The room was a mess. Glass littering the floor from the smashed mirrors. A lamp knocked over, lightbulb shattered. Their bed sheets hanging half off the bed, pillows torn open, the soft feather stuffing spilling everywhere. Drawers ripped out of the dresser, closet doors clinging to a single hinge, and clothes strewn all across the floor. Amidst the wreckage Joker and Harley stood across from each other.

Harley held a large bag overflowing with haphazardly thrown in clothes in one hand, and her gun in the other. Silent tears streamed down her face, further smearing her ruined makeup.

Joker stood there, breathing raggedly, with an intense and worried look on his face.

"Harls," he spoke in a rough voice.

"Joker," she replied brokenly.

Joker visibly shivered. Gulping loudly, a pained look crossing his face.

"No. No. Don't, call me that baby."

Harley stared at him with a blank face.

"That's your name isn't it?" She replied without a hint of emotion.

Joker furrowed his non-existent brows, as confusion and hurt flickered across his strikingly grey-blue eyes.

"I'm your Puddin', Harls".

He bitterly chuckled to himself, thinking how he hated it when she first started calling him that, and now wishes -needs- to hear her call him that, one last time.

Harley painfully laughed to herself. "Are you really? How do I know you're not her Puddin'?"

She started getting worked up again, her hands shaking, as all the information she'd learned only hours earlier kept slamming in her mind, taunting her.

"How am I supposed to believe that anything we've had all this time is even real? How am I supposed to believe anything you say to me isn't a lie just to get me to stay so you can keep batting me around like your little toy." Her tears were flowing freely now, as sobs wracked her entire body.

Joker let it all sink in. Her tears. The pain in her voice. It made him feel raw and cut open. Vulnerable. He didn't like this feeling. He dealt with his feeling the only way he knew how, by shoving them and letting his anger build.

"Harley, you're starting to make daddy mad with all that complete bullshit coming out of your pretty little mouth. What happened in the past, is exactly that. You know how I feel about you. Now why don't you cut the sob story and get to cleaning this mess up before I really give you something to cry about."

Joker was trying to defuse this bomb between them, wanting them to go back the way they were. But he could tell that what he'd told Harley tonight was the last straw for her, and he could feel that this was going to end badly.

Eyes widening, Harley shook her head and dropped her bag. "No! No. Stop lying to me, I've had enough. You can't worm your way out of this one, not this time, Joker. Our entire relationship you've pushed me around. Treated me as your possession, and I've let you because I knew I that deep down you cared for me. You've never once told me you loved me, and I was okay with that, because I knew that talking about how you feel is hard for you. I was so stupid! Why would you ever care about me when you're actually still hung up on someone else."

Out of breath after her speech, she tried to bring herself back together, and was startled by Joker's loud hysterical laugh.

"Now I knew that electroshock, and your dip in the chemicals made you crazy, but this is a new level of crazy, even for you." Joker wanted to tell her that he loved her, because he truly did in his own fucked up kind of way, but she had some truth to her words, and his pride wouldn't let him speak up. The Joker didn't do feelings. So instead he did what did best and continued to laugh, thinking of a way to manipulate her into letting the subject go. Like he always did.

Harley's lip began to quiver as she realized that she was right. She was just his toy, that he never even loved her. It's always just one big joke to him. She felt numb.

"Of course," she spoke in a low whisper, looking down at her brightly coloured red and blue toenails. "Go ahead, laugh at the funny little harlequin who fell in love with the infamous Joker."

Lifting her head, she stared into the Joker's eyes. He had stopped laughing at the tone of her voice, sensing a change in her.

"Baby wha-"

"I love you Puddin'. Always have, always will. As much as I want to leave you I can't because I love you too much, But I can't stay with you either knowing you love someone else". Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for what she was about to do.

"Come on, baby, knock it off. You're getting all worked up over nothing nothing," he spoke calmly.

Joker felt unnerved by the detached look in her eyes, and monotone way she spoke. It all happened in slow motion for him as he watched Harley click off the safety on her gun and bring it up to her right temple, not even flinching as she pulled the trigger. Joker tried to run and stop her, but he was too late. He was stuck watching as her blood splattered onto their dresser, and how she slowly fell to the ground with a thump. The gun fell from her grip as all her muscles went lax.

"No!"

Dropping to his knees he picked up Harley's now limp form and cradled her to his chest, paying no mind to her blood soaking through his clothes. He brought his hand up to her face, and brushed the blood matted hair out of the way. Bringing his head down to hers, he pressed his lips against her cheek, feeling the warmth slowly leaving her body.

"You stupid, stupid, woman! What have you done," he choked out in a strangled voice. "I love you. Of course, I do. How could you not have known."

Joker rocked her lifeless body back and forth, as he blinked away the strange stinging in his eyes that threatened to overflow. He glanced to where Harley's gun had landed and picked it up, letting his eyes brush over the 'love' and 'hate' on the cylinder, before bringing it up against his own temple.

"I'm coming for you, baby."

With a strong grip, he swiftly pulled the trigger and let the bullet fly freely into his skull.

Joker awoke with a deep gasp for air. His legs tangled in the sheets, sweat clinging to his bare chest. He brought his hands through his sweat slicked hair taking deep breaths. It was just a nightmare. He wasn't dead. Harley wasn't dead. It was just a nightmare. Everything was fine.

Except it wasn't. As he rolled over onto his side and noticed Harley's cold, empty side of the bed, he quickly sobered up to reality. Harley was gone. Has been for three days. While she hadn't killed herself after what she learned the other night, she had left him. After they screamed and fought all night, she had packed a bag and walked right out the door, and hasn't been back since. Sure, she's left many times before and always came back, but this time was different. He could feel it. The constant stabbing feeling in his chest, reminding him of how royally he had screwed up this time. It was all his fault. His Harley was gone. He needed his Harley. After all, what is a Joker without his Harlequin?