A/N: So I know that people have read the second chapter, and if you're reading this, then don't deny it! Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially if you weren't happy with the way things went in what you just read. Remember, nothing gets fixed if no one knows it's broken! Thanks. –Neonette

"Did the defendant ever harm you?"

"Yes."

"Please explain to the jury."

"He would frequently beat me whenever the mood struck him. Frustrations in his own work or frustration with me," Christine explained as she tried to avert her eyes from the Joker.

In turn, the Joker also looked away from her. They'd had a good run together, and he was impressed that she was getting away clean, and as a victim no less! He could see the trial taking a toll on her though. He couldn't quite tell if she was sad for him or sad that their fun was ending.

***********

For two years now, the Joker had been successfully carrying out plan after plan. His hench team was rebuilt and he had a proper lair of his own for formulating and planning. He felt quite at home in his plush environment. Christine delighted in hearing about each of his murders and burglaries. She truly did have a screw loose somewhere in that pretty head of hers.

They played games with each other. It was something of a cat and mouse thing. Christine still went off without so much as leaving a note, and he often wondered if she was intentionally sneaking out. She did it for the reaction it got from him. She'd often tease him at home. One moment she was gently stroking his hair as she murmured suggestions of dismemberment and the next she was buried in the library and wouldn't so much as give him a look.

He didn't mind the games. Her flirtations were enough to give him an ego boost and her aloofness often served well to give him the focus he wanted. And then there were the nights he simply needed to have her. He loved the look on her face when he slammed her against a hard surface. The wall, a table, the floor, it didn't matter. She still got that helpless look on her face for a brief moment as the impact jarred her consciousness.

He loved it when she was helpless. She was very close to his intellectual equal, a situation that the Joker hadn't been in very often, but she definitely lost in a battle of strength. Her thin frame was her literal weakness. Those moments of brutal passion were the only times he ever felt he truly had power over her, and he hated it. He hated it even more because he actually enjoyed it and no matter how hard he hit her, she also enjoyed it. It was similar to someone else he once knew…

It was a slow October night when the confrontation occurred. The Joker had blown up one of Gotham's largest fire stations. He'd gotten a huge laugh out of the irony, but wasn't fully satisfied. There had been casualties, but not in numbers that would sear themselves into the public's memories for years to come. To him, it had been a boring victory. He sat in the library and toyed with the disengaged detonator. Christine was in her office poring over business reports and proposals and other trivial work.

A faint giggle made the Joker stop twirling the detonator. It was too girlish a sound for Christine. He stood from the leather chair and faced the library doors. Sure enough, there she stood as he knew she would be.

"Harley Quinn," he drawled as he took in her appearance. She wasn't clad in her usual red and black with the little bells hanging from her head. Instead she wore simple civilian clothes. She giggled again.

"Mistah J, I love your new accommodations," she laughed as she skipped to him, "So much nicer than that drafty old warehouse we was in."

"You're supposed to be dead," the Joker told her flatly. It was true; he had sent her off in a rocket himself.

"I know," she smiled up at him and ran a gloved finger down his chest, "but I just couldn't leave this crazy place without my puddin'."

The Joker rolled his eyes at her sappy response. If there had ever been any regret over killing her, it was all gone. He felt relief when suddenly he heard the clicking sound of heels coming toward them. He didn't know why he was relieved; perhaps it was the thought of someone else having to deal with Harley or being able to divert her attention while he smashed her brains in then made abstract art out of them.

"Hey, Jack," Christine called as she walked into the room. She'd named him a while ago, flat out refusing to refer to him as 'The Joker' on a daily basis. She was still reading a paper and didn't notice Harley right away. "Did you pull the robbery at Myers & Swift or do I need to worry about somebody ripping me off?"

Christine had looked up from her paper expecting to see the Joker, instead she found herself face to face with Harley. Harley was examining Christine in her chocolate pencil skirt and fitted blue sweater and quickly decided she did not like the intruder. Christine stared at Harley as if she were staring at any other person and remained poised and controlled.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" she quietly demanded of Harley.

"Honey, this is Mistah J's house and I'll do what I like in it," she quipped back confidently, "Who the hell are you?"

Christine crossed her arms and pursed her lips, "I'm Christine Hinson and I own a good portion of Gotham along with this house and most of the police. Your 'Mister J' operates out of my home as guest and as part of a stylized agreement." With her last comment she moved her eyes up to the Joker's.

Harley furrowed her brow and then looked up at her Puddin'. The Joker merely stared coldly at her and she gasped a little.

"Puddin'…?" she whimpered.

"I wouldn't hang around, Harley. Christine's not as – " the Joker began to explain to his simpering ex-girlfriend.

"Harley Quinn?" Christine interrupted with enthusiastic surprise. Harley turned her confused expression to the brunette Barbie doll. "I didn't recognize you without your costume. Never figured you for a blond." Christine was now smiling at Harley.

It was true. Harley had been unable to find a suitable replacement costume before tracking down the Joker. Besides, it had been easier to move through the city as a generic blonde. Harley now gave a wry smile to Christine.

"Heard of me?" she asked coquettishly.

"Of course," Christine replied smoothly as she slipped an arm around her newfound friend, "I love your independent work. Please say you'll stay for a while." Christine threw a rogue look back to the Joker as she led Harley out of the library.

The Joker was then left alone in the library. He was slightly worried about what had just happened. Women could be very inconvenient when they got together. He remembered the headaches that Harley and Poison Ivy had given him in the past and Christine had a hell of lot more screws loose than Ivy, maybe even more than Harley. He returned to lounging in the library and forgot about the incident for a while.

A few hours later Christine and Harley reappeared in the library. The Joker glanced lazily up at Christine. She was wearing a trendy of-the-moment purple mini-dress. He loved the way she looked in that color, but he made sure his actions betrayed his thoughts. Harley stood behind her, also decked out in a mini dress, but hers was an ice blue. Christine had obviously dressed her; he'd never known Harley to have a lick of good taste.

"We're goin' out Jack," Christine told him with a sly smile.

"Yippee," he mocked at her.

"Wanna come?" she asked, her smile broadening. He heard Harley give a little giggle.

"You two really need to leave the funny stuff to me because you're both lousy," he replied as he turned away.

"I mean it, Jack," she drawled and draped her arms around him, "It'll be fun. Grab your coat."

He'd thought she'd finally snapped…well more than already. He went with them out of sheer curiosity of what she had planned. Would they rob, kill, or cause general chaos? Christine drove and made sure that he and Harley were concealed in the backseat. Harley clinging to him like a wet rag with a dopey smile on her face. At least in her make-up she had been amusing; now she just looked like the dumb blonde that she was. Christine led them into the back of a dark and loud building. It was a club and the Joker was instantly disappointed. Christine had grabbed him in one hand and Harley in the other and drug them in behind her.

Surprisingly, no one even blinked at him as he was pulled through the crowd and onto the dark dance floor. Harley was too hypnotized by the lights and sound to be of any help to him. In the center of the floor, Christine grabbed him by his tie and began to dance for him. She shut her eyes and he watched as the music took her over. She reached a slender and tan arm up around his neck and she moved her body closer to his. He slowly began to move with her and glanced over at Harley. Harley was swaying herself but had an undeniable look of jealousy on her face. He grinned at her, the thought of her jealousy giving him simple satisfaction. Christine had turned her back to his chest, her movements reminding him of a stripper. She coolly stretched an arm out to Harley and beckoned for her to get closer. Christine moved away from the Joker and wrapped her arms around Harley and gently caressed her skin. Harley was utterly confused and bordering on frightened. The Joker simply settled into the shadows of the dance floor and enjoyed the show Christine was giving him.

He'd always enjoyed using Harley himself but found watching her be used by Christine to be just as satisfying. Christine burned holes into the mad psychologist's eyes as she moved with and around her. His first hope, upon Harley's arrival, was that the two ladies might attack each other. At the time it had sounded amusing, but what he was witnessing at this dark, strobing club was far more entertaining. Christine carried on like that for hours with Harley; the poor clown girl looking like she could hardly stand by the time the threesome finally left.

They entered the house with a lady on each of the Joker's arms. Christine and the Joker were wildly awake, laughing and joking through the vast corridors. Harley stumbled along with them trying to find a space to get a word in.

"Havin' fun, Jack," Christine breathed into his ear as they rolled along the walls. The Joker smiled his twisted smile and groped at her.

"Yes, indeed," he breathed back.

"It wasn't really a question, but I'm glad you agreed," she replied and then pressed into him with the full length of her body. She stood on tip-toe and peered over his shoulder at Harley.

"How are you holdin' up, Harley? Ready for a real party?" she asked the harlequin coyly.

"Actually," Harley whined, "I'm kinda tired."

Christine donned a look of sympathy and slinked over to a withered Harley.

"Sounds like we should go to bed," she drawled as she put her arms around the small blonde. Harley gave her a suspicious look. Christine ran her hands down Harley's bare arms and gently clasped her hands. The Joker saw panic flicker through Harley's eye, and he smiled in anticipation.

"Maybe I should crash somewheres else…" Harley stammered, but Christine quickly shut her up with a searing kiss. Harley's eyes nearly popped out of her head and the Joker widened his grin. Harley jerked herself away from Christine and glared wildly at her. Christine was laughing and smiling as Harley backed away.

"What the hell's wrong with you, you crazy bitch?!" Harley shrieked. The Joker sidled up behind Christine and smiled broadly at Harley.

"What's wrong Harley-kins? Don't you want to play?" he laughed at her. Harley crawled away along the wall as she watched Christine and the Joker laugh at her.

The Joker viciously yanked back Christine's head by her hair and began to brutally lick and bite at her neck. Her cruelty had been a huge turn on. He was through with Harley now; Christine had squeezed every drop of fun out of the former clown girl and now he needed to release his enthusiasm.

They never saw Harley again after that, although they did hear of some of her escapades. That night, they couldn't have cared less what happened to her. Christine made it very clear that Harley was nothing more than a plaything and when she was done it was the end of her.

They wrestled against the walls and on the cold stone floor. The Joker ripped her thin purple dress off of her on the library's leather couch. She pulled him close by his tie near the bookshelf and then tore it from him. He slapped her and dragged her up the stirs while throwing her against the banisters. She spit and clawed at him in retaliation when they reached the landing as she discreetly popped off the buttons of his shirt and vest.

***********

Yes, those had been good times, the Joker reflected. His memory of Christine humiliating Harley was one of his favorite escapades.

Their years were full of exhilarating and sinful nights like those. She had such a fire in her when they battled down to the skin. They'd enjoyed the fight even more than the passion, if the two could really be distinguished.

And then, in a moment of sheer stupidity (and there were no other words for it), it was all over.

A/N: Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated. The fourth and final chapter is coming soon!