Summary: Harley is going through her darkest time. The Joker has his way of helping her through. Heavy angst, hurt & comfort.

You can find the playlist for this story on my blog Crystallinee-waters (dot tumblr dot com) / tagged / gohome. (Remove all the brackets and spaces. This site won't let me include links. )

PART II

And there's no remedy
For memory
Your soul is haunting me
And telling me
That everything is fine
But I wish I was dead
- Dark Paradise, Lana del Rey

There was a new voice in Harley's head.

She was sure she had never encountered it before; it first appeared after she returned from Belle Reve. It must have been with her back then too, but all the voices had been screaming at the same time. From the moment she was shoved into the cage, the constant noise in her head had been drowning out every other thought. The new one had been hiding in the crowd, while the familiar demons went hysteric.

"Kill them and escape, what are you waiting for?"

"Oh come on." It had sounded like Harleen – she had resurfaced like a trashy zombie. "You worked your way to the top, on your knees. You'll get out; just bend over nicely for that Alpha guard. Put on a show for him."

At first she had done what they told her to; tripping in her psychosis. But the voices demanded more and they never left her alone.

"Haaaaarley - Where's Mr. J?" her most hated voice had taunted her, day and night. "He's left you here to rot. He doesn't care about you. Nobody cares, Harley. You're just a little toy."

SHUT UP! He's going to come, just you wait. She had screamed at the voices, verbally assaulted them until the guards pumped sedatives into her system. Then they just turned into low background chatter.

It had been impossible to make out that new voice. But it had made its presence known sometimes: a whimper in the back of her mind, a loud cry. A ringing in her ears, like a lost child crying for his mommy. Shutting them out all together meant shutting down her consciousness, so she had slammed her head hard against the metal bars until they fell quiet.

.

Her days in hell were over. Mr. J had shown up, just as she knew he would. He had power-sawed his way into her cell and carried her off into the artificial sunset. She was free. She was home. She was going to find her smile again, that was buried deep somewhere in this rubble, a mountain of dust of death.

She had been caught up in the bliss and excitement of being with him again. She could push everything else away, bury the memories so deep she could never reach them again. She was hell-bent on just erasing everything. No past. No reflections. She was wild and free and living her life with Mr. J.

But the things crawling in her subconscious eventually emerged. A week after her return to freedom, the new voice had spoken to her for the first time.

The voice called itself Baby.

It was not a baby's voice; it was an adult, fierce and cold. Harley stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, as if she was waiting for it to make a physical appearance. Nothing happened. It was just her, alone, wearing another sparkling dress, make up and dyed curls, expensive golden jewelry. The queen of crime had returned, a bit scarred, but nevertheless intact.

For once the other voices kept quiet, but Baby talked.

"Haaaarley… Do you remember me?"

You're not my baby, she argued back aggressively. Babies are for normal people. Not for us.

"I'm yours," it replied casually, and it threw her completely off guard.

Electricity had wiped out so many parts of her life and left a glaring blank space, but this one was firmly stuck. Mr. J's baby. It brought back the memories she had been trying to suppress: the void in her belly, the blood that just kept coming and coming. Her white hands covered in a sticky mess, pieces of flesh. Nausea hit her hard and she crouched on the floor.

"You liked Mr. J to throw you onto the floor hard, didn't you? Remember those pills? The drinks?"

Harley stared with wide eyes in front of her. She shook her head slowly.

"You're not getting rid of me so easily. I live inside of you. "

"Leave me alone! Go! Go away!" She stumbled forward, violently trying to shake the voice out of her mind, grasping onto anything she found, pulling her hair, overturning bottles with perfume and make up. The same part of her that accused her squad mate so fiercely was onto her now. What an ironic twist of fate.

"You killed me. Own it. Own it."

Harley crouched into a ball on the floor, hearing herself laugh, loudly, shakily. Louder and louder, she laughed. A part of her was terrified, afraid to be alone again. That's when the voices usually came, to keep her company in the dark.

A long while later and she was still not aware of anything but the cold floor against her face. The bathroom door was open. Nothing else had changed. She heard Mr. J's closest henchmen discussing what to do with her.

Mr. J would not be back until tomorrow. Maybe something was really up, because the henchmen decided to call someone. She didn't know the name of the guy, the one who assisted Mr. J the most, he seemed scared.

The bearded man kneeled by her side. Concern on his face. "Do you need a doctor, miss Quinn?"

She giggled at his funny face, staring up at the ceiling. It swayed back and forth. Her teeth chattered loudly and turned her giggles into choked sobs.

He was still hovering above her and she blinked, trying to focus. The man talked to someone over her head, discussing her. He talked quickly in a hushed tone. She tried to move her head, get away. The light was so bright. Still, her body refused to move, as if she was glued to the floor.

After a while she heard other steps, rushed, a voice snarling:

"Where's she?"

"She was in there alone, we found her when we heard her screaming -" A violent sound, like a body slamming against a surface. A deep growl, someone whimpered in pain.

"She's not hurt," the man from before said quickly. "No one else has been there. No one's touched her. I swear, boss."

"I will hold you to that, Frost," the dark voice growled and there was another sound of a body hitting something hard. "I told you to watch her." His voice was hard and sharp, forceful like a bullet. It broke through the haze, but she was tired.

The steps approached, the door was ripped of its hinges, and she closed her eyes, just as a slap to her face brought her to alertness.

Mr. J's face was in her vision now, hovering just above her, she could feel his breath. She smiled. Smiled only for him, spread out on the bathroom floor, her skin full of imprints from her nails, her dress torn. Bruised and eyes almost rolling back into her head, the strong smell of spilled perfumes soaking her hair.

She heard him take a deep breath through his teeth. "Harley," he said darkly, "Come on now." His hands were on her body, lifting her up into his arms. She felt her head fall limply against his shoulder. He was there, and his voice was the only one that meant something.

.

.

That very night, the dreams returned. The blood was back between her legs. Dark, dead. A small fetus in her hands, a tiny body that fit in her palm, veins glowing through the translucent skin. Flashes of something that could have been, a child's laughter, blue eyes. Something that would never be.

Harley screamed when she woke up, so loudly it even unsettled Mr. J. She screamed, not knowing why. The part of her brain that should know why had disconnected, she only remained screaming. Why didn't she wake up?

She ended up curling up against a corner in the room, her legs against her chest. Her nails scratched at her skin until it bled, trying to rip the skin off her face.

Harley Quinn did not cry. Not in her entire second life had she ever shed a tear. But she knew. Her body was not meant for hosting another life. She was the queen of destruction and devastation; she had stared death in the face and laughed. She had chosen life over death. A life with the Joker.

Living for him meant giving up on all other life. Nothing could grow and prosper in dead soil. Chemicals had burned everything down, left an artificial existence.

Mr. J approached her calmly as she curled into herself. He pulled her into her arms again, his fingers leaving imprints on her face, wiping the blood away. He would fight her demons for her. He knew them too well; he was not afraid. He was fearless in the dark.

When he slipped her the familiar pink pill, she accepted it greedily.

She swallowed it, felt it slip through her dry throat. He lifted her up and placed her on the bed, and then the cold air surrounded her when he disappeared from her sight. Her entire body trembled with coldness. Her muscles went numb and the crowd in her head fell silent. The only thing left was his face. He was her life line, her only way out.

Harley let her head fall back, her entire body slack as the exhaustion spread through her. She couldn't see the equipment in his hands when he returned, but she knew what was to come.

The gel covered paddles were placed on her temples, and soon she was immersed in her dark paradise; the only relief. Harley spread her arms, stuck in her happy place. The strong currents of electricity shut her body down, cell by cell, a numb, painless state overtaking her. A pressure in her head that was so strong, she had to give in. Her body jolted, seizures followed and he turned up the voltage. Her muscles contracting, shaking, trembling, and then… nothing.

Darkness. It was different from the electrifying sensations that spun blue patterns across her eyelids, it was different from pain. It was nothing.

Afterwards, when she was slipping out of consciousness, she felt him pulling her closer. She was numb and slack in his arms, he held her so tight. The voices were forced to silence. He kissed her, she was almost gone, the pill on his tongue entering her mouth.

She drifted out and in of consciousness the following day and night. Sometimes she would wake up, but he was always there, forcing her to sleep again. Another pill and she was free. When she was too tired to take them, he would hold her head up, place it in her mouth and force her to swallow. It twisted her stomach, but everything was quiet. Blissful.

One time she woke up and he was sitting by her head, his scarred hand absentmindedly stroking her face. His cold fingers were soothing; she pressed her face against them.

Her hands had moved down in her sleep, resting loosely over her belly. She noticed how his gaze rested on that very spot.

Tears suddenly ran down her face, down her neck. They just kept coming and he leaned against the headboard of the bed, still watching her. One of his fingers smeared the tears over her cheeks, softly, away from her eyes as he gave her the next pill.

They stayed like that as her eyelids grew heavy again; she saw more pills in the palm of his hand. He never slept; like a dark angel of the night he watched her for any sign of alertness, ready to push her down again. His very presence kept her safe. She must go deeper, deeper down.

He had told her once. The only way to reach freedom is to go all the way to the bottom. He had already mastered that step, long ago.

It was those hours of her life that were the most blissful and the most painful. The dark room, his presence. She could let herself go, when she slipped down deeply enough. She could finally cut the voices off. As if they had been rooted to her head like metallic threads, they were suddenly soft like grass and easy to rip off. She was alone in the dark space, just her and whomever she wanted, in the entire world.

"Baby," she croaked.

No reply. Baby was gone.

"Come back," she demanded, voice hoarse.

No one could reach her when she was floating in the dark space, no one could see her or touch her. For the first time she was afraid she would not find the way back to the surface, the vast space was sucking her in like a black hole.

It was quiet. Then the voices tuned in, one by one, quietly. They were all there, waiting for her.

"I want you!" she screamed.

"It's not here anymore," someone said. "It went home."

Home?

"It went home."

A searing pain pulled her back to the surface, she was not alone anymore. The Joker was there, his dark eyes set on her, a thousand emotions in them. Harley just stared at him as he gave her the very last pill. One of his hands held onto her firmly. He watched her as she brought it past her chapped lips, it melted on her tongue and it was complete.

"Do you feel it?" he asked her. "I can hear them, emerging…"

He suddenly gave her a light smile, a hint of anticipation in his eyes. Harley reached up and touched his face, he was real. She smiled back at him, tiredly, and his lips stretched wider. "You'll soon see, Harls. I can't wait for you to wake up again."

"Really?" She couldn't tear her gaze off his face, hardly comprehending how much she had missed it.

"Yes," he purred, leaning down and kissing her deeply. His hands traveled her body, down to her lower abdomen. She was once again slipping away into darkness, but she heard his voice clearly.

"Your little friends say such interesting things when you're asleep. I wish you could hear them, too."

"What?" she slurred. Her vision was fading, she fell back into warm unconsciousness, but he was close to her, whispering in her ear.

"Baby's back."

.

She woke up much later, daylight filtering into the room. Mr. J was nowhere to be seen, she was alone. Harley looked around, hazily, her entire body stiff from being immobile for so long. In the bed, among the messy sheets, were some strange garments. Had he left clothes for her? She slowly sat up, head spinning.

He had kept a great deal of things that he had collected in her absence. She had noticed the large amounts of photos and newspaper articles of her that he kept lying around. It was one of the things she found most flattering; she loved his serial killer obsession. She smiled to herself.

Beside her on the pillow, someone had carefully laid out two baby onesies, one black and one purple. Harley took one of the little suits and held it up. It would fit a small infant.

The realization that had been kept from her by her own treacherous mind came over her.

Tears filled her eyes and overflowed, as her smile grew wider. "You're going to have so much fun with us."

Fin.

I have written a sequel to this, called "Life and Death", which continues from this point onward.

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Love, Crystallinee