Author's Note:

Hello my lovelies. O.o

That last chapter took forever, and I'm sorry. This weekend's been rather crazy. What with Halloween costumes to make and talk on to people. I've been fighting with my own Mr. J about knives and such While he tries to convince me that he won't carry them because I'm not stable enough to handle blades and children in one place. The turd. I'm not unstable. I'm NOT…I think.

T.T

Anyway, More at bottom so I don't ruin anything in this chapter.

Tootles and please review me.

Willow

When my eyes opened, everything was too bright. I turned to look behind me at the clock, but cried out instead. Stab wounds hurt for days, I found out…well, I hoped it would only be days. Twisting in any fashion resulted in an electric blade scraping out my insides. I sat up slowly, gulping down air to quell my nausea.

With a sudden slam, the door opened, closing loudly behind Mr. J. He didn't look at me as he crossed the room to his desk and began ripping through the papers there for a blue notepad. He spun and moved to the map then checked between them. I stood from the bed, slowly, watching his fingers dance across the glossy map down a street to the edge of Gotham. It was where the rich folk lived.

"No, no, no. Too obvious." He muttered and crumpled up the paper, tossing it to the floor. Then he cracked his neck and grunted in annoyance. I wrapped an arm around my gut and watched him. His head was bent low in thought, his fingers were tittering over the papers on his desk again. Without making a sound, I sank down into an armchair by the door and simply watched him.

Sometimes I wondered why he didn't have to Blistex like a mother-fucker, but still; the sight and sound of that tongue darting between his lips was kind of a turn-on. Just like that comical voice made me feel all warm inside. The way he spoke with just the right undercurrent of threat. He was awful.

And beautiful.

"You're starring at me." He said this without turning from his work. I gulped, embarrassed about being caught. He was in such a strange mood today. I didn't reply so he glanced over, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip. My eyes followed it, and I know he caught it, but honestly, I didn't care. He knew I wanted him, he liked pushing me to my limit because of it.

‑­

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you it's rude to stare?" he asked, back to looking through his papers. I smiled thinly at that, and narrowed my eyes at him.

"No sir, she didn't teach me much of anything."

He grunted and stood strait, then strode over to me with a purposeful expression. I cried out in indignation when he yanked me from the chair and shoved me out the door and into the hall, then locked it behind me. So that meant he was busy today. Whatever.

xx

It was a bad sign when I dreamt about the night my parents…died. It got me thinking about things, like the fact that I'd told Mr. J I couldn't remember how my mother had died, even though I had flashes of what I'd done.

Numb. Looking up. She's screaming. Why was she screaming?

Confusion. She runs, I follow.

Fear. She's going to tell someone! I can't go to jail!

Anger. How could she, I'm her daughter.

The hammer swung, and she suddenly wasn't screaming anymore.

I closed my eyes and shook away the sickening drop in my stomach from guilt. It was only my mother who made me guilty. Of all the people I'd ever hurt, she was the only one who didn't truly deserve it for some reason or another. I still had the hammer, it had become a sort of memento. My favorite weapon, with the exception of the black switchblade Mr. J had given me after our first job.

I pushed through the door into the underground garage where the boys hung out to play cards and lounge before or after jobs. Tonight my Puddin' must have had something planned because most of them were here.

Tyler looked up from his hand and leaned back further in his seat at the poker table. The other boys gave vague gestures of 'hello' then glanced between the two of us when I came to a stop beside him.

"Boss need somethin'?" he asked, sounding a bit wary.

"Nope," I sighed, "He kicked me out. He's in one of those moods."

The boys grumbled.

"Great."

"Wonderful."

"Not pissin' him off tonight."

‑­

I rolled my eyes and plopped down across Tyler's lap. Many eyes went to me and flickered to the door nervously. The Joker had been known to…discourage...touching me "inappropriately". Few dared to try anymore. Tyler, however knew my game, and only arched an eyebrow.

He really was a handsome boy. Very Italian, with the olive skin, and raven hair. Gentle curls that dusted his collar and dark, moss green eyes. I crossed my legs at the knee and rested my arms around his neck.

"So, Tyler, is there any way you could hand over your keys. I need to see my babies."

He rolled his cigarette to the corner of his mouth, still watching me in mild irritation. "You plan on bringing them along tonight?"

I pulled the smoke from his mouth and blew on the embers, turning the cherry brilliant red. I took a slow drag, and watched him.

"He doesn't like you smoking, you know that."

I scoffed, "What are you my babysitter now?"

Tyler's expression darkened and he nodded toward my right arm. "Just making sure he doesn't add any more diamonds. Unless you liked that too."

I stood and put the smoke out over his cards, burning a hole through the center. He stood as well, towering above me with a peevish expression.

"Just give me the keys." I growled, no longer in the mood to play. The arm incident had been my most trying. It held the most lasting damage. Because, any girl who claimed she was the Joker's other half could not be unmarked. My initiation is what he called it, but thinking back he must have just needed to hurt me.

I caught the jingling silver ring when Tyler threw it over then stalked off toward the farthest corner of the garage. The barks started immediately, and I grinned. Throwing up my arms I laughed.

"Babies!" I cried and the three huge dogs came barging over to the side of the pen, attacking the chain link savagely. I giggled, and looked up at the small video screen by the wall. It was split into three views. One of which had a curled up drug-dealer in the cell. I unlocked the gate and ordered the dogs to sit. They complied instantly and I slipped inside, then closed the gate. With loud barks they sprang forward, nuzzling my hands and thighs while I smiled down at them.

Batman had killed two of my Puddin's first dogs, so he'd replaced them with another Rottweiler and a large German Sheppard. These last two loved me the best, as I'd been the first in contact with them once here. The first rotty respected me, and loved my treats.

"Are my babies hungry?" I asked to a chorus of barks.

Just then the garage doors slammed open and I heard chairs scrapping as people scrambled to their feet. Sounded like Mr. J was ready to go. I stood slowly, face drawn as he approached the pen.

‑­

"Whaaat do you think you're doing?" he inquired very calmly. The dog's hackles began to raise until Mr. J barked a harsh command in German. (one of the words they'd been trained to heel and hold back) They settled reluctantly but didn't leave my side.

"I need to feed them. What else would I be doing?"

He glanced down at the dogs, then motioned for me to get out of the pen. I moved slowly, wondering if he was angry at all. He seemed quiet, which usually meant something bad. The gate opened and he pulled me through while the dogs struggled to hold their positions. They whined as I moved to the control panel on the wall just under the screen. Mr. J ran his key across the fence and I pushed the small, faded button beside the drug dealer's screen.

"Bon appétit, babies" I called and the guy started screaming.

Mr. J turned me to face him then, but I looked down.

"Hey. Look at me." He shook me lightly, "Look. At. Me."

I did and bit my lower lip. He looked so sharp in his suit. That expensive purple coat was soft enough to rub against and…I blinked away my urges and remembered that I was mad at him. He grabbed my chin and brought me close. Like always, blood and gunpowder. The scent drove me crazy.

"You don't feed them unless I tell you to. Under-stand?" He drew out the word, head bobbing with it. I nodded quickly and tried not to pull away. "You're starting to think you own the place, little girl. Can't have you getting a big head, can we?" His voice dropped a few octaves and my blood ran cold. "Maybe I should take you down a few pegs. Hm? Help you remember who is in chaarge here?"

I drew a shaky breath when he released my arm and pushed me away.

"We'll discuss it later, dollll-face." He spun to walk away, snapping when I didn't follow. "Harley."

xx

We were in a warehouse across town. Some of the boys had gone out to collect a few owed profits while the rest cased the building, guarding every door.

Tonight was the first night I'd watched him work (meaning kill) in a long while. I'd always found the experience sickening, but not because of the torture. The thing that bothered me was that I liked it. Watching him work through the screams and begging was like theater. Sometimes it even got me a little hot.

Tonight however, something was wrong. I couldn't handle the thought of watching him.

"Mr. J, I can't" My eyes moved to the end of the hall. A meat locker or something. He wasn't listening as usual, and instead marched me along by the back of the neck. "Please, Puddin' I-"

"Shut up Harley." He sighed and opened the door, shoving me inside. Instantly I averted my eyes and clenched my jaw. Glancing back to see who it was.

‑­

An already broken young man tied to a support beam. His blue-grey eyes flicked quickly between the Joker and me. I knew he was wondering whether or not I'd been kidnapped as well, and my stomach began to churn.

"Mr. J…"

"Sit down, Harley." He motioned toward the black, plastic chair against the wall beside me, removing his coat.

"But-"

"Sit. Down." The bellowing command came so suddenly that I dropped into the chair with a tiny whimper. His smile returned then and he leaned over me, bracing his arms on the chair so that I was trapped. My heart pounded up in my throat and I drew a shaky breath.

"We're going to play a game now, Cupcake." The term of endearment came as a harsh mock. My eyes misted, but I didn't look away. He liked people to look at him.

"I'm going to show you how this is done, and then you're going to repeat it." I nodded mutely, glancing over at the terrified guy across the room.

"What if-" my voice broke and I had to clench a fist to keep from loosing it. "What if I can't do it?"

"You will." He said standing strait and grinning, "Or you'll take his place."

The way he said that last part; so chipper. It made me tremble.

"Kill or be killed, Harley, it's the oldest game in the book."

I nodded, swallowing hard and he locked the door. The Joker rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, moving over to the bound victim, and ripped the duck tape from his mouth. Instantly, there was begging.

"Oh god, please! Don't do this, please!" he broke into sobs. Mr. J looked over at me with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as if to say,

"Pathetic."

I watched the guy closely, knowing it was expected and suddenly, my breathing faltered.

"That's the senator's youngest son!"

"Second youngest," Mr. J corrected, running his fingers over a tray of 'tools.' I was suddenly struck by how nimble his fingers were. The way they tittered over the blades and hammers as if feeling for their energies. They were strong hands, graceful, and my heart did a tiny flip when he caught me starring and winked.

God, I was sick.

‑­

"My father can pay you. He'll ransom me, I swear!" the guy, Jared I think, cried. His should-be model-boy hair lay in wet rings across his forehead. At some point he'd gotten cut just above his left eye. The Joker wasn't listening. He grabbed a pair of small hedge clippers and knelt in front of him. Jared rattled his bindings looking to me.

"Help me!" he screamed, tears washing down his cheeks. My stomach rolled again and I blinked away my own tears.

"Don't look at her," the Joker said almost boredly, "look at me. Hey." He cuffed him lightly on the cheek. "She's not going to save you. Daddy's not coming to bail you out. You're alone, Jared."

The guy was shaking his head, denial clear in his wide, sterling eyes. "He'll get here. He always comes. And he'll get you."

Mr. J titled his head, smirking, then looked to the door as if waiting. He licked his lips and my gut clenched, but not in disgust.

"Really?" he looked back to Jared, "You think so?"

Jared began sobbing now, so the Joker stroked his cheek, "sh-sh" he soothed, then slapped him lightly across the cheek twice.

"Now," he reached around and cut Jared's ropes. The guy was instantly fighting to stand, but was subdued with a simple push. Too weak to retaliate, he slumped back into the support beam.

"You done?"

Jared gave a weak nod.

"Good." The Joker smiled cheerfully and grabbed the guys wrist , plopping it down on a metal case beside them. "That's a nice ring you have there, Jared."

I crossed my legs, fingers curling around the edge of my chair. His voice, and that playfully intense look in his dark eyes. It was curling in my gut, twisting up my spine. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath only to jump to attention when Jared let out a petrified shriek.

Mr. J had spread Jared's fingers and now forced the pruning shears over his rings finger. He was so calm, eyes leveled over the bleeding digit even while Jared flailed like he was on fire. He got the shears around the finger and tightened his grip.

"There we go." He murmured and with a wet crunch like snapping celery, cut it off.

I just couldn't keep Harley's 'Babies' out of this fic. It's essential to her character, but I figured Hyenas weren't practical in Nolan's Gotham. So the dogs from the movie are here instead. Plus I loved the idea of those psychotic dogs being sweet to no one in the whole world but Harley. Everyone else is fair game, but they truly are her Babies.

Also, I've always wanted a German Sheppard and Rotty. For now, I cope with my nana's Sheppard, Commander. He's my big pillow, and he likes to attack people that threaten me.

I love my bestest 'Mander 'Mander.

ANYWAY

Hope you liked it. More soon. Much love,

Willow.