"Well, that went ok after the initial unpleasantness," said Dent on the cab drive home. "I'm sorry about losing my temper like that…"

"Forget it," said Harley, forcing a smile. "I have."

That was a lie, but one she felt obliged to tell – she didn't want to risk his anger again.

"Would you like to come back to mine for a drink?" asked Dent.

"No, I'd better…get home," said Harley, slowly. "I have a lotta work again tonight – you know how it is."

"Of course," said Dent, smiling. "I'll take a rain-check, but I do hope we get that drink soon."

Harley nodded. "I'll call you tomorrow," added Dent, as the cab stopped outside her apartment. "Goodnight, Harley."

He kissed her tenderly, and Harley tried to return it with equal tenderness. But her closed eyes only saw Dent's enraged face, and she drew away as soon as she could.

She entered her apartment and shut the door. Her body was shaking in fear, in confusion, in…she didn't know what. She didn't want to be alone, but she couldn't have stayed with Dent. She had seen behind his mask tonight, and it wasn't a pretty picture. Behind his mask…

She picked up her phone and dialed a number she promised herself she wouldn't dial again. The phone clicked on. "Mr. Napier?" she whispered.

"I'm gonna have to report you for harassment, Doc!" he chuckled. "I was told in no uncertain terms to stay away from you, but I can't help it if you keep calling me up, now can I?"

"I…I think you were right about Harvey," she murmured. "He's…not the man I thought he was."

"Why? What did he do?" asked Jack, and Harley noticed concern in his voice.

"Nothing to me," she reassured him. "But I…I saw behind the mask tonight. We went out on a double date and he…got angry at someone. I've never seen a temper like that, and I think when it's prompted…there's no telling what he could do."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like that," murmured Jack. "I really am. But I'm glad you see I'm not the liar now."

Harley nodded, tears in her eyes. "Did he invite you back for a drink?" he asked.

"Yes," she murmured. "I said no. He was very polite, but…I'm afraid he won't always be if I refuse him. I'm…scared of him," she stammered.

"I won't let him hurt you, toots," Jack murmured.

Harley laughed. "Funny. He said the same thing about you tonight. He said he'd had a word with you, and that you wouldn't be pestering me anymore."

"He also had a word with my boss," retorted Jack. "I gotta admit, I lied to him and said I'd leave you alone. It would have been stupid to tell him the truth, that nothing on this earth could keep me away from you."

"I guess I should be afraid of you," murmured Harley. "And I guess I am…I…I haven't been sleeping. Fear does strange things to you, that's what my psychology professor said. Makes you feel strange things, and think strange thoughts..."

She rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry, I…I don't know why I'm calling you. I should leave you alone – you're a criminal, after all, not somebody I can trust. It's not right, confiding in you, and I always want to do the right thing, but I…I lied to Harvey tonight. I told him I'd forgotten all about his temper, but I can never forget it. I guess I just needed to talk to someone about it, someone who understands, someone who knows what he's really like. I would sound crazy to anybody else, smearing the District Attorney's name like that – everyone thinks he's a hero, and I'm sure he is. But I'm scared of what else he is, of this darker side he revealed, that he could unleash upon me. And so I'm more comfortable talking to a criminal on the phone than I am spending the evening with a man of the law. That…sounds like a crazy joke."

"I like jokes," murmured Jack. "And I like crazy. But you're not the crazy one, toots – the world is. It's difficult to see that at first, but it's true. The things you thought you believed in, the people and the institutions you relied on, they're all corrupt and untrustworthy. And that leaves you feeling like you're in quicksand, and you don't know who to trust to throw you a lifeline. But if the lifeline comes from a criminal, I don't think you'd refuse it in that situation. Would you?"

"No," murmured Harley. "I wouldn't."

They were silent. "What are you wearing?" asked Jack.

"Same thing I wore at the fundraiser – I told everyone tonight, I only have one nice dress," replied Harley.

"That red one, where you looked like a picture," murmured Jack. "Like the most perfect work of art."

"That's not what Vicki Vale thought," replied Harley.

"She's an idiot," retorted Jack. "What does a reporter know about beauty? Only how to rip it apart looking for a scoop. What do they know about anything?"

"Keep talking to me," whispered Harley. "Please."

"I can imagine you in your red dress now," murmured Jack. "Beautiful and perfect, like a woman in a painting, beauty so perfect it has to be captured forever. I can imagine you taking off your dress, the zipper trailing down your skin, nice and slow, gradually exposing your perfect body. Do you mind me talking like this?"

"If I did, I'd hang up," murmured Harley. "Keep going."

"You step outta the dress, and then you crawl into bed, letting the soft, smooth sheets caress your naked body, and wishing they were occupied by someone else. Someone else with a gentle touch to envelop you and taste every inch of you. Every perfect piece of exposed flesh, quivering in anticipation of a warm, masculine body pleasuring it, invading it, completing it. You don't want to be alone tonight, do you?"

"No," whispered Harley.

"Tell me where you are, and I can give you that," murmured Jack. "I can give you all that."

"I'm not that kinda girl," murmured Harley. "I'm not the kinda girl who gets involved with bad men. I'm not the kinda girl who's attracted to bad behavior for some cheap gratification. And I'm not the kinda girl who throws every other consideration out the window just for some illicit thrill. That's not me. I'm not crazy."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself of that," murmured Jack. "I think you are that kinda girl behind the mask. But you're afraid of her, so you keep her covered up. But I think she's a beautiful girl, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And I don't think you should be afraid of embracing her. In my experience, the best things in life are crazy. And I can promise you, you won't be disappointed at giving in to the madness."

Harley said nothing. Then she abruptly said, "Goodnight, Mr. Napier," and hung up the phone. She headed to her bedroom, her whole body shaking as she removed her makeup, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She knew who she was, she reminded herself – she knew that girl in the mirror. That was Dr. Harleen Quinzel, respectable psychiatrist, and a woman who always did the right thing. A good woman, and a sane woman. A woman who was ruled by her rationality, not bizarre, impulsive whims. This was the woman she had known all her life – this was the woman she knew herself to be. She couldn't be anyone else.

And yet…something inside her was causing her to question what she knew to be true about herself. That little voice in her head telling her to always do the right thing had been drowned out by Jack's voice. His words echoed something deep inside her, some buried longing that seemed irresistible. She had lain awake for the past few nights seeing him and hearing him, and she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she had thought about him in her bed, wondering what it would feel like for a bad man, a criminal, to make love to her. The thought made her body tingle all over, and before she fully realized what she was doing, she was texting Jack her address.

Her whole body was shaking about ten minutes later when there was a knock on her door. The rational part of her was screaming at her not to answer the door to a criminal, but the irrational part overrode that, bursting with the desire to consummate the fantasies she had been imagining. She opened the door to reveal Jack Napier standing there, smiling at her.

She said nothing, but threw herself into his arms, her mouth mauling his with a desperate need. He returned the kiss with equal force, lifting up her body in his strong arms. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as he carried her into the bedroom, shoving her down on the sheets.

"Do you want to know what else I imagined?" he murmured, as his hands worked at the back of her dress.

"Show me," whispered Harley.

He did. And by the time he was through, Harley had absolutely no regrets. "Was that worth going crazy for?" chuckled Jack, as he smoked a post-coital cigarette.

"That was worth doing anything for," murmured Harley, curling up against his chest with a sigh. "Jesus Christ, I never could have imagined doing something so wrong would feel this incredible."

"In my experience, the knowledge that it's wrong only adds to the pleasure!" chuckled Jack. "Don't tell me the fact that I'm a criminal didn't excite you?"

"It did," admitted Harley. "It's wrong, but it did."

She sighed, gazing at the mirror opposite her bed. "I don't know who I am anymore," she murmured. "The face I see staring back at me, the girl who's so indescribably happy at a physical encounter with a criminal…that's not me."

"That is you," Jack murmured, kissing the top of her head. "The real you. The mask is just starting to crack. That's what smiling does, y'see?" he asked, nodding at the mirror. "It breaks the mask. That girl is you, but she's different somehow. She's more you than you were before. That's what happens when you're honest with yourself, no matter how the truth hurts. And the truth is, something inside you is attracted to the bad."

"No, I'm a good person…" began Harley.

"It's ok to realize you're not," murmured Jack. "I'm certainly not judging you. It's ok to admit you like being bad now and then. Or at least, you like doing bad things," he added with a chuckle.

She kissed him. "It's wrong of me to be so attracted to you," she murmured. "But I am. I can't lie about that."

"You gonna break things off with Harvey?" he asked.

"I think I have to," she replied. "I can't cheat on him, but I also can't tell him the truth about why I'm breaking things off. He'd kill you."

"He could try," retorted Jack. "I ain't afraid of him."

"I am," murmured Harley.

He kissed her firmly. "I won't let him hurt you, toots. I promise."

"Even if I don't tell him about you, he'll be furious at being dumped," said Harley. "And I don't like to think he's the kinda guy who would try to get revenge for that, but I don't know anymore, like I said. I'm scared of seeing that rage come out again, and it would if I broke up with him. I don't know what to do."

She sighed, leaning back against his chest. "I don't wanna think anymore. I don't know what to think anymore. I used to know who I was and what I wanted, but now I feel like I don't know anything at all. But you do, Jack. Tell me what to do."

He kissed the top of her head. "Tell you what, let's keep things low key for now," he said. "You put off Harvey for as long as possible. I got influence with Dr. Arkham – I'll tell him to give you a promotion, and extra work along with it, so you gotta stay late at the office. Hopefully if you keep making work excuses, Harvey will get the hint without you having to explicitly break things off. Just say you wanna devote yourself to your job if he questions things. Do a whole 'it's not you, it's me, we're at different life stages, I'm focusing on my career' spiel. He'll have to understand, and if he doesn't, go to your pal Vicki Vale and tell her he's bullying a woman into damaging her career. If I know the feminist types, they'll take up that crusade and make him back off. He'll be resentful, but he can't hurt you without it reflecting badly on him, and he won't risk any damage to his reputation like that, especially during election season."

"And in the meantime, what about us?" asked Harley, taking his hand. "I want to do this again as soon as possible."

"We'll be careful," he said. "We'll meet in places where we won't be noticed, various hotel rooms and rundown motels. If I know my bad girl, that'll only increase the pleasure knowing how naughty it is," he chuckled, kissing her. "We have to keep the whole thing secret, an illicit love affair that only the two of us can know about. Am I turning you on?"

"Mmm, you know how to do that already," murmured Harley, climbing on top of him. "Bad boy."

"Bad girl!" he chuckled, pulling her down to kiss her. She beamed at him, and he traced her lips with his finger. "There she is," he murmured. "There she is without her mask. And she's never looked more beautiful."

Harley kissed him, her body sparking at the feelings ignited by the merging of their mouths. Her conscience had long ago been silenced, and she felt like she was possessed by some kind of irrational madness. But it felt good – it felt better than anything she had ever felt before. Maybe Jack was right, and that it was all just a mask, maybe sanity itself was a mask. And now that she had removed it, for the first time in her life, she felt truly free.