Chapter 3 – All It Takes Is A Spark

Hello readers, hope you are all ok and are enjoying the story so far. Just a brief warning that this chapter does mention cutting, but it doesn't go into detail until the next chapter. If this does upset you, please stop reading this chapter after "I tapped my foot impatiently." For the next chapter I will tell you where it safe to read from :) Oh and this chapter does get a little heated, but I'm not confident enough in my writing yet to do full blown love scenes, so I hope this suffices for now ^-^

Harley POV

The Joker took me to the roof of the apartment building, it was getting darker and the whole city was ablaze with street lamps and lights peeking through windows. As I looked over the Gotham Skyline something in my brain told me that something important had happened to me here. It was familiar; a memory was beginning to form in my mind.

"Oh, Mistah J, it's gorgeous!" I breathed, leaping into his arms. He chuckled, holding on to me. I turned back to gaze at the buildings towering in the distance. I looked into the heart of the city, Wayne Tower.

"Puddin', how much explosive would it take to bring down the Wayne Enterprise building?" I gazed up at him.

"Ahh, not a lot Harl, all it takes is a spark. One little kink in the machine and the whole empire will bring itself to its knees." He looked over at the grand centre of the city pensively.

"And is that all part of your plan for Gotham?" I asked excitedly. He lowered his gaze back down to me, looking annoyed.

"Now why would I do that? I want the Batman, not Wayne! I wanna push his buttons, but destroying Wayne Tower – that's just hitting the self destruct button on all the fun I plan on having with our little Batsy!" He let a very dumbfounded me go, discarding me like trash. "Dear me Doc, I thought you understood me. Thought you were smarter than the rest of 'em. Well, anyone who cannot see that I have much bigger plans for this city is obviously not worth my time and efforts; you're just as bad as the scum of Gotham, Harley!" He snarled at me, causing me to bite my bottom lip in order to stop the tears that were threatening to escape. It was happening again, one minute he was loving and gentle, the next he was Hell bent on upsetting me.

"Come now Harley, why are you looking like that?" He said incredulously.

"You think I'm not worth your time, Mistah J? Well you try and find someone who's as loyal and loving as I am to you!" I cried and turned to walk away. He quickly grasped my arm and twisted me back around to face him. He looked at me with adoration, as much as he could be bothered to muster. He pulled me close and whispered in my ear,

"Now where am I gonna find someone else that crazy, Baby?" his low tone sending shivers down my spine, I tried to regain my composure but I was completely at his disposal by this point.

"Nowhere, Boss." I muttered, my heart racing as he pulled me closer.

"Exactly, you're one of a kind, Harley, and that's why I think you're tops!" He said, causing my heart to flutter and the butterflies in my stomach to multiply. I smiled up at him as he cupped my face in his hands. Then he kissed me. Softly at first but then descending into a much more demanding and passionate embrace. I held onto him tightly to stop me from melting into the ground. This was a far cry from other kisses we'd shared, much more desperate. His tongue was begging for entrance into my mouth, and when I teased and denied him he squeezed my hips hard, causing me to whimper and open my mouth, granting him the access he'd been wanting desperately. I tangled my hands in his green locks, pulling gently, causing him to groan.

He pushed me up against the door that led us to this rooftop paradise, as our tongues fought for dominance. He closed the gap between us, trapping me between him and the door. I was so caught up in the moment that it took me by surprise when I felt his… excitement… against me. I broke the kiss; I traced his scars gently as he looked at me, a mixture of confusion, slight anger and deep lust in his eyes. My gaze never left his as I whispered against his lips, brushing them ever so softly,

"I want you, Mistah J." and with that my clothes were ripped off…

I put my hand over my mouth as that night flooded back to me.

"This is where we first…" I trailed off, completely shocked as the memory washed over me. The Joker looked at me expectantly,

"We… out here? Really!" I asked exasperatedly,

"What was it that we did out here, Harls, you're not explaining yourself very well?" He had a wicked, gleeful glint in his eyes.

"This is where we first… had sex." I whispered, in case anyone was lurking.

"Well! You're right!" He said in mock surprise, "I thought tat was what you were getting at. I'm not gonna lie to you Harls, I would've been a but upset if you couldn't remember that!" He said jokingly. I didn't know what to think at this point, I was confused to think that I'd done something so fearless with my patient, but at the same time, it enthralled me. If this man could make me live a little, instead of working my ass off… there must be a logical reason as to why I gave myself so devotedly and unquestioningly to him.

"C'mere, Dollface." He said, holding out a gloved hand and beckoning me over. I did as I was told. He put his hand on my shoulder, his chest on my back. The touch sent electric shocks through my body, causing my face to redden. I felt his smile next to me. He pointed out to the black outlines of the city, at one area I felt connected to.

"That over there is your playpen, Arkham Asylum." He spoke softly, "That's where we first met."

"Happy two-monthaversary, Harley." He said as we stared up at the sky, his large purple coat covering most of our bodies as we lay on our backs, his arm around me.

I glanced back at him now, the look on his face completely unreadable. Was he happy to have met me back at Arkham? Would he keep his promise to me and put this puzzle back together for me? What was he thinking right now?

"There was a time, in that place, where you were the only thing that kept me insane. I was losing myself in there, no one else understood me in there, you did, you gave me a purpose. The first day I saw you was when I was locked up in my cell. You were following some guy around, taking mental notes so much that I could see the cogs in your brain turning," his hand had now wrapped around my stomach and was tracing little shapes on my waist, "your innocence became you, it really did, but it was your determination to be the best that made you remember you. It was then that I knew that you would be my psychiatrist. And boy am I glad about that!" He nudged me playfully with his arm as another memory took hold of me.

The guard pushed me roughly into the consulting room, muttering how I was a "naïve, stupid girl whom the Joker would chew up and spit out." I straightened up my skirt and jacket when I heard a giggle coming from the table. The Joker was sitting there, head hanging down bashfully as he laughed to himself, the straightjacket restraining him, making him look like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

"Hello, Mr joker, my name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I am here to help you." I sat down, spreading papers over the desk. He looked up at me, his dark eyes connecting with mine with such intensity that I had to glance away, taking a sheet of paper and a pen instead.

"Hello there, Harleen," he dragged out my name, his smooth, velvety voice coaxing me to look at him. He was smiling at me, showing off his scars, which were less noticeable without the greasepaint he normally wore.

"If you could please call me Dr. Quinzel, that would be much appreciated." I said steadily, he just laughed,

"Why did you tell me your first name then, silly? Harleen, Harleen, Harleen!" He sang, making my stomach flip uncomfortably. He continued laughing and I took this opportunity to study his naked face. Without his make up he was nearly unrecognisable, you could probably pass him by in the street without noticing, his face was well structured and quite handsome, despite the dark circles under his eyes and the red flesh that puckered around his cheeks, but when he spoke to you, it was obvious that he was whom the news dubbed The Clown Prince of Crime.

"Ok, let's start." I said, ignoring his disregard for my rule – which is something I noted on my paper. Of course this was something that everyone knew, but it was a starting point.

"So, Joker, you've murdered, tortured and disfigured numerous people. Do you understand that this is an obvious sign of psychotic behaviour?"

"Yes ma'am."

"What were the reasons for these actions?" I looked up at him through my glasses. He leaned his head back in order to start his speech, and I had my pen at the ready.

"Well anyone I've murdered deserved what was coming to them. The same goes for those I tortured, but the ones I disfigured? Well, that was to make a point, modus operandi and all that. My own personal calling card, ya' know
?" I nodded my head, scribbling notes.

"And these people who you murdered and tortured, what kind of things would they do in order for you to justify your actions?" I pressed,

"I'm a true backer of justice, Doc. I like to think that if I scratch your back, you'll scratch mine. Speaking of Babycakes, there's this one little itch that's been bugging me right here," he turned around in his chair, indicating to the place he wanted me to scratch, "could ya' do a man a favour?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Joker, no personal contact of any kind is permitted." I said matter-o-factly.

"Well that definitely sucks." He smirked, turning back towards me. "Anyways, anyone who betrays me, breaks my trust, those are the ones who I'd disfigure."

"So you have trust issues? Where do you think this originated?" I asked.

"Trust issues? Doc, you haven't been listening. The traitors I killed are the ones with the issues. Well, I can't blame you for getting distracted, I have that effect on women," he said with a wink, my breath hitching in my throat, "I think it must be animal magnetism, but then again the scars are pretty intriguing." He mused. I looked at them, deciding to get to the bottom of the matter,

"Yes, your scars. Would you care to indulge me, Mr. Joker, on how you got them? No stories, I want the truth."

"Oh I would love to indulge you, Dr. Quinzel, but not in the way you're asking. Ha! The look on your face! Don't worry Beaut, I won't hurt ya', how can I, all tied up in this here jacket?" He chuckled to himself.

"Ok, I'll come back to the scars some other time. Tell me about your childhood, Joker." I asserted myself this time, not asking politely, I had a job to do.

"Whoa, steady on Cupcake, we've only just met and you're already asking about the 'rents." He leaned forward so that his face was halfway across the desk. "Don't worry, they're a blast, or at least they were before…" He trailed off purposely: I was just about to continue questioning when the guards came in to collect the Joker.

"Juarez? What are you doing, it hasn't been twenty minutes yet!" I said to a guard angrily.

"Sorry miss, Dr. Arkham's orders, to keep you safe." He said, checking the Joker was still safely in his straitjacket.

"That's Doctor, to you." I snapped

As the guards led the Joker out he called out to me,

"See ya' later, Doc."

Once I had exited the room I called Juarez back to me,

"Tomorrow I don't want him in a straitjacket, the only way I can get through to him is if I show him that I trust him to behave." Juarez shrugged; he had no intention of caring about what would happen should the Joker try and attack me, much less should he succeed in attacking me. It just goes to prove that if a girl has authority over a middle-aged man he'll throw a silent tantrum. As I left the asylum that night I had no idea that Joker's newest plan was in full swing.

"I remember. The first time we met, Joker." I whispered to the night, my back leaning into his firm chest.

"Huh, I remember too. I could tell you what you wore as well, but that would make me seem too eager." He stage whispered and I smiled. Without all of his bravado, the frightening face paint and the countless and unforgivable crimes he's committed, I can see why I fell for him.

"I'm sorry, Joker." I said quietly, I felt him shift behind me, trying to get a better view of my face; he turned me to face him slowly.

"What for, Princess?" He asked genuinely,

"For forgetting. I'm sorry if I never get my memory back that things will never be the same for you... for us." And then I did something that shocked the both of us, I hugged him tightly, maybe I really was mad. He reciprocated the hug, planting a soft kiss to my brow. We stayed like this for a long time, until a chill crept into the air and I shivered in his embrace. He rubbed my arms to warm me up.

"C'mon Harls, let's go to bed." He took my hand and led me back to bed. I passed a mirror on the way and saw, to my hair, dark circles under my eyes, matted hair and disheveled clothes. I gaped at my reflection, causing the Joker to giggle to himself.

"You'll always be drop dead gorgeous to me, Dollface." I smiled at his comment, feeling more and more like my old self. Well, the newer version of my old self.


As we lay in bed later that night, neither of us could find sleep. I lay on my side as the Joker stared at the ceiling, lying on his back.

"Can't sleep either 'eh, Dollface?" He whispered. I turned to copy his stature, "Don't worry, Girly, we've got all the time in the world to get you back. Now sleep." And with that I tentatively snuggled up to him, which he welcomed, and tried my best to fall asleep.

Not three hours later and I awoke with a start. I had had a nightmare.

"Oh c'mon, Harls. How stupid can you get? That amount of explosive will blast us all to Hell! Why can't you just follow instructions for once instead of tryna prove to Daddy that you're a big girl now?" He ran his fingers through his hair quickly whilst wafting his knife in front of him, reprimanding. I shuddered despite myself,

"I'm sorry, Mistah J. I just wanted to make ya' proud! I did it for you!" I shouted. I thought putting tons of dynamite in Gotham's water system would be funny, would make my man laugh, obviously I was wrong.

The Joker dropped his knife and approached me, the gap between us shrinking rapidly; he took my small neck in one large gloved hand and pressed hard. I gasped for air, trying to grab at his face and arm, but he blocked my attempts easily.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me, Harley." He grabbed my shoulder with his spare hand and shoved me against the wall, "stop acting like a brat and clear up the massive mess you've made!" and with that he let go of my neck, only to slap me around the face. I staggered sideways, reeling from the blow, and the dizziness of life returning to my body. Tears made my eyes sting and the slap made my cheek buzz painfully.

"But, Puddin'…" I began, but when his face snapped in my direction, eyes locking with mine, I knew I had to go. As I ran down the hallway, hearing the rest of his rage being taken out on furniture, his face echoed in my mine, the look of anger, pure hatred… I giggled to myself regardless of the fear that made my body fizz; he looked cute when he was angry.

I sat up in bed, grasping my neck and breathing heavily. Was it really a nightmare, or another memory? I felt my cheek, obviously it wasn't still throbbing, but the thought that the man sleeping beside me had struck me in such a way had me shaken to the core. I turned over to look at the Joker, sound asleep. I studied his face, he had forgotten to take his makeup off so most of it was on the pillow, so his face was a mix of the devious clown who had just slapped me in my reverie, and a handsome genius. He looked so content in sleep, the furrow in his brow was gone, the creases in his face less prominent where the paint had washed away. I leaned in closer to his face, trying to jog a memory in the corners of my mind. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and by reflex his hand shot out and grasped my throat. His eyes glazed over, still half asleep but his grip remained iron strong. As the horror of my nightmare flashed through my mind, I realised that my last feeling might be of his hand squeezing the life out of me. I choked out incoherent babble, trying to bring him to his senses. Then, suddenly as he had begun, he stopped. I slumped against the pillows, breathing roughly, like a fish out of water. The joker looked at me in the dark for a moment and then stormed out. I lay there shaking and confused.

I stayed like that for a while, until I heard the front door slam loudly. I crept to the mirror, looking at the ghostly reflection. I quickly brushed my hair and pinched my cheeks. I chose to ignore the hand shaped bruises that were forming on my neck. Quietly I made my way to the kitchen. I couldn't remember the last time I ate a proper meal and was positively starving. It was getting to the point where I would take on the Joker in order to reach the fridge. I opened the door; the cool breeze that exhumed from the refrigerator chilled me, calming me slightly. The shelves were pretty stocked, full to the brim with beers and pizza boxes, but no food. Oh well, it would have to do. I opened a pizza box and took the largest slice it had to offer, abandoning the part of my brain that told me that I craved something remotely healthy. I dug into my pizza, savoring the flavors that filled my mouth uncontrollably. I continued this for two more slices until I heard the door open again. I spun on the spot – crust in hand – expecting the worst. I heard heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom and although my brain screamed at me not to, I decided to put my heart at ease.

"I'm in here, J." I said, voice raised. It shocked me that I had called him a nickname. I heard the footsteps coming towards the kitchen door, they paused on the other side and then it swung open.

"What did you call me?" The Joker stood in the doorway, an intense look on his face, I couldn't decide if he was angry with me or not. I gaped at him, he was still in the same clothes as yesterday, his hair was unkempt and his makeup was as unnerving as ever. A heat low in my stomach made itself apparent to me as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. I couldn't speak, images of newly fresh memories either scaring me or making my knees weak racing through my mind. Saying I felt confused was an understatement. He came closer still,

"Harls, my lovely Harley. What did you just call me?"

"J. I called you J." I stammered the words out; by this time the Joker had anchored me on the island in the kitchen, both hands on the counter, effectively trapping me between hard and soft.

"Oh, Harley," he cooed, his hands ghosting over my hips, his lips coming closer to my neck as he continued to mumble to me, "you'll remember, Babydoll. I'll make sure you do."

Suddenly I was ripped from my daze when his lips traced the bruise on my neck, the one that he had caused. I gasped and pushed him away. He stumbled, caught off guard. My hands flew to my mouth, angered and scared and slightly in awe of the feeling of his full lips on my neck.

"Harley, please, you can't blame me for what happened earlier, you were inches from my faces, I was startled! Don't be afraid of me, Pumpkin." He held his arms out to me.

"I remember, Joker! When I planted loads of explosives in the water system. You hit me. And choked me. You actually tried to kill me!" I burst into tears, unable to hide that fact that my emotions were out of control. He came to me, running fingers through his unruly hair. He rubbed my arms, trying to soothe me.

"Listen to me, and listen good. I was in a bad place then, I was freaking out over Batman, I needed everything to be exact, and you just stepped in and distracted me with your… explosiveness! If you hadn't interfered then that little incident with your precious cheek wouldn't have happened, would it?" He tilted my head to make sure I met his gaze.

"I suppose not, J." I said, in thought. He smiled triumphantly and pulled me in for a hug. I tensed momentarily but then gave up. This man, whether I liked it or not, had been the blood pumping through my veins for the past two years. He had been my drug, my addiction, my obsession. Back in Arkham he had been the only thing that made my job worthwhile, he made me feel relaxed and showed me the world through his eyes, where everything was tinted red and I wasn't afraid to ask the questions that people would normally avoid. He had spoken to me like I was his world, and had divulged things that meant a lot to him. It made me sad to think that I couldn't remember them. Whether or not he'd meant what he'd said to me was irrelevant, just the fact that he'd been able to notice my little insecurities and eradicate them with a few soft words was enough to separate him from every other man I'd ever met. I would go home to find that my mind couldn't focus on anything else until I was back with him, and when I was with him he was the only thing that existed, the whole universe was outshone by his brilliance. In him I had found someone who was exciting, powerful and intelligent, and when he'd told me he wanted me, my heart soared. I know for as long as I live no amount of brain cells I lose will ever make me forget the way he made me feel.

"Mistah J?" I asked tentatively, testing out the nickname on my tongue. Perfect. He glanced down at me, encouraging me to continue speaking. "How did you escape from Arkham?" He looked surprised that I'd asked, but then he tapped his nose,

"All in good time, my Dear" he said. "How about another slice of that pizza, I'm starving!"


Joker POV

We sat in silence as we devoured the rest of the pizza, not sure how to approach each other.

"Well, there's no way I can kiss you today with all the onions on this pizza." I mused playfully; she smirked, far away.

"Me neither. Oh well." She said and peeked at me through heavy lashes. Her beauty never ceased to amaze me, why she fell for me I had no idea, hopefully she didn't want me to remind her. Standing up from the island I took the pizza box and stuffed it in the bin. She stood up and followed me, still quiet. I glanced at the clock on the wall; it was only midday.

"Whatchya wanna do today, Harley Baby?" I asked her, feeling her close behind me,

"You don't have plans?" she inquired, surprised. I shook my head; I was on the lie-low for a while, what with a whole crime family's blood on my hands.

"Today is about you Harley, and the next day, and the next, however many days it takes for you to return to me." I turned to face her, her features considerably less lifeless than the day before, I smiled. "You're looking good, toots." I winked at her, "C'mon then, what are we doing on this fine day?" I tapped my foot impatiently.

"Well, I dunno about you, but first I'm gonna freshen up and brush my teeth." She grinned at me almost suggestively and sauntered off to the bathroom. I cleaned up the kitchen before following her into the spacious room, the cream coloured tiles reminding me of Harley's skin, so smooth and unscathed. That was, of course apart from the scar on her inner thigh, the one that had labeled her as mine.

She was already in the shower when I shut the door behind me. Any second now she was going to feel the numb and foreign feeling on her leg, the crude J she had permanently into her own flesh, and hopefully remember that she'd given it to herself, rather pin the blame on poor ol' me. I grabbed my toothbrush off the counter and waited.