Authors Note: It's short yes I know, but I really feel that it benefits from being short, creates a better atmosphere if you get what I mean. Again, everyone thank WritingSchizo101 for beta reading this chapter. Her suggestions were gladly and happily recieved- Bee x

He threw open the bedroom door, not bothered when it banged against the wall. His eyes scanned the room, not exactly sure what was being searched for. He would know it when he found it. He took a few steps in, his boots heavy on the floorboards. They weren't entirely structurally sound, but that was how he liked it. They creaked and moaned like a person in pain, and it was a wonderful noise. There, on the bed, right in the middle, was an envelope. He shook his head. She just had to be that obvious, didn't she? He plucked the envelope from the bed and tore it open, unfolding the letter tucked inside.

Mistah J,

I had to leave. I couldn't stay any longer. You won't find me. I won't let you find me. I'm going somewhere, a place where you can't touch me.

Harley

He made a small tsking noise in his throat as he shook his head. Foolish girl. He glanced across the letter again, a few words jumping out at him. This was a mystery he had here in his hands. A wonderful mystery; a chase. The promise of game, one she'd created just for him,made him laugh. The laughter was slow at first, but then it grew and grew until he was holding onto his stomach, pained. Jokes always caused the best kind. Eventually, the laughter died down and he was still. He looked at the letter, just looked at it for a few moments.

"Oh Harleeeeey,"he growled, disapproving. He was not at all happy with his girl. Something must have happened; someone must have gotten to her. Some idiot spoilthis fun, ruinedhis toy. That someone would pay.

The only time Harley would leave would be with his consent, or if he threw her out and then hunted her down later. He giggled a little as he remembered the few times they'd done that, thefun she had provided him with. She and the Batman were the only ones who could bring him enjoyment on a daily basis. Sure, the people he killed, they brought him some pleasure. That was only a one-time thing though, because it was their death he liked, nothing else. Harley and the Bat though, they lived and they made his life worth living every single day, the both of them.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked the empty room. Something needed to be done about this— something had rebelled against him a few times before and every time he beat her down, showed the girl her place: on the ground with her blood on his gloved hands. It was obvious to him now that she hadn't actually learnt her lesson. He was going to have to spend precious time, change some important plans to find her and bring her back. That could not go unpunished.

He paced the room slowly, looking round in search of any objects left behind, or to confirm if she had indeed taken would help him learn the aim of this flight of hers. It didn't take long to deduce how little she'd actually taken with only thing missing was her black bag— and herself, of course. He took note ofthe missing costume, knowing if she hadn't bothered to leave it behind, she was still wearing it. That should make her so much easier to find, his little Harlequin. She could not hide from him.

He turned on his heel and made his way down the stairs slowly, leaving the bedroom door wide open. He liked having the doors open; it made getaways quicker if they were necessary. The house was empty, except for the usual few henchmen dotted around here and there. One of them he spotted dozing in a chair when he entered the living room. The idiot shouldn't be sleeping. He pulled out his gun and pointed at the chair's leg, pulling the trigger. A loud bang echoed throughout the small room even after the chair leg blew apart, the seat collapsing. The startled henchmen followed, crashing to the floor and looking up with frightened eyes as his boss replaced the gun and started to laugh. That had been rather amusing.

"Get out, and don't come back till I say," he snarled, the laughter gone instantly. He didn't need to speak loudly. Whatever he said, they always heard. The henchman lumbered to his feet and then headed straight for the door, nodding his head nervously.

"S-Sure thing Boss! How will you find me though?" The man received a simple look in return. He gulped, but obeyed nonetheless, and headed out the door like a good little henchman. After taking a long look around the living room, he decided it could use a little something. He drew from a pocket in his long purple coat his favourite knife.

"Haaaarleeeey!" He grinned, brandishing the knife through the air, imagining the expression on Harley's face, those bright blue eyes wide with fear. It was such a delicious expression, and he loved seeing it on her perfection. She left him; she daredto leave without his consent, without being told to.

"Naughty, naughty," he said, holdingout his arm and drawing the blade along the length of it. He gritted his teeth at the pain, but soon started laughing as he dropped the knife and approached the wall. He placed his arm against the rough surface and dragged it along, smearing bloodon the peeling plaster.

"So I can always have a Smile on my face," he said to himself, as he took a step back and examined his handiwork. Two words were now on the wall, written in his own blood: 'ha ha'. Just so he, and everyone else, would always remember the joke. The wall wasn't quite finished. It would be when he had Harley. Her blood would complete the work. Such a shame she wouldn't get to see it.

The Joker threw back his head and laughed.