Harley Quinn heard the key turn in the lock and let out the breath she had been holding for what seemed like ages. Her heart gradually returned to its normal pace and her breathing steadied as the panic that has risen in her throat gradually disappeared. It was all right now. He was back. He was home safe.

The waiting was the worst part, worse than any of Mr. J's beatings, or the Bat's punches, or anything else. The uncertainty, the not knowing, and the waiting. Just lying there in their bed, listening to the minutes tick by on the clock, sitting up to glance at it twenty times a minute, and disappointed when it hadn't changed and he hadn't come home. Just lying there waiting, unable to distract herself because she was so sick with worry. Worry that she felt in the pit of her stomach, so deeply that it hurt. It was the worst kind of torture.

She sat up as she saw him enter the bedroom, a dim silhouette in the light from the hall. "Thought you'd be asleep by now," the Joker muttered.

"Couldn't sleep, puddin'," she replied. "Never can, not until you're safe and sound here with me."

"Well, you won't wanna see this," he murmured, heading across their room to the bathroom in the dark. "So close your eyes and try to sleep. I'll be there shortly."

She obeyed, but opened her eyes as he flicked the lightswitch on in the bathroom. From where she lay, she could see him standing by the sink, studying himself in the mirror. And she couldn't prevent herself from gasping and sitting up again.

"Oh…puddin'!" she gasped, feeling tears coming to her eyes as a bolt of pain shot through her heart. He looked absolutely terrible. Cuts and bruises covered his face and body, his clothes were torn and stained with blood, and he flinched in pain at the effort of turning to face her.

"I told you to shut your eyes!" he snapped.

"Why shouldn't I feel pain when you're clearly in agony?" she gasped, leaping out of bed and rushing to embrace him. She looked for somewhere she could hug him where she wouldn't touch his bruises, and not being able to find a place, she clapped her hands to her mouth instead and sobbed.

"Oh, puddin', why does he do this to you?" she sobbed. "I thought he was meant to be a hero! Heroes don't treat people like this!"

"He's crazy, Harley," he replied, studying his reflection again. "He has his reasons, I guess."

"I know all about his reasons!" she cried. "I know he's got this strict moral code about not killing anyone, but it's ok to beat them to within an inch of their life, is it? Ok to pound them into a bloody pulp? Jesus Christ, Mr. J, he's got no business punishing you! He's the monster! You just try to make people laugh! He's the one who gets off on the violence! He's the sadist! He's…"

She broke off, sobbing. "Hey, hey, hey, baby," he murmured, taking her gently in his arms. "Don't talk about Bats like that. He's a great guy, really, and makes life a lot of fun for me. Only sometimes…sometimes the joke gets old," he said, looking back at the mirror. "And sometimes I just wish he'd get it, and stop all this ridiculous fighting. We're on the same side, him and me. Both two guys who realize that the world's a madhouse, and we have to do the best we can to survive in it. Both two guys who realize we're the sane ones among the loonies. And both two guys who intend to make the most of our superiority, and have a little fun along the way. I get it – why can't he?"

"Cause he's stupid, Mr. J," she muttered. "Just like all bullies. Stupid and selfish and cowardly. He's afraid of you, that's why he does this. It would be easy enough just to knock you unconscious, or restrain you, but no, he has to do this. To beat you down and break you apart, because he's so goddamn insecure…"

"Harley, don't," he interrupted. "It don't make things better."

"Don't do this, Mr. J!" she shrieked. "Don't defend him to me! He ain't nothing like you, I don't care what you say! You don't do this to people! You kill 'em, or hurt 'em, because it's funny! Because it makes you laugh! But this ain't funny, puddin'! Nobody's laughing at this! This is just cruel and hurtful! You ain't cruel compared to him! If you attack a guy, at least the woman waiting for him at home knows he's dead! But me…I gotta suffer this over and over again, the waiting, the goddamn waiting, the uncertainty of not knowing if you'll come back or not, and if you'll even be able to hold me when you do! I just gotta wait and not know! And there's nothing crueler than that, Mr. J! Nothing!"

She burst into tears. "Baby," he murmured, taking her gently in his arms and wincing at the pain of holding her against his bruises. "Baby, shh, it's ok. It's ok, pumpkin pie. Hey, don't cry, kiddo, you wouldn't want Daddy to think you're a crybaby, would you? Daddy doesn't like tears. What does Daddy like?" he whispered, tilting her face up to his.

"Smiles," she murmured. "Smiles and laughter."

"That's right, cupcake," he murmured. "Smiles and laughter. So c'mon, give Daddy a little smile? It would make him feel lots better."

Harley sighed, then managed a small grin. "That's my girl!" he laughed. "C'mon, sweets, it is kinda funny when you think about it, isn't it?"

"You being hurt ain't funny to me, Mr. J," she whispered.

"Oh, but it is, pooh," he retorted, grinning. "It's funny because I go through all the violence, all the pain, and it don't make a difference. It don't mean nothing. It's a joke, pooh bear, all of this. Just one big joke on the Bat. He gets off on doing this because he thinks it does some good – he thinks it's going to stop me in the future. But it ain't. That's the joke. He can beat me as hard as he likes, and I'll always smile and laugh and keep doing what I do. Don't you think that's funny?"

"The idea, yeah," retorted Harley. "A little harder to laugh at it in practice, Mr. J, seeing you all battered like this."

He chuckled. "Well, I can still laugh anyway, and that's what matters." He turned to look in the mirror again and giggled uncontrollably. Harley managed another grin – his laughter always made her smile, even against her will. She gently took his face in her hands and turned it back to her.

"I love you, Mr. J," she whispered, kissing him.

"Yeah, I know, dollface," he murmured, hugging her gently. He kissed the top of her head tenderly and then said, "Think you can get the bloodstains out of the suit?"

"If I work on it now while it's wet," she replied. "So take it off, Mr. J," she ordered, grinning.

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, smiling back. Harley giggled as he undressed, tossing his jacket, shirt, and pants at her, so that he was only wearing his undershirt and boxers.

"Keep going, Mr. J," she whispered.

"Not tonight, toots, I'm feeling a little tender," he replied. "I know violence usually puts me in the mood, but I won't be very agile tonight, trust me."

Harley smiled at him. "Well, maybe your Harley girl can make it all better by kissing your boo boo. Or maybe blowing on it. Would you like that, Mr. J?"

"Suit first, kiddo," he replied, grinning. "Then we'll see what you can blow on."

She giggled again as she went over to the bath and filled it up. Then she placed the suit in the soapy water and began scrubbing at it, while the Joker began to put antiseptic on the cuts on his face, flinching.

"You want help with that, puddin'?" she asked.

"Nah, it'll hurt less if I do it myself," he replied. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy you giving me pain, pooh," he added, grinning. "But I'll take care of my face, you take care of the suit. You can see which one I value more," he chuckled.

Harley laughed too, and returned her attention to the suit, her face falling when she saw how red the water was getting, and how much blood was actually on the suit. She wondered if it was her precious puddin's blood, or the Bat's blood. She vehemently hoped it was the latter's. She hoped he was really hurt, really in pain, lots more than Mr. J was. The Bat deserved it. Why couldn't he just leave them alone? The self-righteous bastard. He wasn't the law, or the police – he was just some nosy busybody with too much time on his hands, some crazy nutjob who enjoyed beating up people for fun. The law and the police existed so that order could be maintained – the Bat just caused chaos. And not fun chaos like Mr. J. It just wasn't fair. The police were the authority society had set up to stop crime and mayhem. Mr. J had outsmarted them – he always did. So now they sent a caped freak to challenge him? That didn't seem fair. They were losing, and so now they were cheating. But that was the way the good guys worked, she guessed. It wasn't that they always won – it was just they didn't accept defeat when they lost. So they used whatever methods necessary to make sure they won eventually, even if it meant hurting people, even if it meant sacrificing everything they were fighting for in pursuit of their destruction. They were ruthless, and evil. Why couldn't any of them just accept that Mr. J was right, and had won? Because he was, and he had. But she seemed to be the only one smart enough to see that.

Her angry thoughts had been taken out on the suit by violently scrubbing it, so that the bloodstains were all but gone from it by the time she was returned to reality by the Joker putting his hand on her shoulder. "Easy, slugger, you'll put holes in it," he murmured.

"Sorry, Mr. J," she replied, holding it up. "Does it look all right?"

He nodded. "Nice work, kiddo," he said, pinching her cheek. "Now let's leave it to dry and go to bed. I'm beat," he chuckled.

Harley didn't laugh. She didn't smile as she helped him into bed, her heart torn by every wince and flinch as he tried to lie down without touching his bruises. Her eyes just filled with tears as she lay down next to him. She tentatively tried to snuggle into his body, but he hissed in pain as she leaned against his wounds. She drew away, but he pulled her back into his embrace. "It's ok, kid, I like the way it hurts," he smiled.

She studied the deep, ugly cuts on his chest and face, the tears falling from her eyes. "Why is he so evil, Mr. J?" she whispered.

"He ain't evil, sweets. He's just wrong," murmured Joker.

"Ain't that the same thing?" she asked.

He was silent. "Look, pumpkin, whenever you get angry at him, whenever you hate him, whenever you wish him more pain than he could ever inflict upon me, I just want you to remember one thing."

"What's that, Mr. J?" she asked.

He grinned. "Bats don't come home to this," he murmured, kissing her. "Night, pooh bear."

"Night, puddin'," she breathed, cuddling against his battered body. She did smile when she thought about that. Bad guys always did end up alone. Evil, wicked people like Batman didn't have anyone to love them. While Mr. J had her, his devoted and adoring Harley girl. She was the woman who loved him beyond reason. And he was her hero.

The End