleen was momentarily blinded by the intensity of it all- hundreds of bodies undulating in time with the rhythm, falling and breaking on each other like some great ocean. It was only an instant before someone bumped into her, standing in the door way as she was, breaking her out of her daze. She walked tentatively towards the bar, hoping her fear didn't show in her gait. The music worked its magic on her, slowly ebbing away the anxiety and fear that had become the entirety of her existence these past months. The Joker had actually trusted her with this, a small part of her mind whispered. His business. He saw her potential like no one else ever had. The thought warmed in her belly as she sidled up to the bar. The bartender gave her that creepy knowing nod that Harleen was just starting to get used to, pouring her a double Jack on the rocks without even asking. Harleen stared at it, one eyebrow raised, but shook her head before she could overthink how the man had known her drink of choice. She sipped at it, waiting for what came next.
She didn't have to wait long before another beefy bouncer type was tapping on her shoulder and leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Excuse me Miss, you've been invited upstairs." He nearly shouted into her ear to be heard over the unceasing music. She just nodded in response, standing, opening her purse to try and find something to pay the bartender with, but it was empty, and he just waved her away, moving down the line to serve other patrons. Harleen made a face, but secretly she was enjoying herself. She'd never been shown such respect or deference in her life. It was something she could seriously get used to.
Harleen walked with confidence up the sleek, winding staircase that led to the upper lounge. The lounge overlooked the club from on high, all low tables and black leather. The music was slightly quieter up here, she couldn't feel the reverberations in her chest, but it was still impossible to have any sort of conversation without shouting. As she turned the final corner, Harleen noticed the man from the Joker's photo, sitting on a black leather couch surrounded by other men, all of them holding drinks and laughing together. The men's eyebrows all shot upwards as she approached, high heeled legs strutting out with new found confidence. Harleen felt her breath catch as every man's eye focused on her every move. She shot them a dazzling smile, and they all nearly melted. How easy it was, she thought, to have them eating out of her hand like this. How simple, how powerful.
She strode forward right towards the man Joker had sent her for, sitting down delicately on his lap and letting out a little giggle. The man stared up at her, slack jawed, before regaining some composure. He grinned back at her, eyes full of dark heat as he cupped her ass and pulled her close. He waved her close, putting his mouth near her ear to half-shout the question, "What's your name, sweetheart?"
Harleen gave him her sweetest little girl voice, accent thick and dripping with innuendo when she replied, "Harley, baby." Leaning forward to brush her lips on his ear, she felt him stiffen beneath her, pulling back to study her face. His fingertips brushed the burns on her temples, the bruise on her cheek, poorly concealed by make up. His eyes questioned her's, but she just shrugged. "Had a fight with my boyfriend." She cooed, draping an arm across his shoulders. "Maybe you can help make me feel better." She studied his handsome face, one delicate finger tracing along his square jaw, and knew that he would do whatever she asked tonight. The realization filled her with fire, seeping out through her manic grin, her bubbly laugh.
It was awhile before she had a chance to get him outside. They partied, and drank, Harley mostly sipping politely at hers while the boys cheered and gulped down drink after drink. They played games, told stories, laughed loudly. Harley eyed the other men, wondering which one of them was Joker's man, but eventually decided it was impossible to tell. When some of the men left to get more drinks, Harley decided it was time to try and get the big guy to go outside. She sat down on his lap again, pressing her body against his. He smiled up at her, visibly drunk now, one hand absently playing with her blonde curls. His other hand snaked up the hem of her dress, and she shivered as his fingertips brushed the edge of her lace panties, damp with excitement and the heat of the club. She giggled into his ear as his fingers moved upwards, pushing the lace aside to stroke the edge of her cunt, toying with the slippery smooth skin, parting her lips as she gasped above him. She put a hand on either side of his large face as his fingers plunged deeper, mouth opening in a surprised "oh", pleasure jolting it's way all through her body. His fingers sought further, opening her, pressing deep inside as more wetness seeped out. She could feel him hard and straining through his jeans, and whispered, "Let's go." quite simply into his ear. The big man needed no further explanation, and half lifted her until they were both standing. The pair made their way down the winding staircase, Harley in the lead, giggling back as the man tried to grab her ass while she walked. She swatted his hand away, chiding him playfully as she navigated the stairs in her high heels.
When they got outside, the line up was almost completely gone. It was pretty late, most of the standees fleeing the cold for more likely prospects. Harley stumbled along with the strange man, breathlessly looking around the dark streets for the Joker's limo. The sudden absence of sound was eerie, palpable, and seemed to make the cold bite even deeper. Harley's heart beat in her throat as she failed to spot the limo anywhere. Remembering the side alley that it had slid down, she tugged the man's wrist, leading him with a knowing smile towards the alley. He just chuckled back, already unbuckling his belt as they rounded the corner, making Harley look away to conceal a look of disgust at his boyish eagerness.
Harley looked at the empty alley in dismay. The limo was nowhere to be seen. Was this some sort of final joke on her? A final indignity- maybe the police were on their way to arrest her, or perhaps paparazzi, ready to take tomorrow's front page photo, Joker's lover, drunk with her panties down in some dank alley. Harley clenched a fist even as the man pushed her up against the wall. There was no fighting it now, not with how she'd been leading him on all night. She allowed herself to be turned around, face pressed into the rough brick as he hiked up the dress over her hips, fumbling hand grabbing at her thong so hard it's delicate fabric ripped, dropping uselessly into a puddle at her feet. The man slapped her ass roughly, grunting out a slurred, "Yeah, you slut, you want it don't you?" Harley clenched her teeth, anger flaring in her veins, and closed her eyes, waiting for what came next, for it to be over. Instead, she heard the roar of an engine, saw the bright flash of headlights as the limo flared to life from somewhere down the way, materializing out of the mist like some dark spectre. It screeched to a halt in front of Harley and the man, who was hastily stuffing his cock back into his pants, the door opening for them. Hands shot out and grabbed the man, pinning his arms behind his back, muffling his shouts, drawing him inside. Then, the Joker's face appeared, peering out at her from around the corner, grinning as always. He held a hand out to her, beckoning silently, and Harley hesitated for the barest of moments before grasping it and allowing him to draw her inside. Harley couldn't help but feel relief at the Joker's timely arrival, couldn't help but feel safer inside the warm vehicle, than out in the cold alley.
Harley felt like some of the faces of J's entourage had changed in the few hours since they'd left her, but she couldn't be certain. She moved to the back, Joker following, until they sat side by side, both eyeing the blubbering man on the floor with a similar disdain. Harley unconsciously pressed herself into the corner, head spinning with the intensity of events, content to let herself drift again into unreality as she watched the Joker work.
"You've been a naughty boy, Jacob." He chided, even as the man wept and begged for his life on the floor of their limo. "I told you I would be coming back. I don't make promises lightly." The Joker's voice took a dark cast as he went on. "You're going to help me with something before you go, though, Jacob." The Joker moved forward, causing the man to flinch visibly, but he simply put a hand on the man's shoulder, sliding it around him like a snake until his arm was draped over the larger man's broad shoulders in a sort-of embrace. The pair faced Harley where she was pressed into the side of the limo, knees drawn up as close to her chest as she could manage without flashing everyone. The Joker met her eyes and held them, a toothy grin splitting his face, although no humour sparked in his eyes. The man had stopped weeping, trembling hopefully in the Joker's arms at the slight implication of his going anywhere ever again. The Joker stared at Harley purposefully before speaking quietly. "Fast, or slow?" he asked her.
Harley thought about it for a moment. Anger still pulsed in her, a burning trail of it leading all the way back to her brother's friends and their piss, all the way back to her father. She stared piteously at the man's tear-streaked face that stared up at her, and whispered, "Slow."
The Joker began giggling as he drew a pocket blade out from inside his coat, the thick arms of his men darting forward to grab Jacob and hold him steady. He began to scream, wordless, terrified, until the Joker moved forward lightning-quick and held the point of his blade just over Jacob's left eye. The man quieted almost instantly, wide eye staring upwards at the silvery blade poised so close. The Joker's hands did not tremble as he held it there. "Shhhh..." he breathed, moving the blade away after a moment. Jacob relaxed visibly, muscles going slack, until J slid a pale white arm around Jacob's forehead. Bracing the man's head against himself, the Joker began to slowly draw his blade up across Jacob's cheek, slicing the mouth open at the corner. Thick, dark blood poured out, filling the man's mouth and spraying out as he struggled to breathe past it. As he sliced, he spoke very evenly to the man. "Don't scream." The Joker said, "Don't scream or it will tear wide open."
Jacob screamed.