It is to Laugh, Huh, Mr. J?

…

This story is dedicated to the memory of the one and only Harley Quinn, Arleen Sorkin. Arleen was instrumental in creating the character we all know and love today – she gave her a voice, heart, and soul no one could imitate. Her strong, fun, and adorable personality shone through in Harley, and made the audience fall completely in love with her. Her sense of humor, mischief, and playfulness was apparent in every line she spoke, particularly in her chemistry opposite Mark Hamill's Joker, who also fell in love with her despite himself (and which is what this story is about!) There will never be another actress who so perfectly captures the essence of Harley Quinn, because she was Harley Quinn, and we are incredibly fortunate to have so many of her wonderful performances to enjoy, from Batman: The Animated Series to Batman: Arkham Asylum. Thank you for everything, Arleen – your Clown Princess was an inspiration, and she has brought untold joy to so many people. It is your Harley Quinn that fans loved for over thirty years, and it is your Harley Quinn who will live on forever.

…

The voice had come as a surprise. An unpleasant surprise, and, if the Joker was being honest with himself, more of a terrible shock than anything else.

When he had first seen Dr. Harleen Quinzel on the opposite side of the bars across the crowded cell block in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, he had thought she was a good-looking woman – not a knock-out by any means, and more cute than pretty, but something about the straight-laced, buttoned-up, professional-looking doctor intrigued him. They didn't speak the first time he'd seen her – he had winked at her, and she had blushed, but it wasn't until a few days later, when she confronted him about a flower he had left in her office, that he heard her speak for the first time.

And there was nothing unusual about her voice then – it was appropriately stern regarding the inappropriateness of his action, but he got the feeling that she hadn't really minded it. She protested too much, as if she felt like she had to draw a boundary between doctor and patient, but hadn't really wanted to. She did, however, clearly want to know why he had given her a flower, and what his intentions were. Joker liked curiosity in a woman, particularly in a woman he had already planned on using to bust himself out of Arkham. Curiosity was attracted to secrets and mystery, and the Joker was a man of mystery. He was also a man with untold secrets that he could use to bait curious doctors – the enticement of him revealing those secrets was usually too much for their egos to resist.

He hadn't really planned on anything more inappropriate than that with her – lure her in, fascinate her with his psychological complexity, and then, once he had her wrapped around his little finger, convince her to help him escape, and then dispose of her afterward. It was a hook he had baited many times before, but he had never caught a woman hook, line, and sinker the way he had Harley. He was as surprised as anyone the day she told him she was in love with him. Love had never been part of the ploy before, and the Joker wasn't quite sure how to respond to it. But again, she was an attractive woman, and so he responded the way any red-blooded man would when an attractive woman confessed her feelings to him. Her voice was normal then too – quivering slightly, in tearful, broken tones, as she told him she had fallen in love with her patient, but there was nothing unusual in the trembling of her voice. It was sincere emotion – Joker had never felt that, but he understood that it was something that deeply affected other people.

It was only after she had busted him out of Arkham, dressed in her harlequin catsuit, with the exclamation, "Knock, knock, puddin'! Say hello to your new, improved Harley Quinn!" that Joker began to wonder if he had made a mistake. First there was that name she had made up for him – puddin'. Of all the worst pet names in the world, Harley seemed particularly obsessed with that one. And the way she had said it, in a broad, nasally Brooklyn accent, took him by surprise. Her voice was suddenly completely different to what it had been before.

Joker didn't begrudge anyone adopting a theatrical, exaggerated accent, of course. He possessed one of those himself, of the Mid-Atlantic variety. And he had learned, somewhere along the line, that Harley was originally from Brooklyn, so it made sense that would be her accent of choice. It was only later that she told him that her Harley Quinn accent was her real accent, and her real voice, which had been silenced and suppressed for so many years. But he had freed her to be herself once more, in both personality and speech. He had helped her regain her voice.

And that was when the Joker realized he had made a mistake. He had created a monster. Not only a woman who was completely obsessed with being around him all the time, who spent her every waking moment clinging to him and covering him in hugs and kisses, but also a woman who had the most annoying voice he had ever heard. A voice he could never escape from, a voice that caused him to tense up whenever she called him that stupid puddin' nickname, a voice that was either giddy with excitement or sobbing in despair, but always, always that same irritating voice. During fights, during sex, during every waking moment of his time with her, he could never be rid of that horrible, grating voice.

But one day, he was. Joker woke up as he usually did, with Harley clinging to him in sleep with an almost suffocating grip. He removed her arms from around his neck and massaged his throat, and then sat up to go make coffee.

He frowned as he pulled the lid off the instant coffee can, and found it empty. "Harley!" he shouted, loudly. "We're out of coffee! Is there another can somewhere?"

There was no answer from the bedroom. "Harley!" he shouted, louder. "Where's the extra coffee?!"

There was still no answer, and Joker's rage ignited. He stormed into the bedroom, and saw Harley sitting up in bed. "Hey, you deaf?!" he demanded, flinging the empty coffee can at her head. "I asked you where the spare coffee was…"

He trailed off as she gestured frantically to her throat. "What?" he demanded. "What is it?"

She touched her throat again and shook her head, making speaking gestures with her fingers. "You sick?" demanded Joker. She nodded, gesturing to her throat again. "Lost your voice?" guessed Joker. She nodded again. "Is it contagious?" he demanded. "I don't wanna lose my voice too, so if it is, you'll need to sleep on the couch tonight!"

Harley glared at him, and shook her head. She rolled over and reached for the notepad Joker kept by the bed, just in case he had any inspired dreams about how to kill Batman. She scribbled down a note and shoved it at him. Joker read:

Think I talked too much yesterday when I was visiting Ivy and Selina – they warned me not to talk about you so much, but I didn't listen. Guess they were right! The doctor in me thinks it's laryngitis, but not because of an infection, just overuse. I won't be able to talk for a little while though.

"Laryngitis, huh?" repeated Joker, looking up at her. "So how long does that usually last?"

Harley took the paper back from him, and wrote another note:

A couple weeks.

"A couple weeks?" repeated Joker, beaming. "You mean you won't be able to talk at all for a couple weeks? A couple weeks of complete silence, complete stillness, complete peace and quiet?"

Harley nodded sadly. "Aw, well, I'm really sorry to hear that, Harl," said Joker, but he was unable to suppress the glee in his voice. "Gee, that's just awful for you. Here, I'll make you a cup of coffee to help you feel better, assuming we have more coffee than the empty can I just threw at you?"

Harley nodded again, heading into the kitchen and opening another cabinet. She pointed to the top shelf. "No, no, no, pooh, you just sit down," said Joker, as she reached for it. "My baby is sick, and she's gonna have her adoring Mr. J looking after her until she's better. You need to get well soon, so you need complete peace and quiet, and complete peace and quiet is what you shall have."

At that moment, the phone rang loudly, and Harley stood up to answer it, but then slowly sat down as she realized she wasn't able to do that. Joker stormed over to it, annoyed at his peace and quiet being shattered so immediately. "What?" he snapped.

"J? Why are you answering phones?" asked a familiar voice from the other end. "After Harley spent hours gushing over you yesterday, and telling us every detail of the stuff you do together, I never want to hear your voice again."

"The feeling's mutual, Weed Lady," snapped Joker. "What do you want?"

"To talk to Harley," replied Poison Ivy. "To blame her for my nightmares last night."

"You can't talk to her," retorted Joker. "She can't talk anymore."

"Oh, you are such an insecure and hateful creep!" snapped Ivy. "Punishing her just because you don't want her giving everyone details of your disgusting sex life. I'm sorry you're too fragile and insecure to own up to the sick kinda crap you do…"

"First of all, I've never had a problem owning up to the sick crap that I do," interrupted Joker. "And second of all, I mean Harley literally can't talk anymore – she has laryngitis from blabbing so much at yours yesterday."

"Well, I guess that's a kind of poetic justice," said Ivy. "And sort of makes us square on the nightmare thing. Does she need anything? Should I come over?"

"Of course you shouldn't come over!" snapped Joker. "I'm enjoying the peace and quiet, and the last thing I need is some other nagging broad yammering at me! Only unlike Harley telling me how much she loves me, you'll be telling me how awful I am, and one is not an improvement over the other! Just mind your own business, and don't call her again for two weeks!"

He slammed the phone down, and then ripped the cord out of the wall. "There, now we won't have other morons breaking the serenity," he said, heading back over to Harley. She was shaking her head, pointing frantically at the phone. "What?" he asked.

She reached for the notepad again:

We're expecting a call for the scheme tonight. Rocco said he'll call when the henchmen have got everything set up at the factory.

"Right, the scheme!" exclaimed Joker, snapping his fingers as he remembered what day it was. "My anniversary scheme, at good old Ace Chemicals, my birthplace!" he chuckled. "It's not like I could ever forget the old dump, but I have to admit, a little refresher of the layout couldn't hurt – I don't want any mistakes tonight."

He headed into his study and opened a cabinet full of old video cassettes. "Now where is it…" he muttered, running his fingers over their spines. "Aha, this one!" he exclaimed, pulling out a tape entitled Joker: The Madness Behind the Laughter and heading over to the TV. Harley had followed him into the study, and sat down next to him as he pushed the button on the remote to play the tape.

"Remember this from the other year, pooh?" he asked her, smiling as the tape played a news broadcast featuring Jack Ryder. "The night Jack Ryder became an inferior version of me live on air by falling into those same chemicals? Boy, you'd really think someone would have removed those at some point."

Harley nodded, making a face as she watched Jack Ryder being incapacitated by Joker toxin. "But the great thing about Gotham is that nobody seems to learn anything, like don't leave vats of crazy chemicals lying around!" chuckled Joker. "Or just demolish the factory so these kinds of things don't happen again! But simple solutions don't occur to simple minds, which pretty much defines the entire population of Gotham. Here we are!" he exclaimed, pausing the tape at a long shot of the factory. "I'd better just make sure my plans line up with the interior you can see on the tape – don't wanna have to run away from Batsy and end up in a dead end!" he chuckled, heading back over to his desk and making sure the plans he had drawn up matched what the tape showed of the interior of the factory.

Once he confirmed they were the same, he ignored the tape, continuing to add finishing touches to the plan. Harley reached for the remote and hit play – the camera was stuck on the factory floor a long time after the cameraman had been hit with laughing gas, but she heard the chaos of fighting and explosions all around. Then Harley in the video picked up the camera, turning it on herself. "Sorry for the interruption there, folks," she said, rubbing her head. "I know dead air's annoying, and Mr. J's been doing some great stuff here that we shoulda been filming, but Bats has also showed up, and you know how chaotic things get when the flying rodent appears. Some of us got conked on the noggin. Gotta beware of falling henchmen when there's a Bat around!"

Joker was jolted out of planning the scheme by Harley's voice – he stared at her in horror, but then realized with a burst of relief that it was coming from the tape. "Give me that!" he snapped, standing up and grabbing the remote from her hand. He turned the TV off, silencing Harley again. "We don't need to be sitting around watching TV when we've got work to do! Why don't you go see how the guys are doing setting things up at the factory? Then we don't need the phone plugged back in, and I can concentrate on finalizing my scheme in peace!"

Harley nodded, standing up and heading into the bedroom to go get dressed. "Finally!" sighed Joker, sitting down at his desk again. "Some quiet, uninterrupted time to concentrate on what's really important – the death of Batman!" he exclaimed, holding up the plan proudly. "At my birthplace – you really couldn't get more hilarious than that! I can't wait to see the look on his face when he realizes it's curtains for him. I wonder if he'll scream, or beg me to spare him, or something. Mind you, what I've always loved about Bats is how completely silent he is, and I'd hate for that to be ruined at the end. He's a man who can appreciate the stillness, a man of few words, who doesn't speak unless spoken to, and rarely even then. My kinda guy!" he chuckled.

That evening, Joker arrived at the Ace Chemicals factory in high spirits, whistling and humming to himself. Harley met him at the door, beaming and gesturing around at what the henchmen had done. "Yeah, looks great!" said Joker, smiling broadly. "Bats will never know what hit him! Speaking of that, pooh," he said, taking her by the shoulders and steering her over to the platforms. "I was thinking you could have a different kinda role tonight. I know you're usually eager to beat the crap outta Bats, and you know I love you for that, but since you can't talk, you can't give him a punchline when you're punching him, you see, and I'd hate for Bats to think I was going easy on you and letting you slack off just because you're my girlfriend."

Harley looked at him quizzically. "So I think you should take a break from the action side of things tonight," continued Joker. "Why don't you be in charge of the tech instead?" he asked, gesturing up to where a computer station had been set up in the rafters of the building.

Harley pointed at it in confusion, and then pulled out her notepad:

But I don't know anything about computers.

"It's not difficult, pumpkin pie!" exclaimed Joker. "Nothing high tech about it! The way the guys have wired it, the computer just controls the lights and sound and stuff with the touch of a button. And we don't even have sound effects for this scheme. So all you have to do is turn the lights off once we're all set up here, and turn them on when I give the signal," he said, patting a walkie talkie at his belt. "And that's it! Then you can relax the rest of the night, and take some much deserved rest so you can recover your voice!"

Harley pulled out her notepad again:

You're giving me a job that a monkey could do? Don't you trust me anymore, Mr. J?

"Of course I do, pooh bear!" said Joker, kissing her nose. "Your job is the most important part of this whole scheme! If the lights don't come on, Bats won't be able to see his death coming, so your role is absolutely vital and essential! I'm giving you the most important job because you're the only one I can trust with it – you know what incompetent stooges the rest of the henchmen are. I can't expect the boys not to screw it up, but I know you'll be dependable, as you always are. I know I can count on you, baby – don't let me down!"

Harley sighed, but nodded, heading up to the rafters. Joker breathed a sigh of relief, looking around the platform he was standing on, and beaming. "Just me and Bats," he murmured. "No third wheel to insert herself into our final showdown. This is the greatest night of my life!"

The lights clicked off, and Joker stood in the darkness, appreciating the calm before the storm, and the complete and utter silence.

Then he noticed a movement in the shadows, and reached for the walkie talkie. "Lights, camera, action!" he exclaimed, and Harley dutifully pressed the button on the computer that turned the lights on.

"Sorry to foil your little routine of hiding in the shadows to strike!" chuckled Joker, as the lights illuminated Batman standing on the platform opposite him. "But I knew you couldn't stay away from here tonight of all nights. Happy anniversary, buddy!" he laughed. "I've prepared a little surprise for you, to celebrate the start of my life as the Joker, and the end of yours as Batman."

Batman said nothing, glaring at him as he looked warily around the factory. "Strong, silent type – that's what I love about you, Bats!" sighed Joker. "It's sort of a shame I have to kill you, really. But it'll be hilarious, so it really isn't!" he laughed. "Prepare to meet your Bat-maker!"

The armed henchmen on either side of the factory began shooting submachine guns at the platform on which Batman stood. He grappled swiftly away, and landed on the factory floor, where the henchmen continued to shoot at him, driving him toward a sign which read: This way to the Factory Funhouse!

Before Batman could even wonder what that meant, the floor beneath his feet suddenly gave way. He lunged forward and managed to grab on to the edge of the floor above him – below him was a pit full of spikes. Batman pulled himself up and kept his eyes on the ground as he ran, wary of more trapdoors – he nearly set another one off by hitting his heel against it, but fortunately he had already run past it, and into another room.

"Hmm, it won't be the Bat-Kebob death," said Joker, as Batman suddenly entered a room full of mirrors. The door through which he had entered, another mirror, suddenly shut, leaving him trapped in what looked like a never-ending room. "Maybe it'll be the Mirror of a Million Smiles!" chuckled Joker, who suddenly appeared in the mirror, duplicated hundreds of times. "See if you can find the real me before I find the real you! When you think about it, we are just twisted reflections of each other. Well, you're the twisted version of me, anyway. The brooding, dark, miserable, social outcast loner, while I'm all you could be if you just embraced the fun side of life, if you just let it all go and go crazy! Tempting, huh, Bats?"

In response, Batman began punching through the mirrors, shattering the glass in an effort to find Joker. "Seven years bad luck, fourteen years bad luck, twenty-one years bad luck, twenty-eight years bad luck, thirty-five years bad luck…gee, Bats, I'm not sure you're gonna live long enough to pay your bad luck debt!" chuckled Joker. "Certainly not if I have anything to say about it!"

The Joker in the mirror pulled out a handful of playing cards and began shooting them through the glass. The cards exploded on impact, and Batman ducked down as glass began to rain down on him. When the smoke cleared, he saw another pathway through a destroyed mirror, and Joker at the end of it, calling, "Yoo hoo, Batsy! This way! Let's try another game! I call this one Sulfuric Acid Death, or SAD for short. It would be very in character for you to have a SAD death, wouldn't it, Bats?" laughed Joker, as he stood on a platform above a vat full of clear liquid below.

Batman grappled over to him, but was immediately confronted by a line of henchmen who rushed him. He began fending them off, taking care not to knock them into the acid – he didn't want another Joker on his hands.

Meanwhile, Harley remained sitting by the computer up in the rafters, watching the action below and yawning. Mr. J really enjoyed these little capers, and so would she if she thought Batman was actually going to die tonight. But that seemed unlikely, and it seemed to her that Mr. J didn't seriously want it to happen, that he much preferred toying with Batman using these elaborate games rather than actually killing him. Not that she begrudged him that – it was healthy for a man to have a hobby. But like a lot of male hobbies, like fishing or bowling, she just didn't have any interest in it.

She loved how happy it made her puddin' though, she sighed, staring at Joker and feeling her heart swell at how happy he looked. It was worth putting up with anything to see that smile, even if she was kinda annoyed at him for relegating her to tech duty. She could have still landed a few punches on Bats, the way the boys were…

And speaking of the boys, she noticed one of them on a platform above where Joker and the rest of the henchmen were fighting Batman. This henchman had his submachine gun pointed at Batman, clearly waiting to get a good shot, which seemed unlikely, in Harley's view.

But being so high up in the rafters, she suddenly noticed that the platform the henchmen was standing on was being held up by a rusty chain. A rusty chain that, due to the man's weight, was clearly about to break. Harley looked down in horror to see that if the platform collapsed, it would land directly on the Joker. She tried to shout at him, but then she remembered she had lost her voice. She looked around desperately for something to throw at him, something that would get him to notice her so she could signal for him to move now, but there wasn't anything up here except the computer…

Joker was so completely preoccupied in watching Batman that he didn't even notice the henchman above him, and he couldn't hear the metal of the chain slowly breaking over the sound of the fight. He certainly didn't notice Harley frantically waving at him, trying anything to get his attention. The platform teetered as the rusted chain link stretched, and then snapped…

And then Joker heard a familiar voice blaring throughout the factory: "Gotta beware of falling henchmen when there's a Bat around!"

Joker's head snapped up to see the platform coming right at him – he dodged it just in time. The platform collided with where he had been, sending that section, and the unfortunate henchman on it, plummeting into the vat below. The sulfuric acid dissolved him instantly, as it would have dissolved Joker without Harley's warning.

He looked up to see her beaming with relief, turning the computer screen around and showing him the YouTube video of their previous scheme that she had played to get his attention.

He didn't have time to react before Batman punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. "You just succeeded in killing your own guy tonight," muttered Batman. "I hope you're happy."

"Always, Bats," said Joker, grinning at him.

Batman was suddenly knocked to the ground – Harley had leapt down from the rafters and landed on him. She slammed her foot into his head, making it collide with the metal and briefly incapacitating him. She gestured urgently at the Joker to leave, and he didn't need to be told twice. "Well, see you next time, Bats – happy anniversary!" he giggled, as he and Harley, along with their remaining henchmen, fled the factory.

Joker and Harley returned to their hideout in silence, Harley because she couldn't talk, and Joker because he didn't quite know what to say. "Uh…thanks, kid," he said, as they entered their room. "For…y'know, saving my life tonight. I guess I owe you one."

Harley beamed at him, and reached for her notepad:

You saved my life when you let me be your Harley Quinn, so I guess we're even now!

Joker didn't know what to say to that either, so he didn't say anything. "So…I guess we should go to bed," he said. "It's late."

Harley reached for her notepad again:

You don't want to have a little anniversary celebration? I know I can't talk, but I don't need to be able to talk to show you how much I love you.

"I'm not really in the mood tonight, kid," said Joker. "It was a pretty exciting scheme, and nearly dying really takes a lot out of you, so I'm kinda exhausted. I think I'd just like to go to sleep. Maybe I'll feel more in the party mood tomorrow."

Harley nodded. Joker climbed into bed, and she followed, wrapping her arms tightly around him as usual. "Night, Harl," he said, shutting his eyes.

She kissed his cheek and shut her eyes. It was the first time since he and Harley had got together that he hadn't gone to bed with her saying, "Night, Mr. J," or even worse, "Night, puddin'." Maybe that break in his routine was the reason sleep eluded him. Instead, his thoughts wandered to a memory, a memory of the night Harley had first busted him out of Arkham.

"This is a real nice place, puddin'," she had said, looking around the hideout.

"It's really not," retorted Joker. "And what's with puddin'?"

"I just like it," she said, turning to smile at him. "It suits you. You're sweet and yummy and very, very bad for me," she added, kissing him.

"Uh huh," said Joker, who wasn't in great shape after his latest battle with Batman, and certainly wasn't in the mood for any kind of affection. "Can you do me a favor and get me some more bandages, sweets?" he asked, settling himself on a chair with a hiss. "They should be in a cabinet in the bathroom down the hall."

"No problemo, puddin'!" said Harley, cheerfully skipping off to obey him. She returned with the bandages and some antiseptic. "Now let Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, take care of you," she said, sitting down next to him with a grin.

"You picked that name because of me?" asked Joker. "Because I said your name was like Harley Quinn?"

"Yeah, I liked that," said Harley, as she unrolled the bandages. "Made me think it was some kinda fate, you and me ending up together. Not that it's the first time I've heard it. The kids at school used to make fun of me for my name a lot, and not just for my name. For my glasses, for my body type, even for the way I talked."

"What, you mean you used this accent at school?" asked Joker.

She looked up at him. "This is my natural accent," she said. "This is how I've always talked. But because of the bullying and all, and because I was gonna go into a professional field, I worked real hard to suppress it. It still came out sometimes when I was mad and stuff, so I tried not to get mad. I tried not to feel anything for the longest time…"

She trailed off as she rubbed some antiseptic onto his wounds. "But that's all over now," she said, smiling in relief. "Now I feel…so unbelievably happy. I never thought I could ever feel this way, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. J."

"Don't thank me," retorted Joker. "I didn't do anything. It's not like I planned this at all…"

"Of course not," agreed Harley. "But you freed me to be me. The real me, not that fake persona I put on as a doctor for all those years. I had almost forgotten what the real me was like – Dr. Harleen Quinzel had almost killed her. But you saved her. You saved me. You made me realize what's really important in life, and it's not career success or climbing the ladder or anything like that. It's love. And you can only truly love others when you first learn to love yourself. And I didn't love myself for the longest time. I hated myself when I was a doctor. But I really love Harley Quinn. And I hope you do too," she added, planting a kiss on his lips.

"Yeah, she's…something else," said Joker, forcing a smile.

"And naturally I love you," she continued. "Which is what's really important - if you just love yourself, it's selfish, you see. But now I've found the man I was destined to be with. I feel like I was made for you, Mr. J – that's what my name made me realize. I used to hate it for so long, but now I love it, because it led me to you. I might not have known I was meant to be yours if not for my name. So sometimes the things you hate turn out to be the things that lead you to what you love. Kinda funny when you think about it, huh?"

"Not really," said Joker.

"I think it is," said Harley. "And not only did you help me learn to love myself, and my name, but you also helped me love my voice. I always hated that too – thought my accent was too loud and brash, and thought I sounded kinda silly and stupid. But maybe I can use that to my advantage now – maybe if people think I'm silly and stupid, they'll underestimate me, which is gonna be handy if I'm gonna be your henchwench. They'll think I'm just some bubble-headed blonde bimbo, some poor floozy who hangs around you because I'm too dumb and pathetic to do anything else. It is to laugh, huh, Mr. J?"

Joker must have fallen asleep on the memory, because the next thing he knew, it was morning, and a voice in his ear was saying, "Mr. J? Mr. J?"

"What?" he demanded, rolling over to face Harley, who was beaming at him. And then the realization hit him. "You can talk!" he gasped.

"Yeah, guess it wasn't laryngitis after all," said Harley, shrugging. "Guess I just wore my voice out and it needed a day to rest. But as you can see, I'm back to normal now, so how about that anniversary celebration? I can start you off with breakfast in bed, and then we'll see what else we can get up to in bed!" she giggled, throwing off the blankets. "I got all kinds of great ideas, just wait until you see the fun I've thought up! I got some new toys especially for the occasion, and I'm planning on making a giant cream pie tonight – not in bed, although we could do that too, but I mean an actual cream pie. I know that didn't work out so good on your last anniversary, but there's no creepy Creeper around this time to spoil the mood. And now that my voice is back, I can do a sexy song for you, and a sexy dance, which should really get you in the mood. Or maybe you'd prefer some puddin', huh, puddin'? I can't really bake, so you'll be lucky to get anything edible really, but it's the thought that counts…"

Joker groaned, pulling the covers over his head and trying to drown out her incessant talking in that annoying voice as she headed for the kitchen. That annoying voice which was back, and which he appeared to be stuck with permanently.

But then, it had saved his life yesterday. And honestly, Harley being silent, even for a day, had really been all kinds of wrong. Everything had seemed a little off with her not talking, which is maybe why he had had that near death experience. The whole situation had thrown the routine of his life off completely, and while Joker was a random and chaotic man, he did depend on certain routines. Like fighting Batman. Maybe Harley had become one of those routines, as irritating and chatty as she could be. Maybe her voice wasn't the greatest, but truth be told, he'd rather she had it than not.

"And if that's not love," sighed Joker, sitting up and heading for the kitchen after her. "I don't know what is."

The End