"Miss Isley, the plane's arrived to take you back to Gotham," said Captain Wayne, entering her tent a few days later. "I've just notified Mr. and Mrs. Fries, who are accompanying you now that Mrs. Fries is well enough to travel. Are you ready to go?"

"All packed," said Pamela, nodding.

"You've said your goodbyes?" asked Wayne.

"Harvey's meeting me at the plane," said Pamela. "I think he's hoping for a Casablanca-style goodbye. Though God knows why – Ingrid Bergman went off with another guy at the end. But men have strange ideas about romance," she sighed.

"Where's Miss Quinzel?" asked Wayne, looking around the empty tent.

"Still with her clown prince charming," said Pamela, sarcastically. "She's stuck to him like glue ever since the rescue – if I didn't know better, I'd say they were plotting something together."

"I've noticed that Joker's been unusually non-disruptive lately," said Wayne, nodding. "I'll miss Miss Quinzel as a distraction for him, I won't deny it. The more he's with her, the less trouble he's causing me. I dread the headache I'm going to have with her gone and him up to his old, annoying tricks. I've been mercifully spared from them thanks to Miss Quinzel."

A soldier burst into the tent suddenly. "Sir, the plane…it's being stolen, sir!"

"What?" demanded Wayne, racing outside with Pamela following. They were just in time to see Joker throwing the pilot out of the cockpit, and climbing in with Harleen accompanying him.

"We're just borrowing it, Flying Mouse Man, I promise!" chuckled Joker, waving at him. "We'll bring it back in good condition! See you soon!"

"Joker, hijacking a military plane is a court-martial offense!" shouted Wayne.

"You owe me a favor for helping you save the world!" called back Joker. "So just keep this hush hush, huh, Flying Mouse Man?"

"I'll be back soon, Red, don't worry!" shouted Harleen, waving at her. "Mr. J's just taking me to Paris!"

She giggled over further shouts of protest from both Wayne and Pamela. "Do you know how to fly a plane, puddin'?" she asked, as Joker pressed some buttons.

"Nah, but I'll figure it out," he said, shrugging. "How hard can it be? I'll just try this stick thing here and…voila!" he exclaimed, as the plane rose into the air. "That's French, kiddo! And there's gonna be a lotta French where we're going!"

"Joker! Get back down here right now!" shouted Wayne. "Or I'm throwing away your Nazi scalp collection!"

"Empty threats, Flying Mouse Man!" shouted back Joker. "I've got 'em right here!" he said, holding up a bag. "See you in a couple days! Au revoir and all that jazz!"

Pamela and Wayne watched them disappear into the sky. "Well, I guess I'm unpacking," muttered Pamela, heading back to her tent. "Harvey will be pleased."

"I'm court-martialing him," said Wayne, storming back to his tent. "I'm court-martialing him right now!"

He picked up the radio speaker, and then slammed it back down suddenly. "All right, I'm not court-martialing him," he muttered. "But he's on mess hall cleaning duty until the war is over, mark my words!"

…

"I told you, it's not what you'd expect from all the songs and stories about it," said Joker. "But I'm pretty sure that's because it's been under the occupation of the Nazis, who ruin everything. Give it a few years, and it'll probably be all romantic again, and we'll come back."

"Yeah," agreed Harleen. "It's not exactly what I was expecting. But with you here, it's still the most romantic city in the world, Mr. J."

Joker had managed to miraculously land the plane without damaging it, and they were now strolling hand in hand down what was left of the Champs-Élysées, looking around the damaged, desolate streets of the city.

"We can't get a coffee or a wine or anything because of the rationing and all," continued Joker. "But we can still see the sights. There's the Eiffel Tower," he said, pointing. "Y'know, give it a few years, and this would be a great place for you to do a show, or a movie, depending on how big a star you become," he said, looking around.

"Oh, I'm sure I ain't good enough for Hollywood!" laughed Harleen.

"Sure you are," he said. "C'mon, let's practice now. Show 'em what you got, kid."

"But there's no music, Mr. J," said Harleen.

"So? We'll make our own," he said, shrugging. "You can sing and dance, and I'm not so bad at that myself. Let's just improvise a routine."

"I'm not sure it's really the place for it," said Harleen. "This desolate, depressed city…"

"It's the perfect place for it," interrupted Joker. "Give it a reason to smile again. What else can you do in a desolate, depressed city except spread a little happiness? That's the place that needs it the most."

Harleen beamed, and kissed him. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he said. "Now let's dance, kid."

They began singing "Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit-Bag" at the top of their lungs, improvising a complicated swing dance routine underneath the Eiffel Tower while doing so. Some of the people stared at them in astonishment, and some shook their heads in pity at the lunatics the war had created. But most of the spectators smiled and applauded, joining in with the dance.

"Y'see?" asked Joker, gesturing around. "Nothing's more contagious than laughter. Having fun inspires other people to have fun too, no matter how bad things are. If anything, the war's brought home how important it is to be happy while you can. It can be taken away from you at any time."

"Yeah," agreed Harleen, a sudden thought striking her. "I guess…you could still be taken away from me at any time," she said, hugging him tightly. "I'm gonna do nothing but worry about your safety once I'm back home."

"Yeah, you will," he said, soothingly. "You're gonna go audition to be a star. And I'm gonna hear about it on the radio, and that's gonna make me so happy, to hear about my girl going places. And it'll make me even more excited to hold her in my arms once we're all safely home."

He kissed her. "Anyway, whatever happens, we'll always have Paris," he added with a smile.

…

A few days later, Joker flew the plane back to the camp, and Harleen bade a tearful goodbye to him as she boarded to head back to America. But Joker encouraged her to smile, and made her promise not to give up on her dream once she got home.

Harleen was a sobbing mess the whole flight back, and nothing Pamela or Nora or Victor could say would comfort her. But the moment they arrived back in Gotham, Harleen bucked up, determined to fulfill her promise to the Joker. She dragged Pamela to audition after audition, and once she was there, always performed with a smile. Something about her smile, and her infectious attitude and optimism, appealed to a club owner, who contracted her and Pamela to perform for his establishment. A few months later, a casting director saw them perform, and invited them to Hollywood to appear in a film. They were the headlining act, using their stage names: Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy – Gotham City Bombshells. Harleen beamed when she saw the poster – Pamela dressed in roses and lying in a victory garden, while Harleen was dressed in her clown outfit and riding a bomb. "I can't wait for Mr. J to see it!" she exclaimed.

The troops overseas did get sent a copy of the film, and Joker got to watch Harleen's big screen debut as Harley Quinn surrounded by his fellow soldiers. "That's my girl!" he exclaimed, beaming at her.

And when the war finally ended a year later, the Joker and Harley Quinn were finally reunited – Pamela came with her to meet the troops coming home to Gotham.

"There they are!" exclaimed Harleen, pointing at the steps of the plane as Joker disembarked, followed by Dent. "Mr. J! Over here!" she screamed.

Joker raced over to her, picking her up and spinning her around. "There's my little star!" he exclaimed, kissing her. "Missed you, kiddo!"

"Did you miss me, Pam?" asked Dent, approaching her tentatively.

In response, Pamela seized him and shoved her mouth into his. "You know, now that I'm famous, I've had a lotta guys after me," she murmured, drawing away at last. "But I had to tell 'em sorry, boys. I got a fella overseas. And he's one of a kind," she added, smiling.

"Dr. Crane! Dr. Crane, over here!" shouted a bunch of reporters, snapping pictures of him. "Is it true that you single-handedly changed the course of the war with your fear toxin?"

"Now I wouldn't say single-handedly changed the course of the war," replied Crane, smiling. "I'm nothing if not a modest man. But it certainly brought a speedier victory than we otherwise would have had. You can contact Lord Jervis Tetch in England if you'd like to hear an unbiased opinion of its effect."

"Is it true that Mrs. Nora Fries is alive today because of you?" asked one.

"It certainly is," said Nora Fries, holding her husband's hand and smiling. "And we can't thank you enough, Dr. Crane. This is a friend of mine who would very much like to meet you," she said, nodding at the attractive young woman standing next to them. "Dr. Jonathan Crane, Miss Emilia Lee."

"I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Dr. Crane," said Emilia, beaming at him. "Nora's told me so much about you, and what you did for her and the war effort. You're a hero."

Crane stared at her, stunned. "Maybe…hero is a bit of an overstatement…" he stammered.

"Not to me," she replied, taking his hand and smiling. "And heroes are my type."

He smiled back, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it.

"Bruce!" cried a woman, pushing her way to the front of the crowd as Wayne disembarked, his luggage being carried by Alfred. "Bruce!"

"Selina!" exclaimed Wayne, holding out his arms to her. "Kitten, I can't tell you how much I missed you."

"Well, hopefully not too much," she said, smiling. "I did give you that book."

"It got me through the war, kitten," said Bruce, nodding. "You have no idea of the kinda crap I had to go through with these lunatics," he said, gesturing around. "It was like spending four years in a madhouse."

"Oh my God, it's Harley Quinn!" exclaimed the reporters, noticing Harleen suddenly. "And Poison Ivy! Miss Quinn, Miss Ivy, over here!" they shouted, flashing cameras at them. "When's your next feature film?"

"Hopefully soon," replied Harleen. "I hear rumors they're putting something together for us at Warner Brothers, but I'll let you know once it's confirmed. For now, if you'll excuse us, we're going home to spend some quality time with our soldier boys," she said, beaming at Joker.

She turned away from the cameras, leaning lovingly on Joker's arm. "So have you met Walt Disney yet?" he asked. "I wanted to thank him for Der Fuehrer's Face. It's been stuck in my head all the way back on the plane, and the guys really didn't appreciate me singing it for eighteen hours straight. When der Fuehrer says, we ist der Master Race, we heil, heil, right in der Fuehrer's face…gosh, I hope they make more songs making fun of Nazis in the future. They're comedy gold!"

"Hey, you're outta a job now," said Harleen, smiling at him. "Why don't you write 'em? Then you can join Harley Quinn in her comedy film career. We can be a clown duo, spreading smiles and laughter around the world."

"Sounds good to me, toots," he said, smiling back. "Think we can sneak my Nazi scalp collection into a movie somehow?"

"Maybe save that as something special to show our grandkids," replied Harleen.

"Grandkids?" he repeated, grinning. "Guess that means you're planning on getting pregnant with a clown baby at some point."

"I am," agreed Harleen, grinning back. "As soon as possible."

Joker chuckled, kissing her as they strode off into the sunset together. "As soon as we get home, I'll get the whoopie cushion."

The End