One Shots: Harley and Joker

Heartless

I'm not advertising the film, the version of the remix hadn't been released when I wrote this chapter.

I got this idea from an Instagram account: drharls, or @drharls on Wattpad. Just trying to give credit where credit is deserved. Btw this chapter legit made me cry while writing it.

Harley coughed, holding an old rag to her mouth. She pulled it away, refusing to look at what she knew would be a mixture of blood and mucus.

She was in no position to ask for help, there was no one that would willingly do so, she was a criminal, and not only that, but she associated herself with the worst of the worst. If someone had wanted to help her, they would have to refuse, or risk being targeted by her infamous boyfriend.

Joker waltzed into the room, looking down at his phone, it gave Harley time to wipe her mouth and hide the rag, before plastering a smile on her tired face.

"We're going out." He said, "You can dance, take part in a massive orgy, I don't care, I just need you to be there at nine to distract a client."

"Okay." Harley said, she could feel another bout of coughs coming, but she held them back, trying to disguise them as a throat tickle. Joker looked at her for a while, before leaving the room, she needn't worry whether or not he noticed the lines on her face become deeper, her eyes sink further into their sockets, or the usual healthy glow of her alabaster skin become nothing more than a dull sheen of sweat.

Once he was gone she let herself cough, and she did so until she couldn't breathe, the blood clogging her throat and falling back into her lungs. She ran to the bathroom and tried to cough as much out as she could, knowing that it was fruitless, sooner or later there would be more, and she would suffocate.

Joker didn't need to know, she had tried to tell him, but it was better him not knowing, instead she had decided to alienate herself, create a sad distance between them. No one would remember her, Joker would find someone else sooner or later.

Harley tossed the rag in the small rubbish bin and picked up another of the numerous ones she had lying around the house, waiting to be saturated in blood and mucus, it wasn't a good life for what used to be comfy shirts, or old cushions, but Harley comforted herself in the fact that they were inanimate, and didn't really have a life to begin with.

She walked to her closet and picked out a skimpy dress, Joker would expect nothing less, but Harley didn't want to show off her sickly body, which displayed each of her ribs, her spine, and her pelvis to a worrying degree. However, she needed to wear it, people would question her otherwise, she didn't want that, she wanted to disappear slowly, just become inactive in the dark corners of Gotham, no longer appear at Joker's side during his crazy plans.

"Haaaarrleeeey!" He screamed from another room, she quickly pulled off her pyjamas and threw on the dress, sprayed some perfume, and picked up some shoes.

"Comin' Puddin!" She said, her voice muffled slightly. She had gotten good at eyeliner over the years, and it wasn't as though her eyeshadow needed much blending, she was just doing a simple cut crease.

"Harley, why must you always take so long?" He asked her, she shrugged, and continued lining her eyes, trying focus attention on the glitter and thick wing.

She finished and moved over to Joker, an almost sentimental feeling hitting her. Harley held his face gently and began to carefully apply lipstick and eyeshadow to his face, knowing that he liked it sloppy, but not particularly caring.

"So pretty." She mumbled, putting her makeup away and following him out of the house. He tried to take her hand but she pulled it away, already close to tears, she didn't know how much more of this she could take.

The ride to the club was silent, Harley had to swallow constantly in order to stop coughing, and she almost made it. Faster than she had ever moved before, she reach into the glovebox for a piece of cloth, a tissue, an old shirt. She found a shirt neither of them had ever used and held it to her mouth as she hacked away, her small body shaking violently.

Joker pulled over and stopped the car, they were a few blocks away from the club, and Harley knew that he would get a park directly outside if he wanted to, he was stopping the car for her.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, reaching over and placing a cold hand on her thigh. She looked down at it, remembering days where she would have giggled provocatively, and slid onto his lap.

But those days were over, Harley only had a few of these ones left, she barely had enough energy to walk and cough, let alone dance or have sex.

"What's wrong?" He repeated, his voice soft and confused. Harley stroked his cheek, she would have kissed it but she had blood all over her mouth.

"I tried to tell you." She said, running her thumb over his brow bone, then the 'J' under his left eye.

And she had, a couple weeks ago, when it was just them, she had tried to bring it up, but he wasn't in the mood, and left to go drinking. Two days later, she tried to tell him she was leaving, but some henchmen arrived to talk strategies.

Three days ago, she had worked up the energy to just leave with a note explaining that she no longer loved him, and was going to pursue her dreams. She had collapsed outside the building, and was dragged up by Frost, before burning the note and all evidence that she had tried to leave in the first place, Frost had promised not to tell.

"I'm sick, and it's not going away." She said, pulling her hand away and rubbing her shoulder with it, the feeling of no muscle, just skin and bone was knew to her, she was used to feeling toned and smooth, now she just felt flabby and sick.

"I can get you help-"

"It's too late." She snapped tiredly, "I, I have to leave. It's no good me staying, I'll be gone soon anyways."

Harley got out of the car, the old t-shirt wrapped around her wrist, and began to walk down the street. She didn't know where she was going, she could barely balance in the heels she used to love.

How could you be so heartless?

The words beat in her head as she heard Joker's door open and slam shut, she kept walking, stumbling slightly as her thin heel stepped into a crack on the pavement.

In the night, I hear em' talk...

He was calling out to her, telling her to come back, that they could help her, cure her.

The coldest story ever told...

There was no curing her. She was a dead woman walking.

Somewhere far along this road...

Her vision was blurry, her breath laboured.

He lost his soul to a woman so heartless...

As she fell to the ground, blood and mucus spilling from her mouth as her body twitched for the last time, Joker lost his soul. Harley wasn't a heartless woman, but in the instant she let herself die in front of him, she was the cruellest woman he knew.

Harley's vision had failed her, as she breathed out, clearly and evenly, for the final time, she felt her head being cradled in Joker's cool arms, and she felt a single tear fall onto her cheek.

How could you be so heartless?