This is something short I wrote at like 2:07 two nights ago while I couldn't sleep. XD

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, or any of the characters within it.

Warnings: Suggestions of abuse, and mild selfharm. Nothing graphic.

Harley loved her Puddin', and he loved her.

... Right? This was love, was it not? He hadn't ever really said that he loved her... Most of his words to her were hurtful, and manipulative, but that was just his way of teasing. He never really meant those harsh words, venomous and scathing as they leapt off his tongue like sharp, piercing arrows.

Playful banter, that's all.

She'd do anything for him, throwing herself in harms way and emerging cut and bruised, crimson liquid falling like the pained tears she longed to release. She couldn't, though. Puddin' didn't like it when she cried, so that meant he loved her, right? He cared for her, didn't like to see her pained.

Joker used her... But, it, it wasn't really using, was it? No, people who are close did favours for each other. Harley was just overreacting, she was tired. Nothing a bit of sleep couldn't fix, that's all! Puddin' would never mean to hurt her.

He was forgetful, she told herself, as yet another birthday passed by without so much of a 'Happy Birthday' from her Joker. He was a busy man, running the crime in Gotham was a big job! Harley reminded herself, as she presented him with a handmade card, her yearly tradition for his birthday. He didn't mean to forget.

He wasn't observant, he had so many other things to keep his eye on! As the cuts and scars blatantly displayed on her arms went unnoticed, other than a comment on how she should take better care of herself. Mr. J was concerned for her, see! He did care!

... And yet, he did nothing as they multiplied, or as she replaced her top for a longer one that hid the ugly scars. Puddin' didn't like them, said they made her ugly. He was concerned about how she looked. He cared.

The cuts? Oh, they weren't much, just a few. Just a few to remind herself to do better. For each failure, each insult, each reprimand from Joker. Just one. It wasn't serious, really!

One night, during a chase across the Gotham rooftops, Nightwing asked her about it. About why she let Joker abuse her. "He's not abusing me!" Harley defended, even as her hands moved to subtly cover her latest bruise. "Mister J's just a little rough, that's all. He loves me!"

Nightwing had only regarded her with sad eyes, eyes full of pity as she was carted off to Arkham. No worries; Joker would be along to save her, soon. He always came.

... Didn't he?