note: I literally had the strongest urge after seeing a drawing from Harleen (the comic books, go read it), and got a wave of inspiration.
warnings: talk of abuse, talk of Stockholm syndrome, self-consciousness, angst w a happish open ending, Harley being sad :(.
Beyond Harley’s pale complexion and her natural beauty, there are scars. Metaphorical and psychical ones. Ones that she covers with makeup everyday, hiding them from herself and the world. It took awhile for Harley to finally stop covering them, years after her break up with the Joker. And even then it was only when she was home.
It wasn’t until she opened herself up to friends, and most importantly her girlfriend, that she could handle thinking about them. Harley cant count how many scars run across her back, the few on her face are obnoxious and loud, covering what used the be the favorite parts of herself. There’s two crossing on her nose, one running down her cheek, another slotted just next to the corner of her right eye.
Lord knows the amount of bullet scars she has on her sides or her arms, probably hundreds. The Joker wasn’t much for safety over sexy. It didn’t matter how many times she flatlined due to an injury, he never gave her anything bulletproof. He said it made her more fun; that the risk of breaking his toy made it more valuable.
Harley can remember how battered and bruised she was when she finally escaped his clutches— not that she even wanted to. He had tossed her out and told her not to come back, his goons shoving her back on the pavement time after time when she tried to enter the warehouse again. After a day she finally dragged her feet across Gotham, not even sure where she was going.
Thank God Pamela decided to sweep out her old base, because otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to save Harley. Harley probably would crawled back to him and gotten herself shot. Pamela thinks about that day a lot, the day she finally realized just how deep Harley’s Stockholm syndrome went. They even ended up fighting at one point, Harley saying he had cooled down now, that it was safe to go back.
Pamela cried for hours after that, Harley should’ve always felt safe around him. Harley never did though, she said it was apart of the game, that she was meant to be kept on her toes. It took five years for Pamela to help Harley realize that, that’s not what a relationship is. Of course she can’t take all the credit, after two years of healing and processing Harley found a girlfriend. You.
You were sweet to her, an abrupt change of pace from the Joker. It took Harley awhile to get used to it. You remember that stage of your relationship the most. Harley was jumpy and afraid, she didn’t dare to look at another woman when she was with you, and at one point asked you straight-up if you wanted to her stop talking to Pamela and Selena. You were completely baffled and told her no, that it wasn’t required and that you loved the both of them.
For the first time in ages, Harley wasn’t walking on egg-shells. She felt safe, and comfortable around a romantic partner. After three years free, Harley was okay when other women hit on her, she could give them a simple no, hold your hand up and smile. It wasn’t like she’d have to practically fuck you in front of someone to prove who she belonged to, or that you’d get jealous. You said that if you saw her sitting next to someone, you’d ask her out too. You told her you couldn’t blame human nature, and you certainly wouldn’t punish her for other people’s actions.
That one made Harley’s head spin. She didn’t understand how you wouldn’tpunish her, it was weird. Harley felt like she had no consequences, that she could do whatever she wanted. Of course you told her that she can’t, that you would be heartbroken if she did take an offer from another person, but you wouldn’t hurt her for it. You told her that you don’t have any right over her, the only person who gets to dictate and chose what she does is herself.
Harley still doesn’t like her scars, there are nights where she throws blankets over the mirrors so she doesn’t run the risk of looking at them. There are days where she thinks she’s ready to go outside, scars on full display, only to run back in the house sobbing. It’s been five years and Harley cant get past them, but she knows eventually she can. Especially when you hold her tight and kiss every scar she has, or when you trace them, tell her that her scars are proof of survival. That they only add to her strength and determination.
And as Harley takes off a blanket from the mirror, tracing her scars across her chest and shoulders, she understands. She understands that in time, her scars will fuel her success, that her scars will be fully closed and she will cease to care about them.
Harley smiles at thought.