The world was filled with silence as the moon's reflection rippled in a nearby pond. Harley watched as slivers of silver moved up and down, while at the same time remained stationary in the middle of the water. How could there be so much change yet so much consistency at once? It was a question Harley decided she would ponder after she'd left the cemetery. Thus she returned her gaze to the three stones before her: Harold, Martha, and Jocelyn, all bound by blood and the surname Quinzel.

Harleen had visited her family's resting place every three to four months, but ever since the emergence of the notorious clown queen Harley came substantially less. While as a general rule Harley had no problem disregarding borders and crossing lines, she considered cemeteries one of her sacred exceptions. Each resident had a different story, even if the stories were no longer shared aloud. So out of respect for the pain of love lost, even Harley found a reason to be respectful.

Of course, it wasn't like Harley would have bothered anyone anyway. With a face so unnaturally pale and a reputation as dark as night, she had no place in a cemetery while the sun was up. So every anniversary of her family's departure from earth Harley climbed the wrought-iron gates, made her way through death's garden, and laid flowers at the site: blue for her father, pink for her mother and younger sister.

"It means a lot that you still visit,"

Harley gritted her teeth as her alter ego appeared out of the corner of her eye. "If you've come here to berate me some more," Harley growled, "I'll rip your invisible throat out,"

"I'm not here for a session," Harleen knelt down and laid an illusionary white rose on each grave. "I'm here to pay my respects,"

Harleen hadn't spoken to Harley since the break-in at Arkham, but she'd appeared often in both dreams and reality. Harley had even half-expected Harleen's arrival that night. After all, it seemed any physical reminder of the past triggered the doctor, though sometimes Harleen appeared for no apparent reason at all.

Neither spoke for a minute. Instead, they contemplated all that had been as Harleen sat on the ground while Harley stood above. In that moment, the two alter egos almost co-existed as one human being; but alas, the mental disengagement had long since been set. They were, and most likely always would be, two separate entities stitched together by the same heartache.

Harley was the first to break the silence. "I can't believe it's been nine years," she said, more to her crazy side than her sane self.

"A lot has happened since then," Harleen commented.

A fresh breeze caused Harley to shove her hands into her coat pockets. Then again, the coolness on her skin could have been a reaction to the mental images of what she had seen nine years ago that day. There had been so much blood and damage that the teenage Harleen was convinced the murders had been the work of ten madmen, not merely a single one.

It was this horrific night that led Harleen down the path of psychiatry. She wanted nothing more than to help those in need, to be the sympathetic ear and voice of reason to those who'd mentally gone astray. Harleen didn't want anyone else to suffer the loss and loneliness she felt, be they patient, inmate, or victim.

Then again, such was the dream of the sane. The arrival of the Joker inspired Harleen to trade psychiatry for psychosis. After Harley was born at ACE Chemicals, she'd glided giddily into the comfort of insanity without once looking back.

That was, not until recently.

But whenever Harley visited her family, it (almost) put things in perspective. She could have a million alter egos, but they all originated from the same past, where the heart of Harleen/Harley would always remain.

"Wow," Harleen allowed herself a small grin. "I never took you for the reflective type,"

Harley knitted her eyebrows together in frustration. "I know we're the same person, but if you could stop reading my thoughts that would make my life ten times easier,"

As if on cue, a rattling of the old guard gates caused the two to turn their heads towards the entrance.

"Perfect timing," Harley playfully stuck her tongue out. "Hope you don't mind I invited company,"