Tonight, You're Gonna Break Your One Rule

A week later, I wake up in dread. Cold sweat in the middle of the night, with the Joker lying so peacefully, asleep for once, lips slightly parted. I exhale heavily, feeling a cramp in the bottom of my stomach telling me something wasn't quite right today.

I run my hands through ruby red hair and swing my bare legs onto the floor, carefully and quietly so I don’t disturb my clown.

I stand for a while, in the middle of the room, and shake my limbs, squeezing my eyes shut. My body ached to climb back into bed next to the Joker and wrap myself around him, even after the wild night we'd had.

I wonder, casting my eyes round the room until they land on the Joker's old mystery room, whether he'd mind me sitting in there for a while. It used to calm him down, after all, albeit when the walls were pasted with pictures of his long gone girlfriend. I sigh and quietly tip toe over to the door, leaning my weight carefully on the handle and easing it open as quietly as possible. The walls seemed almost ghostly bare, the remnants of tape and tack that used to stick those damn pictures to the walls. Her pictures were still there, as were her clothes, and I heave a huge sigh, knowing its best just to leave them.

I wander to the still broken chair in the center of the room, which collapses as I place a careful hand on it. I move the debris to the side and settle cross-legged on the floor. I just sit there and think, feeling so content, yet I couldn't shake the feeling in me knowing something wasn't quite right.

I roll onto my side and clutch my knees to my chest, falling into a light sleep I needed. I woke up maybe an hour or two later and swiftly rose to my feet, knowing it must be pretty late now.

I pad quietly into the bedroom, cautious footsteps beneath me, wondering where the Joker was. I run my hands through my hair and feel the goose bumps pick up on my legs from the slight chill. I see the bed empty, and the bathroom door firmly closed. I walk over to it and rest my ear against the wood. Nothing, no noise, not even breath, he wasn't there.

I don’t bother with a shower, knowing we're not going out today, not part of the plan, if at all the Joker had one, and simply shrug on some loose fit jeans and a comfy shirt. I head out to the kitchen, grab a cup of coffee, ignoring the two goons huddled at the table, as they ignore me, then settle back onto the sofa.

I close my eyes and savour the warmth of my coffee until it's gone, then carefully set it next to the sofa. I retrieve my knife from underneath my pillow, and feel the savouring feeling of anticipation, built up energy in my muscles, I needed a fight. I needed something. I take my knife and weigh it in my hands, counting how long it's been since I used it properly.

I stand a few metres from the wall and switch my grip on the knife, ready to throw it, but as I move my hand forward the door clicks open. My eyes snap to the door and I see the Joker, hunched and staring at the floor.

"Mornin' Mister J!" I chirp, turning to him and smiling. He doesn't even look up, and simple grunts, walking towards his old room, "Mister J? What's wrong?"

He grunts again, and finds the door slightly ajar. He looks up at me, glaring, dark, fire eyes boring into me, "Have you been in here?" I nod, scared stiff and pressed against the side of the bed, not wanting to move, "Don't."

What the hell was going on?

I watch as he slips into his room and firmly shuts the door behind him. I follow his steps as my breath turns ragged, and find my body pressed against the door. I wanted to be close to him, I needed my Jack back, close to me. I stay there for the longest time, and find my blood start to boil just a little. I needed some form of release, and so when my mind shifted into gear, I stepped back a few steps and leant against the bed, knife strong in my hand. I stared straight at the door and felt my breath reduce to barely in and out, even, long strokes.

It seems like hours pass until the Joker emerges from his room, stony faced and hunched again. I step forward and my knuckles turn white on my knife. The Joker's eyes slip to the knife then back to my own ice blue eyes, "I'm serious, Jack. What's the matter, you can't keep things from me."

"You don't understand," He spits, clenching his fists at his sides and holding my gaze.

"I don't understand? How can I not un-"

"You just don't!"

"Why!? Tell me what's wrong and I might!"

"You just don't get it, you won't like it." He breaks our gaze and stares at his shoes.

"How, can I not get you, Jack? I am the one person," I take a step forward, near frowning, wondering what the hell was happening, "The one person, who gets you, the one person in this world who could make heads or tails of you, Jack. How can you say, that I don’t get you?"

"You just don’t!" I see him raise his fists to near waist height, and I don’t shy away, straightening up and meeting his eyes defiantly.

"If you're going to hit me… Joker," I say, clenching my own fists, "Just hit me."

He does, and I'm glad for it, lifting my hand to my face to block it. The blade in my hand slices the side of his and he hisses, his other hand immediately grabbing for me. I let him grab my shirt and pull me close, before shoving the knife at his neck, holding it there. He glares at me, and we both know I wont do it. He brings his knee up into my stomach and I bend double. His hands still pull at my shirt, but my arms reach up. I tear his hands away, one weaker from the wound, and grab his hair, slamming his head straight in the wall. He yells in pain and immediately starts laughing. His knife is in his hand and he turns, lashing out with it to catch my shoulder with a shallow cut. I simply laugh and we grab for each other, falling back on the bed. I place my knee against his stomach and roll us over so I'm on top, hand dangerous with a blade against his chest. He looks up at me, anger still covering those eyes in a bitter façade. He sits up and takes me with him, so I'm sat in his lap.

I would've kissed him if I hadn't felt so angry.

I stand as he does and he backs us against another wall. I push him away and move, but not quick enough, as his fist catches me under the chin. My head twists away and I groan, laughter spilling from split lips. As I move back my hand curls into a fist and I hit him square on the nose. Red blossoms from his nostrils and he quickly wipes it on the back of his hand. My cuts were starting to ache, little nicks and obvious scratches from each other's knives, and we carry on fighting, crashing into furniture and walls.

The Joker snap kicked my ankle, holding my shirt in fistfuls, and my legs give way beneath me. I fall down, but as I do I have the presence of mind to grab dank green hair and pull it down on top of me, knife to a tan throat.

I breathe in and feel another knife against my throat. I smile, captivated in eyes, wondering whether anything would happen, bodies pressed together, anger coursing through us.

"I love you Jack." I gasp, short with the knife at my clavicle, feeling it's cool sooth me and send ecstasy coursing through me, pain and pleasure mixed into one. I tighten my grip on my knife and dig the point into his flesh a little more as we both just stare.

"I love you Cally-Rose."

I throw my knife to the side and so does he. His hands press palms flat either side of my head and mine pull him closer by his hair. I can't catch my breath, his eyes stealing oxygen from between my longing lips.

"I don't think I could breath if you left." I gasp, pulling us millimetres apart, uncontrollable feelings coursing through me. I couldn't explain anything, couldn't explain what I was feeling, adrenaline, love and something far more filling me to the brim.

The Joker blinks, and smiles, and I see Jack again, my Jack. He laughs quietly to himself, as breathless as me, "If you're not in the same room I can't breath Cally."

All I can hear is oxygen coursing in and out of my lungs, rapid and ragged, trying to stop me from fainting, "This is more, isn't it? More than we thought it could ever be."

"Far more," Jack sits up, and kneels on top of me. I move away from him and kneel barely a centimetre away from him, "Way more. Soul mates, Cally, I can't describe it any other way."

"It can't be anything. This is way more than love. I can't exist without you," I exhale softly and place my hands in his hair again, wondering if it'll stop him running away when I ask my next question, "So tell me what's wrong, soul mate."

"Four years ago today, Harley Quinn moved away from Gotham."

I sigh and close my eyes, "I do understand Jack. I'm here, okay," I open my eyes again and clutch him closer, tightening my hands in his hair to emphasise my point, "I'm here, she's not. I love you, you love me..."

He doesn't reply, simply staring right into my eyes as if the ice blue was turning frozen and running down my spine, "This isn't going to be simple is it?" I sit back on my heels and stare at the dilapidated plum carpet, marked with our blood and shards of our fights.

I feel a hand on my upper arms, yet don’t look up as he starts speaking, "No," He whispers, "Love will make it simple. Love is the one thing in the world that makes everything okay, makes it okay when you wake up in the morning. And because," He grabs my arms a little tighter, trailing down to my hands, "Because we're more than that, we're soul mates, Cally. Everything will be simple."

His fingers slowly graze the underneath of my chin and I look up with tear-filled eyes, truth hitting me right through the heart. I see fire-filled eyes, with a hint of salt water lining the lashes, "I love you." He nods slowly, "You love me," I nod too, unable to stop myself, "Simple."

He kisses me, lips soft and teasing, slightly chapped and tinged with coppery blood. He pulls away and grins that infamous smile that makes me crumble from the inside, "Simple."