tears of an angel jokerxharley

to fight when you feel like flying

Hi all! I'm back with a new chapter! Updates should be more frequent now that I'm free from exams and school for the rest of the year! Please enjoy tis chapter, it is longer and really intense!

Trigger warnings include blood, death and emotional trauma, but you probably could have guessed that from the story summary! It isn't too bad I promise! xx

Please comment and let me know what you think! I have a really cute oneshot I am going to try and write tomorrow for my other story 'Moments and Memories' so stay tuned for that!

Love you all and thanks for reading xx

It was 3:24am. 3:24am when the worst wave of pain hit. Harley shot up in the bed, a hand clutching at her stomach. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pain and terror. She looked over briefly at The Joker. He was still sleeping beside her. She tried to calm down, to get her breathing under control but she was hit by another wave of pain and an uncomfortable feeling in her lower abdomen.

Harley threw back the covers and rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She was suddenly aware of a sticky feeling in between her legs. She looked down to see her blood-soaked shorts, drops of it trailing down her legs. A strangled scream escaped her lips. Oh god. What had she done?

She pulled the pants off, in an attempt to stop the bleeding, to salvage the life. But she knew deep down it was too late. There was too much blood. She collapsed to her knees on the cold, hard tiles. The metallic smell of her own blood filled her nostrils, and her head swam. No, no, no. It was her fault. She had killed it. He would hate her. Oh god he would hate her!

The sobs came faster and louder now. She could hardly breathe in between them as they wracked her entire body. She lowered her head to the floor in an attempt to steady herself and put a hand over her mouth. She needed to be quiet. She didn't want him to know. He couldn't. He couldn't know!

~~~

The Joker had been stirred by Harley tearing back the covers and rushing to the bathroom. He tried to go back to sleep, rolling over and waiting to feel the weight of the bed dip upon her return. He would keep still until she had gotten comfortable and he could pull her closer to him and kiss her neck the way she liked. But she didn't come back. And this made him worried. He could hear her shuffling around in there and was that... crying? The Joker sat up and turned on the lamp beside the bed.

"Harley?" he murmured.

And then he looked over. The sheets beside him, the sheets which Harley had just been laying on were covered with blood. A large amount of blood.

He sprung up, taking a moment to adjust before walking over to the bathroom door. He laid his palm on the door, listening to her for a moment. The cries were clearer now, her sobs of absolute despair prevalent through the locked door. He knocked softly.

"Harley?"

He heard her inhale sharply before trying to quieten her cries.

"Its fine baby, go back to bed"

The Joker remained at the door, resting his hand against it helplessly.

"Let me in Harley" he said softly. There was no malice in his tone. He knew something was wrong. He had to get to her. He had to hold her.

"I can't" she said, her voice breaking painfully. He could hear her start to cry again, the attempts to stifle them in her hand were fruitless. The sound caused a physical pain in his chest. If she wasn't going to let him in he would break down this door himself, he would-

The click of the lock brought him out of his mental rampage, and he quickly twisted the nob to let himself in.

The sight that met his eyes was pitiful. Harley was collapsed on the tiles, covered in her own blood. It had found its way into her hair, her hands, her arms. She was pale and shaking, the tears streaming down her face. He knew what had happened. It was gone.

But Harley was still here. She was all he ever needed. And she needed him now more than anything. He knelt down beside her, carefully pulling her over to him. She cried out, still sore, but he ignored it. He began running his fingers through her hair, sometimes pausing to rub soothing circles on her back as she cried. She moved her own hands up to grab onto his shirt, pulling him closer to her. She needed him.

After what felt like hours, there were no more tears left. Just some shaky breaths and scratchy coughs. The Joker lifted her up, she was weak from all the blood loss and guided her towards the shower. He lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her naked and put her in the shower. He stepped in after her, still clothed and switched on the water. She whined tiredly, but made no further protests.

He cleaned her up, careful not to hurt her. He washed the blood from her skin and hair, kissing her every once in a while to reassure her that he was still there. She could only hum exhaustedly and lean on him weakly. Once she was clean he turned off the water and bundled her in a towel. He sat her on the toilet, carefully drying her hair and body. He grabbed her one of his shirts and pulled it over her head carefully.

"Thankyou" she mumbled quietly.

He said nothing, scooping her up and carrying her to the armchair in the bedroom. He walked to the bed and stripped off the sheets. He tossed them in the corner of the room and retrieved a new set. He tried to put them on, running a hand through his hair frustrated when they wouldn't quite fit, before he felt her hands on his.

"Here" she said softly, turning the sheet around, making it fit over the corners of the bed. He watched her absently as she quickly and efficiently made the bed with shaking hands. He put the pillows back on and guided her under the covers. She looked up at him, unable to muster the slightest smile. He kissed her head and tucked her in as one might do to a child and laid beside her on top of the blankets.

She was asleep almost instantaneously, her face still shadowed with an expression of pain. He ran a thumb over a forehead in an attempt to clear her frown.

Once The Joker was sure she wouldn't wake up, he walked back to the bathroom and began cleaning up the bloody floor. He scrubbed at it hard, the stench of bleach filling his nose. It would all be gone in the morning. Almost like a distant memory, like it had never even happened. Like it had never existed. This could have been their child, he though bleakly. He thought he felt a tear run down his nose.

Just sweat he mumbled blankly. Its just sweat.

The clock blinked 6:27

Thanks for reading! Please comment and let me know what you think xx