The Replacement[On hold]

When Harley died

Prologue

Feelings were not what the Joker was known for.

Feelings were definitely not his area of expertise.

Frankly, as the Joker stood next to Harley's cold, limp body laying oh so casually on the cemented ground, He simply didn't know exactly what he was feeling.

Sure, there was confusion, though there was another emotion that he was feeling, yet could not identify.

For he had never once felt it when Harley was still..well, alive.

He had questions, but no answers.

For starters, why was his Harley dead?

Last he had heard, criminals of Gotham were to be sent away to prison, or in the case of the 'crazies', the asylum. (Of course, Harley and he were to have been sent to the prison, they were just too perfectly 'sane'.)

The Joker couldn't even begin to fathom the situation.

What, or more importantly, who had been the cause of his girl's death?

Joker furrows his brows as he feels a wet substance streaming down along his cheeks.

Was he bleeding?

He brings a gloved hand up to his cheek and glances down at his hand to see nothing.

Slipping off his purple glove, Joker brings his hand back to his face once more and discovers the substance coming from his eyes.

Were these tears?

Impossible.

He quickly slips on his glove and leans down towards Harley's body.

Gently, Joker shuts Harley's eyes and hastily picks her up as the sound of sirens resonate along the street, coming closer.

Joker continues to walk down the many 'secret' streets, all while carrying his Queen's body.

At the feel of her body slightly slipping, he tightens his grip and pulls her closer.

He harshly bites down on his bottom lip and walks on to his 'house'.

Their house.

He enters the warehouse and ignores the looks that he recieves from his henchmen.

"Boss?" They question, but the word falls on deaf ears as he pushes forward to place Harley's unmoving body onto the couch.

"She's dead," The Joker mutters.

He pushes the hair out of Harley's face and glances up at his henchmen.

"I want her buried, properly." Joker adds on and stands up.

Quickly, yet carefully his henchmen lift Harley's body.

Joker looks away as they take her out of sight.

He misses her already, and she hasn't even been dead for more than a couple of hours.

Frustrated, Joker throws the closest object to him at the wall, proceeding to continue smashing and throwing the random objects they kept in the warehouse around.

What would he do now?

What would he do without her?

"Puddin!"

The Joker brings his hands to his head as a headache starts to form.

"Aw, c'mon Puddin!"

Joker frowns as the memories keep filling his head, his headache growing stronger with every passing minute.

"Mistah J!"

Joker came to the realization that he'd never hear these petnames again.

That he would never have her come bother him with the most simply absurd things.

He would never have her around again.

The Joker sank to his knees.

What should he do now?

What could he do now?