Joker decided to stay in the Palisades a few more days after he took care of the owners. He got rid of the couple quickly and quietly with a knife when they returned home from work that evening, none of their neighbors suspected a thing.

Despite their stay in the nicest and safest part of Gotham it was the most exhausting three days of Harley's life. It seemed like she and Mr. J never left the bedroom. Of course Harley Quinn had fun, she loved the attention from him, but it was still very tiring. Sometimes when they would have sex Joker would be fairly gentle, at least by his standards. Then other times it would be incredibly rough and painful. Harley's skin was covered in cuts and bruises from those times. She worried that some of her cuts were a little to deep for just a band-aid. Not all of them seemed to be healing correctly, but Mr. J didn't seem concerned so she figured she should not be either.

Mr. J didn't seem to concerned with any thing at all. When he wasn't "interacting" with Harley he was usually asleep. Harley convinced him to eat a couple of times on her few trips outside the bedroom and into the kitchen, but that wasn't much. It was rare that Joker did not have his hands on her, he even clung to her in his sleep. Of course Harley couldn't complain, she loved him more than anything. It was just strange and very unlike Mr. J behavior.

Harley Quinn escaped from his sleeping grasp a few times to venture to the kitchen or to take advantage of the luxury of a clean shower stall (something she had lived without since she moved in with Mr. J). But he would often realize when she was gone and end up in the shower with her.

It was definitely a strange few days. The way Joker treated her went from good to bad to worse and then back to good again. And the entire time he maintained an indifferent attitude, not quite mad at her but not happy either. That scared her more than anything, more than the rough sex, more than the knives he used on her or when he'd hit her. It was the calm before the storm, the slight fear in the back of her mind that he was going to do something really bad. Something that would make her regret falling in love with him. Harley Quinn did her best not to dwell on that doubt. Oddly enough Mr. J himself seemed to take away those fears. Just when she had herself convinced that she made a mistake with him he would kiss her with such intensity that she just knew he had to love her.

It was almost noon, despite how dark it looked outside from the pouring rain. Harley lay in bed absent mindedly picking at a rip in her tights, a large knife wound in the center of that rip.

The answering machine was going off, someone from Alex's school telling his parents that he was not there for the third day in a row and how he would need a doctor's excuse. Harley felt like picking up the phone and telling the person on the other end that he was dead, those phone calls were getting so annoying.

The parent's were getting phone calls from their work as well, asking why they were not there and then threatening to fire them. If someone really cared about them they would have come directly to the house. Harley had yet to see that happen. She decided what Mr. J said about people was right. No one really cared about anyone else, they just looked out for themselves. And why shouldn't they, at this point the only person she cared about was Joker.

Harley looked towards him, asleep in bed beside her. Basically all his make up had come off, only thin lines of black paint remained smeared across his eyes like eyeliner. Most of his green hair dye was wearing out as well. Underneath was sandy blond and brownish colored hair. It didn't seem right, like it was someone else sleeping beside her. The only reminder that it was indeed the Clown Prince of Crime was the twisted scars across his face and decorating his bare chest and upper arms.

Harley Quinn reached out to touch a pale line of scar tissue on his chest. Almost as if to make sure it was real. She had barely laid her fingertips on it when he flinched. Afraid she awoke him Harley looked at his face expecting opened eyes. No, still asleep. His breath quickened and he began biting his bottom lip anxiously. The lack of make up made it easy to read the expression on his face. It was something Harley had never seen on Mr. J, fear.

He struggled against his attacker, not really fighting back, he had never been a good fighter. Instead he just tried to escape. He refused to face the dark figure that had ambushed him from the shadows. He did not want to see it. He had no idea what the dark silhouette really looked like, but he was not about to find out. It would be terrifying, he just knew it.

He pulled and fought to run in the opposite direction. He did not know just how the figure held onto him, he could just feel a strong force keeping him from escaping. It's grip tightened, choking the breath out of him. Gasping for air he fell to the floor and was turned so he lay on his back, facing the monster. The choking stopped but he felt to exhausted to run away by this time.

The creature before him laughed an eerie high pitched giggle. He wanted to close his eyes, he tried to cover his face but he couldn't. No matter what he did he could always see his attacker, though it remained a blackened silhouette.

Suddenly it came closer to his position on the floor. Slowly a face morphed into view, a white face with to black eyes resembling a skull and a blood red mouth with long, knotted scars on either side. The red seemed so bright against the ghostly white face, despite the darkness that filled the room.

"Takes more muscles to frown then to smi-ile," the face laughed.

The scars surrounding the mouth moved oddly with the smile. They seemed stiff and painful, as he stared at them he realized something. The scars matched his wounds perfectly. One side being long and curved into a hook shape at the top, the other short and almost straight across. In the center of his bottom lip, an odd little scar that matched his own. And suddenly the face became even more familiar, the shape of the eyes, the nose and the mouth. Even the jaw line seemed the same shape as someone else's he had known.

That's when he realized it. The face before him was his own.

"No," he breathed staring at the horrible make up caked scars stretching across his face, "No!" he began to scream.

The smiling version of himself cocked his head to one side and drew a long knife out of his coat. The silvery blade somehow glistening despite the darkness of the room. The knife disappeared when he thrust it downward, without looking at where it was headed. In the midst of his cries a searing pain ripped through his body, starting at his chest and then coursing downward.

Joker awoke with a long gasp followed by short panicking breaths, as if he had just been held under water. Harley who had practically fell of the bed with surprise, hurried back to her spot to comfort him.

"You were dreamin' again puddin'," she said soothingly stroking his hair.

He looked around the room, calming down a bit more as he recalled his surroundings.

"Do ya wanna talk about it, maybe?" Harley asked him hesitantly.

Without a word, Joker shook his head no, finally relaxed again.

"That's okay. I undahstand Mistah J," Harley quickly said.

Suddenly he grabbed her arm pulling her on top of him and began kissing her. His tongue tangled around hers, Harley winced as his hands ran over top of the unhealed cuts on her body.

At that moment, the most inconvenient time, Joker's cell phone began to ring. The sound came from his coat pocket which was slung over a chair near the bed. Joker ignored it flipping Harley over so that he was on top and continuing to ignore the phone call.

Harley guessed this time would be gentle, though she knew all to well that the Joker was a difficult man to predict. But his kiss had not been violent, that was a good sign. The phone rang again. Joker growled and climbed out of bed to answer it, cursing as he did.

"What the hell do you want," he answered the cell phone, obviously angered by the interruption.

Harley sat up on her elbows and watched him talk, not paying much attention to the context of his conversation. She looked at his paint-less facial expressions, a rare sight. In Arkham Asylum he was not allowed to wear make up, she had seen him without it then. This was different though. It was stranger having known him better, now that they were a couple instead of a doctor and patient.

Each little eyebrow movement or the slight twitching of his scars was somehow speicial and mesmorizing to Harley Quinn. It was odd to see his the face when paint was not distorting his facial expressions. She watched intently until he stopped talking and tossed the phone back into his coat.

Harley laid back down assuming Joker would be back to finish what he started. But he didn't, surprisingly, he began putting on his shirt.

"What are ya doin' Mistah J," questioned Harley Quinn.

"That was Chuckles," he replied buttoning up his hexagon patterned shirt, "They found an abandoned warehouse in the narrows and are ready to get back to work," he pulled up his green suspenders after tucking the shirt into his pants.

Harley thought for a moment, "Back to work on what?"

"Chaos Harley, spreading chaos. Duh,"

She nodded, "So what are we doing then?"

"Go-ing to our new home," Mr. J said pulling on his vest.

"I kinda liked this home," Harley mumbled.

"What?"

"I said, just realized I ain't got a shirt and my tights are all ripped ta pieces... I can't go out half-naked like this," she made an excuse.

Joker just rolled his eyes and picked up the ripped tank top, still lying on the floor.

He shook the glass off of it, "Stand up," he said.

She did, he put the torn garment across her shoulders like a vest. Then tied the two ripped ends together making a very revealing top, not that Harley minded of course.

"This won't work," she said continuing to pout a little.

"Theeen go through the closet," he pointed towards the walk-in closet at the other end of the room, "I doubt the uh, previous owners will be gettin' much use out of their clothes any-more,"

"Oh but Mistah J all of those things are soooo boring. I've looked through it already," Harley whined.

She knew that would get him, Mr. J liked the skimpy Harley Quinn costumes. And not just for his own viewing pleasure, Harley knew he liked the attetion it got from victims as well. The Joker being a performer of sorts, liked to put on a show and everyone knows a good magician has a pretty little assistant. Harley smiled at the thought, she liked that analogy of their relationship. Just as long as he didn't try to saw her in half.

"Fine," Joker seemed to concede, "We'll stop by our old apartment on the way to the warehouse and you can get your stuff. I need some facepaint and some new shirts anyway," he examined his shirt and vest, splashed with a large, brownish bloodstains.

"Okay," Harley sighed, though that was not what she had in mind.

But as she walked out the front door taking one last look at heating, air conditioning and clear running water she knew that she and Mr. J couldn't have stayed there forever. Maybe someday, she had not lost faith in her Clown Prince yet. It just wasn't possible right now.

Happy Easter everybody!

Another Joker nightmare, I think it'll be his last nightmare I describe. I started thinking about the last one and how something attacks him in the end, and then I wondered how many people were like, WTF. I thought it needed some further detail. I hope it wasn't to confusing cause it was a major metaphor, he was basically fighting with himself. Obviously I don't think evil twins and what not are part of the Joker's past. It was more like the normal sane part of himself fighting with the part of himself that wanted to create chaos and murder simply because he wanted to prove something. It was "the Joker" taking over to summarize it a bit.

Also, I noticed I broke 100 reviews. *does a kermit the frog yaaaaaaay* Thanks everybody for making that possible, I REALLY apprciate your imput on this fic, you don't realize how important your reviews are to me. :D