The tall buildings of Gotham gleamed in the sunlight, causing me to cover my eyes as I walked down the busy streets. I hadn't even thought to bring sunglasses with me, how stupid. But I did leave in quite a hurry so I can't fully blame myself. If I was going to blame anyone for the sun being in my eyes, I would blame my parents who were stupid enough to kick an eighteen year old girl out of their house. Not just any eighteen year old though, their own daughter. It was over something completely and utterly ridiculous, in my opinion. My parents and I never shared the same views on anything. I guess that's what started this whole mess. Let me explain.

I had just returned from my last day as a senior in high school. My hopes and dreams were looking up and so was the rest of my life. I was as optimistic as I had ever been as I opened the door to my average sized home to reveal my parents sitting in the beige, boring, and oddly tense living room. The hushed conversation they were having ceased and silence swept over them. Just before I could ask them what was going on, my father lifted a bottle from under the coffee table. The label on the container was peeling, making it even harder to read. I squinted and stepped closer making out the now clear label, "Jack Daniels," oh shit.

"How do you explain this? Wait-don't even try to. We know you have been well," my father said as he put his hand on my mother's knee and gave her a failed attempt at a sad look, "partying hard."

After that statement was made, they gave me an hour to pack and handed me a hundred dollar bill. Okay well maybe I had been drinking lately and maybe that was irresponsible but that was no reason for them to kick me out on the streets. I ran to the bus station that night, carrying what clothes I had brought in a beat up oversized purse. I had no idea where I was going. So that meant that no one else knew either. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I arrived at the station, I glanced over the many traveling brochures until one popped out at me. "Gotham City, where the sunshines bright and the smiles brighter," how sweet, I thought.

And now here I was, twenty four hours later, after being bounced around a bus with random strangers. I was finally starting my new beginning. First step was finding a place to crash. From the faces on the brochure, people here looked nice. I had a total of 50 bucks left over, maybe a cheap motel?

I wandered in to a small park where parents were bringing their children to run and play, obviously with hopes of tiring the little tikes out so they'd sleep soundly tonight. I threw my bag on the soft grass and I quickly laid down stretched as much as I could. The grass was oddly comforting. I watched the clouds float by and my sights fell upon a large billboard that read "Wayne Enterprises," a good looking man's faced smiled down on the entire city.

That was the last thing I remember before the cool night breeze woke me from my nap. I hadn't even noticed how much time had passed. I searched for my phone in my purse and saw it was 9:00pm. Oh goody. I was alone in an unfamiliar city at night. Sweat was causing my blonde hair to stick to my face. I snatched my bag from the ground and sprinted in search of a motel.

I walked the streets again except this time, they were full of a different type of crowd. Everyone was heading towards the various neon signs that lit up even the darkest corners. I was giving up hope so I slumped on to a bench.

"Good going, Harley. I don't see the smiling faces. I guess the brochure was a joke," I mumbled to myself. A deep purple sports car rolled slowly over towards me and stopped directly infront of the bench in which I was sitting. A tall handsome figure emerged. His hair was a green tint and a smile was plastered on his face.

Months had passed since that faithful night where I had met the man of my dreams.

I was now propped up against the living room wall, listening to Mr. J go on and on about a plan he had been working on. He was bouncing ideas off me and the other henchmen one after the other. I was only halfway listening so I only caught bits and pieces of the scheme.

"...now we know that Bruce Wayne is Batman!" he said as waved his arms around, hoping to draw more attention than needed but that was what he liked.

Joker looked at me hoping to receive some sort of conformation but my mind drew blank. I gave him a clueless stare and nodded with a smile on my face.

YOU DON'T GET THE JOKE, DO YOU?" screamed Joker, approaching me fiercely, knocking over a glass that was on the counter. It shattered all over the floor but he just stepped on the shards. Crunch. The sound made my skin crawl.

I could tell he saw the fear in my eyes as he got closer, which only aggravated him even more and fueled his fire. Being a psychopathic villain, you grow accustom to gaining energy from fear, but that's just a guess.

"I did what you wanted to do, I helped you, didn't I?" My voice was shaking almost as much as I was and it wouldn't stop cracking.

Right then and there, I felt everything around us become heavy and uncontrollable; the one plan he had schemed together, the one he knew would work, I didn't get it. It was all ruined, by this stupid, and too loving girl he accepted into his home. I betrayed him by not understanding.

"Puddin' I'm so-"

I could tell he was sick of me, sick of me assing into his plans, sick of me being around. I know he hated how clingy I'd become. It nauseated him.

"Shut your trap." He spat, as I closed my eyes and took a breath in. I brought my hands to my face, and started to shake even more and squeezed my eyes shut. When I get upset, I shake, a lot.

"Ha," Joker laughed at me, mocking me, it was funny to him. Crying was useless, it made no sense. Crying made him sick. He had told me this every time I would even begin to cry. He could see the tears start to form in my eyes and automatically grit his teeth and yell some sort of profanity but this time was different.

Joker whipped out his arm and grasped his hand around my throat. He slowly lifted me off the ground. I could feel my throat contracting, attempting to expand and let air come through. A small smirk started to sketch itself onto his face, he couldn't help it. He liked doing this, it was funny, how the fear in my eyes was trying to reach out to him. I dug my fingernails into his forearm; all he did though, was grip harder at my throat.

He looked me dead in the eyes whilst moving a shining strand of blonde hair from my forehead. He was bored of this now, it wasn't funny anymore.

Joker released his grip around my throat, and I dropped to the floor. I landed on top of the crushed glassed and winced. I quickly got up and attempted to regain my composure.

"Leave." He told me, he was trembling, now. I stood there as confused and lost as ever. Did he mean it? He always threatened me with promises of dropping me off where nobody would ever find me. But this was also different. No threats, just a plain, simple, on word statement. I remained silent and didn't move an inch, mostly from fear.

"Did you not hear me? LEAVE! As in, get the FUCK out of here." He yelled once more, causing me to lose my mind. I could feel my thoughts were going in all different directions. They were kind of like the broken glass that was all over the floor, scattered.

Joker noticed I hadn't moved, and that infuriated him even more, he turned himself around and smacked me, right across my left cheek. As he did, my body slammed to the floor once more. I silently picked myself up, again.

"Get. Out." He sneered, with as much coldness in his voice as he could, into my ear. I was still frozen in fear. Sweat was pouring down his face and his makeup was smearing.

"Harley, if you don't get out, I'm going to KILL you." I thought of all the threat he had uttered so many times, without care.

"I can kill you, Harley."

"Don't do that or I'll kill you."

"I have power more power than you. Don't piss me off, sweetcheeks."

Those are just a number of things he had said to me in our less than six months of knowing each other. But he looked so damn hot when he said them. I was not helping his mood by refusing his orders and staring in to space, it just made him even angrier.

"I can't help that I don't understand," I mumbled under my breath. It surprised me I even had the strength to say that.

I finally got the guts to move. I turned around, and walked toward the door. I twisted the rusty knob and walked out. I didn't even bother to close the door behind me because if I did, I would have slammed it shut which would have definitely pissed Mr. J off even more. I saved myself the bruises. I began my walk towards the main part of Gotham that I now knew like the back of my hand. I turned around to see the abandoned building that I had been living in the last couple months fade from sight. I was yet again being kicked out of the one place I could call home and rejected by someone I loved.

Joker had taken me in and allowed me to live under his roof as long as I followed his rules and did what he said when I was asked. And oh yes, there were lots of rules.

1. Don't disturb the Joker while he is making plans to destroy Batman or anyone else for that matter.

2. Don't wake the Joker while he slept.

3. Don't cut him off or interrupt him while he's talking.

The list really went on to cover the whole front of the fridge where I could clearly see. I had helped him rob numerous banks and formulate several plans. His biggest rule, "Don't have anything to do with Batman and never see him in a positive light, Harls. He is a horrible man that is trying to destroy your puddin'," he had told me that almost daily.

My puddin'.

I didn't really love the Joker, did I? I was more infatuated with him than anything. Interested at first. Interested in how his mind worked. I started to develop feelings for him. I confronted Mistah J about these feelings and broke out in to laughter. He waved me out of his office and cried the rest of the night. I realized a lot of things at that moment. Number one:

the Joker can't love.

I arrived at the central part of the city, finally. I passed a shop window and caught a glimpse of my reflection. I saw how different I looked. I quickly began to wipe the ridiculous makeup off my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I yanked my pigtails down as well and ran my fingers through my hair. I needed a new identity yet again. Joker had molded me in to something I never wanted to be.

I found a coffee shop and settled there for a couple hours. I gave use to their bathroom facilites and ridded my face of my, now awful, past with the Joker. The staff had realized that I was lost and offered free coffee and let me stay there until closing time. I now made my way towards the nearest bar. I needed a drink and maybe they wouldn't card me.

As I approached the red rope, I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned to find myself face to face, or rather face to chest, with the one and only Batman, well I guess Bruce Wayne at the moment. I was so taken back I let out a high pitched squeal.

A couple weeks ago Mr. J and I were given information about Batman's identity. Needless to say, Mr. Wayne was suprised to see our smiling faces in his batcave. After a short scrap, we promised him we wouldn't reveal his name to the other villains or anyone for that matter. Joker does keep his promises, oddly enough. Mr. J said that if everyone knew who Batman truly was, there would be no fun. It's kinda like us three share an inside joke.

"Miss, aren't you a bit young to be standing in line for a bar?" He asked seriously, leading me away from the front of the line and to a bench nearby.

"Actually, I am too young to be IN a bar, not in a line to the bar." I remarked with a smile on my face. My sarcasm had surely grown a bit in my time with Joker.

A grin formed on his oddly young face. I had never really noticed when we were in combat that he couldn't be over 26, about the same age as Mr. J. He was kinda cute, too. Tall, dark, and handsome man for sure.

"Well, you're right. I noticed you are beat up a bit. Care to fill me in?" He said as he stared at me intently. I was sure as hell not telling him how I got so beat up. I began to speak but he interrupted.

"You're Harley Quinn, aren't you? Yes, you are. Don't freak out. I am not going to arrest you. I just want to help. Oh my, you are cuter without that clown makeup on," he chuckled and I cracked a smile as butterflies filled my stomach. It's been a while since that had happened.

I felt someone grab the back of my head. A familiar feeling. "Well, well Batman, you hitting on my girl?" asked Joker, tightening his grip on my loose flowing hair. We were in an empty part of town, thank god.

"I'm not the only one here doing the hitting." Batman said in a now more serious tone. My stomach dropped, this wasn't going to be good.