âYou know if you need a hand with anything Iâm here,â Tony replied, shrugging a little as he said it, though there was no casualness to his tone. âYou do know that, right? Iâm not as big a dick as the papers used to say, believe me. Maybe a little bit, but Iâm getting better.â It was something that he strove desperately towards, the day that he could finally say he was the opposite of what he had been pretending for so many years. He had made an insane amount of mistakes, had hurt so many people that were now coming back to bite him, and just because he knew deep down he had been something more than that just as Rhodes had always declared, Tony knew that he had to prove that to the people around him. He needed to prove to them that he was a hero, that he was worth being on the team. Besides, now that alcohol wasnât an option, Tony needed something else to occupy his time, and helping people as a better addiction than anything else he had chased after in the past.
Harley wasnât used to having people sticking up for her, offering assistance, support, comfort. She wasnât used to having people stand up for her either, and Tony knew what that was like. He had spent his entire childhood walking on eggshells, knowing that a word out of place would shatter the tentative calm that had settled over the dining room table. He had associated love with staying with someone who raised a fist to you regardless of how many times they did it, just as long as they apologised afterwards. He had watched his parents and he had learned that loyalty was key, he had learned that no matter what people did to you, you had to stick by their side because that was what love was. Now, he knew better. Now, he looked at his team and their support, he looked at Pepperâs love that was constant not because she was scared of him, but because she understood who he truly was. Now, Tony knew what love was, and he wanted to tell Harley that, but he couldnât quite find the words. It was difficult enough for him to even speak of his father as much as he had, never mind get onto that topic.
Still, he felt the need to say something to show her that he wasnât speaking from a higher pedestal, that he understood what it was like. He could talk about Whitney, how she had pressed a gun to the bottom of his chin and he had still thrown himself into the fire for her again and again and again, how he would still do it now without hesitation. He could talk about the fact that when Ru called him even now he tried to forget walking in on her and his best friend and helped her any way that he could. Both of those felt like weakness, but nothing was so weak as admitting to what his family had gone through, and so Tony settled on that. âMom kept going back too,â he said finally. It felt like a weight had settled on his chest, knowing that it was the closest thing to admitting what his father had truly done that he had managed. He had kept it close to the chest for so long that it felt like second nature. âEvery time he did it, he was real good at apologising so, I get it. What itâs like, to want to think heâs better than what he is.â
Tony laughed too, though there was no amount of humour in it. âDonât do it,â he said, as lightly as he could manage. Harley was always perceptive, though, she was bound to realise that there was something else in there. âOnce you start, you canât stop.â Especially if she began drinking to make up for another absence in her life, just as he had. âGoes for drugs, too. Take it from someone who knows. Clean since the nineties, but I still remember it, ya know?â
A friend. A few years ago, Tony would have wondered whether he was capable of that. He would have told her to go and find someone else, because everything he touched turned spectacularly to shit, or fell apart right in front of him. Harley was real, though. Nothing could touch her, she was like Nat that way. She wasnât running when Tony talked about what he had been through, and she was, in a strange way, a good person. She was trying to make up for what she had done, so Tony found himself smiling and nodding. âYouâve got one,â he told her.
When Harley said that word, Tony frowned a little. She was laughing, and so he managed to laugh with her, knowing that was so many peopleâs ways of coping. âThere are ways to prepare for everything,â Tony said, âand then there are times when you have to throw that prep out the window, and just do what you know is right.â This time, Tony actually did laugh, an attempt to block out what he was feeling at the mention of his mom. âBetter than Dad,â he replied, âbut that wouldnât be hard. But yeah. Maybe it wouldâve been nice seeing her a little more often.â
âNot a whole lottâa people have offered me that.â Harley admitted, âOr kept their promise. But I trust yaâ, Tony. I do.â She sighed, relieved, a small smile creeping up to her lips, one of the sincerest ones in a long time. She did trust him, not only because she was actually one to trust way too easily, but because he had proven to be understanding, kind, and most of all listened to her, giving her the feeling of being heard. A huge part of why she sent her career and everything else that had been going right in her life down the drain was because she listened to other peopleâs problems all day, devoting her life to others until she didnât have one anymore and she jumped at the first promise of somebody doing that for her. People like Tony showed her that that kind of sympathy was possible in a healthy way. She still asked herself what he got out of it, but she preferred not to ask. Everything came at a price, she had learned that the hard way, and if she ever would be convinced otherwise, that would take half a lifetime.
The blonde suddenly asked herself how theyâd gotten their conversation so deep. She wasnât complaining - it was nice to have someone to really talk, someone who opened up equally as much as she did. She was an open book - sheâd never kept many secrets, had spilled it all in her therapy sessions and to the news. But Tony, he seemed to be selective about who he talked to, or at least she liked to tell herself that to feel like she still had it in her. She still had a long journey ahead of her. She was not Harleen Quinzel, nor was she sure she ever wanted to go back to that, but she surely wasnât Harley Quinn. Day by day, it was like juggling two aspirations, two voice going against each other in a screaming battle inside her head. She was a recovering addict, just like Tony - only she didnât have to stop herself from reaching for the bottle, but try and never again let the voices she needed to suppress win. None of what she had done seemed a horrible deed to her, because of the way she felt at the time, mostly, but she understood she couldnât do it again. She needed that feeling again, and there was no way. She needed to cope with the absence of that feeling, possibly forever.
Harley associated love with desperately trying to please someone who was a psychotic criminal, that was it. That was what her mother had done, essentially. Being left behind was something she anticipated now. So was crawling back - and suddenly, somebody told her that was bad, that being loyal wasnât the number one thing, and tried to teach her something different. But people are conditioned through experiences, and those were hard to rewrite. Her eyes widened a little when it finally clicked. âOh.â For a moment, Harley didnât know what to say. Children were often treated like they were deaf and blind to such things, but they werenât. Experiences like that scarred you for life, and she could tell it was hard on Tony. Of course, she immediately knew what he meant. But not because sheâd lived through it. It was funny, to her at least, how shocked people were at the stories she told about her relationship, how sheâd been beaten and bruised, propped up and pinned down, how familiar she was with the barrels of guns and blades to her skin. But Harley hadnât suffered. He hadnât hurt her and apologized and hurt her again. Never, never had she thought of making an escape through a back window. There was a reason people said she was crazier than him. It was because sheâd loved it, all of it. Because sheâd known, sheâd have to enjoy his torture to be able to experience his love. Mr J wore a lot of scars on his skin, way more than her, and a good portion of those she had caused. But Harley didnât know how to explain that to someone who was convinced sheâd been a victim, because heâd seen a loved one be that. âIâm so sorry she had to go through that. You had to.â She was quiet for a moment - this wasnât about her, but she felt pressed to clear this up. âYou probably think I went through somelthing similar, but...â The blonde shook her head, stopped herself from speaking. Her voice was clear, Gotham accent almost gone. âMy mind is ... was too far gone to remember any of it as bad memories. You know? I mean, Iâm fucking insane.â There was a tiny line she didnât dare to cross, or she would surely scare him away. And she was walking that line.
Something she said must have definitely rubbed him the wrong way. Harley was well aware that most of her jokes werenât funny to others, and joking about drinking probably hit too close to home for him, for now, anyway. âCanât take me too seriously sometimes, pallie. I was only jokinâ.â She shook her head to reassure him. âThatâs impressive. Um, can I ask you something about that?â She came a little closer to him and tilted her head. âDo yaâ remember the good things ... or the bad things more?â
Youâve got one. Harley wanted to cry at that, strangely. It was like something was released in her, a kind of tension. Instead, she giggled and smiled wide, her eyes lighting up. âYouâre pretty awesome, yaâ know that, Tony?â She meant it. No matter how much he doubted himself, no matter how many mistakes he loaded onto his conscience, he was a superb human being.
The former doctor nodded. It was exhausting thinking of what would happen when ... all the time, because she knew, thinking about it wouldnât make it much better. It would be unexpected either way, because things like these were never predictable. But she couldnât stop, either. âYouâre right.â Suddenly, an image struck her mind. âMaybe itâs like a deathmatch! Like in a video game. Yaâ wouldnât think it, but I can throw a killer punch!â She was real proud of that, and even though she was joking, of course, it reflected in her face. âIt sounds like she was tryinâ taâ do the right thing. Thatâs not always easy. Actually, yaâ know what? Itâs never easy.â She gave a smile, hopefully comforting. âItâs damn hard.â