He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Chapter 6

She awoke in the middle of the night to feel his arms around her. She smiled, cuddling deeper into his embrace and shutting her eyes again. She suddenly felt his eyes on her and realized that he wasn't asleep. She opened her eyes again to meet his bright, intense ones, just staring at her. He wasn't smiling.

"Puddin'? You ok?" she murmured.

He grunted, continuing to stare at her. "Why ain't you asleep?" she asked. "It's late..."

"Y'know, you're a lot more attractive when you don't speak," he interrupted suddenly. "You got kinda a grating voice."

"Oh...ok, puddin'," murmured Harley, and she fell silent, lowering her head. Joker tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his again.

"You're a pretty doll," he murmured. "Why haven't I broken you by now?"

Harley wondered if she should answer that, but he had just told her not to speak, so she obeyed him. "You play with toys and they tend to break," he murmured. "Especially when you play with 'em rough, the way I do with all my toys. But you ain't broken. Why is that?"

He ran his fingers gently over her body. "You ain't strong," he murmured. "Look at you. There ain't anything to you. You ain't big and wearing armor, like the Bat. You're fragile and delicate and gentle, small and thin and weak. So why ain't I broken you yet? Why are you still here? I will break you one day, y'know, and nobody's stupid enough to want to be broken. Why doncha leave me? You crazy or suicidal or something? You'll probably break sooner than you think, anyway - I may not have much time left to..."

He trailed off. "To play with my baby doll," he murmured, touching her face.

Harley drew close and kissed him tenderly. "You do what you wanna with your baby doll, puddin'," she whispered. "You break her if you wanna. She's yours, and she ain't ever gonna leave you. You can do whatever you want to her, but you ain't gonna ever drive her away. She loves you."

"Don't speak, Harley," he murmured. "I don't wanna hear your annoying voice. That's something good that'll come when I finally break you – I won't hear puddin' or Mistah J ever again."

His hands slid around her neck. "Harley...if you were gonna...gonna die...how would you want it to happen?"

"I'd want you to do it, puddin'," she murmured.

"How?" he asked.

"However you want," she whispered. "I only know I wanna go by your hand. Whatever will make you smile and laugh, that's how I wanna die. You gotta have some joke in mind for my death, doncha, puddin'?"

"Oh yeah, I got a million of 'em," he said, grinning. "They're all so good, I dunno how I'm ever gonna pick! And...I shouldn't be forced to pick. I should be able to take my time...to consider it...but...but I dunno how much time I got, Harl. Comedy's all about timing, y'see, and I gotta time the gag right."

"Is the time right now, puddin'?" asked Harley, quietly.

"I dunno," he repeated. "What do you think?"

"I dunno," she replied. "I don't know nothing about comedy."

"You got that right, you dumb blonde!" he chuckled, grinning. His fingers had been gently massaging her throat, and they suddenly tightened. Harley felt her neck gently being compressed between his hands, and shut her eyes.

"Now, puddin'?" she whispered.

"I...dunno, Harl," he repeated. "How does it feel?"

"Real good, puddin'," she whispered, smiling at him. "It feels...right."

She looked at him, tears coming to her eyes as she struggled to breathe. "You ain't smiling," she murmured.

"No," he agreed, tightening his grip. "No, I ain't."

Harley felt her neck being crushed under his iron grip, and involuntary tears flooded her eyes as she fought for breath. Spots began swimming in front of her vision, and then she blacked out.

She awoke to feel his mouth on hers, breathing life back into her. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed up into his. For a moment, she thought they were wet with tears, but that must have been her imagination.

"You stupid little fool!" he growled, furiously. "Why did you tell me it felt right?! The timing wasn't right at all! I wasn't smiling – it wasn't funny! And I ain't gonna waste a gag by pulling it when the time's not right! I ain't gonna let it happen!"

He seized her face in his hands. "You ain't gonna die, you hear me, Harley?!" he demanded. "I ain't gonna let you! Don't you even think of breaking your promise to me and dying, because if you try...I'll...I'll...kill you!"

His mouth was on hers again, kissing her desperately. "I'll kill you!" he repeated. "I'll kill you, you stupid woman! I ain't joking!"

"I know you ain't, puddin'," she whispered, hugging him tightly.

They didn't speak for some minutes, just holding each other. "Mr. J," said Harley, quietly. "If I do gotta...go..."

"You don't," he interrupted. "I told you, it wouldn't be funny. I ain't gonna let you ruin comedy like that."

"There are some things you can't control, Mr. J," she murmured.

"I can always control my jokes," he retorted. "And you're my joke, Harley. I ain't gonna let you go."

She beamed at him. "Ok, Mr. J," she whispered. "I trust you."

She snuggled against him. "Anyway...some day far in the future...when the timing's right for my death, when it'll be funny..."

She trailed off. "What?" he prompted.

"Well, I...want you to know that...I love you."

Joker snorted. "If you were dying, it would be better to save your breath. I heard that gag before."

"It ain't a gag, Mr. J," she murmured. "And I don't ever get tired of saying it."

"Yeah. But you ain't got a sense of humor, Harley," he retorted. "I dunno why I keep you around sometimes."

"Neither do I, Mr. J," she murmured, entwining her hand with his. "You keep it up, and people might start to think you love me or something."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," murmured Joker.

"No," she agreed. "So maybe it's better that I go sooner rather than later."

He looked at her. "You'll go when I give you permission, and not a moment before," he muttered. "You do as I say, Harley. You're mine, and you obey me."

"Yes, Mr. J," she murmured.

"And if keeping you around for a few more years means people start to think I love you...well, let 'em. It's the joke that matters. Who cares what people think? You and I know the truth, don't we, Harl?" he whispered, pressing her hand.

"Uh huh, Mr. J," she breathed, shutting her eyes. "We do."