Harley Quinn: Kristen Bell

The Joker: Heath Ledger

Bruce Wayne/Batman: Christian Bale

Alfred Pennyworth: Michael Cane

Tim Drake/Robin: Liam Aiken

Dick Grayson/Nightwing: Milo Ventimiglia

"Errraaagh!"

The bowl broke against the metal door on the opposite side and shattered, no doubt spraying hot porridge across the walls and floor. Alfred turned to Bruce who was adjusting his armored suit, preparing to enter the room disguised as The Batman for their third attempt at a home-made therapeutic session.

"I am not cleanin' that up", the butler insisted and turned to disappear down the hall.

Bruce shook his head with a sigh and continued to ensure that each piece of armor plated material was safely bound to his body. Harley Quinn was a small woman, but he had already made the mistake of underestimating her strength and power in the past. He had the scars to prove it.

"She sure does have a vendetta for you", a male voice chimed from behind him.

He turned to find his former protégé, Dick Grayson, walking up the opposite end of the hall, smug grin etched on his face.

"She still not eating?" he asked.

Bruce shook his head.

"I've tried to tell you. You can't fix her."

"Maybe so, but at least after a few weeks of this, I can go down saying I tried", the Knight retorted in a half-hearted tone of desperation.

"Then what?"

The Batman unlocked the bolts, preparing to enter the cage with the wild animal he had kept prisoner for nearly three days.

"Arkham."

He pushed the door quickly open and stepped inside, knowing that she would be waiting for him.

"He'll just break her out!", he heard Dick yell from the other side as the door slammed shut and the locks slid back into their bolts.

['Psychobabble' by Frou Frou]

Harley's short frame was already on top of him, biting and clawing with frantic screams as she attempted to drag him to the floor with her. If she had been foaming at the mouth, it would not have surprised him in the least. He blocked her with his forearms, grabbing at her wrists to subdue her, boots slipping in the mucky pool of broken glass and wasted breakfast.

"Uuuuugggh! I'll kill you!" she shouted hoarsely.

He felt his patience give and shoved her backward onto the single mattress which lay on the hardwood floor, "Calm down!"

She glared up at him, white and black paint still smudged on her face from three nights ago. He had offered to allow her to shower, but she refused his hospitality. She hadn't eaten, bathed, slept, or quit screaming for nearly the entire three days. He was exhausted. She climbed up to her usual post in front of the barred window and shook at the sturdy barrier.

"JOKER! JOKER!", her screams were cracked and painful sounding by this point.

"He can't hear you, Harleen, and he isn't coming. Sit down."

She planted her feet into the wall on either side of the window, pressing through her heels with all her might, but the bars wouldn't budge.

"JOKER!"

All of this was pointless. It had been the exact same routine for days now and he had gotten nowhere with her. He began to curse himself for believing even for a second that he could untangle the mangled mess that was now her permanent mental state, and perhaps, she preferred it that way.

"JOKER!"

Without thinking, he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her down, throwing her back onto the mattress with a force that knocked the air from her as he pinned her beneath his heavy weight. She gasped for air with raspy breaths and struggled beneath him.

"Get off me!"

Her efforts were much less powerful than was her full capacity and he could tell she was finally wearing down.

"Harleen, look at me. Harleen Francis Quinzel, I'm talking to you."

She growled with a thrash and her jaws clacked as she attempted to snap at his face.

"Harley! Harley Quinn-Napier! HARLEY QUINN-NAPIER!" she argued, "JOKER!"

Her movements were weakening and he could feel her limbs begin to shake with fatigue. She was close to the point of hyperventilation when she finally relaxed her muscles and laid her head back, closing her eyes to gasp for air.

"Get off me", she repeated, her words barely audible through the hoarse cracking of her damaged vocals.

Reluctantly, he slowly obliged with her request and slid aside so sit up on the edge of the mattress, arms at the ready should she try to attack again. She did not, however. Instead, she lay there for a long while, catching her breathe while the beads of sweat trickled down her pale features.

"Why", she began after a long pause, "Why can't you just leave us alone?"

"The Joker deserves nothing better than a padded cell for the rest of his life, but you, you deserve a second chance. One that he stole from you when he took advantage of your condition, Harleen."

She opened her eyes with a scoff and sat up quickly, making him flinch, "Not him! US!", she slapped a hand to her head, "Us-us-us!" She smacked her palm to the side of her head with each word, "He took nothing, he did nothing. Don't you get it? We are happy with him you stupid ass!"

She was breathing heavily again, reddened eyes strained and tired in their fury.

"Let Harleen tell me that and I might believe you."

"Ugh, for fuck's sake, Bats!"

She flopped back onto the mattress and covered her eyes with the inside crease of her elbow. Batman shifted his weight and found a comfortable spot leaning back against the wood paneling of the wall behind him.

"I only want to talk to her, Harley", he mentioned, "To hear her side of things. The last time I spoke to her in Arkham, she seemed less than pleased with her current predicament."

Harley sighed, "She doesn't know what she wants."

"And you do?"

Removing her arm again, she looked over at him with exhaustion in her expression, "If it weren't for me, she'd probably have slit her wrists in the bathtub by now. You have no idea how pathetic our meaningless life was before Joker stepped into it. He saved us. Can't you see that?"

"Like I said, just let me hear it from her."

"You really think if she wanted to speak to you that I could stop her?" She sat up again, arms spread wide to emphasize her point, "I'm not the disease, Bats, I'm the cure! I didn't take over, she gave in!"

"And Dr. Quinzel?"

She rolled her eyes, "That bitch is just a residual tumor. Harleen only created her because she couldn't deal with the psychos on her own. She was too fragile. Too weak. You think you're trying to help her, but your fucking with shit you know nothing about! You can't get rid of us, Bats, we're all a part of the same existence. We thrive together. The best you could accomplish is shoving us into the depth of her subconscious, leaving her behind as an empty dribbling void just like they did at Arkham. If we disappear, she may still survive, but she won't be alive. You'll have to kill all three of us if you want to fix the problem."

Bruce could feel his heart drop into his stomach. As much as he hated to believe her, her words felt like the sincere truth, which meant he would never be able to help her. She was lost.

"And why do you hate me?", he asked after a moment.

She smirked, "You're competition."

He was confused, "Competition?"

She averted her eyes and stared at the ceiling solemnly, "For his attention. I'm his wife, his property. I belong to him, but he belongs to you. Everything we do, everything we plan for, everything we talk about…is you."

"JOEY!"

The henchman jumped in his seat in the foyer, dropping his newspaper to the floor. He leaped up and started for the Cigar Lounge where the gruff voice of The Joker had just called for him.

"Yes, Sir!"

He rounded the corner to find his boss fussing over Harley's computer, clicking the mouse frantically across the screens of the three monitors, and slapping the keys on the keyboard at random.

"Help me work this confounded piece of shit!", he demanded angrily.

"Uh, sure boss."

Joey wasn't sure what he could do to help, but admitting his limits with technology might earn him a knife in the gut, so he felt it best to comply. Taking a seat in front of the glowing screens, he attempted to look as though he was confident in his abilities.

"What can I do for ya?"

"Find Harley!"

Joey's heart stopped in his chest, "Uh, sure…sure boss, lemme see what I can do…"

The sweat was immediately beginning to form in pebbles on his tan skin and his hands were shaking uncontrollably over the mouse and keyboard. He had not the first clue as to how he would begin looking for The Joker's lost needle in the middle of the giant necrotic hay stack that was Gotham City, especially not on a computer. The angry clown was standing close over his shoulder, exacerbating his aching nerves, then suddenly he had what he hoped would be a life-saving epiphany.

"Hey, Boss, Mr. Tetch is real good with all them little mind control gadgets and stuff, yeah? Maybe he can help us make somethin' ta make The Bat talk, tell us where he's got 'er hidden", Joey suggested in desperate hope.

The Joker straightened up with a thoughtful expression, "The Hatter does owe me a favor…"

The henchman sighed in quiet relief.

"Joey, get the car ready."

"Yes, Sir!"