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One hundred carats. A blood diamond mined off the backs of suffering children. Some old possession of a dead queen. But Harley didn’t care. There was nothing she could do about that. The diamond was the size of her fist and it was the most prized object in the museum. Mr. Jay promised her that he would get her the biggest prize here after they robbed the place. He was thoughtful like that.
One hundred carats. Enough to fund their pranks for a year or maybe more. She would have to do the math when they returned home. Joker was busy threatening a museum curator. He promised to not kill today. She made him promise. Not that she was a pious hero herself, but today was a special day. She didn’t want any blood on her hands on her birthday.
Mistah J didn’t remember. But he promised to get her the diamond today, and Harley bet that was a part of his gift. He was pretending not to remember.
“Hurry up, pumpkin-pie! We don’t have all day.” He was holding the curator against the wall.
Harley sighed. She was trying to cut through the security glass without setting off an alarm. It was precise work. One of the oddest skills she picked up in this crime business.
“I’m trying, Puddin’! If I mess up, you know–”
Joker wasn’t smiling. “No Batman, Harley! No Batman or we’re going to have a bad, bad day!”
She hissed, “Keep your voice down, ya nincompoop!”
“Why, you–”
“Shh!”
He listened and shut up. A rarity these days. Harley continued working on the glass.
Today was her birthday. And she was spending it here, trying to break into an expensive museum without alerting Batman and his goons. It used to be fun, these things. Still was. But she wonders if she was forgetting the meaning of the word. Joker made her life exciting, new, alive. She never went a day without laughing.
Only some days, she didn’t want to laugh. What did she do last year? And the year before that? She can’t remember, but she knows it certainly wasn’t celebrating. Joker never remembers her birthday. He was always showering her with gifts until it’s the one day she wants ‘em.
“Yeesh, Harl, way to be a downer…” She muttered to herself.
Aha. Got it. The glass popped out. She placed it on the floor carefully. As slowly as she could, she took the diamond and replaced it with an object of a similar weight. Indiana Jones style. One hundred carats. She can see her blue eyes glimmer on the reflection.
How many times has she done this charade? Nobody tells you that crime can be repetitive. That’s why Mistah J tries to go bigger each time. She’s not sure if he even wants to win against Batman. To him, everything’s a game.
“We’re done here, Mistah J!” She places the diamond inside a box and in her bag.
“Attagirl, Harley. Say, are you really sure we should leave a witness? I mean, what’s the fun in letting him squeal after we’re done?” The museum curator looked at Harley with wide eyes. Poor man was on the verge of a heart attack. It would be fun to see him go down…but today was a new day.
“Oh, sweetie, y’know killing him is just gonna get the B-man angrier,” She pressed hand on Joker’s shoulder. “You promised me this diamond. We’ve got it. I don’t want no Bat followin’ us back home.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Jay sighed dramatically. He tapped the gun on the man’s head. “You’re lucky, bub, my gal’s in a good mood.”
The hostage nodded desperately, not daring to say a word. Harley laughed at his face. Normal people were so easily scared. Can’t they see how fun this was?
Joker wasn’t wrong. Life is a game. Everyone was a player. You win or you lose. There was a time when she thought life was something serious. It wasn’t a long time ago. Back when she wore glasses and a lab coat, she lived to please. Not so different from today, really, but she would never admit that.
They make it back to the lair without any problems. Joker was ecstatic. She loved seeing him happy. When the people she loved were happy, she was happy. That was the best birthday present she could have. But it would still be nice to get a normal present.
“So, any reason why ya decided to get this diamond today of all days?” She handed him the diamond. He was watching it with awe. He liked to say he didn’t care for money…until he had to fund a new funny machine.
“Mistah J?”
Joker broke out his trance. “Huh? It’s worth a few million bucks, Harls. I can already see my greatest gig yet! Batman will never see what’s comin’ for him. And of course, you’ll get a cut for stealing this tip. Thank you, pumpkin-pie.” He kissed her on the temple and started walking towards his workshop.
“But I thought– I mean, dont’cha remember, Puddin’? What day is today?”
“Friday!” He slammed the door behind him, leaving her with an empty bag and nothing to laugh about.
Harley sighed. She should’ve expected it. Life was a game, and Harley was the loser. One hundred carats. One thousand days with Mistah J. And one thousand different ways her life could've gone, a lifetime ago. It was all Batman’s fault, never her Puddin’...but isn’t it a little bit his fault?
No, she told herself, Joker is a good man. She doesn’t believe it, no siree. He was the victim to that stupid, cruel Batman! Stupid, stupid, Batman. He was why she was spending her birthday alone. Always ruining their day, always getting in the way of her happiness! Stupid, stupid…
Harley buried her face into her hands. She couldn’t even convince herself of that anymore. If she couldn’t convince herself, then who was she playing this part for? Love is a disease…it makes hearts burst all over the world. She was the sickest woman alive and she knew it. Always has.
One hundred carats. There was a time when life wasn’t a game. A serious, drab reality where no one could be happy lest they sacrifice bits and pieces of themselves. Living is repeating, loving, boring…she lived in a dream where Joker was all that she saw, and there was nothing wrong with that. He was the diamond, the one hundred carats she wanted, and Harley would sacrifice her happiness if he was smiling.
She remembers that life most vividly in Arkham walls. It wasn’t a dream then. The home for the insane wasn’t just Harley’s prison, it was a part of her. The fluorescent lights; the smell of death. She was at her worst and her truest there, no performance needed. Without a costume – jester or doctor – she was simply Harley.
“Call me Harley. Everyone does.”
Yes, they did…but Dr. Quinzel never had as many friends as Harley Quinn. All her friends were lunatics, mad with obsession and something carnal. She was no different from them since the day she walked inside the asylum. She had an obsession of her own, albeit it was hidden deep behind an identification badge.
Obsession, love– was there a difference? Not in her eyes. Both made hearts beat faster and scrambled one’s mind.
Tap, tap, tap, went the doctor’s pen. Not hers anymore.
“How do you live?”
“What’s that mean?” She asked from her chair. Hands restrained under Arkham’s finest straitjacket.
Dr. Leland looked up from her glasses. “How do you live with yourself after everything you’ve done, Dr. Quinzel?”
“Don’t call me that, chump. I’m Harley.” She spat on the floor. Leland wasn’t phased. She never was, even when she had mentored Harleen as a resident.
“Joker’s a monster. By association, you are as well. So says the headlines.”
Harley didn’t budge. She hated it when they called him a monster. He was a man! A man just like you all! They didn’t deserve his jokes, his laughter, his gift to this wicked world.
“You wound me, Joan.”
“What did I say about calling me that? We’re not friends, Dr. Quinzel.”
“But we are, Joan. We are. I never break up with my friends. When I’m friends with somebody, it’s for life,” She winked. “And though I hate your guts down to your appendix, I still like ya.”
Leland repeated, “How do you live with yourself, Harley?”
“How…that’s a stupid question. People say there’s no such thing as stupid questions, but they’re wrong. Is the sky blue? Is water wet? Is Batman stupid?” She paused. “Don’t answer that last one.”
Leland didn’t respond. She checked her watch. “Our time is up. I’ll ask you again on Thursday.”
The door shut behind Leland with a bang.
How do you live? She chuckled to herself. It was a stupid question. But she was good at playing stupid.
“All the world’s a stage, and all men and women merely players!”
Joker was never the most well-read man, but oh he loved some oldies. Chaplin’s The Circus. I Love Lucy. The Philadelphia Story…If it wasn’t movies, it was the theatre.
He liked to quote ol’ Bill: “Life’s but a poor shadow, a poor player…”
Harley would clap and laugh at his performance because he was a true master of the craft. One she looked up to and strived to reach. She loved to see him perform. She loved stories and all she wanted to do with him was give the performance of a lifetime! That was what they were doing in Gotham: showing everybody a good time.
“Coney Island’s the best spot in New York, sweetie, and you know why?” Nicky Quinzel held her tiny hand as they crossed the boardwalk.
“They have cotton candy?” Harley raised a sticky hand with pink matter.
“Good one but no,” He chuckled deeply. “It’s the best because it’s our special place, pumpkin-pie. I know it’s been hard with another brother on the way, but I promise this will always be where we can have daddy-daughter time without those gross boys. You’ll always be my best gal.”
Harley grinned. She didn’t really understand the problem. “And they have the circus!”
“And they have the circus.”
How do you live? On a stage, she thought. In front of a crowd! Gotham was her stage, and Arkham was her uninterrupted corner of the world.
Never would anyone believe the comfort she found in its dusty, evil walls. But no one watched her in the tiny prison cell. She wasn’t an actor or a clown for the masses. Long blonde hair invaded her shoulders; scars littered bare skin. She felt naked without the white makeup, for Harley was a monster of the worst kind– the monster who didn’t look like one.
❖❖❖
“At least I got you two.”
Bud and Lou looked up at her curiously. She wished they could talk. She hated speaking to herself. A quiet thing, it was.
She hugged the hyenas close to her chest, as close to her heart as physically possible. “The whole day’s gone by, and Mistah J’s as clueless as ever. What’s a girl gotta do to get some love around here? At least Batman isn’t after us. He’s probably thinkin’ the thief was Selina. Y’know, he’s lenient on her…it’s super unfair.”
Bud and Lou whined. She wanted to whine with them.
How do you live? The question rang in her mind. One hundred carats, she thought. For Joker’s smile when he saw the one hundred carats. That is how she must live after everything.
“Y’know, it’s not so bad. I think Jitters has pastries on sale. A slice o’ cake sounds good, right?” Bud and Lou licked her hands. “Yeah, that’s fair! Treat myself, that’s right! And after that, I’ll show Mistah J what it’s like to be ignored! I’ll see how he likes it when I forget his things.”
She got off the floor with a renewed vigor. She picked through her closet for something casual but stylish. For some cake and tea, she can look like a real classy lady! It’s her birthday and she refused to be sad. Life’s a laugh, and Harley ain’t the joke.
A loud knock on her window sent her jumping backwards. Only the henchies knew where their lair was. If Batman found out, she’d never hear the end of it from Mistah J! She grabbed her bat and prepared herself for a beating. Bud and Lou began growling in her defense.
She swung open the window. A chilly breeze rushed in. “I’ve got a bat and I’m not afraid to use it, Bats!”
“Calm down, Harley, it’s just me.” A green face stuck itself inside, framed by red hair and lovely leaves.
Bud and Lou stopped growling. They jumped at the figure with slobbery tongues of excitement.
“Wha–?” She lowered her bat. “What are you doing here?”
Poison Ivy pet the hyenas apprehensively. She was carrying an amorphous object under her arm. “You don’t sound happy. Am I intruding?”
She wondered how stupid she looked, holding a useless bat with only half an outfit on. “Never, but uh, you didn’t text me.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Ivy was adorably confused. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
“Huh?” The blonde dropped the bat and locked the door. Though she doubted Joker would interrupt with how he’d been eyeing that diamond so greedily.
“Did I make a mistake?” She frowned, glancing outside. A cold breeze whistled past her. “I wrote it down as the 20th, no?”
Harley motioned at the hyenas to quiet down. “No– yes! It’s my birthday! I just, uh, didn’t think you’d remember.” She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.
“Why not? You remembered mine.” Ivy acted genuinely bewildered. The metahuman was honest like that; so innocent in this oddly blunt way.
Harley hoped the darkness hid her blush. She pivoted before Ivy got suspicious. “What’s that?”
“Your present,” She handed the package to Harley unceremoniously. “I know you have a hard time keeping plants alive, so…”
Biodegradable wrapping. A Poison Ivy classic. She opened it enthusiastically. “Ohmigod, is this a cactus?”
“Low-maintance, low-effort,” Ivy’s voice softened, a bit shy. “You like it?”
Harley just stared at her. The oh-so strong villainess was beginning to get visibly uncomfortable under scrutiny. Harley delicately placed the pot on her bed before she tackled Ivy with a hug. She can hardly contain herself.
“Of course I do!”
Ivy’s laugh is heavy on the ear. She patted Harley’s blonde head gently. “Happy birthday, honey. Thirty is a big milestone.”
She pulled away. “Thank you, Red, I’ll keep her forever! Does she have a name?”
“Your choice.”
Harley pretended to think. “Okay, then…hmm, Lady Rose!”
The older woman cocked her head. “Isn’t that a tad cliche?”
“Duh, it’s ‘cause you’re basically a human rose,” She hugged the cactus close to her chest. It was prickly but she didn’t mind getting a bit stung. “If I speak to her, can you hear?”
“That’s not how my powers work, but you can try.
“I’ll be sure to,” Harley giggled. “Gosh, Red, you’re the best.”
Ivy was beaming in her own way. It was rare to see her smile, let alone so easily. “I didn’t think you’d be this happy. I heard you got a hefty score earlier today. Surely Joker bought you something with that?”
“Oh, well, y’know,” She waved it off. “We need the money for the bills.”
Ivy furrowed her brows. “Harley, don’t tell me…”
Harley’s ears burned. It was too embarrassing to admit. Ivy knew she wasn’t stupid, and that was the worst part. She can pretend with someone who thinks of her as an idiot.
“It’s okay, Ivy. Don’t worry about me,” She reassured with a tight grin. “With a gal like you, I’ve got the best present I could ask for!”
“Tone it down, Casanova,” Ivy chuckled, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. “You know you deserve better than him.”
“Maybe I don’t,” She admitted against her better judgement. “Maybe he’s what I deserve.”
Immediately, Ivy grabbed her shoulder. Fingers clamped tightly. Nails digging. “Don’t ever say that again. No one deserves him.”
“I love him, Pam. And I always will.” She hugged her arms.
Ivy isn’t surprised. They have gone through this circling carousel a hundred times. “That’s your prerogative. As is mine to tell you otherwise. There’s always a choice, Harley.”
The redhead didn’t see anything as a stage or a game. She saw the world through unclouded eyes, both to her detriment and to her advantage. Self-adjusted to perfection, as sharp as the diamond Harley had stolen. One hundred carats of heat and pressure.
How clear Ivy made things. A reason why Harley can never let her win. If she did, then Harley would lose this game. Only hate made Ivy falter on her great mission; only love made Harley continue this charade.
Harley didn’t respond. Ivy didn’t push. Last time she did, it hadn’t gone so well for either of them. Ivy sighed. For tonight, she knew Ivy would give up. Knowing that didn’t help the guilt cutting through her chest.
“Are you up for a girl’s night out?” Ivy pointed to the window. Gotham never really slept despite the moon’s high visage. “Your birthday’s not over yet.”
Harley forgot her woes. She grinned, “With you? Always!”
Later, they got a table by the window. No one batted an eye at their appearance. Ivy told her stories of past encounters with Batman. Harley told stories from high school. They laughed about college and shared a couple drinks. Pammy asked if she could accompany her on a plant mission next time. Harley accepted. How can she say no to her best gal?
Ivy brought a candle with the two digits. Harley had a lighter. The diner had cake. Thirty! Can you believe that? She was a real adult now, Pa!
Yet she never outgrew the circus. She knew Arkham Asylum better than Coney Island now. Just like how Pa knew prison better than her. If a tear fell when she blew out the candle, Ivy never mentioned it.
How do you live? Joker said life wasn’t worth living without a laugh. She thought so, too. Ivy laughed with a soft, low sound. Rarer than a hundred carats. A shine that warmed Harley whole.
How do you live? Not on a stage, she thought. Beyond a long dream, underneath the lovely glow, you live the only way you know how to…
…that you must.