Harley enjoyed a great success during her debut at the Arkham Club. Something about her frank, honest performance of the blues, from a woman who truly had lost everything, was hugely appealing to the patrons of the club, and as the days passed, she became more popular than Ivy. But neither her popularity nor her singing made her happy, and there were many times she'd finish a song with the tears trailing down her cheeks, thinking of Jack.
Sometimes she could almost swear she saw him in the audience, but these all proved to be illusions. A sharply dressed man would sit in the shadows smoking a cigarette, and Harley's heart would leap in hope, but then he would stand up and it would be a stranger. Once she thought she heard his laugh, but it came from someone else. And once she thought she saw his smile, but the moment she blinked, it was gone.
Harley tried to resign herself to the fact that she was alone, but her heart kept hoping that this was all a dream, and that she would wake up with Jack in his apartment, not alone and hurting in her own miserable room. But she never did.
In her spare time, she tried to find out anything she could about this Batman, but he hadn't reappeared, and nobody seemed to know anything about him. It was as if he had been a demon who had appeared just to destroy her happiness, and had now returned to hell since his mission was accomplished.
Weeks passed, and Harley walked to work shivering from the cold chill of Gotham in early autumn. She heard the cries of newsboys calling out the headlines of the late edition: "Extra, extra, Clown Killer strikes again, massacre of innocents, read all about it!"
Harley's frown, which never left her face these days, deepened. That was the third time she had heard about this insane killer in a clown costume roaming the streets of Gotham. She supposed she should be worried about her safety, walking alone in the dark like this, but she couldn't say she particularly cared about her life anymore. If this Clown Killer murdered her, at least she would be with Jack again.
She arrived at the Arkham Club and headed into her dressing room that she shared with Ivy, who was seated reading the paper and smoking. Ivy was resentful of Harley's popularity, but tried to be civil considering the circumstances – plus Ivy still had Harvey, which made her the ultimately more successful woman in her personal life, if not her career.
"You heard about this clown freak, Harley?" asked Ivy, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "You might wanna consider changing your stage name if this keeps up, just to avoid association."
"Yeah," murmured Harley. "Just when the whole Harley Quinn thing was really starting to grow on me. Of course that's life – just when something seems great, something else comes along to ruin it," she sighed, taking off her coat.
"Aw, c'mon, cheer up," said Ivy, encouragingly. "Harvey's throwing a party at City Hall this weekend, and he's invited everyone from the club. We'll get you all dressed up, you can schmooze with some senators, and you'll find a nice, new guy to help you get over Jack. Trust me, nothing fixes a broken heart like sinking your claws into somebody else's."
"I know you mean well, Ivy," murmured Harley. "But I'm not ready to move on. I don't think I ever will be. He was the love of my life. He was my whole world, and now he's gone. I won't ever love again. Not like that, anyway."
Ivy was silent, puffing on a cigarette. "Look, kid, I know it's tough," she murmured. "I had a perfect love too once, y'know. Just like you – I was crazy for him. Thought it was true love, thought we'd live happily ever after, thought there'd never be anybody else…"
"What happened?" asked Harley.
Ivy blew out a cloud of smoke. "He left," she said. "Left me to fend for myself. So I did. I built myself back up, I grew strong, and then I found Harvey. I adore Harvey, I'm crazy about him, but…I don't love him like I loved Jason. I think that's a good thing, though. I think a love like that is always destined for pain. That's why I told you there's no such thing as true love. There is, but…it ain't worth the agony it's gonna end in. Much easier to find an imperfect love, a great guy with some defects, like Harvey, and forget these ideas of perfection. Because when you love madly like that…you end up going mad. And it's hard to live with insanity. Just something to think about," she said, heading for the door.
Harley changed slowly into her dress, a long, red and black gown with a diamond pattern on the skirt. She always wore the diamond necklace that Jack had given her, and she stared at her reflection in the dressing room mirror, pale and sad. A clown without a smile.
She sighed and headed for the door leading to the stage. It was showtime.
"What'll I do now that he's gone?
Somebody tell me how to go on,
When every day it rains and rains,
And I'm forcing smiles behind the pain.
What'll I do now that the light is dead,
And his memory runs through my head?
When the night is black and cold,
And I've got no one left to hold?
What'll I do now that my dream is ended?
My heart is broken, can't be mended;
But the tears run down my face all day,
And he's not there to kiss them all away.
No, there's nothing to do now that he's gone
Except to somehow carry on;
To face the cold and dark and rain,
And never to feel like smiling again."
Harley finished the song with tears trailing down her cheeks, as usual. She opened her eyes to the applause of the patrons, staring blankly out into the crowd…
And she thought she saw Jack's smile again, on one of the patrons, a man in a shabby suit at the far corner table, a cigarette burning in his ashtray, applauding loudly and smiling Jack's smile. She shut her eyes, willing the vision to go away – it only got more painful each time it happened. But when she opened her eyes again, Jack's smile was still there.
She stared at the man – the rest of his face was hidden in shadow, but she very clearly recognized Jack's smile. There was no mistaking it. "Jack!" she gasped, preparing to race off the stage, but she was suddenly swamped by her crowd of admirers who pressed bouquets of flowers into her arms, fighting to get her attention. By the time Bane had cleared away the crowd, Harley looked to the far corner table to see that it was empty. Whoever the strange man was, he had gone.
On her way back to the dressing room, Harley tried to rationalize what she had seen to herself. It obviously hadn't been Jack – just another illusion conjured up by her deluded brain. Jack was dead. And she only wished her mind would stop tormenting her by conjuring up phantom images of him.
She opened the door to her dressing room to see a man in a suit and hat standing with his back to the door, examining the cards on the bouquets of flowers that had been delivered. "Eddie Nygma, yeah right, Johnny Crane, not a chance…" he muttered, in a very familiar voice. Harley's heart leapt in hope, but she knew it was just another delusion.
"What are you doing in here?" she demanded. "Men aren't allowed back here without my permission."
The man chuckled, a strange, low, familiar sound. "And do you ever give permission, toots?" he murmured, turning around. His face was still hidden in the shadow cast by his hat, but he put a cigarette to his lips, holding it between white gloves.
"That's none of your business, is it?" she retorted. "Now go, before I call Mr. Bane."
He didn't move, he just stood there, smoking and staring at her. "Harley Quinn," he murmured. "Like the clown. Now that's funny, toots, it really is."
"What's funny about it?" asked Harley.
"Just the whole clown thing," he said. "A real coincidence. Funny how life turns out sometimes, ain't it?" he chuckled again.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted. "Now stop babbling and please leave. I want to be alone."
He shook his head. "No, you don't," he murmured. "You are alone, Harley. But you desperately don't want to be."
He approached her and Harley backed away against the door, her hand on the handle, preparing to run. "A clown without a smile," he murmured. "A sad clown. Now that ain't funny, is it, Harley? Doncha wanna smile again, baby? Doncha wanna laugh?"
Harley pushed down on the handle and tried to run, but he was too quick, grabbing her arms and slamming them above her head. He pressed her against the door, nuzzling her cheek.
"There's just so much to smile about, baby, so much to laugh about," he whispered. "Life is one big joke, after all. And this clown thing…that's the punchline, ain't it?"
Harley tried to scream, but he had his gloved hand over her mouth in an instant. "Shh, shh, shh, baby," he whispered. "I ain't gonna hurt you. Wouldn't do that to my fellow clown, would I?" he murmured, kissing down her neck. "My pretty little Harley Quinn. And she could be prettier still, if she only had her smile back."
It hit Harley suddenly. "You're…you're the Clown Killer," she gasped. "The one in the papers."
"Yeah, but Clown Killer's such a boring name," sighed the man. "Thought up a better one for myself which I need to give to those uncreative idiots of the press. The Joker."
"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered.
"Do you want me to?" he murmured, sliding a hand around her throat. "Would that bring your smile back?"
"Yes," she whispered. "The pain would be over. And I'd be with Jack again."
The man chuckled. "Do you wanna hear a joke, my little Harley Quinn?" he whispered, bringing his lips to her ear. "Jack's right here."
And he smiled suddenly. Harley gasped in shock. "Jack!" she exclaimed, and then he was kissing her, with Jack's kiss, his arms around her, safe and warm, like Jack's arms. She let out a sob of relief, melting into his embrace and kissing him passionately. It might be an illusion, or she might be losing her mind, but she didn't care anymore. She just never wanted it to end.
"Jack…I thought you were dead!" she gasped when he drew his mouth away at last.
He chuckled. "Jack is dead, baby," he murmured. "He died in that vat in Ace Chemicals."
"I…don't understand," she stammered.
"You will, my little Harley Quinn," he whispered, tracing her lips with his gloved finger. "You will."
He reached up and slowly removed his hat, revealing his face to her for the first time. "Oh…my God," gasped Harley, staring back at the clown face, bleached white with grinning red lips and thick locks of green hair. "Oh my God…Jack…what happened to you?"
"I died, baby," he whispered. "Jack died. And the Joker came back in his place."
"The Joker…Jack, you've been…you've been murdering those people…in the papers…"
"Real great joke on them, ain't it?" laughed Joker. "Death's the ultimate punchline, the final gag life plays on all of us. Except for me, of course!" he chuckled. "I died, and then I came back! Makes you want to laugh, doesn't it, Harley? Makes you wanna spread the smiles and laughter to everyone, doesn't it? Help them all get the joke!"
Harley was still too stunned by his miraculous return to process all of what he said – she shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Jack…" she began.
"Joker," he corrected. "That's the name I like my doll to call me."
"Joker," she repeated, slowly. "Why didn't you come see me sooner? I thought you were dead for weeks…"
"I came back to my place after the accident, but you weren't there," he said. "I thought you had…run off. Heard I was dead so you made a break for it, hooked up with someone else. And then I came back to the club and saw you singing, and all the guys admiring you, and I just thought…"
He trailed off, his smile falling. "What did you think?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I thought…you could do better than some clown-faced freak. So I stayed away. But I couldn't stop thinking about you, and the more I thought about you, and the whole Harley Quinn thing, the more I thought maybe it was some sort of crazy fate, you and me, destined to be together. So I came back. You do want us to be together, don't you, Harley?" he asked, gripping her shoulders. "You don't want all those other admirers, all those handsome young men out there, waiting for you, waiting to get their filthy hands on my doll…"
"Jack, you're hurting me…" began Harley.
"Joker!" he shouted, shaking her roughly. "My name is the Joker!"
Harley whimpered in pain and he calmed instantly, releasing her and gathering her gently into his arms, stroking her hair back. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I just…got a lot going on in my head. All the time. Lots of…violent imagery and fantasies and…and sometimes I make them come true. But I don't wanna take them out on you. You do deserve better than some murdering, clown-faced freak."
His grip tightened again. "But I ain't gonna let you go," he whispered. "You're my doll. You've always been my doll, and you always will be my doll. And if any other guy tries to get his hands on my doll, I'll cut their hands off!"
He was shaking with emotion and Harley stared up into his beautiful green eyes to see a whirlpool of rage and pain and jealousy and, above all, a maniacal joy. A joy that grew stronger as he looked down at her. "That's right, isn't it, baby?" he whispered, kissing her forehead. "That's what they deserve for messing with my doll. You'd enjoy that too, wouldn't you? I remember how alive and full of passion we both felt after that heist, after we killed. Wouldn't you give anything to feel like that again? Day after day of smiles and joy and laughter, the two of us together, the two criminal clowns, the Joker and Harley Quinn? Wouldn't that be perfect, baby?"
Harley studied him. Rationally she should run as far away as possible from this man, who was clearly unbalanced. But then Jack always had been a little crazy, and he had said that the best things in life were always crazy. Harley believed that was true. And here was Jack, standing in front of her, slightly different looking, but alive again. Was she going to be ungrateful for this miracle that had reunited her with the love of her life, that had granted her deepest wish, just because it seemed insane? Sanity was a small price to pay for getting her true love back, and she was more than willing to sacrifice it.
She kissed him, slowly and deeply. "Uh huh, puddin'," she whispered. "That would be perfect."
He chuckled. "Puddin'! I remember that! Funny name for a funny clown, my little Harley Quinn. My perfect little Harley Quinn," he whispered, reaching around to unzip the back of her dress.
Ivy headed back to the dressing room after her set was over. She tried the door to find it locked, and suddenly heard strange noises coming from inside, and Harley moaning in a way that could offer only one explanation.
Ivy was surprised to say the least, but shrugged, heading back down the hall toward the bar. "Glad she took my advice about moving on," she said to herself. "Good for her. I wonder who the lucky guy is."