V

The thing about the city—and specifically about the part of the city where Gordon lived, that made crime almost too easy, was the network of little hiding places all crammed together. Scent dogs made the chase a little more difficult, but even they got distracted by the loads of refuse and chemicals and rot in the streets.

Harley and The Joker had hands clasped as they scurried through the backstreets, trying to avoid, not only the Police, but the Batman as well. The Joker had never planned to leave in the same car they arrived in. A loud blast a few blocks back had told them both that the detonator went off—slowed everyone down a little.

Batman was going to catch them. That was just the way that it worked, but they needed to get far enough away from the back-up power of the police that they could actually stand a chance against him before getting arrested. It was a tricky chase, but there were cars to steal up ahead.

"Red or black?" The Joker asked Harley as they came upon two cars, the owners of the vehicles were soon forced out onto the street—keys handed over, biting the cub and hoping nothing worse happened to them that night.

"Well, I know you want red," Harley winked at him and grabbed the keys to the black Honda.

"See ya soon, kid."

Having Harley around during a chase had made impromptu escape much easier for The Joker. It had only taken a few times to figure out that she could keep up with his frantic pace better than any other man he'd ever employed. Maybe that was why he kept her around so long. She was smart. She had tricks. The girl had turned into his ace in the hole, so that in a situation like this one, when The Bat was sure to catch him in a block or two, she could wait for the right moment and then turn up just in time to surprise him and guarantee a successful escape.

Harley jumped into the driver's seat, just in time to see a dark shadow cut across the vibrant red of the car in front of her. The Joker looked up, anticipation flashing like lightning in his wicked black eyes. He didn't get in the car. Harley stayed down and out of sight as The Batman swooped down and tackled The Joker into the concrete.

The keys to the red car were lying discarded on the sidewalk. The passengers (who were lucky to be left alive and shouldn't press their luck, in Harley's opinion) were pilling into the red car, while one man snatched the keys and took his only getaway.

Harley stayed out of sight, her blue eyes peering up over the dashboard. She winced at each blow. She could tell they were talking during the fight—they typically did. The Joker said once that they like to catch up on what had been going on in each other's lives.

The police were getting closer. She could hear the sirens. They needed to move. Harley forced the car into gear and sped forward, up over the sidewalk. The Batman was holding The Joker up against the wall. She had to be careful not to smash them. She side-swiped just close enough to knock The Bat and The Joker with the bumper—they crumbled to the ground.

Harley was already leaning out of the car door with her gun at the back of Batman's neck as The Joker half-crawled into the back seat.

Batman swiped his hand backwards, ignoring the close proximately of the gun—it went off with an ear-splitting cry, but he was so quick, he had already been far enough away when she squeezed the trigger.

Harley dropped the gun and slammed the door shut, pounding her foot down hard on the gas and speeding away. In the back seat, The Joker was trying to catch his breath. His make-up was mixed in with his blood, a fairly normal look for him, but underneath the colour there was something that looked dangerously like sanity. He turned back as they flew away from the Bat and onto the streets, losing the police and Batman in a few lights and left turns.

Her fingertips lightly brushed concealing cream over the small cut on her neck. It a matter of minutes there was nearly no evidence at all to show that there had been any rough-play going on that evening. Harley was in the bathroom, changed and washed from the ordeal. Her make-up fresh again, her blue eyes bright. It hadn't been an excellent night, but they were both still alive, free and it had been pretty fun.

"Ahem," Harley leaned against the doorframe, the red lace on her skimpy teddy matched the pinkish glow coming from inside the bedroom to her back, "Ahem," she said again, but he still wasn't looking at her.

The Joker was sitting on the floor, back to the wall. All he needed to do was turn his head and he could look at her, but his gaze remained fixed at something unattainable in the air far ahead of him.

"Oh, puddin'… Come on and come here," she encouraged, taking a step out of the doorframe and closer to the homicidal maniac.

He said nothing, his eyes were still fixed on nothing. He seemed catatonic, his head tipped slightly to the side, his arms empty on either side of him.

"Like what you see, handsome?" Harley stood right in front of him, pulling an exaggerated vamp to show off the way her curved body looked wrapped in lace and silk.

He glanced up, searched her, and dropped his eyes to nothing again. He seemed to relax slightly, but aside from that; no change. Disappointed with his less-than-enthusiastic response, Harley let her face fall before she regrouped for a second attack.

"Come on, Mistah J… I know tonight was a bust," she fell to her knees in front of him, taking the collar of his purple jacket in one well-manicured hand, "Let me make you feel better," she pleaded, as she unknotted his tie. Nuzzling at his neck and chest, she almost thought she might get him to give into her, but she only got two buttons undone before he'd had enough.

"Get up," he took her shoulders in his hands and shoved hard, Harley fell backwards, hitting the ground with a thump. The back of her head smacked against the opposite wall, she winced, momentarily forgot herself and let out an 'ouch'.

The Joker leapt up to his feet, "He can't protect them all," he started pacing.

Harley sighed and did all she could not to roll her eyes.

"If. If. If," he muttered, pausing briefly to glare at his own reflection in a cracked mirror on the wall, "If he cares about Gordon then… what does that mean?"

"He doesn't want to have to deal with a corrupt Commissioner, is all," said Harley abruptly, "It's not like they're friends, he just knows that without Gordon, he won't be able to use the cops, the way he has in the past."

The Joker stopped and finally looked straight at Harley, "You're wrong," he leaned down and patted her hard on the cheek, "I don't know how you could miss it." He pinched her lips shut with his fingers, "But I think you'd better not speak as long as you're not able to see what I see."

"Whaddayaccee?" Harley squealed through his grip on her mouth.

The Joker forcefully shoved her face away with his palm, "I see something more… Tonight, he wasn't just protecting an ally. He really cares about Gordon. And not just because of the little ones either—although-" he stopped short, snapped his fingers and crouched down in front of Harley, taking her face in his hands again, "Can I have your professional opinion, doctor?" he asked with a very formal, delicate tone.

Harley tipped an eyebrow at him and didn't respond. It wasn't necessary.

"The Bat seemed… especially riled tonight."

She though back to the scene on the side of the road before they drove away, "Sure, maybe I noticed."

"I thought it was because he just. Loves. Gordon. So, so much. But now I'm wondering… do you think it was the kids? He said something to me. About the next generation of Gotham city. What does that suggest, to you?"

"Childhood trauma," said Harley her blue eyes wide on his face, "You know, I never thought about it before, but… Bats is as screwed up as any of us. I bet something bad happened to him when he was a kid."

"…I should kill him."

"What?! I thought… you always said…"

"I know what I've said," the Joker hissed and shook her roughly, squeezing her wrist in one hand and bruising her chin in the other, "But he's right. This, thing between him and I… this, mutually abusive and abrasive madness… it's going to end with one of us dead. Or both. Or millions. The cosmos."

"Well, then." Harley said brightly, "Why don't you shoot him already?"

She saw stars after the back of his hand connected with the side of her face.

"THE DEATH OF THE BATMAN MUST BE A MASTERPIECE!" he shouted, "The ultimate tragicomedy genius work of art."

"I'm sorry," Harley said mildly, she was actually shaking. It was hard to tell the difference between 'normal' Joker and when he was in one of his violent moods. She had recognized too late that tonight was a bad night. But, there still might be some way to salvage it. "Relax, shhh," she stroked his hair, "Hush. You don't need to worry about that right now… it's been a long, hard, no-good day."

"Yeah."

"So, why don't you come to bed and I'll help you forget all about it," she pleaded pecking his scared cheeks with a score of kisses while he stayed, kneeling in front of her on the ground, pensive and tense. Unsure.

The tension in his shoulders only eased for a split second before he stopped. Pulled her by the hair away from his face and looked at her with a feline glower. "He's the beginning of us all. The Batman started this."

Harley let out a defeated, angry sigh. "Ya know, Mistah J, sometimes, it seems like you're more passionate about that big Bat then you are about me."

The next few seconds were a whirlwind of rug-burn, shrieking, torn fabric and pain from her scalp as he hauled her down the hallway by her hair and towards the door. A loud bang sounded off as the door was nearly knocked off the hinges, The Joker hoisted Harley up by her hair and one shoulder and tossed her like a rag-doll into the alleyway outside their hide-out.

She hit the gravel and dirt hard and somersaulted clumsily into a pile of broken glass from beer-bottles and a half dilapidated crate of rotting wood. The door was already slammed shut. She could hear what sounded like The Joker's maniacal laughter fading away from inside their temporary home.

Kicked out again? It had been almost a month since he'd gotten so sick of her that he'd literally chucked her out for the night, she should have been expecting that she was due for another attack from him. Wincing from the bruises and scrapes, Harley tried to stand up, but her knees were cut up bad from the hard ground, and she sunk back down against the brick wall. Little bits of black rock and dried tar were sticking in with the oozing blood, she tried to brush them off, the stinging pain wasn't so noticeable over the monologue in her own head.

He's only doing it because he doesn't want to hurt her. Harley felt tears prickling at her eyes. He can't control himself sometimes, if he really hated me he'd just kill me, he wouldn't throw me out, he does that because he loves me and he doesn't want to go crazy with me around and… it wasn't working tonight. She could convince herself most of the time that this was just their unique way of dealing with this mad love affair, but tonight it wasn't working. Harley felt bruised and cut and rejected and she was lying in an alley-way in red lingerie. Things had never been worse. He'd never been this bad. How did this happen? Harley Quinn snorted with un-amused laughter, trying to fight the flood behind her eyes. She was a certified lunatic wanted in two dozen states and hopelessly in love with a murderous psychopathic clown.

If only there was no Batman.

If he was out of the picture then The Joker could retire from chaos for a while. His main antagonist was the Bat and with the Dark Knight gone… Oh, it was a wonderful thought.

He'd been there from the beginning. Making everything between them more difficult than it already was. The Joker was right to say that he started it all. Maybe he could end it.

The end…

The Beginning. It was a contrived, manic place to visit, but Harley closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the brick wall and tried to remember.

Fun Fact: If my pet cat Digory turned into a human being, he would look exactly like Noel Fielding.

Song of the Chapter: Cold, Stupid Girl.