Harley Quinn: He'll Be Here Soon

He'll Be Here Soon

Harley rocked back and forth in her straightjacket, a grin stretched on her chapped lips, an occasional giggle leaving her.
"He'll be here soon... He's comin' any minute now..." She repeated under her breath, the smile never leaving her face.
She was waiting.
Dr Lynda Miller watched her through the glass with one of the guards, her lips pursed tightly together.
"Still no progress," she murmured, scribbling it down on her clipboard. The guard next to her, by the name of Marcus, nodded.
"She hasn't been fighting us or anything. Nothing at all. This has never happened before."
"Is she still under the delusion that the Joker's coming?" Dr Lynda questioned. Marcus nodded again.
"She's been under the delusion since the first day. It's like she's suddenly... I dunno- snapped."
Marcus looked at Harley again, and she burst out in a fit of uncontrolled laughter as they made eye contact.

----------------------------------------------

"Harley," Dr Lynda sighed. "He's not coming."
The red and black haired girl shook her head frantically.
"He is... My puddin's comin'... He's comin' soon, I know it," Harley insisted, leaning forward in her chair. A table separated the both of them, but Dr Lynda stared coolly into the eyes of the psychotic jester known as Harley Quinn. The Clown Princess Of Crime.
"Harley, how have you been feeling, lately?" Dr Lynda asked cautiously. Harley giggled.
"My puddin's comin' soon," she repeated as if she hadn't heard.
"Yes, Harley," Dr Lynda sighed. "But I asked about you."
"He's coming."
"Harley-"
"Ha! Hahahaha!" Harley burst into a fit of laughter that lasted about three minutes. But Dr Lynda was used to this.
"Harley, please," Dr Lynda sighed. "This is a serious session."
"I hate serious things," Harley yawned, and grinned. "Can't take a joke? My puddin' could... He made things funnier..." Her face suddenly fell. "I miss my Puddin'... I miss him..." Her lower lip wobbled. "I want my Puddin'!" She suddenly screeched. "Where's my Puddin'?! I want my Puddin'! I want my Puddin'!" Dr Lynda stood up in alarm, taking off her glasses.
"Harley-"
"Where's my Puddin'?! I want my Puddin'!" She screamed, and tears began to fall. Her face screwed up, and she wailed. The straightjacket prevented things from getting too out of hand, but she was still throwing a fit. Writhing, screaming, and crying like a child deprived of sweets, Harley threw herself out of the chair onto the cold ground, throwing a tantrum like no other. Dr Lynda rushed to her screaming patient.
"Harley, calm down!" She demanded, kneeling down.
"Where is he?! He's coming! He couldn't forget!" Harley cried. Dr Lynda put a firm hand on Harley's shoulder.
"Harley. Listen to me. The Joker-"
As soon as his name left her mouth, Harley became still. As if that had completely shut her down.
"...the Joker?" She finally said softly and uncertainly. Dr Lynda realized what was happening.
"Yes, Harley. The Joker."
"My Puddin'?"
"Yes, Harley. Your... Puddin'." Dr Lynda said that last part uncertainly, tasting the word on her lips.
"My puddin's comin'?"
"Harley, we've been over this..." Dr Lynda said softly.
Like a small dog, Harley sat up, moving to the psychiatrist, laying her head on Dr Lynda's lap. She smiled softly when she didn't make her move.
Dr Lynda knew that she couldn't move Harley, even if she wanted to. She'd seen to much of her over time. She'd seen her obsessive side, her unstable side, even the brief moments when Dr Harleen Francis Quinzel came out...
Now, she was filled with nothing but pity for the Clown Princess of Crime and her broken mind.
Harley was blind to the torture her "Puddin'" had put her through. She was blind to his psychological and physical abuse, his manipulation, and Harley's tendency to always run back like a lost puppy that had nowhere to go... Which in a sense, she was. Harley lived and breathed for the Joker, but to him, she was merely a toy that could easily be discarded, a joke that was no longer funny.
And so, Dr Lynda didn't move the Clown Princess of Crime, instead, stroking Harley's tangled locks, looking down at her tear stained face with pity.
"He wouldn't forget," Harley whispered, her voice breaking, though she was smiling. "My Puddin' would never forget me..."
Dr Lynda felt her heart break.
"Harley-"
"He won't forget." Harley's voice became harder, as if she was forcing the idea into her. "He wouldn't. He loves me."
"Harley, please-"
"He is... He is..." Harley began to giggle and cry at the same time. "My puddin's comin' for me... He will, I know it..."
"Harley, it's-"
"He will! My Puddin' would never forget to come get me! He loves me! He loves me!"
"Harley..."
The girl's laughter slowly turned into broken, defeated sobs.
"He won't forget... He won't, he won't..."
He can't have forgotten her. He loved her.
Right?
When she took care of him in Arkham, back when she was Dr Harleen Francis Quinzel, he told her he'd loved her. He told her things he'd never told anyone else. Because he loved her, and only her.
And he wouldn't forget.
"He won't..." Harley sobbed. "He can't have..."
"Harley..." Dr Lynda said softly to the Clown Princess of Crime. The broken jester. The used toy. The unfunny joke.

"Harley, it's been four years..."