A/N: Sorry for the short hiatus. I was on winter break and needed some relaxation. However, I am back at school for my second semester of junior year! Scary! Hopefully updating will come quickly. Be patient with me. R&R!

Chapter 4: Always Find Something Wrong

See, I always find, and I always find

Yeah I always find something wrong

You been putting up with my shit just way too long

I'm so gifted at finding what I don't like the most

So I think it's time for us to have a toast

"Runaway," Kanye West feat. Pusha T

I opened my eyes slowly, glancing over. I saw the Joker standing in the middle of our living room, looking pretty haggard. His make-up was starting to come off, his eyes were bloodshot, and his mouth was set in a narrow line. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. I realized then that he must have been looking for me.

"Hey," I said, "When did you get back home?"

"Just now," he replied with gritted teeth, "Where the fuck have you been all night?"

"At Pam's," I said shortly, standing up, "Why the accusatory tone?"

"Well, as you know, your dearly beloved is recuperating in the hospital from a gunshot wound, and you know…I just figured you'd probably go visit him behind my back. I know you."

"I didn't go there." I said defensively, "Pam and I went out to eat, and then watched some movies at her place and it was really late so I slept over. Big fucking deal."

"Well, Harley, it's a big fucking deal when you don't call me all night. I tried your phone about 18 times and you didn't answer." He looked like he was about to blow, and I didn't really give a shit. I was just going to keep egging him on.

"My phone was off." I snapped, "And you know what? I really would have preferred not to answer the phone considering I'm FUCKING PISSED AT YOU!"

"What did I do?"

Well, that was it.

"Are you trying to fuck with me? You shot Bruce!" I exclaimed.

"No, I didn't."

"Don't you fucking lie to me! You did it! I know you did it! Who else would have been that god damn vengeful?" I was near the point of hysterics, "You almost killed him, and I know that was your intention! You want him out of your hair so that I stop talking to him! You've been faking like you didn't know that Bruce and I met up again and you wanted to get back at me for it, so YOU SHOT HIM! You're such a fucking ass-hole! I HATE YOU!" The tears were streaming down my face; he just stood there, looking undeniably dumbstruck by my outburst.

"Why are you standing there like an idiot? Just answer my question before I go insane!" I was sobbing now; I couldn't even understand myself when I was talking, "You just want to kill off everyone that I love so that I can be miserable for the rest of my miserable, stupid life!"

"I didn't shoot Bruce." He insisted, "And yeah, I'm kind of pissed off that you went to see him. I knew about that whole business, but I ignored it, considering you came home and looked like it wasn't successful. I thought you two had ended it for good, so I didn't interfere. I'm not that horrible of a person, Harley. I've hurt you enough."

I stared up at him, completely in disbelief. I had to be dreaming. This was all some kind of crazy dream or alternate universe.

"Who are you?" I demanded, "Who replaced your brain with some normal person's?"

"I don't want to lose you. If I killed Bruce, you would leave me. I'm not an idiot." He inspected his fingernails, "I thought you would have had more faith in me than that."

"How am I supposed to have faith in you when you fry my nerves to no end?" I collapsed onto the couch, "I'm going to need to be committed to a mental institution if we keep going on like this."

The Joker went on some spiel on how much he was disappointed in me, and that I needed to trust him more and blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, I was thinking to myself. This whole situation could work to my advantage. He trusted me, and that was invaluable. I could keep him going for 6 months, pretend like everything was normal, keep seeing Bruce at a minimum…and when he was ready, we would fly to Aruba and relax on the beach for the rest of our God-given lives.

I smiled despite my tears, and the Joker stared at me, asking, "What's your problem?"

"Oh, nothing, just…I'm sorry for accusing you of trying to murder Bruce." I admitted, "I jumped to conclusions and I shouldn't have done that."

"Well, I'm still pissed at you, but I guess I'll live." He sat down on the couch next to me, "You need to calm down, Harley, or you're going to have a heart attack before the age of 30."

"I'm surprised I haven't by now." I said miserably, burying my face in my hands.

…

The next few days went by without a hitch, surprisingly enough. The Joker seemed to have turned over a new leaf; he was legitimately nice to me and was always asking me if I needed anything. It was super fucking weird.

I went out for coffee with Pam on a Thursday night, to this little 24-hour café a couple of blocks from our apartment. The people working there didn't ever really seem to care that we were both wanted felons, so we kept going back.

I sipped my caramel macchiato, sighing, "I feel bad, Pam."

"You don't need to feel bad, Harley. The Joker is a dick. I don't care what he says. I believe that he did not shoot Bruce himself, but he had to have arranged it. He's trying to bullshit you into believing him so that you'll pity him, and that you'll never leave him because you can't justify it." Pamela thrust her coffee cup at me passionately, a few drops of it spilling onto the table. She swore under her breath, and started cleaning it up with the napkins on the table.

"I can see it from that angle, too, but I just don't know. I think I'm overanalyzing it." I said, "I'm confused, to be honest."

"What is there to be confused about? The guy's a fucking liar!" Pamela exclaimed. After a few people in the café turned to look at her with puzzled eyes, she lowered her voice, "You can't trust this guy as far as you can throw him, Harley, and – no offense – that's not very far."

She ignored the fact that I rolled my eyes, and she continued, "I'm not going to say that I condone all this business between you and Bruce, but let me tell you something. You need to make up your mind, and fast. The Joker is going to know if you're not interested in him anymore."

"You're right about that," I admitted, "I have to give him credit. The Joker is anything but stupid. And I'm a really, really terrible actress."

Pamela chuckled, "That's for damn sure."

"I'm not asking you to agree with me." I pouted, "I just need some advice."

"Oh, calm down, prima donna," she grinned. She then grew somewhat serious, "My advice is that you and Bruce need to figure out what the two of you are doing first. Figure out whether this is worth it or not. Even though I think you owe it to the Joker to stay with him, and that Bruce is being a real idiot thinking that you were just going to pick up and leave…"

"Get to the point."

"My point is that you owe it to the Joker to make sure that this is what you really want. You chose him over Bruce on your wedding day. I don't think he's going to forget that. And maybe he is being nice to you because he wants to be nice to you. Did you ever think about that?" Pamela inquired.

I fell silent for a moment, and then said reluctantly, "Well…not really…"

"Exactly," she said, smug, "You need to consider all your options before you make a decision. You're so impulsive, Harley, you know that?"

"It's amazing to hear people say that I am impulsive." I said, shaking my head in amazement, "I'm sure that if you asked anyone I knew before the Joker how to describe me, that would be the very last thing they would consider."

Pamela smiled, "You've changed a lot in the past few years."

"Yeah, I have." I said wistfully, "I never thought that I would be turning 30 as an out-of-work runaway felon who is trying to balance two relationships."

"You make it sound so depressing."

"That's because it is." I said with a dead-pan expression.

"Ugh, we're both so old." Pamela groaned.

"Don't talk to me about it." I finished off my coffee, "Want to head home?"

"Yeah, sure," she agreed.

We stood up, and tossed our cups in the garbage. We threw on our heavy winter coats, scarves, gloves, and hats. Believe me; December in New York is a total pain in the ass. We left into the bitter cold, shivering against the wind chill. Thankfully my apartment was not that far, so we cut down the little alley connecting the two main streets. Pamela and I were joking and laughing about something when suddenly, from behind a dumpster emerged a large, hulking man with a knife.

Pamela and I stopped immediately.

"Good evening, ladies." He smirked.

"Good evening, creep," Pamela said, "Want to get out of the way? We're going home."

She was afraid of nothing, that woman.

"Unfortunately, I can't do that." He replied.

"Why, is your leg broken?" Pamela quipped.

"No," he snapped, "I'm going to mug you two fine ladies."

As he started towards us, Pamela shook her head, making tut-tut sounds under her breath, "Now, you see, the only reason I asked is because I'm going to have no trouble breaking it."

"Oh, really?" he laughed.

Pamela nodded at me, and I rushed forward, using the self-defense skills Bruce and the Joker had taught me over the years. I grabbed his right wrist, which was holding the knife, and twisted it around his back. He yelped in pain, "You fucking crazy bitch!"

He struggled, but I held tight and kicked his ankles, sending him flying toward the ground. I used my foot to step down quickly on his throat, not allowing him to breathe. Pamela sauntered forward, picked up her foot, and swiftly stomped down on his leg. I heard a sickening crunch as she broke his ankle.

He was in pretty bad shape at this point, so I took my foot off of his throat, and cracked my knuckles, "I think we took care of that pretty well."

We high-fived, and Pamela leaned forward over the offending man, "Well, I'm sorry about that. See, I lied. I thought I could break your leg, but I only broke your ankle. Please accept my sincerest apologies."

He just stared wild-eyed up at us, and we linked arms and headed out of the alley.

"Poor guy; I don't think he knew what hit him." I was doubled over laughing.

"He deserved it for being so cliché. I mean, really, mugging two young, attractive women in an alley?" Pamela joined in on my laughter, "Dickhead."

"Scratch the 'young' part and you're totally right." I sighed, feeling suddenly nostalgic, "I'm almost 30, and what do I have to show for my life?"

"You have me." Pamela offered.

"Well, I was looking for something more fulfilling than your friendship, Pam."

When Pamela gave me a murderous look, I quickly added, "But good try though!"

"You have 2 boyfriends." She pointed out.

"Eh…not really…I don't count the Joker as anything, really. And Bruce hasn't spoken to me since our encounter in the hospital." I said as we approached my building, and lowered my voice substantially, "I would prefer we don't talk about this within range of the Joker's ears."

"Gotcha," Pamela winked, "I'd better be heading home anyway. I have a hot date with my television for the rest of the night."

"Good luck with that." I laughed, "I have no television."

"You poor soul, how do you live?" Pamela shook her head in amazement, "Are you sure you don't want me to pay for some cable?"

"We can't let a cable company know that we're living here. This building is for all intensive purposes condemned. So we could get arrested. Good thing the city of New York is extremely slow with construction and doesn't seem to give a shit that this building is falling apart." I explained.

She rolled her eyes, "You know you and the Joker could move in with me. I have plenty of space."

"He won't do it." I shrugged, "You know, the whole thing with you trying to kiss me sort of freaked him out just a little bit."

She flushed a considerable shade of scarlet, "Oh yeah, there's that whole business."

"Well, I'm going upstairs. Text me tomorrow if you want." I waved her good-bye, and did my now familiar trek with the abominable elevator and creaky stairs. I fished around in my purse for my keys, and upon locating them, opened the door to find no one home. The Joker had left recently; his magazine was still open on the couch and he had a left of bag of chips on the coffee table. I shook my head, disgusted by his apparent lack of hygiene and organization, and picked up the remains.

I flopped down on the couch, sifting through the latest issue of People magazine, and found myself immediately bored to tears. This whole no-TV thing was a fucking bummer.

As I started up my laptop, fervently hoping that there would be at least a bar of internet for me to use from the local businesses around us, my phone, which was on the table, buzzed. I picked it up. 'New Text Message from: B.' I bit my lip. Why was Bruce texting me?

I opened the text, 'Are you free tonight?'

I blinked a couple of times, not sure how to respond, 'Yeah, I guess. I thought you were still in the hospital.'

'Let me out yesterday. I can't do anything strenuous, but I can watch a movie. Interested?'

'Sure. Can't stay late, though…J will be suspicious.'

'Screw him.'

The corners of my mouth twitched up in a smile, 'Ha ha, Bruce. I will be there in 20 minutes.'

'Good. Let me know when you're here.'

I closed the phone, and sat there on my couch, contemplating this dilemma. Should I really go through with this? I then came to the conclusion that I had already risked enough, considering I had gone to his house and visited him in the hospital without the Joker knowing. Did I honestly care if he found out or not? Not really.

Fuck him. I was going out. I had no idea when he would be back, and not like he'd bother telling me anyway. I gathered up my purse, coat, and keys, and went out the door.