Joker sucked on his bottom lip, feeling the "Y" shaped scar across it's center. Trying to think of a response. Obviously there was something between he and Harley Quinn or she would be dead by now. But it wasn't love was it? The world was so full of hate he was not even sure if he believed in love at all. Everyone was out for themselves in his mind so why bother caring for someone when one day you could hurt them, or worse, they could hurt you.

The Joker could not remember much about his past. Anything before scars was almost completely gone, coming to him in random pieces. And all of them distorted with static like a bad television signal. He could not recall if he had ever been in love. If there was really any special girl that was often featured in his gruesome scar stories.

All he knew is that there was a girl sitting in front of him, waiting for him to respond.

He stepped towards Harley. She stared directly into his eyes with her blue ones now overflowing with tears. They looked hopeful, she wanted him to say "I love you to Harley" and make everything okay. She would forgive him for the prostitute, she would forget it ever happened. And maybe, just maybe this would be a step towards healing and normality for her Mr. J. Butterflies rose in her stomach, fluttering with anticipation. He knelt down in front of her.

"Harley," he said taking a drag, "Harley Quinn,"

He stroked her hair lovingly and smiled at her. She smiled back, wiping away the tears in her eyes, "Yeah Mistah J?" she sniffed.

And in that moment his smile faded, he violently grabbed onto a chunk of her red hair to hold her still. Then he took the burning cigarette in his right hand and pushed the glowing, red tip into her cleavage.

Harley gasped in pain and tried to squirm away but he sat across her lap to keep her from escaping. He pressed the cigarette into a few more places across her chest leaving small, circular burns on her flesh. Joker looked straight into her eyes, not breaking his gaze until he felt she had been punished enough. He tossed the cigarette into the bathtub. It landed in the blood and what little spark thrived on the end of it dulled and went out.

Joker walked out, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Harley to cry alone on the floor.

He stood outside the door. Harley really lost it when he left. She sobbed uncontrollably until she couldn't breathe. Joker slid to the floor and listened to her, taking those short, fast breathes that come involuntarily when someone cries to much. He licked his lips, he liked the way it sounded. There was something about Harley's cry that was different from everyone else. Of course Joker heard a variety of different cries in his life, all of them different but none like Harley Quinn's. It seemed that everything Harley Quinn did lately had its own unique and somewhat endearing quality to the Joker. He hated that. Not only was it annoying but it ruined other women for him.

The hooker he killed was nothing like Harley. Her screaming and crying was not the same and not much fun. Sure she was terrified of him the moment she walked into the room with him but it just wasn't the same.

Joker drug his tongue across his lips and across one scar again, but slower this time. The longer he sat there listening the more uncomfortable he became. He wanted her so bad right now. He ran his fingers through his hair smearing white greasepaint into the mess of green and dark blond curls. He anxiously sucked on his bottom lip, he pretended it belonged to her. He wanted in to be Harley's lip in his mouth.

He thought about simply going back in and making his wish come true. Its not like it would have been hard, Harley would easily forgive him, as always. But that's what bothered him. He did not want to be forgiven. Besides if he went in there and had sex it would be some kind of apology in the eyes of Harley Quinn and he did not want that either.

Joker let out a shaky sigh upon hearing her sobs turn into soft, pained whimpers. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. His crouch throbbed.

He tossed himself onto the bed at the end of the room. Harley could still be heard though not as clearly. So Joker turned up the volume on the television drowning her out. He stared up a the dirty fan hanging in the center of the ceiling. His fingers tightening into a fist around the bloody, torn bed sheets.

After what seemed like hours Harley crept out of the bathroom. She moved carefully and quietly in case Mr. J was still mad. He wasn't, she could see him asleep in bed from the glow of the television. She turned it off, since it was so loud. She didn't know how he could have possibly fallen asleep with all that blaring noise.

Harley slid off her heels and crawled into bed beside her Mr. J. For a moment she just sat there and watched him. He twitched every now and then in his sleep, still not completely relaxed.

Harley sighed and rolled onto her back beside him. She did not really feel tired. In fact she was a little bit uncomfortable in her tight costume. But she was okay with staying there, Mr. J might need her. She would hate for him to have a nightmare and be all alone. She ran a finger over the cigarette burns across her chest. They were sore, in a few days they would be better though. Just like her stitched up cuts and her bruises, they would all heal eventually. Harley convinced herself they did not matter much and that Mr. J didn't mean to hurt her.... Did he? Immediately she felt guilty for doubting him. She told herself a few more times that the way he is was not his fault. That he couldn't understand the pain he caused her.

Tonight had made her doubt the Joker more than ever. She hated herself for feeling that way. After all, no one said that curing him of his awful past would be easy. She just needed to be stronger. At least that's what Harley Quinn told herself.

Though at the same time another voice inside her head was telling her to get out. To leave here, leave Gotham and fast. Something told her things could only get worse.

Just then Joker shifted in bed. He moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her in his sleep and snuggling against her neck.

Harley smiled. That had probably been what was left of that boring Harleen Quinzel in her talking. That girl did not know Mr. J like she did. She stoked her sleeping clown's hair. She was never going to leave him.

Short I know, but it made its point. I just wanted to further write on how the Joker can do almost anything to Harley and she'll forgive and forget.

I also wanted to show how there is something between the two of them. I don't know if its love but its the Joker, I mean he should have killed her by now. I think he has a bit of a fascination with her as well. And of course Heath's Joker would probably react a little differently to Harley Quinn then say Mark Hamill's. At least I think so. There's just a lot of sex when it comes to Heath's take on the Joker.

And yeah, the prostitute is still dead in the bathroom. It occurred to me just now that she's still laying there. Its sick but I see Joker as taking death very casually, I mean duh, he's a friggin' murderer. So yeah its not a big deal and he woulds not be in much of a hurry to do anything about the body. Gaah I'm a sicko.