The Pierrot Shipping warehouse looked deserted as Harley stood outside of it, her breath showing in clouds in the chilly air. There was no light on inside, and the windows were boarded up – it clearly hadn't been used as a shipping warehouse in a long time.

Harley slowly pushed open the door and entered the building, and her heart leaped in hope to see it covered in clown-themed gadgets. Garish junk was thrown everywhere, and the colossal mess seemed to go on forever in the darkness. She was just about to reach for the light switch to illuminate the hideout, when her wrist was seized in a firm grip.

"Who are you?" demanded a voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Are…you the Joker?" asked Harley. "I came to find you."

"Why?" demanded the voice. "Are you a cop?"

"No," said Harley, as another hand seized her tightly around the throat. "I'm a psychiatrist."

The grip on her throat loosened. "A psychiatrist?" the voice repeated. "So you've come to analyze me, is that it?"

"If you're willing," replied Harley. "I don't want to force you if you're not. I'll leave, and I won't tell anyone where you are…"

"Why should I believe you?" the voice demanded, the hand tightening around her throat again. "Why wouldn't I just kill you now? I don't like trespassers, or people sticking their noses in where they don't belong."

"Yes, I can see why you might not want to show off this hideout," agreed Harley. "It's a dump."

"It's not a dump!" snapped the voice, clearly surprised at being insulted.

"It absolutely is," said Harley. "No heating or nothing," she added, shivering from the cold. "But I guess if you heat it, people can figure out where you are, and you don't want that. You don't seem to want a lotta publicity, just like Batman."

"You think I'm like Batman?" the voice asked.

"In that you're a weird loner with a vendetta against criminals, yes," agreed Harley. "You probably wear some kinda costume too – you've obviously copied his basic concept, but you've put your own spin on it. So I guess you're not too much of a weird loner if you were inspired by him."

"I was inspired by him, in a manner of speaking," agreed the voice. "He made me."

"Will you tell me how?" asked Harley. The voice didn't respond. She felt the Joker's strong, firm grip around her throat and wrist – she could feel his eyes burning into her, but she could see nothing in the darkness. She shivered again.

"Are you cold or afraid?" he demanded.

"Cold," she replied. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Why not?" he demanded. "Haven't you seen what I do to my victims?"

"It'll be nice to smile again, even if I have to die to do that," retorted Harley. "I'm already living a fate worse than death. There's nothing you can threaten me with that's worse than the hopelessness of my life, the certain knowledge that I will never be happy again."

She did smile suddenly, a sad, knowing smile. "Well, how about that," she murmured. "He was wrong about fear. It can be overcome after all, if you have nothing left to lose."

"He?" said the voice.

"Professor Crane," replied Harley. "He told me it was impossible to overcome fear. He told me nobody could, not even Mr. J…"

The Joker's grip suddenly tightened around her throat. "What was that name again?" he whispered.

"Mr…J," gasped Harley.

In an instant, her throat was released as the Joker's hand shot up to snap on the light switch. Harley stared in astonishment at the man before her, and he stared back in equal astonishment.

"You…" gasped Harley, not daring to believe it. "It's you…how can it be you?! You're dead!"

The Joker just continued to stare at her. "You're dead!" she shouted. "You left me! You abandoned me to the misery of my life without you, and you dared to pretend you were doing it for some noble reason! You made me suffer a fate worse than death while claiming that you loved me! But you didn't love me – nobody who loved me could have hurt me as much as you did while claiming it was the right thing to do! I wish you were dead! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" she screamed, bursting into tears.

He suddenly seized her in his arms, crushing his mouth into hers. Harley cried out as the force of his kiss bruised her, as he embraced her in wild desperation, and she found herself returning it, equally wild and desperate. She tore her mouth against his, trying to inflict pain with her kiss, trying to make him feel all the hurt and love that she held in her heart.

She drew away at last and broke down in sobs, falling to her knees. He dropped down next to her, embracing her tightly. They didn't speak as he held her and let her sob her heart out.

"Do you forgive me?" he whispered at last.

"No," she whispered. "I'll never forgive you for breaking my heart, for making me live with its shattered pieces inside me for years, making me bleed out from the inside…"

She let out another sob. "How could you do that to me, Mr. J?" she whispered. "How could you do that to someone you loved?"

He studied her tear-stained face with sad eyes. "What have I done to you?" he whispered, cradling her gently. "Look at your face, your beautiful face, so grim and serious," he murmured, tracing his fingers down her cheek and over her lips. "Your smile is gone…"

"I thought it died," she whispered. "But it didn't die. It just abandoned me."

She gazed up at him through teary eyes. "How could you do that? How could you let me think you were dead?"

"It was for the best that you didn't know," he murmured. "You would have tried to come find me, and I didn't want you to see me like this. You always deserved better than the man I was, and look at me now."

"Do you really think that matters to me?" she whispered. "Do you think my love for you is so shallow that something like this will kill it? Do you think I spent years suffering your loss, never feeling happy or smiling, because of some flimsy little feeling that will die at the first sign of trouble? You don't know me at all."

She shoved herself away from him. "You don't know me, and you don't love me. Otherwise you never would have left…"

"Harley, look at me!" he exclaimed, seizing her in his arms. "Look at me! You can see how wrong it is now, can't you? Look at what I am! I'm a freak! And you're still so beautiful, even pale and sad like this. So beautiful, and so angelic," he whispered, stroking her blonde hair. "How can you think you belong with a creature like me?"

"I don't think anything," murmured Harley. "I know. I feel it. I may look innocent and angelic, but it's a mask. You should know that. You should know how overjoyed I was when you murdered Sal for me, and how much I wanted to learn the life of a criminal. I'm a bad person, and I've spent so long trying to live up to the mask, trying to be good and innocent and angelic, the way I look. But it's not who I am in my heart, Mr. J," she whispered, taking his hand and placing it over her heart. "I love you because our hearts are one, our souls are one. They're as tainted and dirty as each other, as wrong and as dark and as criminal. You shouldn't be fooled by the mask, because you must know our souls are the same, made from the same dark fire. If you saw me as I truly am, you wouldn't doubt for a second that we're made for each other. Just like I don't."

She raised her hand up to his face. "I can put on a mask to reveal my true self, if that's what you want," she whispered. "I can be a clown too, and let the world see. But you shouldn't need the mask to see me as I truly am. I'm not an angel, Mr. J. But I am yours. Forever."

He captured her in his arms and held her close to him, so close she could barely breathe. "I'm here now, and you'll never be unhappy again, I promise," he whispered. "You'll smile every day for the rest of your life. I'll spend the rest of my life making up for your years of pain, and you'll have a lifetime of joy to replace those horrible memories. I'll wipe them away, just like I wiped away the memory of Sal."

He gazed at her with pleading eyes, and she nodded slowly. "Then you'd better get started," she murmured.

He let out a sob of relief, kissing her again as he pressed her down on the floor. Harley felt her body awakening again with every touch of his lips and hands – she felt life return to her as her heart beat stronger with the pain of a muscle long out of use. The blood rushed through her veins and she let out a cry of pain – she had been numb for so long that to feel anything this sudden and strong was agony. The union of their bodies gave her life, as it always had - the surge of him into her was like the fusion of their souls, reuniting something that was one a long time ago, some single star that had been separated at the beginning of time. She felt whole and complete with her soul restored to her at last.

She lay on the floor gazing up at him as he gazed down into her eyes. And then she smiled, her first true smile in a long time. He smiled back. "There you are," he whispered, leaning down to plant a kiss on her lips. "There's my Harley girl."

"And here's my Mr. J," she whispered. "Where he always should have been."

They kissed again as Harley enveloped him in her arms, alive again at last.