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“I just want to scream sometimes, yknow?”
Dick mutters venomously.
Harley looks him over, “So do it.” She says seriously.
They’re both sat on a rooftop overlooking the Gotham cityscape. It’s probably early morning by now.
Dick blinks.
“Just like that?” He questions with a wry grin, tilting his head to get a better look at her.
“Just like that.” She agrees easily.
“Is that what you do when you’re falling apart?” He asks curiously, “Scream?”
“Honey, I rob banks and sometimes murder people when I’m falling apart.” She grins at him, but her smile is slightly stiff.
The statement startles a laugh out of him, even as he shakes his head disapprovingly.
“Touché.” He nods at her. He doesn’t approve of murder, of course, but he knows that Harley hasn’t actually killed anyone in years. She’s nowhere near being a model citizen, but she has recently showcased a gentler soul than he’d previously imagined her capable of.
Although violence is what she’s used to, and something she’s been almost entirely desensitised to, he doesn’t think that it’s her nature. It’s not who she is at her core.
She’s done awful things. Things Dick will likely never forgive her for. But she isn’t like the Joker. There’s redemption out there for her, if she continues to want it badly enough.
He must be stuck in his head for longer than he realizes, because soon, Harley is speaking up again.
“Tell doctor Harley what’s the matter.” She pipes up, breaking his train of thought, “You’re being awfully quiet today, quippy.”
Dick gives her an indulgent chuckle, “Out of the two of us, I’m ‘quippy’?”
“I'm a clown, jokes are my thing! You’re just a funny guy.” Harley explains. “And don’t try to distract me, Bigbird. It won’t work.”
Dick nods.
“I guess I'm just tired.” He sighs.
“Hmm…, physically tired? Or that ‘world is weighing you down’ tired that gives ol’ Batsy those awful frown lines?” She questions, her lips pursed in thought.
Dick snorts at the sudden dig at Bruce. “Both, I think,” he says, giving her a sardonic smile, “Such is the life of the vigilante, young Padawan.”
“Hey, if anyone’s the wise old Jedi here, it’s me!” Harley cries indignantly, shaking her head. “You youngins ought to learn to respect your elders.” She finishes in a huff.
“Elders?” Dick raises his eyebrows, “Aren’t you only like, six years older than me?”
“I’ve known you since you were dressed in pixie boots and booty shorts!” She exclaims in offense. “It doesn't matter what our age difference is, that should earn me some goddamn respect from you, Blue.” She tuts, shaking her head disapprovingly.
“They were not booty shorts! God, I get enough of this shit from my family.” He scowls.
It only lasts a few moments before cracking into an amused grin.
“I wasn't joking, by the way.” Harley continues vaguely, “If you want to scream, you should scream.”
Dick rolls the idea around in his head, “Wouldn’t that be disturbing the peace?” He asks, humor present in the curve of his smile.
“It's Gotham, there’s no peace to be disturbed.” Harley responds without a beat.
It’s a fair point.
“Alright, how about we scream together?” Dick asks after a contemplative pause. The visible stiffness in the set of her shoulders makes him think she might need this too.
“I like the way you think, my boy!” She replies, eyes glinting with excitement.
She seems weirdly into this idea.
“Okay, on three?” He asks, a little reluctant.
He doesn’t think anything that bad could come of screaming out into the Gotham skyline, but when you’re following Harley’s advice, her medical experience aside, it’s good to be wary.
As if reading his mind, she whines, “C'mon kid, I’m a doctor! And I’m prescribing you with a Harley-approved treatment for your affliction.”
He, very kindly, refrains from commenting on the fact that her medical license has definitely been revoked.
“One, two”, she starts counting loudly, before he can think about it any further. “-Three.”
Together they shriek as loudly as they can.
He glances at Harley out of the corner of his eye, and wonders how long she’s been needing to do this. She puts her whole body into the scream, it sounds like it’s being ripped straight from her chest.
After a few long moments, they’re both panting, and he honestly does feel a lot better. He watches as Harley flops gracelessly onto her back, chest still heaving.
Dick takes the queue from her, and reclines to lay back on the roof, looking up at the night sky. It's not the best view, Gotham's light pollution is no joke, but it still settles his nerves to gaze into the wide expanse of black.
It makes him feel smaller, less important. It's oddly comforting. There's so much out there in this vast universe, so much still undiscovered. Infinite amounts of love and warmth out there amongst the stars. He should know, his ex-girlfriend is literally an alien.
He lets out a slightly delirious laugh at the thought. He feels lighter.
Harley is laying on her stomach now, kicking her feet as she watches him, a terribly fond expression on her face. It’s almost startling, when he thinks back to a time she was literally trying to kill him.
Then again, in his life, trying to murder him isn’t really a dealbreaker in a relationship. Is it really love if they haven’t tried to shoot, stab, strangle, or otherwise maim you?
He’s brought out of his quandary when Harley speaks up again.
“Feel better, kid?” She asks him quietly, her tone kinder then it has any right to be. “I'm always here to talk about it, if you want. Whatever’s got you so blue.”
“Thanks. Same to you.” He replies genuinely, giving her a small nod.
She flashes him a toothy grin in response, her nose crinkled and her teeth smudged slightly by her red lipstick.
The knot in his chest is starting to loosen.
They should do this again sometime, he decides, as he looks back up to the sky.