"Puddin'?" asked Harley later, knocking on the door to the bedroom. She opened the door to see him curled up on the bed, staring at the photograph of his wife.
"She loved flowers and animals," he whispered. "She loved all living things. She loved taking care of people…and I killed her. I…killed…"
He choked on a sob, and Harley hurried over to him, holding him soothingly. "Puddin', you didn't know," she whispered. "It's not your fault…"
"It's completely my fault!" he snapped. "She'd still be alive if not for me! I…murdered the only woman I ever loved!"
He sobbed, and Harley said nothing. "You think…she's the only woman you ever could love?" she asked at last.
He looked up at her. "I mean…it's awful, Mr. J, but she's dead…and she's been dead for some time…so maybe you can try to move on eventually. And…I mean…I ain't so bad, am I?"
"It's not a long time ago to me," he whispered. "The wound of her death is new, and raw. I can't just move on like that. I've already insulted her memory enough by being with you."
"Oh. Didn't know I was insulting anyone's memory by loving you," whispered Harley. "Silly me."
She stood up to leave, but he caught her hand. "Look, you're…a very attractive young woman," he murmured. "But…I don't love you. Not like I loved Jeannie…"
"But she's dead, puddin'," said Harley. "She's dead. And…you could try to love me like that, couldn't you? We could try…loving each other as we are. I mean, it wouldn't be perfect, but our relationship was never perfect, at least, not in the eyes of the world. But…you're all that I have. I can't lose you. I just can't."
"I lost the love of my life," he whispered. "I killed her, in a fit of insanity. I will never forgive myself for that, and I will never recover from that."
"You…don't have to recover," stammered Harley. "But you could try…going crazy again. That would make all the pain and memories disappear, just like it did the first time you became the Joker. I can show you, help you, drive you mad the way you drove me mad. And maybe I can have my Joker back, and all the bad memories and feelings will go away. Things will be back to normal. Well, maybe not normal, but…the way they used to be."
"I can't, Harley," he whispered. "I can't. Just leave me alone to deal with this pain. I can't run away from what I did, and I deserve to suffer for it."
Harley nodded, and left him, returning to the living room. She didn't know how long she sat alone there, but the daylight faded and turned to night, and he didn't emerge from his room.
She opened the door again at last to see him curled up on the bed, sniffling. Seeing him in tears broke her heart, and she hurried over to him, holding him tightly and comforting him.
"It's ok, puddin'," she whispered. "It's ok…"
And then he was kissing her, planting desperate, needy kisses all over her face and throat and onto her mouth. Harley shut her eyes in pleasure, but opened them again as he whispered, "Jeannie."
"I…I ain't Jeannie, puddin'," she gasped, drawing away.
He stared at her. "I know," he whispered. "But I need you to be tonight. Will you do that for me, Harley? Will you let me be with my wife one last time?"
Harley drew a deep breath. This went against every fiber of her being and every atom of self-respect, but so did having sex with another man but the Joker, she reminded herself. Although this man was still technically the Joker, however much he didn't act like him. It wasn't strictly cheating, but...for tonight, they would both be different people. And they would worry about tomorrow when it came.
She nodded slowly. "Yes, Jack," she whispered. "Yes, I will."
He let out a sob of relief, burying himself in her arms, his fingers and mouth and body gentle and tender and full of boundless love. Harley had never felt anything like it.
She had never had sex with anybody but the Joker before. And she didn't like it, even if he technically was the Joker. Jack's love-making was soft and tender and gentle, and while the Joker had had his moments, their love primarily wasn't about that. Harley felt deeply unsatisfied as she lay in Jack's arms afterward, which wasn't something she ever felt with the Joker.
For the first time, she began to question whether she really could stay with him if he wasn't her Joker. If she could really stay with a man she didn't really love, even if he did outwardly resemble the man she loved madly. If she actually wanted to waste her life being someone else, not her true self as Harley Quinn, but rather a substitute wife for Jack. She was happy to give up everything for the man she loved, but if Jack wasn't it, if Mr. J wasn't in there, but gone for good…
And she couldn't see a future with him as a regular family man. Harley had always wanted to settle down and have kids with the Joker, but this man wasn't the Joker. She had no idea if she wanted a family with him. She didn't even know who he was.
Neither of them had fallen asleep, and Harley suddenly reached for Joker's cigarette case on the bedside table, offering one to him. "No thanks – I don't smoke," he said.
"Oh," she said, about to put it down, but then taking one for herself and lighting it. "Neither do I, but it's been a rough week," she muttered, inhaling and coughing uncontrollably.
She took another drag on the cigarette, only coughing a few times. "You ever do anything bad, Jack?" she asked.
"Aside from murdering my wife and then cheating on her memory by asking another woman to pretend to be her? No, I don't," he replied.
"That's ok. I was imagining you were my Joker," she murmured. "So we're even."
"And this is the kinda relationship you want?" he asked, looking at her. "Meaningless sex where we just imagine we're two different people?"
"No," she retorted. "That's not the kinda relationship I want. I want my Joker back. And you want Jeannie back. But since both those things are pretty impossible, maybe we'll just have to settle for what we can get."
He was silent. "I don't like…having used you like this," he murmured. "No woman deserves to be used for her body…"
"It's fine – I'm using you for my Joker's body," she interrupted, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "People don't always get what they deserve – you taught me that. Your wife didn't deserve to die, but she did. I didn't deserve to lose my Joker, but I did. That's just life. It's crazy and random, like my Mr. J. It's why being with him always made everything make sense. Now nothing makes sense, and I dunno what to do."
"Believe me, Harley, if I could be that man again, I would," he murmured. "I would give anything to be rid of this pain, including forgetting the man I used to be and the life I used to know. We both want the same thing now."
"You'd forget Jeannie," reminded Harley. "Would you want to live like that?"
"Better than remembering that I killed her," he replied.
"I guess that's true!" laughed Harley. She fell silent. "Sorry, that's not…funny. Although my Joker would've thought it was."
Tears came to his eyes again. "I really was a monster, wasn't I?" he whispered. "I suppose it's some consolation to the world that he's gone forever."
He stood up. "I'm…gonna get a shower. Try and wash some guilt off, not that it'll do any good."
"Kay," said Harley, finishing her cigarette as Joker entered the bathroom. She made a face as she put it out. "Dunno what Mr. J saw in that. Doesn't even relax ya, and makes your mouth taste like you swallowed an ashtray."
She dressed back in her red nightie and headed into the kitchen for a glass of water, and then returned to the bedroom, climbing back under the covers and trying not to think about what to do next. Her entire future was called into question now – this Mr. J probably wasn't going to commit crimes or fight Batman anymore, which left Harley hanging at loose ends. If her future wasn't serving Mr. J, what on earth was she supposed to do with her life?
She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of a crash and a bang from the bathroom. "Puddin'?" she called, instantly concerned. She threw open the door and raced in to see the Joker unconscious and lying in a pool of blood – he had clearly slipped and fallen in the shower and hit his head on the tap.
"Oh my God!" cried Harley, pulling him out of the shower and into the bedroom and examining the cut on his head. She carefully rinsed the blood off and saw that despite clearly hitting his head hard, the cut itself wasn't very deep. She was just considering taking him to a hospital despite the risks of getting re-arrested when the Joker suddenly groaned and his eyes fluttered open.
"Ouch, my aching skull," he muttered, feeling the bump on his head. "What the hell happened?"
"You fell in the shower and hit your head, puddin'," said Harley.
He stared at her blankly. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.
Harley stared back. "I'm…Harley, puddin'," she said, slowly. "Harley Quinn. Remember?"
"No," he replied, studying her up and down. Then he grinned. "I like what I see, though. Hot little number, ain't ya?"
"Uh…thanks," stammered Harley. "I mean, I'm probably nothing compared to Jeannie, but…"
"Who's Jeannie?" he interrupted.
Harley gaped at him. "Your…wife, puddin'," she said, slowly. "The one you've been so choked up about for days…"
Joker scratched his head. "Gee, I musta been drinking or something to tell you a whopper like that. Though that's kinda a crazy way to chat up a dame, telling her I got a wife. Still, it clearly worked!" he chuckled. "I ain't married, kid – ain't the type for it. Don't like to be tied down. Free and single, that's me. And frankly, my lifestyle ain't a good one to support a wife on."
"What lifestyle?" asked Harley.
"I lied and said I was married but didn't tell you the truth which is my normal pick-up line?" he asked, frowning. "Boy, I must have been completely trashed. I'm a gangster, kid. Hitman, to be specific. I must have bragged about what a good shot I am – the ladies love that. They also like hearing that a man's a criminal – I think they think bad guys are more exciting in bed. Well, I don't have to tell you, do I?" he laughed. "Hope you weren't disappointed in the performance, even if I did say some crazy things. I blame the alcohol. I have been drinking, right? That's why my memory of recent events is so hazy, huh?"
"Puddin'…is this a joke?" stammered Harley.
"Joke?" repeated Joker. "No. I mean, I got a great sense of humor, but there's no joke in a guy telling a gal he's married, or lying about being a criminal."
"But…I don't understand…who you are," stammered Harley. "If you ain't Mr. J…and you ain't Jack Napier…"
"I am Jack Napier," he replied. "Hitman for the Valestra gang. And the last thing I remember is pulling a job at Ace Chemicals just before…some nutcase in a bat costume knocked me off a platform and into some weird green acid. Which might explain why my body's all white – dip in that must've had a nasty reaction to my skin!" he laughed. "Could've been worse, I guess – at least I'm alive. I must've got outta there somehow and then gone to drink myself into a stupor! And picked up a hot dame somewhere along the line – did we meet in a bar?"
"So you're not…married to Jeannie Napier?" asked Harley, slowly.
"I dunno who that is," he replied.
"Apparently…someone you've killed," Harley said. "Does that bother you?"
Jack shrugged. "I've killed all kindsa people, toots. What's one more?"
"And you're not an…innocent, nice guy…who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?" pressed Harley.
"Well, that's certainly what I would've told the cops if I'd got arrested!" chuckled Joker.
"And…you have done bad things in your life, huh?" asked Harley, slowly.
He grinned. "Tons of 'em, toots. You wanna hear all about 'em? Might get the mood back."
"No, I…I just need a moment alone to…think," stammered Harley, standing up. "To figure out what the hell is going on…"
"You and me both!" he chuckled. "Hey, you got a spare smoke?" he asked, noticing the burnt out cigarette in the ashtray. "I'm craving one."
Harley nodded, handing him the cigarette case. "Thanks, dollface you're a peach," he said, as Harley lit the cigarette for him. "You let me know if you're in the mood for round two when you get back. Or whatever round we're on!" he chuckled, slapping her bottom.
Harley left him chuckling to himself, no closer to understanding what in the world was going on in Mr. J's head, but much preferring this version of Jack Napier to the previous one.