Let's Put A Smile On That Face.

“Let me out. Let me out. Let me owww-tt,” Harley half pleaded, have whined. She pushed herself against the cell’s bars. “Come on, I’ve been here four days, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be a good girl, I promise,” she said beaming with a maniacal look in her eyes.

Harley was correct; she had been here for four days. And in those foir days her sanity, which she was barely clinging to with the tips of her fingers to begin with, had completely slipped through her grasp. She was talking, acting, moving like she was a little girl. At this very moment she was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her cell, her hands wrapped around the iron bars.

The police officers recruited to guard her cell wanted to leave the sight of the damaged girl as soon as they saw her, much like everyone other person that did.

She would smile, but it would be empty. She’d say that she was a bad girl to Mommy and that she was scared of the dark. She would also sit in the middle of the floor and rock back and forth, saying how much she missed him. When asked who he was, she would just flash the empty-eyed grin she’d picked up and say three words in a sing-song voice. “I’ll never tell.”

Today Gordon had planned to interview Harley in the stone room with the large window, the same room where he and the Batman had interviewed the Joker a month or so before. He hadn’t had any luck so fair trying to get her to say the location of the Joker, Harley would just tear up and shake her head, saying she wasn’t allowed to talk about it.

Harley was led handcuffed into the room by her two guards and seated in the metal chair.

She pouted. “This isn’t comfy,” she said as she wriggled in her seat.

“Maybe you should have though of that before you helped a madman escape from Arkham,” sneered one of the police officers.

Harley’s head shook around and she squeezed her eyes shut. “SHUT UP!” she screeched over and over.

Gordon stormed into the room. “What did you do?!” he yelled at the police officer.

“I-I didn’t do-” the police officer sputtered before Gordon cut him off.

“Just get out,” he sighed, sounding exasperated already.

After the officer walked out Gordon took a seat in the chair across from Harley.

“Are we ready to talk today, Harley?” he questioned softly.

Harley looked down and shook her head slowly. Her hair fell in front on her face. The make-up on her face hadn’t changed much, she never touched her face and they hadn’t let her shower or even change clothes yet. They only fed her, not transferring her anywhere but her cell and the interview room until she gave them some scrap of information. She had tear streaks down her cheeks and light smudges here and there, but her make-up was mostly okay. Her hair was always hanging in her face because she never seemed to care enough to brush it away. None of the personnel in Gordon’s new unit had a clear idea of what she truly looked like.

Gordon sighed. “Harley please, we need your help.”

Harley smirked, still looking down. “Well that’s unfortunate, because I don’t want to help you.”

Gordon harrumphed, jerking himself out of his seat and stomping out of the room, leaving the metal chair to clatter against the floor.

A few moments later her guards entered the room and led her back to her cell.

Harley had yelled and cried and everything, but they still left her all alone in the door while the went to their officers. She was scared and she wanted out. Now. Suddenly she heard a blast and cities lights streamed in through a giant hole in the wall. How silly they were. How silly they were to leave her alone, the darkness was coming after her.

Harley scampered to the opposite end of her cell, away from the hole. What had come to hurt her now?

At least five, what looked like to be men, walked through the gaping hole in the wall. “You heard the boss,” one of them said in his scratchy voice, “Make sure the doors are locked.” The men scattered off to do as they were told.

Then a sixth person walked through the hole, his pace more leisurely and at ease than the other five men. He was wearing a purple suit, the suit jacket going down to his knees. Harley stared wide-eyed at the silhouette of the man, realizing in a instant who he was.

He ran his finger along her cell bars as he walked around its perimeter. He stopped at the corner Harley was curled up in and leaned down, tracing his finger lightly over the frown line on her forehead and down her cheek.

“Why so serious, sweetheart?”