Chapter Text
Harley wouldn’t pretend she wasn’t overly invested in the lives of her fellow rogues, whether it be for innocent friendship reasons, or for the less innocuous reason of pure nosiness. Ivy said it was because she had the soul of a sixty year old retired woman named Debrah who peeked over the fence to look through your windows. Harley really couldn’t deny it.
It didn’t help that people seemed to find her easy to talk to, or that she gave (in her professional opinion) pretty bangin’ advice. Even people like Eddie, who could talk for hours without saying a single real thing just to hear the sound of their own voice, would occasionally humor Harley and tell her something of substance.
Of course she cared about Eddie, he was like a little brother to her—not that she’d ever say that in front of him, but was it really a crime for her to sometimes find a bit of amusement in what seemed like his constant, never ending stream of bad luck? Ivy certainly had no moral qualms about laughing at him. And really, it was getting to the point where it wasn’t even possible not to see the humor in it, it was like poor Eddie was cursed. It made Harley sometimes wonder what awful things he’d done in a past life to have this much bad luck. Or maybe in this life, he wasn’t exactly an angel.
On the other side of the coin, Jonathan Crane had, at one point, been Harley’s friend as well, but, through no fault of Harley, they’d grown apart when she’d gotten with Joker and neglected to rekindle their friendship when they both become rogues.
They were intrinsically connected, Harley had the feeling that her relationship with Joker had been the origin of Jonathan’s life of crime as much as it was hers. But he was too far gone now, to go back to who he was before, that oddly sensitive, grumpy, and rarely as angry and bitter as he was now, man who seemed to genuinely care about the prisoners in Arkham, was gone with no return.
And Harley didn’t know how to break that to Eddie, and she doubted he’d listen anyway, because he seemed content to follow Jonathan around, constantly seeking his approval and attention for the past seven months. He was repeating patterns, and Harley had been through her fair share of repeated patterns after she’d broken things off with the Joker for good.
“We’ve gotta talk about your substance abuse problems, Johnny,” Harley said, watching Jonathan from her spot on the countertop. He was sitting at the hideout’s small dining table, using one of Harley’s credit cards to cut a line of coke, and blatantly avoiding speaking to her.
“And speaking of your problems,” Harley launched herself off the counter, sliding her leg under the table and aiming a sharp kick at his shin to get his attention, “will ya stop stringin’ poor old Eddie along? I get ya like the attention, but he really cares about ya. And he needs somethin’ more than your…” she waved an arm, gesturing vaguely to indicate his entire presence, “… unenthusiastic southern dandy routine.”
Jonathan grunted wordlessly in response, and Harley sighed.
“Johnny.” She nudged him, and then when she received no answer, smacked the side of his head. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Jonathan said, finally looking up and meeting her eyes. “I like him. He likes me. Leave it at that.”
“You’re just gonna hurt him, Johnny. Ya know that. Ever since-“ she paused, looking away, “ever since ya got your mind set on killin’ Joker, ya haven’t been the same. Ya used to care. About your patients, your students... me. But now…” she shrugged. “Ya gave up on people. And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, but ya gotta find another boy to fuck around with, Eddie can’t take much more of this. From anyone.”
“He told me he loves me,” Jonathan said, as if that was an answer.
“What’d you say?”
Jonathan shrugged. “Nothin’. I came here.”
“Ya just up and left? Without saying a thing? Harsh. Even for you.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
Rolling her eyes, Harley sighed. “Not that, Johnny. Not that.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
Harley hesitated, crossing her arms as she thought. “Do ya love him?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
“And that’s not an answer.”
Jonathan leveled his gaze at Harley, raising an eyebrow. “It’s enough of one.”
“One more try, Johnny. Do ya love him?”
Jonathan let out a long-suffering sigh, leaning back in the chair. “Do you have any idea how big his ego would get if I told him I did?” He asked, as if that solved the situation. Which it didn’t. It was a pitiful attempt at excusing personal cowardice. They both knew Eddie hated himself. He hated everything about himself and covered it up with layer upon layer of grandiosity and false narcissism, because it was better to let people think he was full of himself than empty inside.
“Were you at his place or yours?” Harley asked after a long moment of quiet.
“His. Why?”
“Are ya kidding? You bailed on him, someone’s gotta clean up your mess,” Harley grumbled, and she didn’t miss the way Jonathan flinched at the accusation. She patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. “I know you’re goin’ through your own shit, Johnny. Just this once, I’m not holdin’ it against ya. But if ya pull this again, I won’t be so nice about it.”
She pulled on her coat and grabbed her bat before leaving, because if there was one thing she could trust about Gotham, it was that it would be raining and someone would try to mug her. Her city was predictable that way.
********
“Eddie!” Harley continued pounding on the door, refusing to give up even as the torrents of rain beat down on her and the front door to Edward’s rowhouse still remained steadfastly locked. “Eddie, if you don’t open this door in five seconds, I’m breakin’ a window and getting in that way!” She called, now pounding on the door with both fists.
At that sentiment, the lock clicked and the door was abruptly flung open with such a ferocity that Harley nearly lost her balance and toppled onto the cherrywood flooring.
“Please don’t,” Edward said, his voice lacking in its usual pep, reminding Harley of when she’d found him passed out on the concrete after leading the Batman into his hiding spot.
Harley shook herself off, pulling off her drenched coat and throwing it on the floor, stepping inside. She felt a little bad for getting Edward’s floor wet, but it was his own fault for not having a welcome mat, which she almost pointed out to him, and then decided now wasn’t the time.
“What are you doing here?” Edward asked, crossing his arms as if he was attempting to shrink back and physically vanish from Harley’s line of sight.
“Johnny’s doin’ coke in the hideout. Figured something happened.”
“Coke?” He repeated, a flicker of concern passing his face. “That’s new.” He looked away, schooling his expression into something deliberately meant to look uncaring. “I mean, that’s predictable. More self destructive behaviors from Doctor Jonathan Crane. I don’t care though.”
“… Right,” Harley responded after a moment, “sure ya don’t. Listen, I just wanted to check on ya. Worried he mighta killed ya or something,” she said with a small, awkward laugh. “Never know with this type of thing.”
“This type of thing?” Edward repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh. Y’know. He’s, uh… you two have…” Harley waved her hand vaguely.
“Isn’t he your friend?” Edward asked, sighing quietly and turning away, walking down the hall, floorboards creaking underneath him. Harley followed, struggling to keep up with his hasty pace without slipping.
“Well, yeah, but no one’s ever said I got good taste in friends.”
“He’s never hurt me,” Edward said, stopping at the linen closet in the hall and tossing Harley a towel before turning back around to face her, leaning on the kitchen counter. “At least…” he paused, biting his lip. “Jon’s never hurt me. He never would.”
“Scarecrow, on the other hand,” Harley finished for him, wrapping her hair up in the towel and giving him a brief, thankful smile.
Edward shot her a quick glance before looking away, staring at the wall opposite of him. “I honestly don’t think he cares enough about me to hurt me. I pushed myself on him, manipulated him into giving me what I wanted, and now I’ve…” he trailed off, running a hand through red hair.
“You’ve what, Eddie?” Harley prompted, even though she knew the answer to that question.
“Told him how I feel. About him.”
“And how do ya feel?” Another question Harley was perfectly cognizant of the answer to.
“Like an idiot. Like a manipulative, attention-seeking, narcissistic, psychotic criminal,” he responded, picking up the whiskey glass Harley hadn’t noticed was sitting on his counter and sipping from it.
Harley blinked in surprise. “Wasn’t expectin’ that.”
Edward shrugged. “Just quoting my Arkham file. Jon always hid it when I’d visit him at work, but… I found it in his briefcase.” He gestured to an innocuous-looking worn leather briefcase leaning against the wall. “He forgot to take it with him when he… when he ran out.”
"Listen, Eddie.” Harley reached over and pulled the glass out of Edward’s grip, setting it back on the counter. “Whatever it says in your file, it can’t be half as bad as mine. And we’re friends. I don’t take it personally. That’s his job. Besides, he doesn’t even write most of that stuff, ya know that.”
“Then why was he carrying it around?”
“He’s probably gotta take it to the cops or somethin’. And look, the worse that file is, the more he cares about ya. With words like psychotic in your file, there’s no way anyone would let ya go to prison. You’ll go to Arkham every time. Escape every time.”
Edward sighed. “I don’t care about that. It’s pathetic, I know, but I care about him.”
“It ain’t pathetic, Eddie. It’s human. Ya didn’t do anything wrong. And look—I know Johnny hurt ya, and your first instinct is to blame yourself, but he’s the one who royally fucked up here. He’s the one who’s got a lotta explainin’ to do.”
Edward laughed humorously, shaking his head. “I told him I loved him and he ran away. A perfectly understandable reaction.”
“Hey, Eddie. I know it doesn’t mean the same thing, but I love ya,” Harley said after several seconds of silence, leaning forward and placing her hand on Edward’s arm, squeezing gently. “Why else do ya think I came all this way in the pourin’ rain after I heard what Johnny did?” She cleared her throat pointedly, cuing Edward to look her in the eyes, which he did, somewhat reluctantly. “Not to get all psychiatrist on ya, but lemme just give it a whirl. You’re a loving person who deserves love, Eddie.”
“Never say that again,” Edward muttered, making a face.
Harley shrugged, tapping her fingernail lightly against Edward’s whiskey glass thoughtfully.
“I’m still waiting for you to say it,” Edward said suddenly. “You warned me. Many times. Over and over again.”
“What, I told ya so?” Harley waved her free hand dismissively. “We all make mistakes. Even if the warning sides are bright red. And flashing. Right in front of your dumb face.”
This time, Edward’s laugh was real, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled, and Harley let herself take that as a win, handing Edward’s glass back to him, which he took gratefully, finishing off the whiskey and pouring himself another glass.
“Is Jon still at the hideout?” Edward asked after another long silence.
Harley leveled him a disapproving glare. “I ain’t telling’ ya that.”
Edward let out a long, frustrated exhale through his nose. “I just want to talk to him. I can apologize.”
“You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.”
“Then I can explain.”
“Nothin’ to explain.”
“I can tell him that I actually meant-“
“Ya meant exactly what ya said. He knows it. You know it. He’ll either see sense and crawl back here on his knees with a bouquet of roses, a stolen diamond tiara, and a box a chocolates, or he’s an idiot an’ we’ll find him and kick his sorry butt.”
Edward said nothing in response to that, he just threw his head back against the kitchen cupboard and groaned. “He’s not going to do that.”
“Hell, I’ll take a romantic I ran through the rain for you as soon as I realized my mistake and now we can kiss on the sidewalk as God cries with joy and sorrow above us moment, too. But he’d better give ya somethin’. Either way, I’m here for ya, Eddie.”
Closing his eyes, Edward smiled softly. “You always are. For both of us. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why. The one riddle I can’t solve.”
Harley laughed, stepping over to him and nudging his arm with her shoulder. “That one’s easy. It’s like I said, I love ya. Simple as that.”