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♢♦♢ TO HIM, EVERYTHING SHE DOES COMES FROM WITHIN; FROM SOME DARK IMPULSE. I GUESS THAT'S WHAT MAKES HER SO THRILLING TO WATCH. SO DANGEROUS. EVEN PERFECT SOMETIMES, BUT ALSO DAMN DESTRUCTIVE ♢♦♢
There he motionlessly laid. His chilling, paper-white body laid atop a metal embalming table. It waited for it's burial. A white, paper-thin sheet sat on him, covering everything but his head and shoulders. Harleen couldn't believe it. He was truly dead. Yet, he didn't appear to be. He seemed to be peacefully daydreaming. His skin was the same as always, pale and cold, almost lizard-like. His daunting eyes were now forever opened wide. And his lips - oh, god, his lips. They wore The Smile. It was a truly frightening thing to see. Even the current mortician, Dwight Pollard, had never seen anything like him.
He definitely put up a good act.
Hovered over the green-haired man, was his mourning girlfriend. She stood with her arms, waist and feet chained into several handcuffs, a classic orange jumpsuit, white tennis shoes and her unnaturally vibrantly colored hair, as it had only been a week since she was brought into Belle Reve. The former psychiatrist stared at the lifeless body, full of anger, sadness and disbelief. If it weren't for the formal paperwork, she'd think this was all but one of his jokes, or another plan intelligence created to divide the two. They've definitely tried to do so before. Harley Quinn hadn't muttered a single word since they arrived to Gotham City's Morgue.
Amanda Waller, Dwight Pollard and the maximum prison's Lieutenant stood nearby, waiting for an expected reaction from her. Two heavily armed security guards stood on either side of Harleen in case if she decided to lash out.
Finally, she spoke. "He didn't deserve that," she shakily whispered, her voice laced with nothing but sadness. Her world continued to crumble around her, drowning her into a deep pit of guilt and sadness. She genuinely believes his death could have been prevented. He could have been saved. Maybe if Batman saved him, instead of her, he'd still be alive.
"My Joker didn't deserve that," she repeated. This time she was noticeably angry. The men and women in the room watched the devastated girl sink in front of her beloved. She sobs uncontrollably, wrapping her warm hand around his cold one. "Why," she shouted. "Why?.. Why? Why? Why?" Angry with herself, she leaned in and began to repeatedly smack her head against the embalming table.
The two guards moved to hold her back, but stopped with a gesture of the hand, provided by Amanda Waller. All that was heard is Harley's loud cries and the banging of her forehead hitting the metal.
"Harleen," a deep voice called out behind her.
She recognizes that voice anywhere. It was Batman. To everyone he is the Caped Crusader, the Dark Knight, World's Greatest Detective, Gotham's Savior. To Harley he is simply the gum stuck on the bottom her shoe.
