Shadows of the Past

Chapter 5

That evening, Harley had changed into her red nightie in an attempt to look her most irresistible. She glanced in the mirror, pulled the straps down to her shoulders, and nodded. "Well, here goes," she whispered, crossing her fingers.

Harley had never had much confidence in her sexuality – any attempt to display or assert it around Mr. J had usually met with disinterest at best, and being booted out of the hideout at worst. But she didn't know what else to resort to at this point. Surely reminders of their intimacy, an intimacy Mr. J had never shared with anyone else, would wake up the Joker buried inside him and bring him back to his old self. Surely their love could conquer all.

Joker was in the living room watching TV, or rather, flipping channels obsessively in an effort to distract himself from his thoughts. Harley crept into the room behind him and began massaging his shoulders. "Hey, puddin'," she purred. "Feeling a little tense?"

"Of course I am," he muttered, not looking up from the screen. "My wife is missing."

"Y'know, your Harley girl could probably help you release some of that tension, if you get what I'm saying," she murmured. "Relax those big, strong muscles of yours, especially one big, strong muscle, which is my favorite. You want me to get the whoopie cushion?"

"Whoopie cushion?" repeated Joker, turning to stare at her in confusion, and then immediately covering his eyes. "Oh my God, you're not dressed."

"I am, just not leaving much to the imagination," said Harley, grinning. "C'mon, puddin', doncha wanna rev up your Harley?"

"Did you actually...used to say things like that to me to try to turn me on?" asked Joker, slowly.

"Yeah," said Harley, nodding. "Doncha remember, puddin'? We used all kinds of jokes and gag items and innuendos. Rev up your Harley, have a slice of Harley pie, play dunk the clown, beat the rubber chicken, blow the slide whistle..."

"Yeah, thanks, I get it," interrupted Joker.

"If you wanna, I can go splat some cream pies over my boobs and anywhere else you wanna lick off..." purred Harley, leaning down to nuzzle his neck, but Joker gently shoved her away.

"Look, this is not...something that's gonna interest me, ok?" he said. "I just can't imagine...why a clown fetish would ever be attractive to anyone."

"Well...it was sorta our thing, puddin'," said Harley, slowly. "Our special thing that nobody could understand. We shared the same clown theme in all aspects of our lives."

"Good to be consistent, I guess," sighed Joker. "But don't you have any higher ambitions than engaging in some weird clown fetish for the rest of your life?"

"Uh...no," said Harley, slowly. "You didn't used to either..."

"Yes, but now that I've got my life back, you should take control of yours again too," he replied. "I'm really sorry for everything I did to you, however I convinced you to stick with me and this clown thing, but now you don't have to be stuck like that anymore. You can be free to do anything you want..."

"I want to be with you," whispered Harley. "That's the only thing I've ever wanted. I've done the career thing, the whole strong, independent woman shtick, and that didn't make me happy. I ain't that type of girl. I wanna be tender and loving and caring and look after the man I adore. That doesn't mean I ain't strong – I'm just a different type of woman whose ambitions are more nurturing. I ain't stuck, or if I am...I've chosen my rut, and I'm happy in it."

He nodded. "Then I'm even more sorry that I can't...return your affections the way you want. But I am married..."

"Yeah, you keep saying," agreed Harley, sighing. "I just kinda hoped I could change your mind..."