I glanced at the back of Dent's head as Edward lined up a shot on the pool table. He seemed like a nice enough guy and Jack trusted him enough to let him see the inside of the factory, but something about him…just seemed shifty. I shook off my worries as Edward's accidentally knocked in the black 8 ball, sealing his loss.

I looked up at his clearly pissed off expression and smiled, "I win again."

He slammed down his cue stick on the green fuzzy table.

"Games fucking rigged," he muttered and stalked away.

I turned back to where J and Dent were talking and listened in to what they were saying.

"Now you do realize what we'll do if you tell anyone our plans, right?" Jack's dangerous eyes flickered up at me and I took that as my cue.

I pranced up behind Dent and formed my right hand into the shape of a gun, pressing my two-finger barrel against his temple.

"We'll blow your brains out!" I shouted right behind his ear, making him jump.

I giggled and walked around the couch, then sitting down on the floor between Jack's feet. Dent blinked at me, trying to figure me out; I shot him a look in response. Jack's rough hand patted me on the head and tugged on my pigtails.

"As my little Harls said, you're dead," he snickered at his rhyme.

"Well," Dent shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, "It's a good thing that I'm not going to tell. I'm no snitch, Joker."

I looked him up and down, trying to catch a hint that he's lying. He calmly brushed his blonde hair out of his reflective brown eyes. His set jaw line reminded me of the do-gooder, Bruce's; I didn't like that, but I wasn't about to talk out of line, not when my fragile body was so close to his feet. He's kicked me before and it ended with me coughing up blood for a couple days.

"So you say," I could feel Jack flash him a smile.

I watched Dent's eyes try to avoid looking at Jack's scar on the left side of his face. They had healed up all the way, but like my leg, the scars would be permanent; he didn't seem to mind it though, in fact he liked it when people stared at it.

"Scar making you nervous?" He caught Dent glancing uneasily at them.

Those shiny brown eyes snapped back up Jack's muddy brown ones instantly, "No, of course not."

He said it too quickly though and Jack picked up on it. A low, sexy laugh slithered out of his throat and I wrapped an arm around his leg, leaning my head on it.

"Wanna know how I got it?" He didn't even wait for Dent's answer before he launched himself into his story, "Well, you see, I once made the mistake of double crossing a couple of gang members in my neighborhood. The called me a worm along with a few other names that I don't want to say in front of my little girl," he patted me on the head again.

"To prove their point, they put a rusty, old fish hook inside my mouth while tying the other end to their bumper. Luckily the sound of their roaring engine, as they took off down the road, muffled my screams."

I clutched his legs tighter, his stories always scared me even though I knew the truth. The first time he told one of his stories was to the Edward and Bane after what happened at his house; afterwards, I had asked him why he didn't just tell them the truth or not said anything at all.

"Well because, Harley, where would the fun be in that?" He had replied with a smile on his face.

I had shrugged it off, but I couldn't shake the lingering feeling that sprouted inside of me. I snapped my attention back to the present. Dent's paled face lost its composure for a few beats.

"I'm…very sorry," he struggled to find the words it seemed, "I think we're done here. I know my part and, no need to worry, the clinically insane will be filling the streets in no time."

He attempted a smile as he stood up and held out his hand. Jack stood up as well, shaking me off his leg, and firmly grasped Dent's tanned hand.

I watched Dent's shoulders relax in relief to be getting away as he walked out the door. I found myself shaking my head, he has no earthly idea what he was getting himself into. Even if he did everything right, the Joker would kill him.

….

I had nightmare after nightmare, filled with, not Jack's, but the Joker's laughs playing nonstop in the background. I saw pair after pair of eyes dim and fade, some eyelids fluttering close and some eyes rolling back, but most simply glazed over. I couldn't take this forever, my mind would have to snap soon. Is it bad? Bad to feel your mind stretch so thin, bad to hear the foundation of your brain groan and crack under the weight of your thoughts…but you still find yourself completely happy?

My eyelids lifted and I took in a deep breath, trying to quiet my mind. In the utter darkness, I could feel my sweaty body tangled and twisted in my sheets. The familiar smell of hairspray, perfume, empty sucker wrappers, and Grandma's smoke filled my nostrils. But under all those usual scents, I detected one that I had almost grown even more accustom to…the metallic, dirty odor of blood.

I grunted as I fumbled in the darkness to click on my lamp resting on my night table. Click. I gasped at the figure sitting on the edge of my bed, the front of his dark green shirt drenched in dark red.

"Jack what happened?"

I kicked away my sheets and crawled into his lap, not caring if his blood stained my red and white underwear, or at least, what I thought was his blood. He didn't respond, he seemed out of it and that scared me. I cupped his face in my hands and tilted it towards mine, he stared at me with dull eyes.

"Jack, what—" I started again but stopped.

I withdrew my hands from his skin to look at them. Something wet got on them, but it wasn't thick and sticky like blood would've been and as I gazed down at my palms, the gears in my head started turning painfully slow. They were tears. I looked back at Jack. I still had trouble connecting the two.

"You have tears on your face," I stupidly pointed out.

"Shut up," his tongue was sharp and his voice didn't break like mine did when I cried.

"I—I'm sorry, Mister J, but I di—why are you crying?" I tried to recover.

"How the FUCK should I know? I was just sitting there, thinking…and then this started happening," He growled, pointing at his streaming tears.

"But..what were you thinking about?" I squeaked out.

His eyes softened, but before I could really notice, he looked away; I gently traced my fingertips along his scar.

"Someone," he muttered and I understood.

He had been thinking about his parents. I knew he must've missed them, I didn't think he ever really wanted to hurt them. If Jack really wanted someone dead, they would've dropped instantly. And anyways, he didn't kill them at all…it was me.

"Oh, Puddin…it's ok to miss them," I said softly, running a hand through his green hair.

He slapped my hand away from him and looked at me with disgust.

"Not them, you stupid girl, I could care less about mother and father dearest. I wasn't talking about them," his tone was back to being sharp, making his words cut through me.

"Then who were you—" I stopped again as he stared straight into my eyes.

Me. It was me.

I smiled and pushed my lips onto his, tasting his salty tears on his lips. I pulled back when the smell of blood wafted to my nose again. I looked down at his shirt.

"Who's blood?"

"Your Grandma's."

I shrugged and he ran his fingers over my scars on my left hip, tracing the 'J' in its diamond. I pressed my lips onto the hot skin of his forehead.

"I guess this means I'm moving in with you," I spoke into his skin.

"Hmm," he grunted, "My own personal Har-Leen Quin-Zel."

He flipped me onto the bed, pinning my back against the mattress. He had a playful smile on his face.

"You know, Harls. If you re-work your name a little…it becomes..Harley Quinn," he snickered into my neck.

I giggled, "The Joker and Harley Quinn."

The paused while unzipping his pants. It was only a couple seconds and he carried on like nothing happened, but I noticed it. I saw an idea flash through his mind as the gears turned in his brain.

What next?

- Review puh-lease! The countdown to Jack's mind SNAPPING has started! \(^o^)/