The night drew on, and the Joker hadn't returned, and so Harley decided to go to bed at last. She shared a bed with the hyenas when the Joker wasn't home – she needed something to cuddle or she couldn't sleep. But tonight, she still didn't sleep, even though she was cuddled between two warm mountains of fur. She was too worried about Mr. J and the way he had acted today. She just hoped he hadn't done something desperate.
She heard the front door open and let out a sigh of relief. The hyenas awoke instantly at the noise, their ears perked up as they raised their heads. They began sniffing the air, and then whined in confusion, hopping down from the bed and padding out of the bedroom. A few minutes passed, and they didn't return.
"Babies?" called Harley. Maybe Mr. J was giving them a snack in the kitchen. "Babies?" she repeated, trying to reassure herself that that was probably what was going on, and not to panic.
The bedroom door, which had been semi-opened when the hyenas left, now opened all the way. A figure stood in the doorway, the light from the hallway shining behind him, but his face concealed in shadow. This figure was a man, dressed in a formal, purple suit, and with green hair that flopped haphazardly over his head, hanging down into his eyes.
"Who…who are you?" stammered Harley, her heart pounding in terror, but her hand slowly reaching for the gun under the pillow.
"Doncha recognize me, Harley?" the figure murmured, in a low, terrifying voice as it shut the door behind him. "I'm the Joker."
She shook her head. "You're…you're not…you're not Mr. J."
"I'm the Joker," the man repeated. "The man you love. The man you'd do anything in the world for, the man you gave up everything for. The Joker."
"What…do you want?" she asked, backing away from him as he approached the bed, her hand tightening around the gun still concealed under her pillow.
"What does the Joker want?" he asked. "I don't think anyone really knows. I know him so well, I've studied every crime he's ever committed, and even I can't tell you what he wants, and I am the Joker. But I know what I want. I want you, Harley."
"M…me?" she repeated.
"I've always wanted you," he murmured. "And I would do anything to have you, you see? Even become the only man you've ever loved. I know there's no hope for me otherwise, unless I'm the Joker. But I am the Joker now, Harley, so it's all right. We can be together at last. And I've waited so long, and done so much, but all of it was for you, my love, so that makes it all right, doesn't it? People are expected to do anything for love, aren't they? And I have made the ultimate sacrifice for love. I've sold my soul, and become someone else, all for you, Harley. Tell me you love me now," he murmured, leaning forward.
The moonlight was shining through the window and across the bed, and as he leaned forward, it fell upon his face. It was a face Harley recognized and didn't recognize at the same time. The man was wearing makeup, white makeup so that his face looked bleached, like the Joker. His lips were broad and red, and his mouth was scarred, almost as if a huge smile had been cut onto his face. And his eyes were wild and staring and…familiar. Harley knew those eyes – she tried to imagine the face without makeup, and without that horrible, scarred smile…
"Who are you?" she repeated.
"I'm the Joker," he whispered. "Your lover, Harley. It's all right, you see? You can say you love me now, and kiss me, and be mine, as you always should have been. God, if you knew how long I've dreamed about this moment…"
He was about to climb onto the bed when Harley ripped out the gun, pointing it at him. "You make one more move and I'll shoot you in the face," she said, seriously.
He stared at her. "You would shoot this face?" he whispered. "The face of the man you love?"
"Mr. J's a lot more handsome than you," she muttered. "His beauty's natural, for one thing. And I should kill you anyway for daring to impersonate him, and for breaking into my home…"
"Our home, Harley," he interrupted. "Our home, that we always should have had together. But now that I'm the Joker, we can have it, you see? Just like you've always wanted – a happy little home in the suburbs, away from the city, with a white picket fence and a backyard, someplace for Arleen and J.J. to play."
Harley stared at him in astonishment. "How…do you know about Arleen and J.J.?" she whispered. "I haven't told anyone but Mr. J about those names for my kids, or my dream for our future…"
"I am Mr. J, Harley," he whispered. "I'm the man you're meant to be with, the man you were always meant to be with. You were too blind or crazy to see it, but now…now you will, won't you, Harley? Because I'm the Joker. And you wouldn't hurt the Joker. You love him too much," he said, pressing forward again.
Harley tightened her finger on the trigger, but she couldn't pull it. "I'm giving you one last chance," she whispered. "Tell me who you are."
He didn't respond, but reached out a hand to touch her cheek. Harley flinched away from his touch, and as she drew away, her eyes fell upon a deep scar on his palm, a scar that she recognized, in the shape of a heart.
She stared up at him in astonishment again. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Ricky."
His eyes clouded in confusion. "I…I don't know that name," he stammered. "I'm the Joker."
"Ricky, it is you!" she gasped, recognizing his eyes suddenly. "God, what the hell happened to you?" she whispered, reaching out to touch his scarred cheek. "Did you do this?"
"I did it for you," he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. "I love you, Harley. I've always loved you."
"Christ, Ricky, I…" began Harley, but the bedroom door banged open at that moment.
"Harley, why the hell were the hyenas locked in the…" began the Joker, but he stopped talking when he saw the scene in front of him – Harley in bed with a man who vaguely resembled him. His shock instantly changed to fury, and he ripped his gun out just as the man with Harley leaped from the bed, racing to the window and crashing through it. Joker raced after him, firing bullets out into the darkness, but the man had disappeared.
He whirled around to face Harley, raising his gun again. "So that's how it is, you little slut?!" he hissed. "I go away, and you jump into bed with my imposter?!"
"Puddin', it's not like that!" snapped Harley. "Put down the gun, you moron!"
"Moron?!" he roared. "No, that's you and your little boyfriend, Harley, if he thinks he can impersonate me and get up to hanky panky with you behind my back!"
"Hey, I got a gun too!" snapped Harley, pointing hers at him. "Now we can both just shoot each other, or we can both listen to reason! You take your pick, Mr. J!"
It was admittedly a difficult decision for the Joker, and they were locked in their Mexican standoff for about thirty seconds before Joker growled, throwing down his gun.
"That's better," muttered Harley, slipping hers back under her pillows. "Honestly, Mr. J, you are a moron if you seriously think I'd cheat on you with anyone. Especially a guy who dresses up as you."
"Then what the hell was he doing here in our bed, Harley?" demanded Joker.
"He's nuts!" she retorted. "He thinks he is you, or wants me to think that, or…God, I dunno what happened to him, but it must have been awful!" she whispered, burying her face in her hands. "Poor Ricky!"
"Who the hell is Ricky?!" he demanded.
"He was a kid who lived in the same apartment building as me, back in Brooklyn," muttered Harley. "We grew up together. We were best friends as kids, completely inseparable, and we did everything together."
Joker glared at her. "I thought you didn't have any other guys before me, Harl," he muttered.
"I didn't!" she shrieked. "We didn't do things like that – we were just kids! But when we grew older, and got to be teenagers, he…he told me loved me. I…I let him down easy, because I just didn't feel that way about him. He wasn't my type."
"Sure seems like your type, with the whole homicidal clown thing," retorted Joker.
"Yeah, that's why he's doing it," murmured Harley. "He wants me to love him. He still wants me to love him…"
"Well, he's just gonna have to be disappointed!" snapped Joker. "Nobody tries to impersonate me and then steal my doll! I'm gonna kill him, Harl!"
"Jesus, Mr. J, you're so selfish sometimes!" snapped Harley. "Everything's always about you, isn't it?! You're more concerned about your precious reputation than how I might feel seeing my former friend like that, and realizing what he's done for me, and wondering how the hell he could have gotten so messed up…"
She sobbed, climbing outta bed. "I'm on the couch tonight," she whispered, reaching for her robe as tears slid down her cheeks. "I need to be alone!"
"Oh no, you don't!" he snapped, catching her arm before she could leave. "You've been alone for two weeks, and that's enough! You're not being alone tonight!"
She stared at him. "You…you want me to stay, Mr. J?" she said, surprised.
"Yeah! Don't I have the right to spend the night with my doll after being away from her for two weeks?" he demanded. "Or are you really gonna be that selfish and ignore me?"
She shook her head, climbing back into bed. "That's better, you little brat," he muttered, undressing and climbing in after her. He pulled her into his arms and she curled up against him. They lay there in the darkness for some time, not saying a word. Harley was listening to the drumming of his heartbeat – she never felt safer or happier than when she was in his arms.
She felt him stir, and then felt a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at him in astonishment. "Did you just kiss me?" she whispered.
"No," he muttered. "Why would I do a thing like that? You must be imagining things, Harl. Goodnight."
Harley smiled to herself, despite everything. "I'm glad you're home, Mr. J," she whispered, snuggling into his embrace and shutting her eyes. She was asleep in moments.