Permission to archive: Yes, just tell me!
Category: A bit of everything. Romance, drama, comedy.
Summary: Oh Mirror, Mirror on the Wall…
Keywords: Joker, Harley, Joan
Spoilers: None. Set after Mad Love and their many adventures.
Disclaimer: I know you’re surprised, but I don’t own the Batman franchise (yet). It’s the strict property of DC Comics until I get insanely rich.
Author Notes: Uschi did talk about how all the JHQ fics look alike at some point. Here’s my attempt to put some novelty in the concept.
In October, Joan finally had a breakdown.
It was nothing hellish, ugly, horrific or maddening that triggered it; no one died, no one relapsed; no one escaped and no one planned to. All it took was the Joker in her office, and Harley in his thoughts.
“Harley? But of course I love her!”
In November, she was still at home.
Down in the hole, Joker was probably congratulating himself; for he was a liar, and loved to mess with doctor’s heads. Somewhere, sometime, he just figured that it was the one thing she never wanted to hear; for Harley, she knew, was in her cell, reading sappy love letters written on toilet paper.
Sugar sunshine, special people like us have special relationships…
In December, there was a TV special on the clowns.
Amidst the usual crap, it turned out that most of the male population pitied the Joker more than they envied him, and that most of the females envied Harley more than they pitied her. Simple: she was living an eternal soap opera full of excitement and longing. He was living a nightmare where he was plagued by her presence forever.
”I don’t know how he can put up with her asking when he’ll marry her 36 times a day. Man, you’re my hero".
The day after, Jeremiah begged her to come back
He told her about the reporters at the gates, the shortage of psychologists, the guards, the secretary, the inmates, the mouse on his desk—but mainly, about Harley, and Joker, his statement to the press, did you read, Joan?
And so she’s in her office again. Again.
In the garden, Joker was resting his head on Harley’s lap, chiding her when she hummed, getting angry when she was not; asking for a massage, then saying she did it wrong; wanting a kiss, but not wanting to move, until finally, finally, he falls asleep, after she promised she wouldn’t.
The crowd snickers, but Harley smiles, and Joan has the fleeting thought they may all be colorblind. It isn’t yes he loves her, no he doesn’t, black and white the deed is done. It’s prismatic. Like water, maybe. She’s mirroring him and he loves himself, after all.
”Harley is me, but I’m not Harley; that’s why she adores me, and that’s why I miss her, Doc…are you feeling well?