Disclaimer: I own nothing but my words and my mind. DC owns everything else.

Authors Note: So Iv'e actually been writing this for months but important stuff like University work and actual work have prevented me from having lots of time to get this finished. I currently have 2 chapters down. Here's the first. Enjoy! -Be nice...

Chapter 1

This had been the one and only time he seriously was not expecting her to get hurt. Not as bad as she had.

Since Harley had been with him there seemed to have been a million disappointing jobs, mishaps, mistakes, foiled plots and Bat appearances. Almost every time she was somehow injured. If not by accident, he had certainly been sure to punish her for fucking up. Entirely depending on the degree to which she had messed up. Of course. I mean yeah they had rough sex, sometimes so rough she'd been black and blue for well over a week, he'd even broken her bones once or twice. But that was different, she enjoyed that, she let him. Even when he was so mad it frightened her she hadn't fought back. And after the 'magical' mix that bitch Ivy had given her, she was somewhat stronger than him too. And she knew it. But she never, ever fought back. She always let him be in control, gritted her teeth, closed her eyes and embraced whatever he had thrown at her. Sometimes literally... he had thrown a television at her once and stupidly she had tried to catch it. She shattered her wrist and shoulder but they had both laughed at her stupidity. Seriously Harl, why on earth did you think you could catch it? He smiled pleasantly at the memory.

This time had been different. The plan had been simple, the expectation for damage minimal. If he was honest he hadn't expected it to work but had he expected it to go that wrong.

They had lured Batman to an old abandoned fun fair, and the plan was to trap him in the hall of mirrors with a small bomb. He would be able to see it reflected back at him a hundred different ways and he would have less than 60 seconds to find the real one and defuse it. If he failed, he'd be absolutely shredded by thousands of glass shards. They'd been sure to take the belt and the cape. Of course, they were't that stupid. Harley had even rigged up a colorful bumper car as their escape vehicle, she was so creative like that. That was one reason he secretly enjoyed her company, she'd placed her own vibrant stamp to each and every plan. She was so spontaneous, so imaginative? Of course that meant she made more than her fair share of fuck ups... but she always made up for them. She had mixed cotton candy into the explosive gum, "Pretty sweet explosion huh Mistah J!" and he had laughed hysterically. She really could be absolutely amazing sometimes. But only sometimes.

It had all backfired of course. Batman had found the bomb and defused it. After retrieving his belt he blasted a hole through the roof. But what neither Joker or Batsy knew, was Harley had fitted the bomb with a back up detonator. Only she knew the code. The clock restarted in Jim Gordon's hands with 10 seconds on the clock. Batman had gasped, utterly horrified, making an attempt to stop it, rushing towards Jim madly. There was just no time. Harley had parked the car just under a mega-coster beside the entrance gate. She sat in it laughing wildly, her hands cuffed and the two GCPD officers standing besides her had retreated to safety. Even the Joker had winced from the side lines, gazing upon her somewhat lovingly but mostly with surprise.

Batman had meant to toss the bomb high into the air, shielding Jim from the blast with his cape. Unexpectedly however, the strong wind curved its direction. It hurtled down, landing just beside the bumper car. And Harley. In the last milliseconds before the explosion Harley had dived behind a large wooden 'height restriction' sign and shot Joker a sorrowful glare. His last thought was wondering how loud the blast would be? A week later his ears still rang slightly from the sound of the explosion. Although he could only hear it if he concentrated really, really hard. He remained otherwise unscathed. Batman and the cops had been completely fine of course. Strangely enough Bruce Wayne had recently shown up to a gala sporting a sling, turns out he had dislocated his shoulder in a skiing accident. At least thats what he told everyone.

Harley on the other hand... had not been so lucky. The blast had shattered the coasters supporting railings and sent tons of steel hurting down upon her. It took Batman, the police and Joker's goons nearly 25 minutes just to find her. It was harder once her screams stopped.

"At least you're not dead pumpkin pie!" Joker now stood beside the bed where Harley lay sedated and utterly miserable. He had taken her back to the lair to heal, Arkham had been such a long drive and it wasn't like he was bothered by the sight of blood. He'd been sure to tear away before anyone could take her. The skilled hands of a paramedic with a gun to his head had patched her up as best he could on the way to the lair before the mob doctor arrived. He'd been kind enough to leave enough medication behind to keep her going for months. Joker had shot the paramedic anyway, but had been sure to keep the uniform. Convinced it could come in handy someday. Now his huge marble hand smoothed her hair back delicately, her face was still violent shades of purple and blue. His eyes frowned as he looked over her.

It had been her lower half that took most of the impact but her cheeks and mouth had been smashed by debris. Her eyes now appeared sunken and were rimmed by deep black circles. Her eyes badly bloodshot underneath. He remarked that she had been almost frightening to see at first. Now however she looked almost like a small broken, blonde panda and he smiled. Her arms were plastered, both broken by the blast as she raised them to shield her face. She had broken all the bones in her right hand and the fingers now looked twisted, crushed and her bandages still bloody. Her casts were both hot pink, he'd chosen the color while she had been unconscious, he knew she'd appreciate that at least. The explosion had practically demolished any cover she'd found so some ribs had been crushed and both her legs were broken awfully in many places. The thought of all those compound fractures skirted across Joker's mind and he shuddered slightly. There had been so much blood, so much so he was surprised her tiny body had held that much. Luckily however there was no severe damage to her spine, in fact her back had been nothing more than a tiny hairline fracture. Her pelvis the cleanest break. Now she was held together with near to 300 tiny metal screws, her pelvis fitted with a metal plate and parts of her ribcage were now metal too. He hadn't wanted to know all the gory details, if he was honest with himself he felt slightly guilty. But only slightly.

She now lay sedated and bandaged, hooked up to a morphine drip in the back room of the Larf Factory, serving as their bedroom. Every so often Harley's breaths would turn from harsh deep sighs into high-pitched wheezing and Joker would know to increase her pain relief. Her left lung was punctured in the impact and he found it fascinating to watch her tiny chest rise and fall haphazardly, almost like every breath was a struggle. She still found it hard to speak, more out of exhaustion. For the most part she remained motionless but every now and then tears ran in streaks down her face, a constant frown between her eyes. As he looked over her tiny broken body the feeling came again. This was by far the one and only time genuine guilt surfaced inside Joker. Knowing this, an anger began to bubble within him.

After all, she was of course annoying... and frightfully irritating, persistent, needy, deranged, loud, disrespectful, utterly stupid and clumsy! She regularly embarrassed him, weakened his reputation. She humanized him... which was not entirely a terrible thing. She wasn't completely useless after all. He would never tell her that though. No, she did have her uses... tidying up after him, keeping things organised, feeding his ego somewhat with her encouragement... on literally everything he did. She was a lousy cook, but he was never hungry and she went above and beyond to ensure he was well looked after and always comfortable. She was intelligent, and now and again she was a riot to be around! She had this unpredictable wit that materialized from nowhere! She was so supportive, after all, she was made entirely in his image! She was his, always had been, his to do with and make into anything he pleased. She followed him loyally. She completely and unconditionally loved him. That was another thing... she was hopelessly devoted. After all why else would she put up with a wild unpredictability such as his? Nobody else would, not for free anyway. She however welcomed and embraced it. Oh god but her voice was such a drain, and she always, always wanted something! She felt like she had a god given right to regular displays of affection, like she had earned it... maybe she had. He had given it to her willingly on occasion, of course that had been for his own gratification also. At least he made sure she had thought so, after all they were not equals here. He was the boss, she had to know that. Very rarely, so rarely she sometimes wondered if it ever happened, he would let his guard down. A rough kiss would turn gentle, what was meant as a slap ended up a caress. On that very first night, her first night as Harley Quinn when she had sprung him from Arkham, he had been so grateful and astonished by her and her transformation he had actually made love to her.

And beaten her within a inch of her life the next morning, she never dared to mention it after that, not even once. Now there was just this sensual game of power and submission, a constant exchange of give and take. Despite all her pain and sufferings, she stayed for those rare flashes and glimpses into normality... but it gradually stopped mattering. Soon every moment seemed undeniably perfect to her. Even when she had left, he was always the one to come and get her, he had always found her. Mostly because she always told him where she was, but still. He had sought her out she was always always willing to return. A bunch of roses or a night out in Gotham more often than not rubbed away the memories of why she had left. Cat and mouse was just another game they played. Secretly, since she had manifested herself, he now found it very hard to be without her. He had grown entirely used to and even fond of having her around. Granted she was around constantly which often irritated him into a murderous rage. But somehow not having her seemed worse. He would miss looking up from his desk to see her smiling at him adoringly.

She was the only one who genuinely laughed at his jokes, not out of fear like the boys did. She aided him in every aspect, was able to be in places he couldn't. She still had a disguise of normality and as Harleen she provided him with a advantage point. In the places she was less known she could still manipulate her way into high profile events with a shake of her perky tits and a wink. But as Harley she was... almost his equal. Almost. It was a painful thing for him to imagine that she might just bring out the best in him. She bore the scars of their years together and even though she desperately searched him for more, he knew things would continue in this way until he was willing to change that. If he never did. But even if he didn't he knew that she might accept that too. The longer she stayed, the less she strived for the sunset fairytale ending and was more contempt to accept that she had given up any chance of having a normal family, a husband, children. But she got him. She got to be his, she was invited into a secret special bubble of destruction and together they could watch Gotham burn. She could be happy with that.

For now he sat next to her quietly, her breaths grew strained and he reached for her iv line. Tears fell from her swollen eyes once again and he wondered if feeling guilty and feeling sorry were too entirely different things altogether. Either way he noticed how his hand automatically reached for hers, his thumb grazing her bruised knuckles. She fell back into a deeper sleep and her breathing grew steady. He returned to smoothing her hair back from her forehead. He leant in closer to her face, so close her eyelashes stroked his cheek. He kissed her gently, he wondered if she'd even feel it. Sure enough her heart race increased slightly and he stifled a laugh. He sighed, his poor girl, lying broken because of him and he still made her heart race. He learnt down and pressed his lips to her ear. Mournfully he sighed, "I really am sorry this time kid." The slowing of her heart rate and a fresh flow of tears were her response.