I sat by Mr. J's hospital bed all the time that I could, nursing him back to health until his shoulder healed. After all, I was responsible. I even sold my fur coats and designer purses to pay for the hospital bills. My Puddin' was worth more than some stupid clothes and handbags (even if I'd gotten very attached to them).
"Harley!" Ivy scolded me, after she'd heard what I'd done. "That scumbag isn't worth it, giving away your beautiful things! Do you still have any? I always liked that green one...." She sauntered out of Mr. J's place, my green velvet clutch embroidered with roses swinging under her arm, not knowing I'd planned on giving it to her for her birthday, but, oh, well.... She came back with some of our supervillianess friends, buying up the rest of my things I was selling. At least I knew they were in good hands now....
Three months later (it was a bad wound, and the cops questioned him before they would take him to the hospital. I really wanted to sue for that), he returned home from the hospital, promptly to have both of us hauled off to Arkham. It was a deal I'd made with the GCPD, that we'd both go willingly once he was better, and Mr. J was not happy about it.
"You don't have any right to make big decisions around here, princess!" he hollered in my face. "
"Sorry, Mr. J - I just -"
"No! No, no no! You're not the boss! You're just a bumbling bimbo! I should have gotten rid of you long ago! Useless broad!" He actually kicked me in the shin, and we were full-on wrestling by the time the guards broke us up and dragged us off for check-in and medication. I knew that fighting my Puddin' was wrong, and cried the rest of the night for my foolishness.
The next morning, he was out in the common room - "forced socialization", something that never went well, as someone might come out of it with a fork in their jugular, or just badly bruised if the boss wasn't feeling up to much.
"Puddin'!" I squealed, launching myself into his arms...and he slapped me across the face, grabbing my wrist with his other hand.
"I don't ever want you near me again! You screwed up royally this time, kid, and I'm having no more of my genius plans being ruined by stupid, amateur, mistakes." He was walking me across the room, backing me up against the wall, and with one giant shove, I fell through glass, screaming all the way, shocked at my Puddin's unreasonable violence.
My ankle was totally broken.