Harley Quinn looked up into the rain and let the cool drops slowly wash off her white clown makeup. All around her was burning masses of rubble; from the building her "puddin'" Joker had just blown up. He was gone, not literally, not dead gone, but no where to be seen gone. She had defeated the Batgirl, and Red Robin (yes, the side-kicks name was actually after a restaraunt), it had been easy. After all, they were just children in capes. But they were her first kills, and now Batman had no one to help him. So Joker would be proud, right? She was expecting his warm embrace right now for helping him, but she felt nothing but the cool drops of rain hitting her face and sliding down her heart-shaped face taking her white makeup with it. But he was somewhere else, taking care of the flying fag, The Batman. Harley idly walked over to the alley next to the discrinated wherehouse, and kept walking till she got to where her and Joker resided. She slipped off her outfit and peeled her mask off and went to take a shower. After she went to bed without Joker's warm body becide hers. Before she went into her slumber she stroked her scar, the one that Joker gave her, the one that marked her as his. It was nothing but a fine white line, raised abover the rest of her arm, he had giver her others when he had lost his temper with him, but this was her favorite, it reminder her of him most. It was just a line, curved up on ends to rememble a smile. It wasn't intentioanlly suposto be a smile, but it turned out that way. Joker didnt like to hit his Harley, but it just turned out that way, he always felt horrid after doing so. But he would never admit it. Another thing he would never admit was the fact that he lover her, and needed her, but mostly that he craved her embrace and loved to hold her.

Joker trudged through the door in the very early hours of the day. He felt tired and defeated. He had not killed Batman, but he was very close. He had sliced him many times and he himself was injured. When he slammed the door Harley stirred a little and got up. "Heya Puddin'!" He just put his head down. Harley climbed off the bed and walked over to him. "Baby whats wrong?" No reply. He just pulled her into his cold, wet embrace. She gently moved the hair from his face, and caressed his cheeks and gently pulled his forhead to hers. He squeezed his eyes closed tight. "Lets go wash all that makeup off your face." She grabbed both of his hands and led him to the bathroom. She pushed him down on the toilet and put the water on hot and got the washrag wet, she rang it out and pressed it to his face. "OW!" he screamed as he struck her. Harley grabbed her cheek and bit her lip trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry Mistah J, i didnt think it would be that hot." He looked like he was torn in two, he felt horrible for hitting her (he didnt mean to, but he had anger issues), and the fact that she was apoligising when she was nothing but nice to him and he was the one who hit her, and the was she called him "Mistah J", he loved it, but sometimes it broke his heart.

"No, you didnt do anything." he hated to admit he was wrong, but mostly he hated to say he was sorry.

She sighed, "Ok, this may be hot, im sorry if it is." She gingerly pressed it to his face and wiped away his makeup. She wasnt allowed to touch his scars, that was what caused to most trouble, she would try to touch them and he would hit her. "Im gonna get your mouth and scars now. Or would you like to..?"

"You." he said with a shakey breath. She gently got his scars with the warm water and when all the makeup was gone, she just stared at his face. "What? Ashamed of what you 'puddin' " he sneared the name she called him, "really looks like?"

"No no no not at all! Its just-"

"That you cant stand the sight of me!"

"Absoutly not. Everyone has something unique about them, and i love your scars. They make you who you are. I love you. Everything, even your scars." She lightly kissed the side of his mouth, half her mouth hit his, half his scar.

"i want you yto tough them."

She froze. "Wha?" she asked confused.

"Touch them." he closed his eyes.

To Harley, this was the most intimate thing he could ever say, becides the 3 word sentence that she was sure was not in his vocabulary. She placed her left hand under his chin and with her right she gently grased his scars with her finger tips. He shuttered slightly and placed his hands on her curvy hips. He guided her to the bed and he sat down and placed her in his lap facing him. They just held eachother for a few moments. She stared into his amazing brown eyes, she noticed they had a little green in them. As he looked into her clear blue eyes, he saw nothing but innocence, happiness, and unconditional love, for him. She placed her head on his shoulder. He released a shakey breath he just realized he had been holding. "Harley, I love you."