Tonight, You're Gonna Break Your One Rule

A week later, I think, my feet are stumbling out of the bedroom.

I'd spoken to my clown last night, but it was simply about the latest, small-time bank heist we'd done a few days ago. He still hadn't given me an answer, and I was starting to doubt if he ever would. Still, I'd given him space, and no matter how little I wanted that space, he obviously did.

I needed him, I'd established that a few days ago, when I for once lay awake, and watched him sleep. I felt an odd role reversal in a small way, since he used to watch me sleep. I missed him too, I knew that by the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

As I stumble through the hallway, a tear slides down my cheek, and I rake a hand through my hair. No matter how much I loved him, I was wondering how much more I could take of this. My eyes linger on the door to the outside world for a second, and I contemplate leaving for a while, wondering if he'll find me and finally give me an answer.

I shake my head - I couldn't leave. I'd stick it out - I was stronger than this. My love was stronger than this. I run my fingers across my scars and smile a little more. God, I was so tired, lying awake and watching my clown, and my one destination was the kitchen, and the coffee jar.

I push open the kitchen door and look up. I groan, seeing every one of the goons sat or stood at the table. I contemplate turning away, but decide again I'm stronger than that, and, wordlessly, flick on the kettle and find a cup.

All I can hear is their breathing, and I'm sure they're all staring at me. I place a spoonful of coffee in the cup and tap my foot restlessly for the kettle to boil.

"You think you're better than us, don’t you?" I growl a little as I hear one of the goons ask, and slowly turn round.

"I've already answered this once, but I guess I'll say it again, not better, just smarter," I place a hand either side of me on the counter behind me, and the ones sat down rise to their feet.

I see Adam with a bandage round his foot, and every single one of them are scowling.

"Smarter? I doubt it. You've just got the Joker to look after you 'cause you're fucking useless."

I breathe out again and start to get a little angry, glad I've acquired that trait from the Joker. I take a small step forward, and a few of them step backwards. I slowly count all the people, eyes flickering between each of them. Nine, one injured. I guess I could take them if it came to it. I had my knife in my sleeve, I shake my arm to make sure, and, gladly, I'd placed my gun in the waistband of my jeans, resting against the small of my back.

Then again, I think, the room still silent, I guess the Joker wouldn't take kindly to me maiming all his goons. I decide to spin a bad light on him just a little, though, to get me out of this without too much injury to either party, and to make the goons a little more scared of the Joker.

"Look after me? You ever wonder how I got these scars? He did them, with that fucking knife." I look at each of them and a few scowls lessen, "You ever wonder why I limp sometimes, why I've got so many injuries?" I pull back my sleeve and show the cuts and scabs I'd acquired the last time my clown and I had fought. I pull back my fringe and see the cut near my hairline I'd got when I asked who Harley was.

I stare at them, and go back to the counter, stepping backwards so I'm still watching them, and heave a sigh.

"You think I'm being looked after? No freedom, no nothing?" I sigh and pick up my coffee, wrapping my hands round it's warmth. I turn away, not wanting to be here anymore. My speech was only meant to get me out of here, but part of me realised it was true.

I pause for a second, then shake my head softly, no, he was more than that. The goons didn’t see the side of him I did, the one who holds me and kisses me, and falls into my arms. I'd simply highlighted his bad points, that's it. I let a smile grace my lips as I turn away to the kitchen door, and reach for the handle.

At the same time someone grabs onto my arm. I growl under my breath and in a second my knife is in my hand, "We're not done with you yet girlie."

Without turning round I slash the mans forearm and he screams, letting me go. I quickly leave the room and almost run to the bedroom, closing the white door and feeling finally safe.

I sigh and take a sip of my coffee, trudging into the bedroom and shutting the door behind me. I sigh happily as I feel the caffeine in me, and take a bigger gulp, grateful. I make my way to the sofa, falling into it and placing my feet on the table. I smile as I look at it, one of the legs snapped and broken from the outbursts from either of us.

I look around and see the small time carnage from us too, broken tables, dents in the walls, smashed glasses we haven’t cleaned up yet lying on the carpet, and for some reason, smile.

I sit there for the longest time, thinking about everything and sipping my coffee. I can barely remember my old life, in the townhouse with Cassie, Jess and Gambol, and even if I do think about it, I don’t get the sad pang I used. I was happy now, with the Joker, and the hideout, my new scars and piles of stolen money.

Maybe hours later, when I've lost count of time, my coffee cold in my hands, the door to Harley's room, as I've dubbed it, opens slowly. I sit up, and place my coffee down by my feet. The Joker emerges from the room, looking a little stressed for once. I see worry and other emotions I'd only seen last time I'd entered the room carved into his face, and stand up.

"Precious?" His voice is gravely, and chokes in his throat, "I've got something to show you..."

I inhale slowly, and the air suddenly seemed twenty degrees colder. I move forward, and when I'm close enough he takes both my bare hands in his, and we both shiver. He takes me slowly into the other room, and I gasp, all my muscles turning to jelly. He grabs at me and pulls me close to him as I stumble, my eyes fixed on the other wall.

It's bare, the chipped paint marked with the remains of blue tack, apart from one picture, the biggest one of her lying on the bed, and the tears are already filling my eyes.

"I can take all the others down but this one," His voice is right in my ear, and I see over his shoulder, a pile of pictures on and around the dresser in the corner. My muscles slowly regain their solidarity and I move forward, the Joker no longer holding me, and I feel so cold. I stand by the poster, fingering the corner and slowly peeling it away. The Joker is suddenly next to me, and I keep staring, as I hear him exhale shakily and take the other corner. We pull the picture away, and with another tug the top two corners come away from the wall too.

I catch the two corners closest to me, and together, we fold the picture into a smaller one, perhaps quarters, I don’t really pay attention - unable to tear my eyes away from the clown across from me. I watch him as he takes the picture to the corner and lays it on top of the others, his ribcage heaving up and down with the emotion.

A few tears slip down my cheeks. For a moment when he'd called to me I thought I might have gotten an answer today, and now I was sure he would never leave her behind. My feet start to carry me out of the room, my breaths ragged in the air, but when I reach the door I feel a hand in mine, and let myself be pulled back.

I spin into his arms, and his hands find my hips, "Dance with me?"

I gasp, and feel a few more tears slip down my cheeks. I simply nod, and rest my hands on his chest, wanting to feel his skin instead of his waistcoat. He rocks us from side to side, and I rest my head on his shoulder.

I could do this forever, I think happily, as I breathe in that beautiful aftershave and feel his breath on the top of my head.

"I'm accidentally in love."

For a second I don’t think I hear him properly, but the melody from a song I haven’t heard for years – Accidentally In Love, by Counting Crows – etches into my brain. I don’t look up, wondering whether I've actually heard him right.

"Accidentally in love, accidentally in-" I do hear him right, and the way he sings is amazing. I never imagined his voice could sound like that, and I wonder for a second whether I'm going to faint.

I chip in with a few more lyrics as my head slowly raises, "I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love."

I meet his eyes, and he bites his lips. I bite mine too, so hard I draw blood and lick them deftly. We both smile, and finish off the song as he pulls me close.

"I'm accidentally in love..."

"I think I'm going to faint..." I murmur softly, blinking slowly, and when I open my eyes I see his, and a second later his lips meet mine. My head swims, even though the kiss is barely a second long, and when he pulls away I know I'm going to stay conscious, because I wouldn't miss him for the world.

We pull away, our hands linked loosely by our sides, "I didn’t think I was going to say this, Precious, but I love yo-"

I cut him off, wondering if this was really a dream and pull him close by his hair, our lips smashing together. His lipstick tastes thick and bitter like it was the first time our lips met, only this time his lips taste sweet, thanks to the words lingering on them. We stumble back so my back is pressed against the now bare wall. I shift closer to him as our lips battle, and pull his hair a little harder. We move back again, trying to feel more and more of the other persons flesh against us.

The Jokers feet tangle with the remains of the broken chair, still lying in the middle of the room, and I fall with him, tripping over the chair and landing beside him. We start laughing at our stupidity, and I roll over to face him just as he does.

"I love you Precious." He says, his voice strong and sure as he raises a hand to caress the side of my face.

I shift a little closer and lick my lips, "I love you too Jack."

Even though we're lying on the floor of Gotham's Number One hideout, and I'm facing the Clown Prince of Crime, a notorious liar, fiend and traitor, I know those words are the truest either of us had ever spoken, and ever would speak.