exactly what you want
by cimorene
since it seems to need some explanation, what little i can offer is that i was thinking about city on the edge of forever, a classic star trek episode written by harlan ellison, and also about fanfiction involving the joker and harley quinn. harlan, harley... well. this is the result.

people who are too self-absorbed or self-righteous--or delusional--to accept what i have to say have called me insane before, naturally. you don't imagine these things might be true. you don't listen to the doubts others have, and if you doubt yourself, you don't open your mouth about it. but frankly, i wasn't in the habit of wasting time with that kind of thing. when was the last time i hadn't known exactly what i wanted?

i woke up in a dark and close room, alone and, it seemed to me, bound to a chair. 'where am i?' i asked myself, but i didn't expect an answer.

'relax,' mocked the black mouth of the doorway, in my own voice and a lilting sing-song. 'you'll like it here.' and then my voice laughed, and when i tensed and shook my arms, i found i wasn't bound to the chair at all, only sitting in it. i walked closer and closer and closer to the black door, cautiously. at first the only sound was the whispering of my feet on the floor; and then i thought i heard an echo--but that was ridiculous, unless the room were a part of some large cavern. closer, closer, and i thought i could catch glimpses of someone in the murky distance in the doorway, just a pale flash, eyes, teeth.

i didn't want to speak.

but when i reached the doorway, it was a black mirror, and i was looking into my own waxy sweat-beaded face. i reached to take off my glasses.

in the mirror, i was smiling--until the whitest, slenderest, longest hands i'd ever seen came up to cover my eyes. but for those milky hands it was as black in the room outside as behind my eyelids. i tried to turn around, and the body attached to them appeared. arms like steel bands, a whisper of breath on the side of my face--a rigid body, as unnaturally slender and long as the hands, taut with corded muscles, pressed along the line of my spine.

'relax,' said my voice again, in that same mocking tone--only higher, perhaps, just a little. this time i felt my lips move around with it. i tried to cover my mouth. i didn't know if i were speaking. there was no breath on my lips when the room filled with wild, hysterical laughter. he was laughing in my ear, cackling, shouting with it.

'yes, do,' he said in an absurdly cheerful voice. baritone. a threatening shiver stole through me, but i could make myself even try to tear away. i was boneless. 'do relax, doll,' he crooned in my ear. the voice had dropped to a seductive whisper. the arms fell, twined around my chest and pulled me immobile and pressed the lengths of our bodies together. he was calm, if bouts of hysterical giggles can be called calm, except for his aroused hardness pressing against the small of my back.

my pulse was pounding. 'mister--' i started to protest--no, i whispered--but it wasn't a protest. or was it?

'look at me.' he'd uncovered my eyes?

i looked.

he stooped over me with a glossy smile of bloody ghoulish glee painted on his white face. the menacing drawl, the quirk of eyebrow, the shock of white hair at his temples. i knew him. 'my harley,' he said, mockingly, in my ear, and sank his teeth into my neck sharply--probably almost drew blood, i don't know, but oddly, i wasn't saying anything--just waiting, waiting for something to come out of my mouth, for my voice to say something, anything, from elsewhere in the room, but it was silent.

i thought i was going to say 'where am i' again. no, i didn't know what i wanted to say, so i only opened my mouth to find out. i didn't say anything, only sighed and relaxed, and let him tell me.

'don't--move,' he said. 'trust me, harley.' in the mirror, a flash of silver, and a sting and something sharp biting into my neck. 'you don't want to move.'