Chapter 5: Dangerous Lessons
The recreation yard stank of wet concrete, stale sweat, and something vaguely metallic – maybe blood, maybe just the rust eating through the chain-link fence. Weak autumn sunlight did little to warm the cracked expanse. Harmony wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing grime. Her thin Arkham-issue shirt clung, damp and uncomfortable. Across the worn patch of concrete designated for "physical activity," Harley bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, looking terrifyingly alert despite the lingering shadows under her eyes. The absence of the straitjacket was still jarring; her movements were fluid, unbound.
"Alright, Hayes, showtime!" Harley chirped, the manic energy back, but with a harder edge today. Her eyes, a startlingly clear blue in the grey light, held none of last night's bewildered vulnerability. "You look like a startled rabbit someone dropped in a puddle. Less flailing, more focus." She gestured impatiently. "Again."
Harmony took a shaky breath, replaying Harley's earlier, brutal demonstration in her mind – the way she'd flowed around an imagined attacker, limbs becoming sudden, vicious weapons. Harmony squared her shoulders, tried to mimic the low, coiled stance Harley had shown her. She threw a clumsy punch towards Harley's shoulder.
Too slow. Way too obvious. Harley didn't even block. She simply sidestepped with contemptuous ease, her hand flashing out. Not a strike. A hard, open-palmed shove against Harmony's sternum that sent her staggering back, gasping, pain radiating through her chest. She hit the rough concrete wall with a jolt that rattled her teeth.
"Ow! Jesus, Harley!" Harmony wheezed, rubbing her breastbone.
"Jesus ain't walkin' these halls, sugar," Harley retorted, stalking closer. Her voice dropped, losing the singsong for a low, gravelly intensity. "That was a love tap. Out there?" Her gaze flicked towards the high walls topped with razor wire. "They ain't gonna tap. They're gonna grab. They're gonna try and shove you into a dark corner or the back of a van. You gotta move." She jabbed a finger at Harmony's feet. "Stance. Wider. Lower. Like you're rooted, but ready to bolt."
Harmony pushed off the wall, pain forgotten in a surge of frustration and adrenaline. She widened her stance, bent her knees deeper. Harley circled her like a shark, eyes missing nothing.
"Better. Now, when they come at you..." Harley lunged forward, not full speed, but fast enough to make Harmony flinch. She grabbed roughly for Harmony's upper arm, mimicking an attacker. "...you don't pull straight back. You give 'em what they want... kinda." Her free hand shot up, not to strike Harley, but to clamp over Harley's grabbing hand, pinning it to her own arm. Her other hand darted sideways, seizing Harley's wrist. "Trap the hand. Anchor it. Now you move."
Before Harmony could process, Harley pivoted sharply on her heel. Her body turned into the hold, leveraging Harmony's own trapped grip. Harmony felt herself pulled off balance, her weight shifting forward uncontrollably. Harley's hip slammed into her midsection, a solid, jarring impact.
"Use their momentum," Harley hissed, her breath hot against Harmony's ear as she effortlessly swept Harmony's legs out from under her with a hooked ankle. Harmony hit the concrete hard on her back, the air whooshing out of her lungs in a painful gasp. Stars danced in her vision.
"You... okay?" Harley's face appeared above her, blocking the weak sun, a flicker of something – concern? amusement? – in her eyes.
Harmony coughed, rolling onto her side. "Peachy," she managed, spitting out concrete dust. Her ribs ached, her shoulder throbbed where she'd landed.
"Up," Harley commanded, stepping back. "Faster this time."
They went again. And again. And again. Harmony learned to trap the grabbing hand faster, to plant her feet more stubbornly, to pivot with the pull instead of resisting it uselessly. Each time, Harley adjusted her grip, demonstrated the leverage point, explained the brutal physics of it in clipped, clinical terms that clashed horrifyingly with her usual chaos. Each time, Harmony ended up on her back or her knees, the concrete unforgiving.
Sweat plastered Harmony's curls to her temples, stung her eyes. Her muscles screamed in protest. Harley, though breathing harder now, a sheen of sweat on her own pale skin, seemed energized by the violence. Her movements were precise, economical, terrifyingly efficient. The playful menace was gone, replaced by the focused intensity of a predator teaching its young to hunt.
"Stop telegraphing," Harley snapped as Harmony prepared another desperate grab-trap. Harmony had barely moved her shoulder when Harley's hand shot out, not to grab, but to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to Harmony's bicep. "They see that little twitch comin' a mile away. Smooth, Hayes. Fluid. Like water."
Harmony gritted her teeth, forcing her body to relax minutely, to suppress the instinctive flinch. She focused purely on Harley's approaching hand. This time, when Harley grabbed, Harmony moved. Her hands clamped down, trapping Harley's wrist and forearm against her own body. She anchored the grip, felt the solidity of Harley's arm beneath her hands. Then, remembering the pivot, she started to turn.
"Good," Harley breathed, her voice suddenly much closer. Too close. As Harmony pivoted, Harley moved with her, her body pressing flush against Harmony's back. Harmony froze, acutely aware of the heat radiating from Harley, the damp cotton of her shirt, the lean muscle beneath. Harley's free hand – the one not trapped – slid around Harmony's waist, fingers splaying possessively over her hip bone.
"Now," Harley murmured, her lips almost brushing the shell of Harmony's ear. Her breath was warm, sending an unwelcome shiver down Harmony's spine that had nothing to do with the autumn chill. The hand on Harmony's hip exerted firm pressure, pulling her back slightly against Harley's body, adjusting her stance. "Hips forward. Here." Her thumb pressed into the dip of Harmony's waist, sending another jolt through her. "Plant that back foot. Feel the ground. You gotta be a rock before you become a wave." Her fingers lingered, tracing the curve of Harmony's hipbone through the thin fabric. The touch wasn't painful, but it was intimate, invasive, charged with an energy that made Harmony's skin prickle. It felt less like correction and more like… possession. A claim.
Harmony's breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum solo drowning out the distant screams and the buzz of the asylum. She could smell the sharp tang of Harley's sweat mingling with something chemical, maybe cheap asylum soap, maybe something else entirely. Trapped between Harley's body and her own trapped arm, the world narrowed to the pressure of Harley's hand on her hip, the warmth against her back, the low murmur vibrating against her neck.
"Don't freeze, cupcake," Harley whispered, her voice a low thrum that resonated deep in Harmony's chest. The hand on her hip slid lower, just an inch, fingertips brushing the top of her thigh. "Use the leverage. Now."
The command, whispered against her skin, shattered the paralysis. Harmony acted on pure adrenaline-fueled instinct. She drove her hips back, hard, into Harley's solid frame, using the trapped arm as an anchor and Harley's own body as a fulcrum. At the same moment, she kicked her leg out, hooking her ankle behind Harley's knee – a move Harley hadn't shown her, something born purely of panic and proximity.
It shouldn't have worked. Not on Harley Quinn.
But caught off guard, perhaps by Harmony's sudden, desperate movement or the unexpected kick, Harley’s balance wavered. Her grip on Harmony's hip tightened instinctively, pulling her closer as she stumbled backwards half a step. They didn't go down. Not quite. But the stumble was there. A fractional loss of control.
Harley caught her balance almost instantly, her body snapping back to its coiled readiness. But her eyes, when they locked onto Harmony's, wide with shock and exertion, weren't angry. They were… intrigued. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face, sharp as broken glass.
"Well, well," Harley purred, her hand still firm on Harmony's hip, the other still loosely pinned. Her gaze swept over Harmony's flushed face, lingering on her parted lips. "Look who found some bite. Guess there's more under that scared bunny fur than I thought." She leaned in fractionally, her breath ghosting over Harmony's cheek. "Keep surprising me, Hayes. Things get real interesting when you surprise me."