"I have to go home," Harley said flatly. "I've been gone too long."

Her battered rucksack was already packed and leaning by the front door. Once it had been stiff and olive green but years of use and abuse had softened and faded the fabric bag to a dusty grey. A good portion of the front, sides, and shoulder straps were peppered with scrawled drawings matching the rough tattoos on Harley's legs and stomach.

"Gone from him, you mean," Delia replied in the same flat tone. "I'm not an idiot, Harleen. You think I don't know who Lucy's father is? After everything that maniac's done to you, how can you go back to him?"

Delia was nine years her sister's senior and had spent most of her life trying to protect her reckless baby sister from her own lack of self-interest. She shared Harley's bouncy blonde hair—although much shorter and only dyed to hide the growing number of greys—and youthful round face but with a much more muscular frame. Harley had always been thin, almost waifish, even while pregnant. Delia, on the other hand, had the look of someone who worked out for the strength rather than tone.

"You don't understand," Harley said to the flowered wallpaper behind her sister's ear. "He hasn't… It's not what he's done to me. It's just what I am."

"There's nothing for you in Gotham City and I certainly won't let you take Lucy there." Delia hugged the toe-head infant close to her chest protectively. "I left for a reason. It's no place to raise a child."

"I know," Harley replied sadly. "She'll have to stay here. You and Jeff can-"

"Stay. Stay here with your family, with the people who love you. I don't know if you'll be able to start up your practice again but the clinics are always looking for good psychotherapists," Delia said. "You can really help people. You were always so good at helping people."

"I can't. My mind… it's not what is was," Harley said shaking her head. "I can't just pick up where I was. If anyone ever figured out who I was, they'd never trust me."

"We'll get you a job somewhere else then," Delia promised. "You know I'll help you as much as I can. You're my baby sister. I lost you for five years. I don't want to lose you again."

"What am I going to do? Wait tables? Stock shelves at the library?" Harley laughed sardonically. "How long do you think that'll last before I mess that up too?"

Lucy cooed and giggled. Her plump little face smiled up at her aunt. Delia pressed her lips together and hitched the child up higher on her hip.

"How can you leave her?" Delia asked brushing her fingers through the baby's fine blonde hair. "You'd leave your daughter without her mother just so you can go back to a man who doesn't give a damn about you? A man who is too busy figuring out the best way to torture and KILL people - for fun - that he hasn't bothered to try and find his girlfriend who's been missing for nearly a year."

"That's the thing," Harley said with a sad smile. "Mr. J hasn't come for me because he knows I'll be back. He knows I'd never leave my Puddin'."

"What about Lucy?"

"I just need to know she'll be safe. You be the mother to her that I can't be."

"Harleen…" Delia fumbled for the right words to say to save her sister. Most of her life had been full of trying to save her doomed sister. "He's going to kill you one of these days."

"It's okay, Delia. Mr. J would never hurt me," Harley said quietly.

She thought of how the second joint of her left pinkie had never bent properly ever since he'd accidentally closed a drawer on it, how her ribs on the right side still aches when it was cold from that time when he'd thrown her against the wall a little rougher than he'd meant to. He had hurt her but she knew those had been accidents. He'd never hurt her on purpose. He loved her. Harley knew that.

Harley shook her head sharply and opened her mouth wide in a grin that nearly reached her eyes.

"Love is mad and so am I."

She kissed the top of Lucy's blonde head and the girl's tiny plump lips before scooping up her bag and disappearing into the night.


"Puddin'! I'm home!" Harley called into the warehouse that she and the Joker called home. "Puddin'?" She called again when she got no response.

"I'm in here, Doll Face!" A disembodied voice echoed in the darkness.

Harley followed the sound of her lover's voice through the warehouse until she found him sitting behind his oak desk in his office. His pointed alabaster chin was rested neatly on his steepled fingers.

"I'm back, Puddin'! I missed you so much!" Harley shouted gleefully, dropping her bag by the door.

She extended her long arms over her head as she arched her back in the manner of a gymnast signalling the end of a perfectly executed somersault. Crossing the room swiftly! She draped herself across the desk, trying for a kiss. The Joker sat back in his chair so his crimson lips were just millimeters out of her reach.

"Did you get the rope?" He asked. His emerald eyes glinted.

"Rope?" Harley's smile wavered at the edges but held. Her heart was fluttering away.

"You went out to get rope, remember? For the hostages, right?" The Joker pressed.

His voice snapped at the ends of the words "rope" and "right" making Harley start at each consonant.

"Umm…" Harley wavered. "Rope?" Her voice pitched up at the word.

"Yes, Harley. The rope." The Joker's grin never broke, not even a tiny bit. "Where. Is. The. Rope?"

"Oh!" Harley let out a loud peal of nervous laughter. "The rope. Of course. I must have forgotten."

She pushed herself to a standing position and leaned forward on her hands, making sure to press her bosom together just so. As she'd hoped, his eyes strayed downward for a single millisecond. She grinned her brightest, most mischievous smile.

"I'll just run right out and get it," she said.

"Good girl," he said, lightly brushing his lips against hers.

She turned on her heels and rushed out of the room, grabbing her bag on the way.

"And Harley," The Joker called when she was almost out the door.

"Yes, Puddin'?" Harley called back.

"Get us something to eat while you're out. I'm in the mood for something spicy."

"Sure thing, Mr. J," Harley promised. "Anything for you, Love."

As she strode down the street in the direction of the nearest restaurant, she hummed quietly to herself.

"Everything's just as it should be," she told herself.

And her smile only cracked a tiny bit on the edges.