Just wanted to thank you guys for your reviews so far – it's really encouraging!

Somebody mentioned the earthquake maybe being a bit too easy – I actually got that idea from one of the comic storylines. When Harley was a patient at Arkham, there was an earthquake which destroyed the building, allowing her to escape.

Hope this chapter is to your liking :)

Chapter 14 - Like Me, Like You

The sky was a sinister shade of navy blue, as he looked out of the bathroom window into the night. He could see squares of orange light filling various windows of other apartments and houses across from Harley's, and some in the distance of Gotham City. It was nearly 2 o'clock in the morning and some people still had their lights on.

'Maybe some of them had children who were unnerved by the earthquake,' he thought to himself. 'Little do they know that a much greater threat is only yards away from them, unnoticed and undisturbed. Little do they know that I'm back in their suburb, living just as they are; eating dinner in front of the TV. Taking a shower without the supervision of a uniformed guard. Able to sleep in a comfortable bed.'

On that notion, The Joker left the bathroom. Rubbing his wet hair with a towel and with another one wrapped around his waist, he made his way across the hall to Harley's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, but the lights were out. He slinked through the doorway silently, seeing Harley sleeping soundly on the bed. The curtains didn't quite meet in the middle, allowing a streak of moonlight to spill into the room and over her face. Her skin appeared pale, almost ashen. The dull glow excluded the hollows of her eye sockets as they were filled with shadows instead. The Joker sat down on the edge of the bed looking at her, deciding he'd never seen her look so beautiful.

The very thought made him all squirmy inside. Sure, he'd thought of women as 'beautiful' before. He'd even thought Rachel Dawes was, and told her so. But that was different, he assured himself. He had no emotional connection with her. He hadn't given a crap if she, as a person, had lived or died. She was just a set of features that were evenly placed over a face. Nothing too special about that. And besides, the only reason he'd told her she was beautiful was to make her feel uneasy. For as long as he could remember, he'd got kicks from being able to influence the emotions of others. He liked the way it made him feel; dominant and superior.

He'd made little remarks to Harley about her appearance before, because he liked to see her blush. He took pleasure in seeing her cheeks flush pink at his comments. She always played with her glasses as well, he liked that. It was like she was trying to regain her concentration but he could tell she could never make it work. He remembered her clearing the squeaky tone her voice sometimes had from her throat; another of her little mannerisms he'd grown quite attached to.

But what had started as manipulation for his own advantage, had quickly spiralled out of his control. His defences had come crashing down, too quick for him to prevent it. 'Just like Arkham and that earthquake' he thought. He was losing power against it. That had never happened to him before. It felt confusing. But more than that, it felt as if he should fight it anyway, just to protect himself. He supposed that's what other people would do - if something happened to them that they weren't sure of. It seemed quite rational to try to push it away.

He carried on looking at her as she slept. She looked almost exactly as she had done that morning in the asylum when she was unconscious. Except tonight, she was wearing a slight smile, like she was dreaming of something nice. And every so often she would breath a little heavier and emit a gentle purring sound. He tried to think of things he didn't like about Harley as she lay there and became annoyed when he couldn't think of a single thing.

He liked the way she had tried to contest against a partnership with him to begin with. True, it hadn't worked. And to be fair to Harley, that wasn't her fault. He knew how persuasive he could be.

He liked how she could be coy and bashful. It allowed him to behave the way he did, and virtually encouraged it.

But then he also admired how she had surprised him with her strength. She could be spontaneous and difficult sometimes. He enjoyed having to struggle against her occasionally. They were starting to learn how far they could push one another and when it was time to ease off a little. Almost like, dare he even think it? Almost like - a couple?

The Joker shook his head violently, shaking away these stupid thoughts. What was happening?

'She's just a person.' he warned himself. 'Same as all the others in this shithole of a city. She does have her uses, for now. But soon she won't anymore, she'll just get in my way. The moment she becomes a nuisance, I can discard her.'

Harley stirred a little. She gently moved her body over to one side and nuzzled the pillow, oblivious to The Joker's silent battle. The thoughts he had abandoned just moments ago seemed to grow from nowhere again.

He tried to think of other things to distract himself. He shuffled on the edge of the bed, turning his back on Harley. In his mind, he pondered on things he liked; things he had liked before he had met her, things that had formed his personality and that he had based his very existence around.

'Knives… Blood… Provoking The Bat…' he listed.

"Wait!" he said aloud, without realising. Back inside his head he rewound to the first two words; knives and blood. He turned to face Harley again. "You and me…" he whispered. He slowly moved up the bed towards her on his hands and knees, being careful not to touch her so as not to stir her. Beads of water dripped from his body onto hers. "It's more like hero worship, isn't it, Harley? You want to be just like me." On the dresser beside the bed lay the knife she had held to his throats just hours before. He took it in his hand as he became level with Harley. He twirled the blade between his fingers. "I wonder if it would make you happy… to look like me."

The blade made contact with the left corner of Harley's mouth. Only gently, she couldn't feel it yet. The Joker traced a delicate line from his starting point in the direction of her cheek. He put a bit of pressure on the sharp tool as he did so. Like a surgeon with a scalpel, he used precision and delicacy. He dragged the knife over her skin slowly, watching the join in her upper and lower lips pull a little as he edged towards the fleshier part of her face. He pushed down a little harder and felt the blade sink into her skin. Not far, but just enough. It was soft like a sponge.

Blood started to trail behind the blade of the knife as he traced the wound on Harley's face. It trickled out of the fine line he had carved, dripping slowly back into her mouth.

Suddenly, Harley let out an unsettled sigh. She scrunched up her face and licked the blood away from her lips. The Joker pulled the knife away from her just as Harley's eyelids shot open. Her focus darted between the blade and his face. He had that look she'd recognised before - that ferocious passion.

"W-what have you done?"