Boredom.

Days pass by slowly and dully. The people in the background only grow more and more tedious and harder to tolerate. Your dearest lover has not given you a message of his location and condition and you feel your world growing blank and gray.

Thus were Harley's feelings throughout the coming days as she waited in agony to hear from Mr. J again. She could hardly sleep at night or eat or concentrate on her work. She still had hope, but now there was something rather sad about everything around her. It was as if she was lost in a veil of mist, trapped and bound in some invisible prison.

She kept herself busy by sewing her red outfit and going back-and-forth between her job and her apartment. Sometimes she'd feel like screaking out laughter at random, feeling urges to inflict mayhem and mischief, and other times she felt like bursting into tears altogether. She could feel herself changing more and more with each passing day, becoming more of a stranger to herself.

"Harleen," Dr. Arkham said one afternoon. "You've been staring off into space all day."

Feh. Well isn't he so concerned? Better not get too loopy, Harl or else he just might LOCK YOU UP forever. Doesn't he have anything better to do than constantly hang around and bother me? Remind me WHY I liked this guy again?

"I'm sorry. I guess I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

"Yes, well, just keep your mind on your work. We can't have you dropping on us."

She rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking and sneered as he walked away. She was tired of his poking at her; it was enough to drive her mad!

Mad…heh…

Maybe she was already going a little mad. The thought had crossed her mind one or two times. But, then again, wasn't Mr. J considered to be mad too? She didn't know. It was too much of a mind-stressor to debate. So, she simply decided to forget about it.

There was no real need to worry about it. After all, work was over for today.

Time to head home.

XxX

That Arkham, she thought as she walked down the sidewalk. He's become yet another barrier keeping me and Mr. J apart. He's keeping me from being totally free. Maybe if Mr. J were here, he could be eliminated and I would finally be at liberty to do what I want at last. If we could only remove him from the equation…

Part of her was shocked with how uncharacteristically cruel she had gotten the past few days. Even though the idea of killing someone still made her sick to her stomach, she had decided that it would be most interesting to physically hurt someone….to just punch and kick and cut anyone who dared to get in her way. It would be an exciting experience for her, an enlightening one.

She giggled softly.

Then a voice, hushed and quiet called out to her from behind an alleyway, making her stop dead in her tracks.

"Harley…Harley…"

Was it Mr. J? Her heart beat rapidly and she stepped into the alleyway to get a closer look.

"Hello?"

"Harleen Quinzel….we meet again." Jonathan Crane turned around and faced her in the shadows, his eyes glowing behind the ghoulish mask. Almost instantly, her body tensed and she prepared for a scuffle, half-hungry for it. If Crane didn't watch himself, perhaps he'd be her first real hurt-victim soon.

"What do you want?"

He just stared at him, nonplussed by her austerity. "No need to look so intimidating. I came only to talk."

"What are you doing here without your cronies? Did you come to turn yourself in?"

He laughed. "No. I come bearing a message to you."

"Well? Spit it out then!"

"My my," he said, circling around her. "You seem quite different from when we last met. You're much less timid-looking, less nervous. The clown must have done a real number on you."

"State your business, Crane," she snarled. "What's your message? Is it from Mr. J?"

"As a matter of fact, it is. I met up with him shortly and we made a sort of temporary truce. I do believe that he's getting secretly paranoid about being captured. That's a common trait of someone in fear. He knows that his time as a free-running rogue is almost up. The Batman will catch him soon. Anyway, we made this truce: he doesn't try to aggressively drive me out over turf and I don't reveal his location. He also instructed me to give you this message: he will see you very soon. Sooner than you think. He wanted me to tell you that."

"…Is that all?"

Crane nodded. "Yes. That's all." He eyed her warily, watching her expression. "There's no mistaking it, you're in love with him. How delightfully pathetic. It's a damned shame you weren't my doctor. We could have so much more fun together…"

"I wish he would come," she said, ignoring him. "I can't take this separation. I'm beginning to feel so trapped…like I'm just walking around in circles or something. Part of me wants to be truly free, while some part of me is still telling me that it's wrong. Argh! This is so frustrating!"

"He's twisted you up big time," Crane said in mild amusement. "He's turned you into his little love-sick puppy. How cute. How droll. But you know that it's all temporary, Harley. He just wants you long enough to see what you'll become."

"That's not true!" she shouted, lunging at him and missing. "He CARES about me! He's the only one who ever truly understood me. You have no right to say such things about him!"

"Calm down. It's all a matter of opinion. But from where I'm standing, you've lost a few screws. My dear, have you forgotten who he is? He's one of the most infamous criminals in recent history. He gives me the creeps! It is foolish to constantly dwell on him and pine for something he can never give you. Continuing to yearn for this man could result in dire consequences."

"What do you know? You're just a nutcase obsessed with scaring people. You know nothing about Mr. J."

"I know enough. What a shame, Harley-dear, that of all the unlucky women out there, he chose you to be his plaything. I wish things could have turned out differently. But perhaps this obsession you have for him is merely a phase. Maybe one day, you'll grow out of it and realize what a folly you're getting yourself into."

"There is no folly," she hissed. "You're wrong. I know what I'm getting myself into—and I'm perfectly fine with that. I don't care if it means a life of danger and pursuit from the police. Stuff like that does not bother me anymore."

"Heh. Methinks differently. Do you even know what you're saying? Nosce te ipsum, Harley—know thyself. You aren't seriously saying that the clown is really all that worth it? You're better than that."

She glared at him. "And just why do you care so much?"

He shrugged. "I like you, I guess. There's something rather intriguing about you. But maybe even if you were with me, there wouldn't be a chance for us. There's a wall that separates your kind from my kind. And that means that it separates you from your dearest 'Mr. J' as well. You don't have a chance, really. Sorry to have to tell you, but it's true. You live in one world, the Joker lives in another. That's the way things must be."

Harley gritted her teeth and stared him down, almost towering over him. "I think you should go now. Go before I call the police."

He nodded. "Fine. As you wish. I only came to deliver Joker's message. I intend you no harm, trust me on that." Then he turned and started to slink off into the shadows, but not before tipping his head back to utter one final remark. "I still stand by what I say, Harley. As long as you exist as you do now, you will forever be bound to a life away from ours. There will always be a wall between us. Think about that." And then he was gone.

She stood staring into the darkness of the alleyway, biting her lip and digesting what he had said.

He's…he's right. I hate to admit it, but he's right. As much as I try to convince myself, Mr. J and I are still separated. I'm still trapped here in this lousy life while he's out there running free! I'm still trapped and I…

She turned and fled for home, trying to run from the bitter feelings of passionate despair. Crane was totally right. She was still alone, away from the one she loved. She was still imprisoned in her own little world, running in circles and getting nowhere.

When she got in the doorway, she clutched her aching head and went into the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror for a long time.

This is me. This is the face of someone not of Mr. J's world. This is someone who is still not free…

She had a promising future—a long-lasting career as a shrink, a chance to become a model citizen in Gotham. In short, a life that many would have envied.

But I don't WANT this life!

She shrieked and tugged at her hair, gnashing her teeth and clawing at the air. She wanted her Mr. J so badly. She wanted to die for him, bleed for him, fight for him to the very end…but as long as she was here, she'd never get those chances.

"Damnit! Damn it all!"

What do I do, Puddin'? What do I have to do to become part of the life you live? Maim? Kill? Do you want me to do that? I'll do it if you want me to. Just please don't leave me here alone…

Endless night. The stars are cold and dim in the black sky. Woe and desperation come as swiftly as a bullet, dragging her down. And from within her, one side of her begging for peace and composure, the other begging for blood and laughter. She was torn in the middle, stuck in this hell-hole paradox, trying to break through the chains that bound her. Her mind zoomed in all sorts of directions, making her hear voices: Mr. J's, Crane's, Arkham's, and even her own. She could not bear the noises and she dove underneath the bed sheets until they went away.

"I'm okay. I'm okay…"

She went back to sewing, weaving the delicate red fabric into something that resembled a top. It didn't look too bad; it just needed a few little touches…perhaps some nice black pants to go with it. And a black coat too. That would be good.

Yes, that's right. Don't think about what Crane said. Think about the clothing. Such a pretty red color…so pretty…go away, bad thoughts.

But even though she was trying to convince herself to deny what she dreaded, she knew that it was not going to leave her that night.

Don't go there…lalalalalala…nothing there…no bad thoughts here, no sir. Nadda. Zilch.

The needle was so bright and sharp and shiny. Such a pretty glint it gave off. Such a perfect point at the end.

Without knowing what she was doing, she removed her shirt and went back into the bathroom. Angling her head over her shoulder, she found the bare skin of the upper-left section of her back and pressed the needle against it, piercing into the peach-pink flesh. It stung agonizingly, but she couldn't stop herself. With the needle clutched firmly in her right hand, she carefully dragged it across the skin, watching it in the mirror as blood welled out from the line. A few more minutes of excruciating pain, and it was finished, forever scarred onto the upper-left of her back near her left shoulder-blade:

J + H

It was beautiful. True, it was still bleeding very rapidly, but she knew that it would stay there forever.

Mr. J, you should have been here to see this. You should have been the one to do it. Well, look now. Isn't it a sign? I've got scars now just like you. Doesn't that mean that I can finally be free like you are? Is that what you want?

Blood trickled in a fine stream down her back and she had to bandage herself up to keep herself from making a mess all over the bathroom tiles. She knew that this still was not enough, but the pain was something to take her mind off of the situation. It was her way of dealing with the heartache and she did not regret doing it at all. Her back stinging, she sat on the side of the bed and massaged her throbbing forehead.

The needle in her hand was red at the point with her blood. She stared at it for a long while. Then, very slowly, she brought it to her mouth and licked it.

It tasted like metal.