I drifted through my life slowly. From the days when my mother was still alive, to her death. From meeting Charlie to highschool graduation. From university through to my first day at Arkham. Seeing him, eyes burning with life, across from me. My heart pounding, legs shaking.
"Hello, I'm doctor Harleen Quinzel. I'm taking over your treatment from Doctor Crane."
"Harleen Quinzel, hmm. That's a beautiful name to go with a beautiful face."
Charming from the start. Cunning, persuasive, seductive.
I came to his escape, the slamming from the press: Arkham Alylum Doomed. Doctor Quinzel Failing.
But I pushed through that and watched myself. I could see, from another's view, how I began to change. I watched myself laugh and cry, tear myself apart. I watched the love I had for him, how I'd melt before him.
We escaped the Asylum together, just us. We ran away to Canada, then Europe. We travelled the world. He stopped being the Joker. He told me about his real life, his life as Jack. His childhood dreams and nightmares. I stopped being Harley Quinn, but I wasn't Harleen Quinzel. I remained caught somewhere in the middle. We had adventures and fun, and we returned to Gotham for Ivy and the Riddler. Then we all disappeared, away from our all our problems. Away from Arkham forever.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sound of the ECG machine invaded my dreams. Slowly, I was pulled back into the real world. All I could hear was the beeping, otherwise the room was silent. No riots, no shouting.
I reluctantly opened one eye. I was now lying on my back, my head supported with cushions. I felt very numb, but the stab wound tingled. I opened both eyes and adjusted to the light. The power was back. Still in Arkham, but still alive.
I glanced down at my arms. One was connected to an IV drip, while the other produced a thin red tube which led to a slumped figure in the chair near me. The orange jumpsuit still did not compliment his features, but the Joker looked Godly sitting there. The tube entered his arm too. It wasn't red, it was blood.
"What are you doing?" I croaked. His head snapped in my direction and he looked relieved.
"Welcome back to the land of the living."
"What happened?"
"Huh, well you went in a huff and went to see Ivy, then-"
"No, I remember that. What happened to me? Why are you giving me blood?" I inquired.
"Because you died," he said flatly, "you lost too much blood, you needed a transfusion. Just as well we're made for each other, the only other universal donor in this goddamn place."
"The only one?"
"Well, the only willing one."
He sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers.
"I almost lost ya, Harls," he said.
"Hey, I'm here. I'm fine. You didn't lose me. Is...um...is Charlie-"
"Dead? Unfortunately not. We got him, Arkham and Gordon locked up for now. Cops got us surrounded, but they won't dare come in with this amount of hostages," he smiled. But then his smile faded and he left his chair and approached me.
"Did you mean what you said? Do ya wish you'd never met me, really?" he asked, pushing a blonde strand from my face.
"I...I don't know," I admitted. He sat on the metal table with me and looked down at his arm.
