Author's note: Expect an update on Rage around Christmas.

Gotham wasn't a peaceful city. It never had been. But Harley supposed that that was what happened with large cities. There were pieces of the city scattered, poor parts and rich parts, with nothing in between. Gotham's elite had made sure of that.

But for some reason on this night, as she stood on the rooftop of another abandon factory, she wondered why people couldn't find the beauty in the rusted city. The ground's cracks had life bursting forth in greens, purples, and yellows. Plants that tried their best to make their peace for the world. Even Ivy has commented once that the plants in the city were the most resilient she had ever seen.

Harley knew that she contributed to the fear that existed for the citizen's of Gotham, but she preferred to think that she made them appreciate life a little more everyday that they woke up. The small pitter-patter of children's feet as they ran into their parents' bedrooms, parents who were buttoning up shirts and throwing on shoes. Parents who would smile softly in the mirror as their children's small hands reached for the toothbrushes on the bathroom counters. They were alive, living, continuing on as they should. Their fears momentarily settled, their happiness expanded. Harley did that, Harley did all of that and no one noticed.

She supposed she couldn't blame them. After all, how many people had to be sacrificed for the sake of a joke? For the sake of learning to live? She wasn't even sure she enjoyed what she did, she just knew it was the only thing that was easy for her. It was easy for her to wrap her hands around throats, to pull triggers. It was easy to laugh as she threw kicks and punches. It was all so easy. So much easier than staring another person in the face and telling them she loved them. It was easier than committing her life to anyone else.

Because Joker wasn't a person. She knew that when she met him. She didn't love him. She didn't think of him as a person. She knew exactly what he was for her. He was the fantasy, the excuse she needed. She couldn't live just sitting around. She knew she wasn't normal. Knew that she could never lead a normal life. She was too bitter, too angry, too goddamn lonely. She hadn't experienced real feeling until she had met Joker. No, no. There wasn't any love, just the feeling of fear, excitement, heart-pumping activity. She had felt more in the past few years than she had in her entire life.

She didn't credit Joker with that. She didn't give that smiling ghoul any credit for anything he did. The only thing she gave him was the status of an object. Her toy. He was whatever she wanted him to be. She supposed in that regard she was rather masochistic, always provoking him, always pulling his strings. She knew what to say, what to do in order to upset or excite him. He was a wind up toy that just kept going on her command. The best part about it was making him feel like he was in control. Nothing was more satisfying than watching him be so confident in himself. To watch him be so completely and utterly wrapped up in the fantasy she created for him.

But staring into the dusky night sky, the hues of deep purples and oranges reminding her of a childhood she never had, she couldn't help but think there was more to all of this. More to all of her violence, all of his violence. For once in her life, she settled down to think of who The Joker really was. Who they all were. Everyone in the goddamn city. Everyone in Gotham.

Certainly everyone had a role to play, right? It was just all a big game. One that she knew how to play so beautifully, one that she had been playing for years. In certain ways, she assumed that it had given Gotham balance. Petty crime was down, organized crime was up. Which meant that only the people who wanted to get involved were involved. Oh sure, there was the occasional hiccup and people died in heists, but those were only a few people. Far less than there used to be. Random drug wars didn't happen on the open streets anymore. Rapes rarely occurred (funny how it was the Joker who had been the reason for that; something about how it wasn't as satisfying and that men really needed to learn a new way to exert power). She didn't really buy that reasoning, but she also found she didn't give a shit.

"Harley."

Harley gave an inward sigh, pasted a smile on her face and whirled around. "Hey Mistah Jay! What's up?" She asked in a bubbly tone, deciding to amuse the Clown Prince. "What are you doing up here, Harls ol' gal? We gotta job tonight!" His green hair was slightly ruffled in the wind, the purple of the sky matching his tacky suit. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, slouching in a relaxed position, always unaware of the danger he faced in Harley's presence. He had no real expression on his face, so neutral outside of that dark carved grin.

Harley walked up to him. Slowly, deliberately. He followed the sway of her hips while she watched his eyes. Quietly she wrapped her arms around him, looping them under his own allowing them to remain in their pocketed positions. She laid her head on his chest and he let out a sigh of what? Relief? Contentment? Disgust? Probably a mix of all three. They stood, each gazing past each other, blotting out one another. Joker's chin rested on the top of Harley's blonde mop as his eyes scanned the top of the building they were on, while Harley's own gaze stared beyond the skyline.

He thought about peace; she thought about wrecking it.