Disclaimer: I don't own the Joker or Harley, and I don't own their twisted relationship. Oooohhhh, but how I wish I did.


Asleep.

Asleep is when Harley looks her best.

She's not trying to please. She's not trying to help. She's just asleep; in her own dreamland where nothing matter because nothing's real.

There's no yelling, no beatings; just dreams.

She lets out these sweet little sighs; they're almost angelic, perfect in their tone. Sometimes she utters things lowly. So lowly, sometimes, that I can barely hear them. But they're there. They usually sound out something like, "J". That's one of her nicknames for me.

I hear them all day, these nicknames. Mr. J, Puddin', or just J.

I hate them all. Every last one.

Whether she's saying them while begging for mercy or moaning in pleasure, I hate them.

She rolls over and whispers my name.

I hate it.

It's stirring this thing; this monster that's living inside my chest. This monster doesn't claw at me and it doesn't roar. It just caresses the strings that are connected to what's left of the black hole that's beating inside of me. It whispers warmly to me, and it feels like honey spreading through my veins.

Her smooth hand wraps around my cold wrist, and the monster begins to purr.

I hate it so much, this monster.

I hate her, because she gave me these uncertain feelings that are breeding like puppies in my brain. I would get rid of her, but that monster tells me that there's no going back for me. I've found it. I've found her. I've found the one barrier that's going to keep me from completely losing myself.

But what if I want to lose myself?

The monster says no.

But what if I don't want to lose her?

Her small finger entrap my wrist tighter, and the monster hums the sweet tune that is her.

And I realize one thing--I created this monster.

Because I created her.


A/N: Hello people! Decided to write a quick experimental story here. I really want to work on the Joker that is currently residing in my brain. The Joker is a piece of work that is quite exhausting, I must say. But basically, I wrote this because I think that the Joker really does have a lot of inner conflict where Harley is concerned. Plain and simple: If he really, honestly wanted her gone, he would've done it the minute she broke him out of Arkham. So my point of view on the situation is that if the Joker can love at all, he loves Harley. If he can't (which is perfectly possible), the closest thing to love he has are his twisted feelings toward his favorite jester.

Hope you enjoy, leave a review pretty please!