Disclaimer - I do not own The Dark Knight or its characters. I'm just squirting out (a poor attempt at) an OC/Joker romance from sheer boredom, to see if I could.

Secondary Disclaimer - Inspired by How to Write a Bad TDK Romance by Steven 'Janus' Apollo.

Chapter 1 - Left In The Cold

In her run down apartment on the worst side of Gotham City, Harmony Skye Valentina sat crying into a pillow. The rent was due and she had no money to pay it, her greedy landlord was cruel and kept demanding it early while threatening to throw her out. She could barely afford food and clothing as it was. The power was out because she hadn't been able to pay that bill last week and it got shut off. Neither could she afford to keep the heat on (and it was November and the winters in Gotham got bitterly cold). Harmony currently sat in the frigid darkness, surrounded by candles, wearing her modest black slacks, a custom made crimson and black striped Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt, and a purple shawl her grandmother had given her before she had passed away two years ago. Sniffling, Harmony recalled better days living with her dear late Grammy-Ma, who was never as mean to her as her own family.

When she was a baby, her parents hadn't wanted her. Though her mother had refused to abort her due to her religious upbringing, she also refused to give Harmony up for adoption. Her father hated her mother for bringing what he referred to as a "burden" on them both into the world. Her parents were surprisingly rich though, there was no real reason they shouldn't have been able to care well for a baby girl, but they didn't. They denied her a happy childhood, including toys and clothes. She often went to school in torn old clothes her parents got from shelters and thrift stores. The other children made fun of her every day and called her Bag Lady and Rag Girl. She couldn't get her parents to give her proper lunches either. They gave her stale bread and peanut butter or sometimes hard cheese on stale bread. The children always tormented her viciously about that, saying she was like a rat and if she was hungry she should go eat out of dumpsters like a rat. Harmony came home in tears every single day until she was sixteen when she got a job at a local burger eatery and was finally able to afford decent clothes.

This only made her parents despise and reject her more. They scoffed and told her that if she could pay for her own things then she didn't have to mooch off them anymore. They kicked her out of the house, forcing her to live on her own. It was right before the start of winter, too, and she nearly died from freezing in the chilling weather before she made enough money to get into a modest apartment complex.

When she entered high school, life was still troubling even though she had employment. Her parents had cut off all contact with her, now pretending like she didn't even exist. Harmony was filled with sadness over her own family hating her so much but she eventually stopped caring, trying to convince herself for years that she was somehow better off without them in her life. The kids in high school kept tormenting her once again, even though she dressed better, in much nicer clothing, and could afford to take care of herself. This time it was the same song, a different tune. Harmony had begun to dress sexier and more carefree to make herself feel better, but now all the other girls who hated her and always gossiped about her called her a slut and a whore behind her back, just because she was pretty in a natural way when they all wore tons of makeup to school every day, spending hours in the bathrooms doing touch ups and fixing their hair. They were jealous that Harmony's thick, golden blond colored hair was so easily maintainable and came with its own natural lustrous shine. They all hated that she barely wore any makeup herself except a touch of eyeliner and rose lipstick that only accentuated her naturally plump lips. They despised the fact that she was also kept in shape by all the running around she had to do at work (and she also took a few exercise classes when she had extra cash to do so). Her body was naturally tight and toned. Her childhood had left her severely underweight, but over the years she had become quite a different person.

It turned out she was a truly voluptuous young women after all. Every year she only grew more so, and more beautiful, and it made everyone else around her hate her so much.

When she entered college, she'd almost become fed up with her own life. The days were so hard to get through, every year came with new nasty legions of young women who mocked Harmony and called her horrible names and spread awful lies about her. The teachers didn't understand how hard it was for her to balance classes and keep her jobs (she'd had to get two to keep up with her rent, the cruel landlord had replaced the old nicer one). Her grades were erratic and she was often so tired. She kept nodding off in class and missing lectures. Her only friend, June Deisart, had finally landed a boyfriend earlier this year and their relationship was blooming into almost certain marriage prospects. She used to rely on June for help to catch up on notes and studies, but now June was always busy with her own wonderful life. Harmony refused to let herself give in to jealously. She wished her friend the best of luck and kept on toughing things out by herself. But her sanity was waning with each passing week, and another winter was coming up fast. The bills were piling up more and more, her second cleaning job had recently laid her off, now she couldn't keep up with the bills and rent any longer.

Not that her landlord cared. He had just come stomping up the stairs not but twenty minutes ago and pounded on her door. Harmony thought he'd go breaking it right from its hinges. Startled from an already troubled cat-nap, Harmony ran to answer it. When she did, she just got more bad news thrown upon her. If she didn't pay up now, he was going to toss her out on her ass in the freezing cold. He didn't give a damn how much she cried or pleaded to him. When he'd gone, she walked as if in a daze back to the middle of the living room and sat down with her pillow in her arms. A huge wave of grief hit her and Harmony began to sob uncontrollably. She couldn't even begin to think of how she was going to come up with rent money before the end of the week. Her bitter thoughts grew darker and darker, her world spinning as the tears poured from her piercing blue eyes.

What was she going to have to do, rob a bank?

Harmony began to laugh uncontrollably at the thought of resorting to crime to pay her own rent. She laughed until her sides began to ache. Wiping away the tears, she became serious and for the first time in her life contemplated the crazy thought of pulling a crime. When she was this desperate, it didn't seem as crazy as it would be to a normal person, one living a happy and contented life. And she was far from content at the moment.

Sniffling again and wiping more tears from her paled cheeks, Harmony remember that in hidden away in the back of her closet was the handgun that she had purchased for protection when she came to live here. She had been thankful in all her years of living in this crime infested hellhole, she'd never been forced to use it. There had only been a few scares, mostly loud noises and domestic disturbances not involving her. Slowly, she got up and made her way to the closet where she rifled through her modest selection of clothes. This year she hadn't even been able to afford a warm coat for winter, all she had was a torn up jacket that didn't provide much protection from the harsh elements. She pushed it out of the way and choked back another sob while digging in the back of the closet for the shoebox the handgun was kept in.

"I can't believe I'm even doing this," Harmony wailed as her hands fell on the dusty shoebox. "Has my life really become this horrible?" She placed the box down on the worn old mattress that was her bed. Shaky hands lifted the lid. She wiped more flowing tears from her eyes and sniffled yet again, her mind racing as she stared down into the shoebox.

The shiny handgun sat there, waiting for her decision.

"I can't possibly rob a bank," she moaned, crumpling to the edge of the bed and putting her face in her hands.

A few minutes passed before she got a grip on herself and stopped sobbing so pitifully. Again she looked at the handgun. It looked demonic in the red glow that came through the window, from a neon sign of the bar/comedy club across from the apartments. The place was called Devlin's Barrel Of Laughs. The sign had a chubby, laughing red devil made out of the neon lights, waving a pitchfork up and down. In the dead silence and in her mind, she could almost hear the sign's gears and levers grinding away, creaking in the cold night, trying to encourage her into a path of wickedness.

"Can I?" Harmony wondered aloud. Timidly, she reached down to pick up the handgun. She hadn't even used it, but for some reason holding it felt almost natural to her, not awkward and frightening like she had assumed. She pointed it at the window (knowing it had no bullets loaded in it yet, they were still in the shoebox) and let her finger press on the trigger. Could I really pull this trigger if I had to? she wondered. "I don't think I'd ever be able to, even if I was fighting for my own life."

The thought made Harmony want to cry even more. She felt like such a failure. A pushover, a weakling. No matter how she tried to be better and laugh in the face of her miserable life, her fearful emotions always got the best of her. She broke back into sobs, letting the handgun fall back onto the mattress while her hands pressed against her face. Nothing could hold back her pitiful tears.

Her mind gave one last attempt to kick her into motivation: well, if you don't do something drastic, you're out on your ass in the dead of winter. Good luck finding a homeless shelter that's not full up this time of year, and good luck finding free food, idiot. You're always going to be stepped on because you won't do anything to fight back. All you do is cry. Cry, cry, cry! Why don't you try laughing once in a while?

"Why should I laugh? I have nothing to laugh about!" Harmony cried out, responding to her own twisted subconscious thoughts.

Yes you do. Your life is one big joke! her mind taunted.

Letting out a cry of anguish, Harmony rushed over to the closet. She dug out an old clown mask from one of June's Halloween parties. Fleeting thoughts of brief happy moments in her life were drowned out by her pain and rage. She stuffed the mask and the handgun into her purse.

"You're right! My life is a joke! Why shouldn't I laugh? I might as well," she ranted, furiously wiping away her still flowing tears. She stormed out of her apartment and down the stairs to the basement laundry room.

There had always been a pile of forgotten, discarded clothes in one corner that nobody would bother to pick up. Inside the pile, Harmony found a black hooded sweatshirt and threw it on. It was several sizes too big for her and covered her body and head well enough for a decent disguise. She ignored the rotten smell of it and walked out the back door, into the snowy night. She couldn't rob a bank, but she could try to rob a convenience store. She had nothing to lose at this point, really. If she scrapped together enough money, she could at least pay the rent. If nobody caught her, that was. If she did get caught, oh well. Maybe prison wouldn't be so bad. She'd be indoors for the winter and they'd have to give her meals. Cautiously, she made her way down the streets, heading as quickly as possible to her target.

Every shadow seemed to creep out at her and every little noise made her heart jump into her throat. Most of the sudden sounds were the stray cats trying to scrounge up their own meals. Harmony's mind only conjured up threatening monsters lurking in every corner, waiting to jump out and end her miserable life for good. By the time she reached the 24/7 Mom and Pop owned store which she had planned as the easiest target, she felt like she would snap and begin screaming. Her feet became rooted to the cement in front of the store's window and her body began to shake. The gun felt heavy and foreign now. Her hand was sweaty as she reached for the latex mask.

"Oh, god, I can't do it," she whispered pitifully. Showtime had come, but she couldn't go through with it after all. How completely pitiful. Her bottom lip quivered while she held in another round of tears. "I'm so screwed!"

Somehow she made it inside the store, if only to warm back up for a few minutes. This might be the last time she would ever feel the warmth of indoors, unless she pulled the gun out right then and threatened the clerk in a deliberate attempt to go to jail. The thought of going to prison wasn't very appealing, even if it would provide shelter and food to her. She might get shanked or raped. Sniffling, she turned and immediately went to the back of the store, casually, trying not to let the clerk see her. She didn't need him to become suspicious and kick her back out, or god forbid, think she was shoplifting and ask her to open the purse. But the clerk had his face buried in a newspaper. The front page had a large article on the infamous Batman of Gotham City. Harmony was thankful he hadn't bothered to look up from it even when the bell above the door sounded upon her entering.

"God help me, I can't believe I made it this far," sniffled Harmony, pretending to browse through the drink cooler. Bitterly, she stared into a rack of ice teas without seeing the drinks inside through her own welling tears. "I can't believe I'm inside here and there's a gun in my fucking purse. That's it, I've officially gone crazy! My life is over!"

She would have to face facts, she wasn't robbing this place. Her plan had failed before it even began.

Feeling helpless and lost, she continued to stare blankly into the cooler, lost in her own miserable thoughts. She didn't hear the bell ding again, signaling another customer. With tears sliding down her cheeks even as the colored returned to them, she grabbed the cheapest bag of potato chips on the shelf and made her way to the counter. When she came out of the aisle, she stepped behind the man in the purple suit standing at the counter, without even realizing the clerk's hands were in the air.

"Normally I don't resort to simple jobs like this one," said the man in front of her in a quirky, yet ominously dark voice, "but, ah, you see, during these long winters, I get bored."