A Fellow of Infinite Jest

He must have made some noise as he started awake, maybe a grunt or a groan, because Harley stirred uneasily next to him and tenderly put her arms around him. "Puddin'?" she murmured, sleepily. "You ok?"

He blinked, still in that hazy state somewhere between sleeping and waking. The shadows seemed to cling to him, like Harley's arms, fuzzy and indistinct, whispering teasingly of half-images and memories that he couldn't quite make clear to himself. He blinked again, trying to chase away the shadows and bring the world into focus again, or at least, as focused as he ever saw it. Whatever it was that had made him make that noise had been a dream, and it was over now.

"Puddin'?" Harley repeated, sitting up and looking at him. "What is it?"

He focused on her, her long blonde hair strewn in messy waves about her face, her big, blue eyes wide and concerned. And suddenly with a jolt, reality snapped back into his disordered brain. It was still disordered, but in the way that made sense to him. He was seized with that same sane madness he always had, and sighed in relief, smiling. "Nothing, Harley," he murmured, touching her face. "Just a dream."

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked, embracing him again. "You know I'm always here to listen, Mr. J."

"Nothing to talk about, kiddo," he murmured. "It was just a silly dream. It's over now. And anyway, I don't remember it. Never do remember my dreams."

Harley frowned slightly. "Was it…was it about your past, Mr. J?"

"I said I don't remember, Harley," he murmured, his voice taking on a slight edge. "Don't pester me about it."

"Yes, sir," she murmured.

He lay in the darkness, thinking, remembering what little glimpses of it he could. They were only hazy and indistinct, and didn't make any sense when you thought about them. Not even to him. He felt Harley's body around him gradually relax as she began to breathe softly in sleep. He shook her awake.

"Harley," he growled.

"Hmm?" she murmured.

"I'm not sleepy," he muttered.

"Oh. Ok, Mr. J," she said, sitting up, yawning and stretching as she tried to wake herself up. "What do you wanna do, puddin'?"

"I'm hungry," he replied.

"Oh. Ok, sweetie," she sighed, reaching for her robe. "I'll be right back."

He watched her leave the room, then sighed and rose from the bed, putting on his own purple robe and heading for the bathroom. He went over to the sink and turned on the water, splashing it onto his face. He beheld his own pale reflection as he looked into the mirror. There he was. The Joker. The Clown Prince of Crime. Batman's nemesis. Harley's lover. The Joker.

He wasn't often troubled by dreams of his past. Whatever it had been, he had learned to bury it away deep in the darkness of his mind, so that it was only very rarely accessible by his subsconcious. And it bothered him not so much for the images it brought up, because they didn't make sense and he didn't recognize them, as for the feelings it recalled to him. Feelings he couldn't feel anymore, except in dreams.

Fear, for one. He remembered the accident more clearly than anything else, the fear, the unimaginable fear at seeing the Bat for the first time before he knocked him into that vat of acid. He wasn't afraid of the Bat anymore – the guy was like his best friend. And he didn't like being afraid of him in his dreams. He didn't like the fear intensifying as he fell down, down, down, hitting the acid with a scream, the shock, the panic, the horror, the agony at feeling his body being burned, changed, dyed. At feeling himself being destroyed, and reborn. At feeling his mind being freed from the chains of sanity.

Was that how it had happened? Had he just gone crazy from the chemicals? Seemed kinda a boring idea, and it didn't feel right to him. If there was one thing he knew about people, it was that they didn't change. Bats didn't change. He would always be there to stop his evil schemes, to punish him for his crimes, to bring him to justice, but never kill him. Bats would never change that much. He wouldn't be Bats if he did. The way he was was programmed deep into him, like his soul or something. He couldn't change his soul.

And then there was Harley. She didn't change. No matter how badly he treated her, no matter how many times he hit her, or abused her, or tried to kill her, she would always come back to him. Always. Even though she told herself she wouldn't, even though other people tried to prevent her from doing it, she would come back. He guessed it was because she loved him, or had convinced herself she did, or something. Whatever it was, she had her reasons. Or maybe she didn't. Maybe she didn't need reasons. Maybe it was just who she was. Her soul. His Harley Quinn. The Joker's Harley Quinn.

"Here we are, puddin'!" she cried, returning to the bedroom with a giant chocolate fudge sundae. "The chocolate is nice and gooey just how you like it! And I even found some sprinkles for you!"

"Aw, baby, you're the greatest!" he exclaimed, smiling as he re-entered the bedroom. "It looks just as scrumptious as you, my little pumpkin pie!"

He went back to bed and propped up the pillows, sitting up. Then he beckoned her. "You wanna feed Daddy?" he murmured, grinning.

"Mmm, yeah, I do," she murmured, smiling back. She straddled across his lap, dipping the spoon into the ice cream and putting it into his mouth.

"That's yummy, pooh bear," he murmured after several spoonfuls. "You should have some yourself."

She was liking this game. She beamed as she ate a spoonful of ice cream, and then, scooping out another one, dropped it all down her front. "Oops, sorry, Daddy," she whispered, looking up at him in mock apology as she put the sundae on the bedside table. "I've been a messy girl."

"Now what has Daddy told you about dirty little girls?" he murmured, drawing open her robe and licking the ice cream up. "They get spanked."

He shoved her down suddenly onto the bed, rolling her over and spanking her repeatedly. Harley writhed in real pain, loving it. "Oh, Mr. J!" she gasped. "Oh, Mr. J! Harder, puddin'! Hit me harder!"

"If you insist," he murmured, grinning. He suddenly punched her across the face, laughing. He continued to laugh as he pummeled her, as she cried out, sometimes in pain, sometimes in pleasure, enjoying how much it hurt. He seized her around the throat and began to choke her, grinning and laughing as she struggled to breathe. She was used to these games, but his grip seemed tighter than normal, and despite her enjoyment of the pain, sometimes her self-preservation instinct was too strong, and she couldn't prevent a hint of fear emerging from her eyes. Joker noticed this and suddenly let go, startled with a sudden recollection of his dream. Fear. That was how he had felt then, when his life had changed so completely that his past was less than a blur to him. When he had become someone else from…whoever he had been. When he had become the Joker.

"Puddin'?" gasped Harley, massaging her throat and sitting up. "What's wrong, baby?"

He stared at her. "Baby," he whispered. "Baby, I'm sorry," he gasped, seizing her in his arms and hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry…I…"

"Sorry? For what?" she asked, puzzled. "Mr. J, what's wrong?"

The recollection left him as suddenly as it had come, and the world was as it should be again. He released her, sighing. "Nothing, Harley," he murmured. "It's nothing."

He picked up the sundae and finished eating it. Harley stared at him in concern, and then gingerly climbed back into bed, trying not to put too much pressure on her forming bruises.

"I'm thirsty, Harley," he murmured, several minutes later.

Harley struggled to rise from bed, and managed at last, with much effort. She hobbled out to the kitchen, and Joker watched her. She was a sweet kid, taking care of him just like a wife. Had he had a wife before? Maybe he had. Maybe he was still married. Maybe he was having an affair with Harley. The thought made him laugh, committing adultery without knowing it. An ignorant sin. Like an accidental crime – what a joke. But the marriage idea didn't really sit right with him either. He wasn't the marrying type. That couldn't have changed that much, could it? Could he have really changed so completely since the accident and just not know it? Could the chemicals have really transformed his soul that much?

Harley returned with two steaming mugs of cocoa with marshmallows. She handed one to him and climbed back into bed with the other, wincing. She looked at him. "You sure you're ok, Mr. J?" she asked.

"Yes, Harley, stop asking me that," he snapped. "I'm always ok."

"Ok, puddin', I believe you," she replied. "But you know you can always tell me anything. Your Harley girl is here for you, and she loves you very, very much," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

He finished his cocoa in silence, and then lay down, rolling over with his back to Harley. She had lain down and shut her eyes, but opened them again as he murmured, "Who do you love, Harley?"

"Puddin'?" she asked, turning over. His back was still to her.

"I asked you who you love, Harley," he murmured. "Answer me."

"Well…I love you, puddin'," she replied, puzzled.

"And who am I, Harley?" he murmured.

"You're the Joker, baby," she replied. "You're the Clown Prince of Crime. The nemesis of Batman. The most feared and terrifying villain in all of Gotham, in all the world, in all the universe. You're the man I love, the man who makes me happy, who makes me laugh, who completes me and makes me feel alive and whole. Who makes me feel like myself. Who I need without even knowing why I need you. My soulmate. The Joker."

"Do you ever think about who I was…before?" he asked, quietly.

"Well, yeah, course I do," she replied. "I did lots when we first got together. See, I wanted to know and love all of you, every bit of you, every piece of your soul, the past you, the present you, and the future you. But one day it hit me, baby, that it don't matter, because they're one and the same. You're you. You've always been you. You don't change. You're the Joker. You always have been, and you always will be. And it's you I love, Mr. J. I love you, Joker."

He was silent. Harley thought he must have fallen asleep and not have heard her, because the silence continued for several minutes. She lay back down and tried to drop off to sleep.

She was startled awake again by him laughing, laughing maniacally, an incredibly happy, joyful sound. She loved hearing it. She put her arms around him and snuggled into his body.

He turned over to face her and, to her surprise, pulled her into his embrace, cuddling her closely against his chest. "Night night, Harley girl," he whispered, kissing the top of her head and smiling as he shut his eyes.

"Night night, Mr. J," she whispered, smiling. He was asleep in a few moments, and she followed soon after, a peaceful smile on her lips, warm and safe and complete in his arms.