Harley stared at herself in the mirror, unable to tear her eyes away. She knew it was unhealthy behaviour but knowing that clearly hadn't led to smart choices. She was in plain cotton underwear, at home on paid sick leave again. With critical eyes, she surveyed the dark shadows under her eyes and pallid skin. If she was her own patient, she would have advised getting outside and to stop looking at the minute imperfections of her face.

Her gaze left her face and drifted down, traveling past the bruises, and locking on the bandage on her inner thigh. She appreciated the cover it gave even if she knew what lurked underneath, if only for the awful itching. Healing tattoos were almost as unpleasant as getting them. Though hers had come with an added helping of trauma.

Harley bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She heard so much about how she could expect anxiousness and sleeplessness as a result. But not enough people had mentioned the rage. The all consuming hatred and need to lash out was boiling her from the inside out. Her fingers sometimes shook with the need to do something to enact revenge.

It was all too much. It had been hard to recover from Graham but this latest betrayal had poisoned her.

Only her cool intellect did anything to balance her out. It promised her vengeance but it also told her they'd have to be smart. She'd been toeing the line too close to death recently and if this latest experience had taught her anything, it was that her emotions were so tangled up in this that she couldn't be trusted to take action just yet.

That didn't stop her shaking hands, the longing to claw his eyes out with nothing but her nails.

Finally tearing her eyes away from her own reflection, she walked to another wall in her bedroom and carefully twisted her body into a handstand, heels resting lightly against the wall. Her vision swam at first with the sudden rush of blood but she waited out the black spots. When she could see, she gritted her teeth and lowered into a push up. She'd been doing this every other day in gymnastics, but it hurt now. Harley knew she should be resting - in addition to the mental injuries, her body was still recovering.

But she would be damned if she wasn't going to be able to beat him bloody next time. He may be done with her but she was not done with him.

She welcomed the rage like an old friend. It made the training easier. She did push ups until she physically crumpled in on herself and she sat on her knees staring at her arms and willing them to get strong.

The doorbell rang startling Harley out of her thoughts. She knew it was Hamia without checking the peep-hole. There was a uniformed officer at the building entrance and at the end of her hallway. No one got this far without being expected.

Harley opened the door and pretended not to see the blatant concern on her friend's face. She had a gym bag slung over her shoulder and her dark hair scraped into a ponytail.

"Are you sure?"

Harley ignored the question, especially since Hamia had taken to asking it every time she saw her.

"Let me just change. Help yourself to a drink."

Hamia had poured two glasses of water by the time she returned. Hamia slid one to her silently and Harley took a sip, knowing it wasn't worth the argument and suspecting she probably needed it. Hamia was half the reason she was fed and watered lately.

She didn't comment on Harley's clothing either but her forehead furrowed.

"He's not going to come after me when I'm in the gym," Harley explained, repeating herself. She absently smoothed the tight dress down and shifted in the heels. "I have to be able to fight in whatever I'm wearing."

Hamia opened her mouth but Harley cut her off. "Not just defend myself. Fight, properly."

"I know, I know," Hamia said with a sigh. "I just wish you didn't want this so badly."

"You get it though right?"

"I get it. Sort of. I don't think I know the full story but I don't think even you do yourself."

Harley rubbed her neck, discomfort creeping into the numbness. As far as she could tell, Hamia was the only one who came close to guessing the relationship with Joker had been more two way, rather than a simple obsession on his part.

Her and Jonathon obviously. But Harley refused to see him. She couldn't bear it if he saw her so weak and so pathetic. So thoroughly outsmarted.

"I know he made a mistake thinking he could do that and shut the door on me."

"Maybe he made the best decision for you?" Hamia suggested, controversially. She was pointedly avoiding Harley's gaze and pulling some hit bags out.

Another uncomfortable twinge. Hamia's words rang true but not for the reason she'd have anticipated. If Joker had thought she would have benefited from the decision he wouldn't have made it. He would have been living on her couch, running his crime syndicate from her apartment. Which probably meant, from a sane person's perspective, that she was better off without him in her life. But god knew, he wasn't sane and looked like she wasn't either.

Harley managed a wry smile. "He'd be incredibly offended at that thought."

Hamia wasn't as amused. "He's dangerous Harls and he's clearly under your skin."

"Then why are you here?" Harley wasn't being argumentative, she was clinically curious.

With a one shouldered shrug, Hamia said, "you'd find someone else to help you. Someone who doesn't know you or what you'll need."

"What do I need?" Harley pressed, falling naturally into therapist mode. The doctor persona pressed down the hurt and calmed the buzzing in her head.

Hamia finally smiled but it was as humorless as Harley's had been. She bent to the bag she'd brought and fished out a rubber knife. "You need to learn to fight dirty."

…

The music pulsed so loudly it felt like a second skin. The lights turned the pale blue of his eyes mosaic. The expression on his face must have been lethal because everyone gave him a wide berth. Even the drinks had been dropped down at arms length.

It always took a while for people to get used to Joker's presence again once he had returned. But usually by this time, he had a few bold criminals in his ear pitching him their grand plans. Or he had some woman with a death wish draped over him.

Frost was tucked away in the office over head and Joker was tempted to summon him. He could use some kind of distraction. He wasn't fussy, as long as it was entertaining and got him out of this mood.

Instead he spotted a red head, tucked away behind a louder, drunker friend. A metal grin stretched across his face. The white knuckled way she clutched her drink suggested she had been dragged here against her will. Badgered and manipulated until she'd given up and now she'd found herself in one of the more unpredictable clubs in all of Gotham. Something about her palpable fear appealed to him. He was drawn to it like a shark to blood in the water.

She caught him staring at her and visibly paled. Her friends were either stupid or callous but they had basically brought Bambi to a barbecue. Like a game of chicken, he wanted to see how long she'd last before running. That weak-kneed fear had its own certain brand of sweetness. And Joker was in the market for some variety. He'd had his fill of electric, angry fear. He was done with her - done with that, he corrected himself - for a long, long time. Batman was more than enough competition for him, he didn't need to turn sex into chess.

Though he had to admit, he was disappointed he'd only screwed the Doctor metaphorically.

Abruptly he smacked himself in the head and growled. Joker enjoyed physical pleasures like every other animal on the planet, but he couldn't be swayed by them. He'd spend money on an obnoxiously expensive car one day, and then set fire to twice that amount the next, for no other reason than he could.

Spurning Harley had been the worst thing he could do to her. He'd infected her so thoroughly that each piece of him she had to cut free was going to hurt. It was going to bleed her dry.

Rising to his feet, determined to focus on the red head, he hissed when his path was suddenly blocked by Frost. The girl had scampered at the first sign of him standing. Annoyed, he flung his glass into the crowd with little regard to whether it struck anyone.

"What?" That one word promised a lot of violence if Frost didn't have a damn good reason to interrupt him.

Frost handed him a sheet of paper.

Joker's eyebrows rose. "Reading? Really?"

Frost's expression didn't change so with a glare, Joker gave it his attention. He let out a low wolf whistle.

"Fuck, and they say I'm crazy."

The picture was barely recognizable but after a life time worth of gore, he knew it was a person. What was left of them anyway.

"Everyone out," he yelled loudly, his voice somehow carrying over the club music. Enough of the employees heard and herded people out with surprising swiftness. Turned out when Joker didn't want you around, not many people were stupid enough to protest.

He took back his seat, the crowd all but forgotten as his brain chattered. Frost sat opposite him and slid him another drink.

"Do the police know about this yet?"

Frost shook his head. "We caught it first."

"Clean it up," Joker commanded, eyes stuck on the image, tilting it this way and that.

"Risky move," Frost noted evenly. "Staying in Gotham after everything."

Joker grinned, "you're assuming it's that calculated. This is an obsession for him."

"He's eluded capture this long, he could do a lot of damage."

"It would be chaos," Joker said wistfully, wishing things were different. With him on the outside, they could actually compete properly. But he had made a promise to a girl.

Thinking of the pattern of scars on Harley's skin that Graham had inflicted, made his jaw clench and his tongue flick along his teeth. Whether Graham has known it or not at the time, he'd overstepped on to Joker's territory.

"Get him," Joker said simply, handing the picture back to Frost.

Frost's features only changed a little but the surprise still registered. "You're going to do that for her?"

A flicker of anger unfurled in Joker's chest but he ignored it and spread his hands wide. "In a matter of speaking."

He thought that would be enough for Frost to do his job but he could tell the other man had more on his mind.

"You may as well as just say it."

Frost edged subtly back in his chair, creating enough space between them just in case what he had to say was poorly received. He hadn't gotten this far by being stupid and he knew no one was really immune from Joker if he snapped. Even someone as useful as him.

"Isn't this kind of the opposite of what you were going for?"

"I'm just going to drop off a gift. No big deal."

"You're underestimating her."

Joker cackled at that. He knew Harley better than she knew herself. She had clung desperately to a version of him she'd created in her own head. Sure, it'd been informed by some of his actions but still. She'd only ever had an illusion.

"For someone with no sense of humor, Frost, you sure can be funny." Joker slapped at his knees, lost in hysterics.

"Maybe."

"I don't pay you for your advice on women though, so get it done."

"ASAP," Frost promised, folding and tucking the image into his jacket and walking away.

Joker let his head fall back against the couch, letting the silence echo around the club, creating it's own kind of music.

…

Harley came back from a run, skin damp with sweat and the light drizzle of a Gotham evening.

In the passing weeks, she'd started to feel more like herself. Angry, so very angry still. But now also strong. The private lessons with Hamia had been educational and she was starting to build some defined muscle. Her police babysitters were starting to relax too. Letting her out for longer periods of time without calling in to check where she was.

Once they weren't watching her every move though, then she was going to really take advantage of the freedom. At times, she wondered whether the police presence was to protect her or because Gordon was giving her time to cool off. She doubted he'd forgotten her threat as he helped her into the ambulance. Likely, he thought the vendetta was going to get her killed. He insisted she wear a smart watch that would serve as a tracking device if she ever got kidnapped again, hoping that if her phone was taken they would overlook the watch.

Now she was home, she just wanted a shower, a burger, and maybe some ice cold vodka to wash it down. She politely greeted the officer still in her hall before letting herself into her apartment.

She dumped her phone on the counter and went for the freezer. Allowing herself less than she wanted, Harley poured a small glass of vodka. It smoothed out the edges of her anger and her fear but it also impaired, and she couldn't allow that right now.

Harley walked into her living room and took a sip.

"Bit early to be drinking."

The familiar cadence of the voice caused the glass to slip from her fingers. It clattered to the floor but didn't smash. Harley barely noticed. She flicked on the light frantically.

Joker was sitting in her lounge as if he owned the place. He had a gun trained on her, and a smile that stretched obscenely.

"Get out of my house," she breathed, words shaking with outrage.

"Is that anyway to treat a guest?" he pressed, blatantly delighted.

She cast her eyes very deliberately over the gun in his hands.

"Oh this? Not my preference but I'd prefer if you didn't scream."

"Would you?" Harley asked sardonically, wishing her drink wasn't now on her leg.

His eyes darkened, imagination triggered. "You want me to make you scream again?" he asked, leaning forward with rapt attention.

"No." It was a lie. There were plenty of times he'd made her cry out and she'd enjoyed it. Her traitorous body throbbed at the memories. But she'd set herself on fire before she gave him that much power over her again.

A murmur to the side finally tore her attention away from Joker. He'd been so magnetic in his presence that Harley hadn't noticed there were another person there.

A chill went down her spine. If Joker frightened her, it was nothing compared to what this man did. She stumbled back automatically.

Graham was in her home. He was bound tightly to a chair and was gagged. All the marks on her body reopened in her mind, burning with renewed pain.

"How?" she finally asked, when she found her voice.

Joker actually looked put out by the strength of her reaction to Graham. Almost jealous.

"I have my ways."

"There is police outside my door 24/7," Harley observed, curious despite the fright. "You're the most wanted man in Gotham!" Her eyes slid back to Graham. "Well, one of them."

Graham had started to struggle against the restraints.

"I promised you I'd kill him."

"You could have sent a text," Harley shot back, hating how smug he looked. He was so pleased with himself. Bringing a serial killer to her like he was an indulgent and magnanimous king. At least he pointed a gun at her. If he'd expected her to fall into line and fawn over him, she would have thrown up on the ground right in front of him. He obviously didn't think she was as broken as all that.

"So impersonal, Harls."

"Go fuck yourself, Pudding. If you're already bored without me, go take up knitting."

That made him laugh, but it was all wild and very little mirth.

"I'll admit, I brought him here to make it a bit more interesting."

"For you or me?"

He didn't bother answering, but his eyes flashed.

"Get on with it then," she gestured at Graham, heart pounding hard in her chest. Harley wouldn't waste any breath trying to save that man. But she still honestly didn't know how she was going to feel watching him get murdered. He'd haunted her dreams for so long. Joker tilted his head and examined her, making her skin run hot.

"No."

"No?"

"You do it. You've earned it." He lowered the gun for a second and reached into his jacket. He was dressed ostentatiously once more, not at all like a man trying to avoid attention, and his hair was sharp green.

Harley stared when he produced a large hunting knife for her inspection. "I thought you could do it."

Joker slid the blade across the floor, letting it come to a neat end at her feet.

For the longest time she didn't move. And then she bent, picking the knife up.

…

Standing there, holding a knife, Joker could admit she cut a striking figure. It was the first time he'd seen her not dressed in her pristine, bold dresses or as a doctor. Her blond hair had been scraped up and away from her face, drawing attention to those blue eyes. They weren't giving much away but he could see the pulse fluttering in her neck.

The blade was just shorter than her forearm. She locked eyes with him for a beat before turning her attention back to Graham.

Whatever he saw in her face scared him and he started fighting against his restraints once more. Harley's hand went white knuckled around the hilt. Hard to say who she hated more in that room, but arguably, and much to his disappointment, Graham had done more damage.

It wasn't clear Graham knew who she was, but perhaps he recognized his handy work. The scars on her arms were visible for all the world to see. Garish! He'd made sure his mark on her was more private.

Joker holstered his gun under a bottle green jacket that very nearly matched his hair. He didn't think Harley would scream or try and escape.

He got to his feet, stretching his neck from left to right. Her shoulders were tucked tight with tension.

If she begged him, he'd do it for her. But first, he was going to have some fun.

"Do you know what it's like to kill someone?" he asked in a taunting tone, easing closer. "To watch their eyes fade and their heart slow?"

"It's fucking wonderful," he continued, sliding a hand up the back of her neck. She shivered at his touch and his fingers clenched into her skin.

"You have to forget everything society tells you to do," he instructed, all but whispering in her ear. He was so close he could feel her heat, smell her scent.

"You have to be willing-"

Harley cut Graham's throat in a swift and unflinching motion. She'd moved faster than he'd expected.

"I'm sorry, were you not done preaching?" she asked flatly, gaze still fixed on Graham. He didn't die instantly, instead jerking and gurgling as blood spilled down the front of his shirt.

"Huh." Joker hadn't expected her to even kill him, let alone so quickly.

They both watched him die, his fingers still curled around her neck and her back to him. It was more satisfying than he expected, having Harley kill Graham. Blood dripped from the tip of the knife on to the floor and he noticed little red splatters on her hands and wrist.

If he wasn't resting his hand on her neck, he would have had no warning she was going to move. And even as it was, he just barely had time to stop her from driving the knife back and into his belly.

Joker swept the blade to the side, tripping a bit over his feet as he tried to put some distance between them. Harley was relentless though, using the weapon with precision. She got his arm, tearing fabric and drawing blood, inciting a vicious grin.

Joker growled, finally capturing her wrist and twisting it hard. The knife fell to the floor and Harley opened her mouth, maybe to scream. He surged forward, slapping the palm of his hand over her mouth to stifle any noise.

She bit at the inside of his hand and when he didn't ease up, she clapped her free hand against his ear. That sent him reeling, unable to think and barely able to keep his feet. Head ringing, he went down on one knee and Harley pressed her advantage.

She drove her knee into his face, aiming squarely for his nose. He managed to twist away at the last minute, avoiding the worst of the damage but still getting a nasty blow to the cheek. He scrambled backwards, pulse thundering in his chest. In between the wheezy breathing, he laughed. She stood over him with nothing but coldness for him.

"Hell hath no fury," he slurred, with a grin. Her lips thinned at that comment. So, not as cold as she was pretending.

He used his hands to stagger to his feet, knowing if he stayed down, he'd have a knife driven between his eyes. '

Harley sprung forward, using her elbow to drive into his throat, pushing him back against the wall with a thud. He couldn't believe the police officer hadn't come to investigate.

Black spots bloomed in his vision and he was starting to lose the ability to see the grim determination on her face. And damn him to hell, he was turned on by her. He'd only barely met this version of the Doctor and he was half tempted to flip the plan on its head and beg her instead. Not for death, but to ride his cock until he couldn't take it any more.

That thought infuriated him. She had betrayed and played him. She had messed with his mind. He'd swallow his gun before he begged her.

He jabbed a thumb in her eye and pushed down. Harley yelped and jerked back. He punched her hard in the stomach, causing her to double over.

"Animals always protect their eyes," he schooled. He had time to reach his gun. He could end this now but something stayed his hand. The noise would bring the cops. And a quick death had never been the punishment he'd planned for her. And… he didn't think about it too deeply. Uncertain what he would find.

His hesitation had given Harley time to regroup. She aimed a round house kick at his side, directing it high and trying to strike the kidney. He wrapped his arm around her thigh and undermined a bit of the momentum. He still grunted on impact. She was not messing around and she wasn't playing. Leg tangled up against him, she tried to punch him but she was off balance and couldn't throw her body into it.

Snarling, Joker grabbed the front of her shirt and spun them so she now had her back to the wall. He slammed her hard against it, forcing the air from her body.

Harley bucked against him but he had her securely pinned. She couldn't use her legs, especially with one wrapped around his his body and he was crowding her too much for her to swing at him.

Still, she kept trying to hurt him. His eyes widened when she tried to bite him. His free hand grabbed her throat and bashed her back against the wall, not once but twice. Joker moved forward so they were chest to chest. Nose to nose. He'd trapped her, his thumb resting firmly in the hollow of her throat.

"Are you finished?" he demanded, glaring down at her. He wouldn't confess it to her, but Harley had done some damage and possibly broken a rib.

"You've been learning some new tricks," he observed, hoping admiration didn't leak into his tone. Her breasts were heaving against him as she caught her breath and gathered her thoughts.

"I thought you were done with me?"

The question caught him a bit of guard as did the change of attitude. She'd tilted her head and was looking up at him from under her lashes.

"I am done with you," he derided.

"Then why are you so hard?" she asked, innocent expression doing nothing to disguise her mocking.

As if to prove her point she rolled her hips forward. The pressure made him shudder and push back against her instinctively. Harley's breathy laugh sounded awful close to a moan.

"If you wanted to prove a point, you should have left this one at home," she teased and before he could respond, deny it, she rocked into him again.

Joker couldn't argue with her. He was as painfully aware of the supporting evidence as she was. The friction was doing dangerous things to him and any memory he still had of the plan.

If she would just stop rubbing herself against him for five seconds maybe he could think.

"Is this what you meant by vanishing?" she groaned, her lips so close to his.

Joker thrust against her, fingers still on her throat. This close to her he could see all the places Graham's blood had gotten. There were tiny flecks on her face. He leaned in and licked at one by the side of her mouth, both still grinding on each other. He'd replaced the blood on her skin with a light smudge of the lipstick he'd smeared on before coming. If this kept up he was going to cum in his pants like a school boy.

And he wanted her as much as he wanted anything in his life. Fuck the plan, Joker thought, fuck vanishing. At least for tonight.

His lips had barely brushed hers when he heard a click and felt something press into his chin.

At some point, Harley had gotten his gun.

"You're going to have to finish yourself off," she murmured to him in a ragged voice. Gun or not, she was as aroused as he was. But in twist of fate, turned out she had more self control than he did.

Fucking typical. He'd been played by the d=Doctor again.

"You and me both," he observed evenly.

She didn't even blink. "Step back," she advised him.

He did, lifting his hands in the air, a mischievous grin crossing his face. "'I'll turn your life upside down, Harls," he threatened jauntily.

"You and me both," she parroted. "Now get the fuck out of my house."

"Aww, but we were having such fun." He still walked as he spoke. After seeing what she did to Graham, he wasn't going to gamble with his life tonight.

"You broke into my home, made me murder a serial killer, and I spilled my drink. I've had enough of your crazy shit for one night."

He narrowed his eyes and straightened. "Don't call me crazy," he warned.

The corner of Harley's mouth crept up and she stared straight at him before annunciating with deliberate cruelty, "crazy!"

Joker took a threatening step forward and Harley fired the gun. It was at his feet but it stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Doctor? Doctor?"

The officer was at the door, summoned by the crack of the shot. He was banging and calling out for Harley, and it was only a matter of seconds before he burst in.

"You really should go," Harley suggested sweetly, gun trained back on his torso.

Joker swore, seeing red but with no time to waste. The door flung open. The officer had drawn his own weapon but he wasn't expecting Joker to be so close to the door. Joker grabbed the man's shirt and drove him forward, sending him sprawling on the ground.

By the time he ran out of the lobby, he could hear sirens close by. He cursed Harley as he sprinted for his car. It was flashy but it would also outstrip any of the cop cars.

She'd won this round.

…

The police officer stayed only long enough to confirm Harley wasn't suffering any life threatening injuries and that Graham was in fact dead, before pursuing Joker.

There were going to be a lot of questions about how Joker had gotten into her apartment and with Graham no less. Harley finally looked at Graham.

His head had slumped forward and his eyes were open and unseeing. Blood had soaked through the front of his shirt and begun pooling on the ground at his feet. It also clung to her fingers, sticky and tacky with every flex. Harley's stomach roiled.

She ran to the bathroom, only just making it before she threw up the little she had in her stomach. She sunk down on the tiles, unable to move as the adrenaline began to wear off.

Graham was dead, by her own hands.

A manic giggle bubbled up and burst out. She clapped a hand to her mouth leaving a smear of blood on her lips. But the flood gates had broken and she laughed so hard she could barely breathe. The sight of her bare wrists sent her into fresh peels of laughter. Joker might be unique but he was still just a man. And when he was too busy thinking with his dick, he hadn't noticed her slip her smart watch into his pocket.

"My move now, puddin'," Harley said, shoulders shaking with laughter.

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