Miss me? God knows I've missed you. In honor of Heath's birthday, have this short interlude chapter. I'm really sorry it's not my usual amount of rambling. I promise the next chapter will put us back on track. I also promise it will not take me nearly as long to finish, as most of it is in the works as we speak. Originally this was one very long chapter, but when it started to push something like 20k words, that was too much even for me. So here is a short taste of what is to come.

Are you all ready for a car chase? I know I am. But first, some fluff.

And, seriously, I've missed you. I really have. If you'd drop me a line/review/message/whatever assuring me that my return is welcome, it would be much appreciated.

With love as always,

Audrey

"Ever since you've been my ace of hearts
Hit me like a freight train in the dark
Come on, baby, take me far away
I wanna get so lost in the great escape
We shouldn't have to try, shouldn't have to try so hard."

~Zella Day "Ace of Hearts"

When Harley woke late that morning, J was still asleep. No surprise, really, considering he had roused her just an hour after their first tryst of the night to go at it again. He'd made her mind rip from her body four times before they'd both passed out in a tangle of limbs, too exhausted and sated to even speak afterward. Arm wrapped around her waist, he'd held her tight and she swore nothing had ever made her feel so secure.

And then the nightmares found her.

Ripped away all of her comfort and happiness, replacing it with a hollow terror and the image of Victor Zsasz grinning as he cut her open. Harley woke screaming and J somehow managed to sleep through it. A cynical voice somewhere deep in her mind told her that he was probably accustomed to the sound of screaming, but she pushed it away almost immediately.

Taking his hand in hers, she rolled onto her side and wrapped his sleeping form around her like a blanket. He didn't protest, didn't even try to move away, just mumbled something unintelligible and pulled her close.

For a long time she lay there, soaking up his warmth and waiting for him to stir. It came later than expected, sleep nearly claiming her again, only to be torn away as he sat upright and stretched, bumping into her carelessly in the process.

And just like that he was awake, out of bed and on his feet, body sparking with energy. Harley found it ridiculous, her mind always taking far too long to reach wakefulness. As she fought for consciousness, he was already rambling at her, telling her of his grand plans for the day. It was lucky that she had figured most of them out last night or she would have been lost completely.

Closing her eyes, she buried her face in the pillows and tried to ignore the rhythm of his voice. He didn't need her today, his plans were too complicated, too precarious to need her help. Maybe if she just pretended to not hear him he would let her sleep again.

By some miracle, she managed to drift in and out of consciousness for the better part of a half hour while still vaguely being aware of the shower running and J trying to carry on some sort of conversation while shaving. By the time he was finished, he had stopped talking and for one fleeting moment she thought he had given up and decided to let her rest.

She was not that lucky, of course, never was. The moment she began to drift off she felt his hands on her and he giggled as he shook her into wakefulness.

"Harrrleeey," he drawled, hands roving across her shoulders as he shook her once more. "No sleeping, sugar. The sun's already up, you should be too."

Grumbling through the fog of sleep that clouded her mind, Harley shrugged off his hands. Slowly she managed to move to a sitting position and waited for him to be on her again. Never one to disappoint, he plopped on the bed beside her and dug his fingers into her sides. She groaned and writhed, convulsing with giggles as she tried to escape his hands.

"Don't tickle me!" Futilely pushing at his hands, she tried to land a kick against his side and narrowly missed. "J! Seriously! It's not…nice!"

Immediately he stopped, pulling that cynical face he always did when she said something stupid.

"It's not…nice?" he repeated, lifting an eyebrow.

He let out a cackle that made her cringe a bit, still not quite awake enough for his shenanigans. This time when he dove in for the attack, she was ready for him. Immediately dodging out of the way, but a hot pain in her side had her going stiff with a gasp.

It was so sudden, so blinding, that she nearly choked on her next breath. Something inside her was burning, white hot flowers blooming and wilting in time with each inhale.

Not sensing her pain, he once again dug his fingers into her hips, her sides, her stomach. It wasn't until she actually cried out in protest and agony that he realized something was wrong. The pressure of his hands on her side made her vision blur slightly and she swore the steady ache would make her sick.

"Stop stop stop." The breathless begging barely left her lips as she tried to move away.

Every movement made the world spin, her body suddenly so tense and ripe with pain that she had to lay back down before her center of gravity gave way completely.

"You can't get out of playing that easily, sugar." The threat was empty as he made no move to touch her again and she simply groaned in response.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly where the pain started. There was fire beneath her ribs, her sides, burning up her stomach and chest. The muscles protested with each gasp of air and she had to purposely slow her inhales to keep from crying.

"Harley?" That concern in his tone made her all too aware of how bad this must be, how vividly that pain must have shown. "Sugar, what's wrong?"

She could hear the worry coating the words, the cadence a bit rushed as he tried to roll her over to face him. A frantic gasp stilled his hands, their warmth almost too much with the hot sickening pain lighting up her insides.

"Don't." It was more of a groan than a statement. "My side is on fucking fire. Feels like…" She gasped in a breath when an attempt at a deep inhale brought tears to her eyes. "My ribs are fucking breaking."

Humming low in his throat, he pushed her over onto her stomach and carefully prodded at the muscles along her ribs and spine. He muttered something unintelligible as his fingers gently massaged the burning skin over her lower back.

"You managed to piss something off good in here." Sucking on his scars, he continued to move about her skin, avoiding an area above her hips. "You know your ribs are still fucking purple back here."

Attempting to look over her shoulder at him, she raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you've had this bruise since that son of a bitch the mobs sent attacked you." He paused, making a noise low in his throat before carefully moving his palm across the large area he'd previously been avoiding.

Immediately spots erupted across her vision and she hissed through her teeth. "That's been bruised for a fucking week and you didn't bother to tell me?"

She could feel his shrug. "It's been more like two weeks. And, anyway, it was getting better. I think it had nearly cleared up before yesterday. We must have pissed it off with all that physical activity."

Unable to help herself, she laughed at the suggestive little grunt he made at her.

Laughter made her sides ache, but she couldn't help herself. "So it's all your fault, is that what you're telling me?"

"Probably." Again he massaged the bruise and the pain was slightly less unbearable. "Hate to say it, but Daddy was probably a little too rough with you, sugar."

"Being football tackled by one of your idiots probably didn't help much either." It was hard to tease him when she could hardly breathe, but he chuckled nonetheless.

"Can't catch a break, can you?"

When she winced at a particularly tender spot he hummed low in his throat and got to his feet. Moving hastily across the room, he picked up his coat and grabbed something from deep within the pocket. The orange prescription bottle landed on the bed with a rattle as he went to the bathroom and retrieved a cup of water from the sink.

"Those should help." He nodded his green tinged curls toward the bottle. "I was giving 'em to ya for a while there. Sort of forgot the last day or two."

Grimacing as she sat up, Harley allowed his words to sink in. Gingerly she picked up the pill bottle and read the label. A sudden confusion and disgust filled her and made her more ill than the pain. "You've been giving me fucking oxycontin?"

Had she not been so surprised and slightly disgusted, she would have laughed. Somehow, without her knowledge, he had been giving her heavy painkillers. Really heavy painkillers. And she had been entirely blissfully unaware.

"Well, yeah, sweetheart, you've needed them. I'm surprised them stitches ain't givin' you more trouble, honestly."

Blinking incredulously at him, she shook the pill bottle accusingly in his direction. "You mean to tell me you have been giving me these for…what? Two weeks now? And you didn't bother to tell me?"

With a casual shrug, he turned away from her and began to put on his suit. "Well, no. Zak had you on morphine for about four days before you woke up."

Frustrated and furious, she growled and threw the pills at the back of his head. "You didn't think it was maybe pertinent information? That maybe you should have mentioned that you were slipping me this shit?"

The bottle hit him squarely in the back of the head and he grimaced at it as it clattered to the ground. Bending down to retrieve it, he pulled a face before tossing it back to her.

"Don't throw a fit now, sugar." Pulling on his shirt on, he stood straight and began to do up the buttons. "It just didn't come up. It was a need to know basis and you didn't need to know."

Gritting her teeth, she fixed him with a glare and fought back the urge to throw the bottle at him again. "You're such a bastard sometimes. What did you do? Just put drugs into my coffee? Did that not strike you as a little fucking…creepy?"

"Uhhhh nooo." Pulling on his trousers, he began to tuck in his shirt as he made his way back toward the bed. Snatching the bottle away from her, he walked back across the room with the pills and it occurred to her he may not give them back. "I mean, if you don't want them, I can just keep them for myself."

Popping open the top, he dumped a few pills into his hand and lifted his palm to his mouth. She watched as he threw his head back and dry swallowed the little white tablets. Stomach turning, she kept her eyes on him, going over the problems with the entire situation repeatedly in her mind.

More questions than she could keep up with plagued her. Was J hiding some sort of addiction from her? How heavily had he been drugging her? Had her feelings from the entire past week been exaggerated by some cocktail of drugs pumping through her system without her knowledge? It would certainly explain how clouded her moral code had been.

Rage flared within her, her vision practically going red and she pushed herself from the bed and felt her body light up with a fresh wave of nausea. Biting back pain, she stormed over and ripped the bottle from his hand.

"How many of those fucking things did you take?" she demanded.

Giggling, he shrugged. "Enough. You think you're the only one with aches and pains, sweetheart?"

"I think you shouldn't treat this like a goddamn joke!"

He smirked. "Well, sugar, I am – "

It took all of her self-control not to slap him. "Don't you fucking say it!"

Immediately his face fell, brow knitting as he stepped close to her and descended like a hawk. His fingers tangled in her hair as he brought his face close to hers and she let out a cry of frustration, balled fists slamming against his chest.

With soft, reassuring sounds he hushed her. Feigned gentleness pulled the bottle from her fingers and brought it up to eye level. He shook it as thought taunting her, his hand never leaving her hair as a grin took his face. Instinctively she reached for the bottle, her side screaming in pain from the angle she stood at. Giggling, he pulled it back and gave her an exaggerated frown.

"I thought you didn't want me giving you drugs, sugar." Again he rattled the bottle of pills and she growled in frustration and agony.

"I don't like that you were sneaking them to me, I don't like that you haven't mentioned it until now." Another swipe at the bottle earned her a sharp tug at her hair. She would have winced at it had the fire in her ribs not distracted her from feeling anything else. "I understand the necessity, I just really do not appreciate your approach. And then you shrug it away and taunt me with this as though it's some kind of fucking candy rather than prescription painkillers…"

The pressure on her scalp built, his fist tightening in her hair until she was forced to arch her back to follow his hand. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad that she couldn't breathe - couldn't cry out - could only whimper as she tried to pull away. Struggling only made it worse, but it felt her only option.

"You need to learn to watch your mouth." His thumb and forefinger pressed too hard into her jaw as he turned her face to line up with his, the plastic cap of the bottle digging into her skin.

Gritting her teeth, she reached out and slapped the bottle from his hand. It clattered to the bed and his grip on her hair tightened hard enough to make her cry out. If he kept pulling, she swore he would leave the back of her head bald.

"J, you're really hurting me." Breathing through the pain was almost too much. Every inch of her cried out at the slightest twitch of muscle, the stabbing pressure in her sides and the tearing pain as a few strands of hair began to rip free of her scalp.

Her eyes watered against her will as his fingers pressed hard against her jaw. There would be bruises left in their wake, if he gripped any harder she swore she would break.

"Am I, sugar?" A sharp tug at her hair made her scream as her vision went white and spotted. It was too much, she couldn't handle it...she was going to be sick.

"Jesus Christ, J, STOP IT!"

There were blonde strands of hair tangled in his fingers as he finally released her. For a long moment he stared at them as though not recognizing where they'd come from, couldn't process how they had nested there. Over the span of a few breaths, pain began to dull slightly and she stared at him in horrified disbelief.

He'd hurt her. On purpose. Not badly - no, the real agony was still stemming from that angry spot in her ribs - but he had knowingly been cruel enough to make the pain worse. Had pulled her hair and gripped her hard until she begged him to let her go. And even then, there was still something in his eyes that made her almost certain he wasn't done.

Her mouth trembled, brows knitting together as she shut her eyes tight in attempts not to cry. All shallow breath and shaking limbs, she took a step toward the bathroom. Immediately his arm scooped her back and pushed her squarely onto the bed.

Lashing out, she shoved his arms away aimed a blow for his face that missed entirely.

"Do. Not." That threat was all it took to have her swallowing all of her fight and collapsing in on herself.

Not breaking eye contact with her, J bent forward and picked up the little orange bottle from the floor. Carefully he tucked it into her hand and forcibly wrapped her fingers around it.

"Take two and don't fucking say another word." It was an order, not a request. One Harley knew better than to ignore, one she couldn't ignore if she wanted to breathe properly again today. "I don't have time to argue with you over asinine bullshit today."

Shooting disgusted looks from J to the bottle in her palm, Harley leaned over to the bedside table and took the cup of water that had been procured for her. Feeling defeated and nearly blinded by pain, she popped open the bottle and chased two pills with water just as she had been told. Across the room, J made a sound of approval, but was too busy getting dressed to glance in her direction.

She hated this, every bit of it, from the shooting pain to the self-loathing that coiled in her stomach. There was no telling how much of this was her fault.

And there was so much of "this" to contend with.

Laying back on the bed, she tried to push all of the doubt and negativity from her mind, to focus on breathing evenly and hoping the pain would steadily begin to subside because it was certainly not being quick about it.

For a long time the room was tense and silent, save for the ever present low rumble of J's muttering. Every so often Harley would catch words and phrases that earned her attention, little details of the plan she had not put together or names she could almost place. Most of the time he just growled and she wondered what flurry of thoughts he was snarling away. If he cared that she felt on the brink of some existential crisis, if he heard the way her breath caught when she inhaled too deep.

When he eventually settled beside her on the bed, freshly painted face grim and twitching, she almost couldn't bring herself to look at him. Even when he settled a hand on her stomach just below her ribs and cleared his throat in a way that wanted to be an apology. It was too much.

He was too much. A black hole ever-ready to consume.

Slow, lazy circles were traced against her skin with precision and meaning and barely there touches that never came too close to the bruise that stood out starkly purple and yellow against an expanse of ivory. There was a touch of guilt in his eyes when they settled on it, which seemed ridiculous. He was incapable of remorse, wasn't he?

"Harrrrleeyyy," he said, and she could feel his tongue savor each syllable.

It reminded her of when they met, of the first time she had given him her name. Of the way he had tested each sound to his liking and she swore that no man would ever say her name like that again. He made it sound important, revered. Like she was a Greek muse or a goddess on the edge of reaching divinity.

She hated how easy it was to dam the torrent of disgust she'd been feeling when he said her name like that. Her errant god suddenly forgiven of all sins.

"J?" The name was barely more than a croak, but he took her hand in his and she felt as though she had ascended.

Forgiveness shown in her eyes, her face, and he drank it up and grinned like the devil as he smoothed a hand over her hair. The memory of his fingers tugging strands away at the root seemed distant as he pressed a kiss to her. And suddenly she was floating. Light. His kisses would send her straight to an ethereal plane if he kept at this, all gentle brushes of skin and reverent hands like Catholic confession.

Somewhere deep inside she knew the drugs had kicked in, that the pain was subsiding and each beat of her heart sent a fresh wave of relief to her nerves. That sweet relief coupled with his painted lips against the skin of her cheek, her lips, her throat...it was intoxicating.

She chased it.

Chased him.

Gripped the lapels of his purple woolen overcoat and devoured him until her mouth ached even through the haze of painkillers. Hate and adoration entwined in a toxic fold that had her legs wrapping about his hips and her fingers ripping at his hair.

She felt nothing and everything and was too consumed by his all-encompassing presence to feel the very real weight of guilt that threatened to pull her under the ocean and drown her. When the two of them were combined she was weightless and regret was a cinderblock that threatened to pull her deep beyond retrieval and for the love of god she just wanted to feel nothing but the heat of his skin and his breath.

"Sugar…" Insistent finger pressed her shoulders against the cheap linen sheets. "I need you to promise me something, hm?"

She nodded and his leather gloves trailed down her arms. Paint streaked down her neck and she knew nothing else. Only this, only the two of them tangled together.

"Of course, puddin'. Anything." Fingers pressed against his still-damp scalp and urged his face lower. Maybe if he never stopped touching her, she would never feel anything else.

The frown he gave her as he pulled away implied that wasn't his intention. "You're not going to do anything today."

"No."

"Just rest."

Impatiently she rolled her eyes and tried to regain the sensation of his skin against hers. "Yes. Just rest."

"Good."

And he kissed her again and she knew a blissful amount of nothing for a long time. The universe exploded before her eyes and blinded her to all that was not his touch.

"You know I'm just doing what's best for you." Hot breath washed over her like waves on sand, breaking her from the sweet nothing of his touch and forcing her to make a sound that could have been agreement.

This time when he pulled back she was offered a full view of him, perfectly made up save a smear of pink from lips to chin. He was so handsome like this, a monster to all that could not see past his facade. In this state he belonged to no one but her and she found peace in that possession.

"I fucked up your war paint." She smiled and tried to pull him back down for a kiss, ignoring the ache in her ribs at the exertion.

Resisting her touch, he pushed her squarely back into the sheets. "Harley...sugar...I need to hear you say it."

Harley frowned, twisting a green curl around her finger. "Say what?"

Pulling away from her with a laugh, he stood up from the bed and brushed off his suit.

It made Harley acutely aware that she was still naked, but she made no move to cover herself. This was how she always felt with him, all bare and exposed while he remained an enigma, layers upon layers that obscured her ability to see him fully. Those moments when she was allowed to remove the layers bit by bit were so few and far between and she craved them like water in the desert.

He made no attempt to mask the way his eyes traced her skin, the lick of his lips and low growl that had her smirking and laying back to give him a better view.

"Don't think that's going to work this time, sugar." But he winked at her all the same before growing suddenly serious. "Focus, c'mon. I need you to tell me you know I'm trying to do what's best for you."

The face Harley made must have shown her hesitance because he flapped his arms impatiently in her direction before spreading them wide. An exaggerated frown pulled awkwardly at his scars and he hung his head like a martyr. Jesus on the cross, sacrificing himself for her sins past, present, and future. (Because he would certainly see to a few more of them before he bled out completely, wouldn't he?)

His arms dropped with a snap and his head cocked at that robotic angle it took when she disappointed him. "What, sugar? Don't think Daddy has your best interests at heart?"

Chewing on her lip, she sat up carefully and shrugged. "I know you do what you think is best…"

A sharp laugh cut her off. "What I think is best? Oooh, baby, that stingsss."

It became abundantly clear in that moment that she had little choice in agreeing, regardless of her actual conviction behind the reply. But, then again, she also knew that her words needed to convince him. That she could not get away with a casual shrug and a tease to his sensitive ego.

No, if she was learning anything from her time with the Joker, it was that he liked to hear that he was right. And if someone failed to see his point, he would warp the world to prove himself right. The key to playing his game was letting him believe he was right while casually stacking the cards back in her favor.

So that was exactly what she did.

The moment he swooped down like a falcon after a mouse, she grinned and rose to him. Batted her lashes and pouted when he snarled at her touch. She became the portrait of compliant innocence, all big blue eyes and carefully calculated glances. It wasn't until she was absolutely certain he was listening, that she had successfully ensnared him once again, that she bothered to speak.

"Hey, don't get mad! Of course I know, silly." Her fingers laced around the back of his neck as she used him as an anchor to get to her knees. "That's why I'm still alive, because you couldn't let me die. You're always looking out for me."

The words made her teeth hurt, none of them were a lie but their artificial sweetness tasted wrong on her tongue. Still, she felt his attack poised muscles begin to uncoil and pushed on while she had the chance to gain to upper hand.

"Hell, even before Zsasz...back when I was in the apartment...you gave me that money because you knew I was going to lose the place…" The distance of that memory caught her off guard. It had been not more than two weeks, maybe three now, but it felt like an eternity. A different life entirely. It made the words harder to fake, her apology ringing honest as she went on. "I appreciate everything you've done, everything you're doing. I just wish you wouldn't be so needlessly secretive. I know you're too busy bringing chaos to the streets of Gotham to slow down to my speed, but just…try? Sometimes? Maybe?"

Though his body was still rigid, he smiled and she knew it was genuine. "Not a chance, sugar, you just gotta keep up."

He winked and she could see the unspoken comment behind it. We both know you're perfectly capable. Last night proved that.

Careful not to upset her bruise further, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his jaw, his ear. "You know I'm capable. Let me off the leash a little and I'll prove it."

It was barely more than a whisper, but he shivered so hard she could feel it ripple through the muscle beneath her palms. Smirking, she nipped at his earlobe before sinking back onto the bed. Black eyes followed her every movement as J stepped back and adjusted his tie.

"Not today, sugar." He stood straight suddenly, his full height never failing to make her realize just how intimidating he could be. "Too much to do today and no suitable job for you. Unless you can drive a semi truck."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and motioned him away with a dismissive wave. "Fine. Go. Don't get yourself killed and bring me Chinese when you get back."

His eyes begged the ceiling to grant him patience. "No promises on staying alive, but if I manage I'll bring you Chinese. But don't wait up. Gonna be a late night. And a long day tomorrow."

The frown that took her face made her stitches ache in a way that they hadn't in a long time. With careful fingers she traced the thread, once again filled with the memory of everything they had been through the past few weeks. All of the chaos that was finally coming to a head. They both knew the end game was nearing, that one way or another their world would change forever.

Somewhere deep down her soul ached with the knowledge that she would not be there when everything shifted. She would learn everything secondhand through repercussions that would break her foundation in quiet, earth-shattering ways. More than anything she wanted to be there, wanted to be with him tonight as he took down the District Attorney, wanted to stand proud at his side and watch the world burn around them.

"Will you bring me out to play tomorrow?" That was pushing her luck and she knew it.

"Will I what?" There was something in his tone, something lacing the words that she didn't expect. It almost sounded like the seed of an idea taking root. And as silence spread between them she could see it in the flicker of his eyes and the spark that settled in a smirk against his war paint.

Victory surged through her and she bit back the grin that threatened to burst right through her stitches. "Will you take me with you? Whatever you do tomorrow, I want to be in on it. I'm sick of being leashed up here."

A gloved hand mussed her hair and she stuck her tongue out at him like a child. Those black eyes swept the expanse of her skin and he gave a barely audible chuckle. "Alright, alright. If I survive tonight, I'll take you with me tomorrow. I'll even let you off leash."

A thrill shot through Harley so hot and electric that she could not suppress the little squeal of delight that jumped up her throat. "Really? You'll let me come with you?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug, leaning a knee on the side of the bed as he came down to her level. This time when his fingers entangled in her hair and gave a tug it was simply to lead her, to bring her face inches from his so his lips could tease hers with the promise of contact. "As long as you play the game, sugar. I've been waiting to see what you're capable of."

Swallowing hard, she repressed memories of the warehouse and the sledgehammer. Focused on looping a finger around his tie to pull him close. "You know perfectly well what I'm capable of."

"We'll see."

There was a suggestion behind the words that she didn't comprehend, didn't understand, didn't care about. All that mattered was the promise of joining him, of tasting fresh air and power at his side. "Promise?"

His lips barely brushed hers. "As long as I get to give you a collar to clip your leash to when we're done."

Giggling, she pushed playfully against his shoulders. "Don't be an ass. And please..." Her eyes searched his until she found some shred of humanity. "Promise me. Promise I can come with you tomorrow. I get so bored and lonely here and you know I can keep up. You know I can help."

"Alright, fine." He kissed her, his touch needy and desperate. "I promise. But you've gotta promise you'll be good."

The absolute bliss Harley suddenly felt was all-encompassing and heady like a good high. For a long time she knew nothing, tasted nothing but his skin and grease paint and the prospect of freedom. She lost herself in it, allowed it to swallow her whole as she wondered just how she had managed to hate him for even a moment.

Yes, he tried to be manipulative and spiteful. He tried to bend her to his will until she became a shape that her former self would not recognize. But try as he may to shape her in his image, she still managed to be a step ahead. For every bit that he tried to manipulate her, she still knew how to wrap him around her finger.

And, truth be told, she really liked this new shape she was warping into, the one that matched him and molded to all of his crooked edges. She was becoming something new, yes, but it was something far greater than she had ever been before. Her scars matched his, their rough edges met in perfect unison, and together they became something all powerful and dangerous.

The great, swirling black hole that was the Joker pulled her in once more and she gave in willingly, knowing she could manipulate his gravity as she pleased.