The Dark Knight

[Nikki]

When the last man quits moving, I drop the gun, their screams still ringing in my ears. I look down at my shaking palms, as if they were covered in blood, but they're clean.
The Joker is laughing in pain, five feet in front of me, and I can't stop this ringing in my ears.
After a bit, everything falls totally silent.

[boo radley]

The pain eventually dissolves into dust. But my arm is still the same, one useless limb in the midst of many. At this rate, it’s never going to be fixed. It’s never gonna be good for me to use in any situation. “Harley, fix it please,” I moan as I laugh my head off.
Now I’m not laughing at accomplishment. I heard that laughing when you’re angry, or when you’re in pain, or any bad situation really, is good for you.
So, ha, ha, ha.
I’m hoping I’ll have a temporary sling. That way if any freaks, lower than me, come by, they won’t hurt it.
Or maybe they’ll try, but at least I’ll shoot a bullet up their asscracks.

[Nikki]

What did you just do, Harl?
Voices, the echoes of a crowded hall, whisper in my head.
They were hurting him.
Now you're all his, now he has you.
. . .what did you do?
. . .what did you do?
What did you do?

Despite my violent shaking, I manage to hold the vomit in long enough to take care of him. Gently, I put my arm around him so he can lean on me a little, and walk him over to the couch.
He's still laughing.
"Shshshshsh," I shush him. "It's alright."
Except it's not. We're all alone together in this unforgiving city, on a cold night, with nothing but our own demons for company.
The wild laughter subsides to giggles, which then give way to a steady, silent chuckle. And it's still eerie to me.
One more time, I shove his shoulder back into place with a sickening crunch. He's going to need some sort of sling for it to heal now; it's been through way too much at this point. I look around me for an answer.
There, the flourescent orange of his asylum shirt on the floor catches my eye. "Perfect," I hiss, tearing the cleanest parts of it into workable strips of cloth and wrapping them tightly, trapping his arm to his body so it won't be moved too much. It's not very good, but it should hold for a while.
I pause for a moment after I'm done, gazing up at him.

[boo radley]

My laughs are dead and gone.
My eyes are freaking watery.
My cheeks are stained with makeup running down in tear-lines.
It hurts so damn much. Once she ties it up, I realize I'm not much to look at. Well, not to me anyway, I dunno what her mind is running through right now. Various scenarios, I imagine.
"I'm gonna need new clothes," I mutter. Hmm.... maybe she could sew some for me. Don't want those mob lawyers to have anything they could use, hmm? And if I told her what exactly I wanted.... "You think you could sew me a purple suit?" There has to be cloth somewhere in the Missus' old room. Last I checked in, a long time ago, there was yarn hanging from her dresser.
No response.
I look at Harley carefully. She's shaking so hard her head might fall off. Aw, shit. It's her first time with a kill, innit? How do I teach her about the rules of morality and how it's not really moral? Ugh... "Maybe experience'll teach her..." I mumble out loud. I think she caught that, too.

[Nikki]

I stare at him for a few more speechless moments, still trembling.
There are three guys stiffening on the kitchen floor, and he's worried about a suit?
"I'll see in the morning if I remember how to sew. But it's going to take a while. And I can't-" I nod in the direction of the doorway "-clean that up. Sorry." I know if you break it, you buy it, but if I was like him, it wouldn't bother me. It seems contentment and insanity go hand in hand these days.
I just kinda stare at him again, like I'm expecting something, but I dunno what. Zoning.

[boo radley]

“Kay.”
I observe her. She’s a little upset, I think. A little. Just a bit. Teeny bit. “We’ll get someone to remove these things –” I point at the bleeding bodies – “once we’ve got the time or money.” I saunter over to the bodies. They’re dressed in fine suits. Yup, they’ve gotta be mafia-men, Falcone’s people. Or some rich badasses because no people wearing nice suits would dare enter this mansion. It’s filled with the stink of dead bodies and filthy, dishonest money. Ha ha ha ha ha.

[Nikki]

I'm gonna throw up now; I can't hold it back any longer. The nearest haven is the kitchen sink.
But after everything's out and all that's left are dry heaves, I don't feel sorry for myself.
I'm just ashamed to show this weakness in front of him.
Would an apology make it any better?
No. Apologies are another sign of weakness.
"You know, I was so fucking fearless before I met you. I could get anyone to do anything I wanted for me. Innocent little Harleen Quinzel, what could she possibly do to me? That's what they all thought, but I had them. And now-"
You have me.

[boo radley]

And now...? She cut herself off. What could she possibly want to say?
I have a half-smile, a wistful sort of thinking in my mind. All of what she did was dedicated to me. It was that freaking obvious, and I didn't even see it.
She.
Is.
Obsessed.
"Sit." I pointed at the couch. “You’re gonna need it. See, I wouldn’t normally care, but you’ve outdone yourself.” You’re really the perfect tag-a-long, the perfect partner-in-crime. What more could I ask for? Once she is comfortably situated, I command next: “Sleep.” You’re gonna need it. Because from now on, sleeping is for lifeless dummies.

[Nikki]

My weary mind begs that I follow his orders. But I don't know if he realizes that rest will only replenish my sanity.
I hope he doesn't have to deal with me in near hysterics when the sun rises.

[boo radley]

Enforcing madness is difficult. Keeping her sane.... well, see, insanity is really...honestly, sanity. Insanity is sanity. Insanity is sanity. Insanity is sanity. I say it like a mantra now, all the time.
I shake off a little stress and roll my shoulders. As Harley closes her weary eyes, or at least pretends to, whatever, I stare at the TV.
I stare at Harvey Dent.
This man is a difficult one to understand.