CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"In an overwhelming sense, the word fear meant nothing to me; only a voice ushering me to prove myself, enter; the spotlight called. I followed it."

Steam wafted around the bathroom as Harley stepped from the shower and grabbed the canary towel she had placed on the shelf beside the bathtub. She sighed as the humid air stuck to her whilst she stepped across the tiled floor and opened the door. The cooler, hall air hit her immediately and she shivered slightly, quickening her steps to her room.

The door didn't make a sound when it opened, but Harley's gasp in the silent house was very audible. She almost dropped her towel as her eyes met those of the man on her bed, reclining comfortably. His eyes took in her figure carefully, a smile growing on his lips. She pursed hers.

"Jack, you could knock! You scared me to death!" She clutched her towel close to her chest, knuckles whitening as she held the material closed.

"You should have known I was coming," he answered simply. "Besides you were indisposed." Once again his eyes locked on the towel.

"You could have knocked on the bathroom door." He grinned and sat up, "You're lucky I didn't come in there." She smirked and walked over to her chest of drawers that was pressed against the wall next to her closet. "The door was unlocked you know. You had ample opportunity. Too bad, you didn't take the invitation and check, huh?"

He was silent for a moment. Harley used that time to gather her undergarments. "You can take another shower," he finally answered—she heard the pout in his voice; probably sore that he missed his chance. She was searching through her wardrobe by that point, moving things on their hangers. She clicked her tongue. "Actually I can't. One, I'm not running up my water bill; you had your chance and you missed it. Second," she pulled a plastic, opaque garment bag from the closet, "I don't have any time. I have somewhere to be in...about an hour."

While she had been speaking he had gotten up. She folded the bag over an arm just as his wrapped around her middle. She swatted his two roaming hands away playfully, "Now, now, what did I say about time?"

"You said you had an hour!"

"You're living with a woman now, best to understand that when it comes to fixing ourselves up, the customary ten minutes a guy spends on his appearance is stretched into a half hour or more with the fairer sex. It takes a lot of work for us to be as sexy as we are."

His eyes filled with suspicion at that, "And just where are you going that you have to be sexy?" He raised an eyebrow. Harley turned around. "It's personal," she stated softly, "you trust me don't you?" Her face was sincere, but the Joker frowned. "Why can't you tell me?"

"It's something I want to face myself."

He sighed at that but nodded. He wasn't happy that she refused to tell him exactly where she was going, but he accepted it. She never questioned what he did during the day; how many of his men he had killed. It didn't matter that he had popped back into the spotlight with heists, explosions, and his normal chaos again all filling the news and the front page of the paper. She didn't ask. He clasped his hands on her shoulders. "I trust you." When she looked up at his statement he kissed her quickly. "If you run into trouble, though, you call me, ya hear?" She nodded.

Satisfied with her answer he let her go. He followed her to the door and slapped her butt as she left the room, "I wanna see your sexy self before you go," he called after her half-indignant, half-playful squeal. She disappeared into the bathroom and he retreated to the living room.

He turned on the television and appeared to be content, but in all honestly he was flipping through channels with half attention, ears pricked intently. He heard the bathroom door close, then Harley's own. That was followed by some shuffling. He leaned back when he heard the dull hum of the dryer. He glanced at a clock she had placed atop the T.V.

Literally fifteen minutes later he heard the bedroom door open and shut once again and then her footsteps. He turned the television off and set his gaze on the hallway. His eyes widened just slightly at the woman who emerged into his view.

"So, I take it I look good?" She smiled demurely. He didn't vocalize an answer; he removed himself from the couch and came to stand before her. He ran a hand across her cheek, careful of her make-up. Light blush, a neutral lip shade, some eye-liner, and an enhancing smoky hue of eye shadow. Her hair fell naturally, not styled to her shoulders. He was looking at every detail of her face. He was slightly happy that he was without his paint as his hands fell to embrace her waist. The crimson material of her simply cut, baby-doll style dress rode up just slightly.

"I want to kiss you right now; I'd love to do other things which involve removing this dress, but-"

"I can reapply my lip shade."

She didn't have to say more. He kissed her softly, passionately. It was like the kiss after the date that proved the fact that the couple was into each other. It was the kiss that truly meant, I'll call you and we'll set up the next date. Yet Harley and him needed no such kiss, at least for those reasons. To Harley this kiss really meant he trusted her.

"I really wish it could be me taking you out." He commented in that voice that clearly revealed he had enjoyed the kiss after he had pulled back slowly. Harley reached up and kissed him desperately. He chuckled as he detached himself from her. "No, no, we can't ruin your make-up and remember, you have somewhere to be. You better get going...but remember-"

"Call you if I run into trouble."

He nodded and kissed her forehead quickly. "I'll be waiting for your call or for you come back."

She grabbed her keys and purse after that. She blew him a kiss as she left. He listened as her car started and then faded into the distance, then glanced into her kitchen and made his way there.

This was truly evidence of his confidence. His network was so far reaching, that were she to run into trouble he could have someone there for her within minutes. He had also seen her when she was determined and angry. She could handle herself rather well.

He grinned as he gazed into the refrigerator at left-overs. No one would mess with his firecracker vixen. Not only would he not accept that; neither would she.

The Iceberg Lounge; Pam had mentioned the Mob dealt business here. In all appearances it seemed like an average bar and club. It was, at least the front rooms were, anyway. Harley had only to flash her I.D. and she was allowed in. The music vibrated against the walls, a low hum. She reached into the small purse she wore over her shoulder and pulled out her phone.

"You all in position? You know the key word, right? Excellent." She smirked and flipped the phone shut, putting it back in her bag.

She made her way through the ramping dance floor, the bass vibrated both in and around her from the music. The young, the wistful, the lonely all gathered around her. Her mouth was set in determination; she knew her goal. When someone grabbed her by the waist, she turned with no expression and slapped him, smirking at the sound of his yelp. She didn't react any further, though, and simply continued on her way. Everyone was so lost in their own worlds and illusions hardly anyone saw the petite blonde assault the man, although one would not blame her rash actions after being man-handled. She disappeared like a crimson specter into the back of the room.

The guard, watching for any suspicious characters noticed her when she came into his view. The determination was still in her step as she walked up to him. She paused before him and awaited his acknowledgement. When she finally had it, she twiddled her fingers nervously and hunched her shoulders, giving the impression of a shy young woman.

"Is Mr. Maroni in?"

"And may I ask your business with him?"

She grinned inwardly; so he was in—that meant the rest of the mob was as well.

"I have a business proposition for him."

"Do ya sweet cheeks?"

Harley leaned forward conspiratorially, "Yeah, you see...I know he works with the Riddler. Mister, please let me see him. I'll pay you."

The man grinned, an action that Harley felt her stomach turn at. "When you put it that way, sure, sweetie. I mean, why not?" He leaned in the door and Harley heard him muttering for a moment before he gestured her to follow him. She gave a curt nod and walked in as he held the door open. Another guard took his place as he entered behind her. From the moment he settled in that position Harley grew extremely aware of a tension: hers. He gave her directions, but he should have been the one leading her.

Finally the reasoning for her apprehension was revealed—she wasn't surprised in the least at its discovery. He directed her into a room and when she opened it she found an empty lounge-like area. Her mouth pulled into a frown and she whipped around.

"Excuse me," her voice was tight, "but I don't think this is the right place."

"It's not, but I wanted my payment prior to meeting Mr. Maroni and his Organization. Surely you would know what a sprite little thing like you should pay to me for allowing you this. So why don't you make yourself comfortable over there on the couch and I'll turn up some music? I'll be very gentle. I know this is suppose to be my payment, but I'd feel bad you know?"

His voice was so superficial, but she followed his directions. She sat on the couch and leaned back. "Oh, sir...Can I request you take off your gun...they...make me nervous." She admitted, her voice colored in shame. "Sure, toots," he smiled, "less hassle anyway." He turned and walked over to the stereo system near the door.

Harley made sure he was occupied before she pulled up her dress and removed the handgun she had secured to a hoister on her inner thigh. She leaned back on the cushions after she smoothed out her dress and placed the hand holding the gun beneath the pillow she rested her head on. When the guard turned back around he gave her a disgustingly smug grin. She saw how his eyes drank in her body. It made her sick; it was nothing like the heated stares she earned from the Joker. He slowly stepped towards her.

"You know," she started casually as he leaned over her inviting form and she allowed him to tower above her, "when I said payment, I meant cash, not this. And you know what, I think you'd be better off taking the cash."

"Nervous you're not up to my standards? I love teaching pretty girls new tricks."

"Do you? I love teaching guys like you some too...like this one." And without hesitation she had the gun to his forehead, finger on the trigger. "Make a wrong move and I shoot you; it's simple. Back away slowly."

He had no weapon and she would shoot before he ever had a chance to retaliate. He raised up and held up his hands, but she followed. She slowly stood up and with the cold barrel still intimate with his temple she spoke. "Where is the mob meeting? And don't think I won't shoot you if you don't give me the answer. I have no qualms wandering around a little. So...I just asked the question. You want to live for now?"

"Two hallways down, second door to the right."

"How many lavish businessmen like himself, is Maroni fraternizing with now?"

"Twelve."

"Hmmm...lofty." She grinned. "Who works the closest with the Riddler?"

"A man named George Toronto." He gulped. Harley nodded. "I see...well thank you. Now if don't mind I must be on my way...Business, you understand. You should have taken the money, you know." Then she changed subjects abruptly, "Ah before I go, I should tell you: I'll only allow one person to ever stare at me and touch me the way you did and wanted to." She leaned forward. "The Joker, my puddin'."

He gasped and she pulled back. "But don't worry, he'll not punish you." She pulled the gun away and turned around and began walking away, arm swinging at her side. She made it to the door and pivoted back to him. She shot him in the head in the blink of an eye.

"Because I just did." She left the room and followed the path the man had described. Her footsteps were barely a whisper in the hallway as a result of the silver slippers encasing her feet. She made it unnoticed to the door behind which the mob met and stared up into the face of the man positioned there.

She handed him her gun without a word.

He nodded. He turned and opened the door. "Wait here a moment, boss." She smirked, but remained quiet. Minutes later he came back and she was led down a musky hallway that smelled of tobacco and smoke.

The room she walked into, occupied by a table filled with all the leaders of the Falcone crime family and other well-known characters of the Gotham Organized Crime syndicate, was surreal when remembering the interior of the rest of the club. It was wood-paneled and the maroon carpet offset the room nicely. It seemed to exude the atmosphere of what the mob wanted to portray: danger and cunning. Harley felt comfortable already.

"A girl? A girl wants to speak with us?" The amused voice of Salvatore Maroni cut the tense air that fallen upon her arrival.

"You mean you don't recognize me, Mr. Maroni? I suppose a businessman such as yourself is too busy to pay attention to the news unless it's your name. My name is Harleen Quinzel, gentlemen." She bowed as the guard left her with them.

"Quinzel? The doctor of the Joker?"

"The broad that was kidnapped by the Riddler?"

Harley nodded to both titles. "Both. And you bring up the reason I'm here. Is George Toronto in attendance?"

A stout man in front of her waved a hand. "May I help you?" He straightened his brown-rimmed glasses on his nose and stared up at her with sharp, gray eyes.

"Why yes, yes you can. Mr. Toronto, I am looking for information on the Riddler. I believe you can surmise my reasonings for such information. Actually, if any of you could help me, I'd really appreciate it."

"And were we," Maroni smirked, bringing Harley's attention back to him, "what would be in it for us?"

"I'll go ahead and admit it now, I don't have a lot of money...and even my entire fortune wouldn't be enough. But you see, he's annoying, a leech. You know all he's using you for is monetary backing and power. We both want to get rid of him for various reasons and I am willing to do it for no charge."

She wasn't surprised when the table erupted in raucous laughter. She was, after all, a new face. How could they know what she was capable of? She stood there and took it.

"You got spunk, lady, I'll give ya that," Maroni shook his head, "but what can you do that we can't?"

"You want a demonstration?" She shook her head. "I gave my gun to the guy outside. I came in here to be civil. What are you losing by telling me? He's making Gotham scared, yes, but the Joker did too. And he's greedy; he's gotten one taste of power and now he's wanting more. You know it, I know it."

"You're right, we do. And we've taken steps to account for that."

Harley laughed at the claim. She laughed hard. "And what are you going to do? Although you'll not hesitate to punish those who don't follow you, I wouldn't doubt many of them will join the Riddler; you'll not know it because you're all too busy sticking money up your asses to see."

"You," a large man replied, "have a big mouth, why don't you go put it to better use?"

Harley grinned, "And you're nothing but a lard ass who gives money to hookers just to satisfy your nastiness. Anyway...You wouldn't beat the Riddler. If you couldn't out think the Joker, then you can't out think the Riddler. He's probably got spies in here right now for him," Harley's eyes fell on George Toronto, "who knows, maybe even one of your own. But I can take care of him...I can out think him, and I'll do it for free, because I want my own vengeance."

"Proof."

Harley smirked, "But of course gentlemen, how unfortunate, though...but just so you all know, this isn't anything personal. Evans!"

Maroni jumped up, "That's my-"

The man came in followed by a group of other men and women, all toting guns of varying type and degree. They gathered behind Harley. There was enough of them that were the Mob to pull their own concealed pistols, Harley's men would have them out before any of could pull the trigger.

"Your guard, sorry, I took him. See if it was that easy for me to undermine your authority, just imagine how easily it'll be for him. So I'll ask again, info on the Riddler?" The room was very silent after that. "Don't worry they won't attack unless I tell them to. But you know, if you get any information, don't hesitate to call me. My lovely little Evans here will give you my number."

She pulled out her phone and dialed while Evan handed out a slip of paper with her number. "Sorry it isn't professional. But you understand, I was in a rush and all." She held the phone up to her ear as it began to ring.

The Joker was eating potato salad with a table spoon, watching some over-dramatized Spanish soap opera—he was laughing at it—and guzzling orange juice from the carton when his cell phone rang. He immediately set down everything and clawed the device from his pocket.

Harley's name flashed on the screen.

"Harley?"

"Can you come get me?"

Her voice was not desperate and that caused the Joker's heart to slow down. His interest was doubly piqued, though. Harley had taken her own car, what need did she have of him?

"Okay...where are you?"

"Back of the Iceberg Lounge." Now that made sense. So that's where she went. He could guess why she had gone there, but it seemed he was needed. Did she want to flaunt that she was his girl? He grinned at that, fine with him. She wanted some leverage, he'd give it to her.

"Be there in a minute, Harls."

He heard her say something around, "Oh, don't worry, they'll let him back here," before he hung up.

He was still wearing his signature purple and green ensemble. He raced out to his vehicle and before he knew it he was on the road, swerving into traffic lanes as he applied his make-up while driving, earning him some rather audible disapproval.

He was at the club within minutes.

"Evans, may I please have my gun back?"

He handed her the weapon and she stood, shifting her weight upon the carpet as she awaited the Joker. The silence was tense, but she acted as if she was bored.

"Your boyfriend," Maroni asked warily, "who is he?"

"Oh, you know, just a guy," Harley smiled, "don't worry you'll be meeting him here soon."

Ten minutes later the whole club went quiet; the vibration of the music against the wall was no longer audible. Harley grinned. "He's here." And they heard footfalls in the halls.

The door flew open and within seconds the Joker was walking into the scene, his eyebrows raised as he found Harley.

"Oh fuck!" A mob man cursed.

Maroni had fallen silent. The Joker merely grinned, shaking his head. He came to Harley's side and wrapped an arm around her slender waist.

"I see you met my Harley Quinn. A little snapper isn't she? Are you holding them hostage, sweetie?"

Harley shook head, "Actually, no," she shrugged, "they just wanted to know what I was capable of...so I showed them with my little team back there. Oh, and..." she turned her attention back to the mob. "You have a dead guard in the sitting area back that way. He got a little too bold for my tastes, decided money wasn't good enough for him to lead me back here. I had to take care of him for his own good, but I thought you might want to know. Well, I'll be off now, just remember to call me. I know you all have information, but I'll be a little forth-giving and allow you a little time to compose yourselves enough to reply. Tootles."

The Joker tipped his head at the men, "Glad to see you again, and I hope there's no hard feelings." He was there to watch her work and he was impressed. She had gone with appearing innocent only to turn the tables.

They began to turn right away.

"Wait, Ms. Quinn!"

She turned around. "Yes, Mr. Toronto?" She asked, now in her normal character.

"The Riddler, I, uh, haven't heard from him in a few days."

The Joker watched as her lips subtly twitched. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Is that so? Excuse me, J," she said to him and the Joker removed his arm. She walked right behind the mob-man The guards around them began to raise their guns, but she shook her head.

"You haven't heard from him in a few days? Something in your posture is telling me that that is not quite the case here. Mind repeating that and looking me in the eyes?" The man did so, but not without a noticeable twitch and Harley's first profession rushed to the foreground to call him on it. "Mr. Toronto, now, yes, I admit these men and the Joker here are meant for intimidating purposes, but only in so much as to prove to you that you're not just messing with someone who doesn't know what they're doing. I said to take your time...and...you," she patted his head, "lied to me just now. Silence I can take, but I don't want lies. You think that would save your ass?" She laughed, but then it stopped and her smile fell. Her fingers dug into his scalp.

Mr. Toronto cringed in pain, but then before anyone could blink, Harley slammed his head mercilessly into the table. "Gonna lie again?"

"Ms. Quinn, I-"

"A simple yes or no." His head met wood again. She raised it back up.

"Lie?"

"No."

She raised a brow and he was silent. She smirked cruelly and pulled his head back again.

"WAIT! Okay! Okay! I talked to him this morning, but I swear, he's not said anything about where he is. He's wanting more thugs so he can continue his crime spree. He's becoming very agitated by the fact that you're alive...and the Joker threatened him not too long ago it seems."

Harley glanced at the Joker who sheepishly grinned, "Guilty."

"Well, finally some honest answers, and you're very fortunate Mr. Toronto that you're of use to me now. You're going to give the Riddler a message for me when he calls again, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Harley nodded in satisfaction. "Tell him Harley says hi, and that I will find him...and that me and my puddin' are looking for him and if he turns himself into us soon, it'll be over quick and easy. And that if he attempts any more stunts against me, he'll be greatly sorry. Hmm... oh, and that his world is crumpling, there are those in his ranks whose trust and loyalty are falling, you know, all that good stuff. Got that?"

After his weak nod, Harley let him go and walked back to the Joker. She looked at two of her thugs and gestured for them to stay near her as they walked out. Once out of ear shot Harley glanced back at the room. "You stay and make sure he serves his purpose and once it's over kill him."

They nodded and stood on either side of the door.

The Joker's grip on her waist tightened and she turned to him. He caught her mouth in a searing kiss. "A woman who can give me a run for my money," he laughed, "there's nothing I'm more attracted to. You just had to go and throw yourself into Gotham's underbelly, didn't you?"

Harley grinned, "I'm a quick learner, I learned from you and unfortunately the Riddler on how to earn my way with people."

"Glad I was such a good teacher, but since your immersing yourself in the ranks of Gotham, you should met my boys."

Thirty minutes later she was being escorted into the theater.

"A theater?"

"Yeah, there's enough room, no one comes here, it's rather perfect," he commented proudly.

Harley nodded and he opened the door for her. She stepped in and he followed suit. She paused in the front lobby and the Joker placed a hand on the small of her back. "Ready?"

"Yes."

"Boys, I have someone I would like you all to meet! Get your sorry asses out here!"

Men, some older than the Joker, some younger began to appear. All shapes, sizes; all arrays of hair and eye color. They stared first at their "employer" and then at her. Harley smiled brightly.

"This is Harley, gentlemen. She will be treated as a lady should be, nicely. She's not a hostage, so no ideas. And another thing. She's mine. Understand?" He spoke as if these men were children. They all stared at him, curious. The threat was clear, though. If anyone stepped out of line and harmed her he would not practice any mercy. The clown's hand found her hip again; his men nodded.

"Excellent, come, Harley, I'll give you the grand tour."

"Good bye, gentlemen." She bowed her head and allowed herself to be guided away. When they were out of sight and the men had filtered back to where they had come from Harley turned to the Joker, smirking. "The power you command, it gives me chills." She playfully laughed when the grip around her waist grew stronger and she was turned around and pressed gently into the wall. She felt the Joker's voice vibrate against her even as he whispered lowly in her ear.

"When I finally get my hands on you, I'll give you more than just chills." He kissed the flesh right below her ear, brushing his nose against the warm skin before he pulled back. It was his turn to tease. He heard the low sound of disapproval in her throat as his warmth began to recede and he chuckled. His hand fell to hers and he thread their fingers together. He pulled her back up and against him, diving in to take her lips sweetly. The fingers of his free hand caressed her cheek. He was still wearing his gloves but she could feel where the warmth had diffused through them. She sighed against his lips, reciprocating and when he pulled away his nose nuzzled hers. She stared up into his eyes, that were soft in the midst of black. She wrapped her arms around his neck and just embraced him. His arms cradled her waist.

"Am I still getting the grand tour?"

The Joker chuckled again, "Yeah, we can't stand here being gushy all day, I suppose."

"Oh my lord, it actually looks like a bedroom!"

The Joker snorted at her mock surprise after they walked into his room. She laughed.

"You certainly decorate like a bachelor. But it's comfortable."

The room was compromised of a bed right in front of them, headboard pressed against the wall. A dresser to the left, closet to the right along with chair and small writing table. A small amount of dirty laundry covered the floor.

"You want to make yourself comfortable? I need to go talk to the boys and when I get back, I'll get you home." He began to turn away. "Wait," she said shyly, "it is late...Would it be too much trouble to stay here for the night? I'm kinda tired now, but I'll-"

"You can sleep in one of my shirts; they're in the closet and there's also a few in the dresser over there." Harley noted fondly that he didn't so much as blanch at the offer and had been quick to speak of accommodations.

"It's not too much trouble? I don't want-"

He turned back around and silenced her with his lips. "No, it's not." His breath fanned against her face. He smiled and kissed her again, her lips parting beneath his. One hand cradled her head, the other held her waist.

He left a kiss on her flushed cheeks after he pulled away and then left.

Harley stood there a moment, lips tingling. The success of her intimidation on the mob, the Joker; she felt amazing. Call her a woman, but she had no more want than to crawl in his bed and cuddle his pillows breathing in his scent. First thing was first, however. She walked over to the door and locked it just for an extra measure. She knew how these guys worked; sometimes cockiness overrode their fear. They were criminals ...and she would be seen as a piece of bait. She smirked as she made it to the closet.

Call it her own ego, but she figured she'd be able to take care of herself.

She thumbed through the shirts, and when her fingers brushed by a familiar wad of fabric she was pulling the pale blue, hexagon-patterned button-up from the closet. It didn't take her long to remove her dress and shoes. She neatly folded the crimson article of clothing and placed it atop the writing desk along with her pistol. Then she pulled on the shirt and buttoned it.

It had been washed, but his scent still faintly clung to it. She hugged herself and gave into a girly urge to giggle. After that washed over she found the door beside the closet led to a modest bathroom. This must have once been a dressing room before the Joker it for himself. She removed her make-up and then climbed into the bed. She was overwhelmed by his scent and found her eyes involuntarily closing. She knew she hadn't unlocked the door, but she didn't want to move...

She wasn't sure how long she was out, but she was forced awake by a voice outside the door.

"Harley?!"

Her eyes flew open. She ignored the bright lights greeting her vision again and scrambled off the bed. He had started knocking desperately when she finally reached it. She opened it, prepared to apologize, but wasn't allowed to.

She had never seen the Joker scared, but she opened the door to find him leaning against the frame, eyes wide, breathing erratic. She had caused the the master of chaos himself to fear the unknown. She opened her mouth and the Joker was on her within seconds, arms holding her tightly to him, mouth taking hers desperately. The door shut behind him and he had her pulled against him as he reclined against it.

Even the Joker knew the dangers of leaving her alone here. When he pulled back he stared at her while he composed himself. Her lips were a deep red, a combination of his paint and the thorough bruising he had caused. "I didn't mean to worry you, Jack. I locked the door when I changed and I just wanted to lie in your bed and wait for you to get back. I fell asleep, I'm sorry..." He closed his eyes and sighed and then removed himself from the door. He gently released her and made his way to the bathroom to wipe off his paint.

He stared into the mirror as he washed his face. The last time he had been scared of anything was when his mother had died. The Joker wasn't afraid of anything, but who was the Joker? Not this man, no...He was Jack Nathaniel Napier, thirty-years old, and he was afraid that one of his own workers may have hurt his girlfriend. No, not afraid—terrified, horrified. He honestly didn't know what he would have done had something horrible happened to her, or worse if she had—

He shook his head and shut the water off. He used a nearby towel to dry his face, smelling Harley's scent embedded in it. He breathed it in deeply and laid it on the rim of the sink before walking back into his room. Harley was on the bed once again. She was curled tightly in a ball and in the silence her sobbing was clear.

His coat, vest, shirt, and pants found their place on a chair; his socks found a home in his shoes which he discarded beside the four-legged piece of furniture. He flicked the light off and climbed in bed. For a moment he did nothing but stare at Harley. There were two reasons she could be crying that he was aware of. She could be blaming herself for having scared him or he had hurt her feelings when he had left her by the door. He considered it was most likely the latter.

He couldn't remember the last time he had actually apologized. He wasn't sure what to do. He hesitantly raised a hand to her head and ran his fingers through her hair. She was facing away from him. He lied behind her and his other arm curled around her waist. He pulled her back against him and for a moment just buried his head in her hair. This felt extremely awkward.

"I'm not mad at you," he finally whispered. He felt her sobs lose intensity. He sighed. "I thought that maybe—"

"I know," Harley whispered. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"Shhhh," the Joker crooned, his leg coming to entangling in hers. He petted her head and his fingers rubbed a soothing circle on her side. He kissed her head. She slowly shifted in his arms and, after a moment of staring up at him, inclined her head and buried her fingers in his hair. She kissed him.

His thumbs brushed her cheeks. He held her face lovingly to his own for as long as her breath lasted and when they parted he found her head nuzzling below his. His arms once again retreated to her midsection and hair. With eyes half-lidded, they stared for a while into the darkness of the room. The silence and warmth of the other was all they needed.

The feeling of steady caresses across his bare chest were the factors that ultimately lulled the Joker to sleep minutes later.

The sunlight filtering in through the window woke him first, stirring him from his deepest slumber. The scent of jasmine in his nose further dispelled the notion of more sleep.

The Joker opened his eyes to a mess of blonde hair.

A swell of pride grew in his chest, overwhelming his brain as he grinned. He'd never spent the entire night with her and now as he stared at her, it was becoming a reality. The sun reflected the profile of her face; his sense of pride spread further. He sighed quietly and focused on the warmth she radiated, her breath against his chest. Yet, the moment just had to be ruined.

His bladder chose that time to break through his serenity—something he was rarely ever in possession of. He frowned and glanced down at the woman in his arms. Slowly, but steadily he slid from beneath her. He gave a sigh of relief when she only grunted and curled up tighter. He silently laughed and shook his head before tiptoeing to the bathroom and shutting the door.

When he returned a few minutes later, he had also brushed his teeth—morning breath was a curse. He slowly opened the bathroom door and silently made his way back to his bed. He had just lied back down and was about curl back around Harley when the woman turned to him sleepily. Now the sun further illuminated her face and, his eyes widened, the shirt she was wearing.

The image of Harley wearing any of his shirts was something he wouldn't mind seeing, but his hexagon shirt?

"Is there something on your shirt, or are you staring at my boobs again?"

Her sleepy voice drew his attention away. He smirked, "No to both of those. There's nothing on my shirt...but there's someone in it."

She turned on her back and reclined on the bed. The blanket further fell as she shifted. The Joker noticed this as the entire, delicious, expanse of her legs were revealed.

"You like the view?"

He crawled to tower over her, "Yes, would you like proof?" Her mouth pulled into a smirk and he rested one hand by her head. The other fell to her hip. He inclined his head down. "You need to wear my clothes more often." His husky voice declared before his lips teased hers.

Her fingers were entangled in his hair, one of his arms was holding her upper body close to his, and his other hand was playing with the hem of his shirt when a voice cut through the silence.

"Mr. Joker, sir!" Then there came knocking.

The Joker growled and pulled away. Harley couldn't help but laugh as he rose out of bed and stomped to the door. He flung it open and the man on the other side cowered.

"You better have a good reason for this."

"Um, the boys are ready for the job."

The door was slammed in male's face then and Harley got to laugh again as the Joker began pulling on his clothes.

"Business calls?"

"Being a villain, it's hard work, know that Harley."

"I'll stay here." She lied on her stomach watching him. "I'll be waiting here to congratulate your success."

The Joker raised his head from buttoning his vest. He stared up from beneath his eyebrows. "I'm holding you to that."

"Oh, I'm scared."

He threw on his coat and walked over to the bed. Harley raised on her knees and he pulled her to him, kissing her hungrily, "You should be," he whispered, sending a shiver of heat up her spine. He kissed her ear. "You still have your gun?"

She pointed atop her clothing. He nodded.

"I'm leaving you in charge. I told the boys to obey you when I'm not here and you are. Also, if I am ever out of commission, caught, etc. you're also in charge. You'll keep them in line."

"And shoot them if not. I won't let you down, Mr. J?" She mock saluted.

"You do a good job and I'll not be the only one getting rewarded."

She smiled and got up. She walked over to him as he prepared to leave. She stood on her tiptoes. "Be careful, Jack. I love you."

He touched her cheek. "I love you too, Harley," he whispered and they kissed one last time before he left.

That day at 11:23 am, the Joker was caught as he finished up a heist in Gotham's harbor. He was shipped immediately to Arkham.