Sometimes she could still hear him. She could still hear the maniacal laughter and the broken sobs; she could hear it all with such a perfect clarity that she felt like she had been thrust into the past once again. A time wear she wrapped her elegant, slender fingers through stringy green hair. A time where grim, red smiles were met with moaning black lips. A time where black and red graced her form perfectly, and white hands would ghost down her body. A time where she was Harley Quinn, Queen of Murder and Mayhem, gorgeous hench wench of the one and only Clown Prince of Crime, The Joker.

But that was a time long gone and she could not understand why the past would not let her be free. It had been three years since her jester of death had died off, since a certain cape crusader had disappeared from the face of the planet, and since she had pulled the trigger to be free. She had changed her whole persona. No one knew who she was because she remained in the shadows, her stealth putting little miss kitty to shame. Her bottle blonde hair was now a deep black, almost bluish in the light, her skin still pale, but marred with the scars of the past—her pasty make-up no longer hiding the truth. She had gained a little weight, if only because she was no longer doing flying jumps, flips, and kicks. No, she had decided that it was too much work and she realized that sometimes working behind the scenes was a lot more beneficial than distracting everyone with her fancy gymnastics.

But she pondered, now more than ever, had she done the right thing? Killing the Joker had reduced crime by an exceptional percentage (everyone had assumed the bats had finally gotten tired of playing around and quickly stopped their practices in hopes of living for a little longer). Batman was officially in retirement it seemed, she hadn't seen him since the day she spied on him receiving the body of the neatly dressed Clown. He didn't seem so surprised by her gift, but he did seem a little worried. She didn't blame him, he was next on her list but he had disappeared so thoroughly after that that she had decided perhaps his disappearance was just as good as dead. It gave her a sick kind of satisfaction that she could produce such fear in the caped crusader. But now that the Joker was gone, Gotham was becoming safe and she was beginning to feel the tendrils of loneliness gripping her, sliding from her feet up to her chest, wrapping around her heart and constricting tightly. While she had hated the wretched monster, she had become so used to his presence and his ever changing moods that it had provided her something to do...and sometimes, in the dead of night he would hold her close and tell her beautiful lies. She couldn't have that now.

Something had broken inside her over the years, it was a gradual break but whatever it was, it broke thoroughly. Now she sat in her own apartment under a new name of Hillary Quintel. Her dark hair blended with the shadows and her pale face seemingly glowed in the darkness of the room, her television set was on mute while images raced across the screen on the news channel. Her long, toned legs were peaking out from under the long, grey sweatshirt she wore, slightly tucked under a blanket to warm her small feet as she sat on a overly stuffed white couch, and in her hands she held a large glass of red wine with a perfect red lip stick stain on the rim. Her blue eyes were seemingly dull beneath her long, thick lashes, various thin silvery scars criss crossed on her face but they did not seem to take away her beauty of high cheek bones and pouty lips. In those blue eyes there was an insanity that had never been cured. Here in her living room she would sit quietly, willing the laughter to stop.

"Harley."

She had a feeling she knew who the voice belonged to, but she did not turn to acknowledge him. She was a little surprised that he had sought her out, that he had gathered the courage to come see her. "Good evening, Batman." her voice was quiet, entering into the air like a snake and gliding over his ears gently, "I wonder...what took you so long?" It was then that the oversized rodent stepped out of the shadows and to the front of the muted television, "It's been a while." The deepness of his voice penetrated her soul and she wondered how much more she could drown in her past with this dark knight standing before her. "You retired." Her reply was simple, biting, and tinged with anger. The man did not reply to it and chose to instead stare at the small woman on the couch. "You know, you have some nerve showing up here. I started a new life, Bats. What do you want?" She had finally stood, her sweater barely covering the tops of her pale thighs.

"I just..." suddenly, the armored man seemed unsure of himself, as if he had forgotten why he had come in the first place. "You just what?" She hissed out, her words like venom. He looked as if he had wanted to flinch, but had managed to control himself. "Why did you do it? Why did you disappear like that?" he finally asked, his eyes taking in the former Harley Quinn, trying to commit the woman to his memories. Without Joker, without Harley, there was no real reason for him to exist and he had fallen away. "I did what I had to. I have no other explanation for you." Her glare never seemed to waver and he felt like he was being stripped of all his defenses under her intense gaze.

Suddenly, without much thought, his gloved hand came up to Harley's face, cupping her cheek softly. Her eyes widened slightly, but then closed and she seemed to lean into his touch. Relief seemed to flood her and he wondered how long it had been since she had any sort of human touch. Her tense body became relaxed and it was like Batman's touch was what she needed to let go. Tears began to fall, little whimpers escaping her. It was then that he pulled her towards himself, she wrapped her arms around him with a sudden crushing and desperate force, her small whimpers turned to loud, painful sobs and the man returned her embrace silently allowing her to cry out her pain. He held her tightly, which seemed to only make her sob harder. His chin rested upon her head, one hand moving to cradle her neck.

He hadn't expected this out of her, but he hadn't expected her to let him live all that long either, even when he disappeared. He had always assumed she would find him, find out who he was. Soon her tears were dry and her sobs had turned to hiccups and then nothing. Her arms loosened from around him and she pulled away silently. There was no noise after that and neither of them said anything. Nothing but pure contentment radiated from the woman now. It was as if Batman had lifted all of the weight of regret and loneliness off of her shoulders. It was then Harley noticed something...

The laughter had stopped.