A/N: Well we finally have a second chapter. It's not long, this story is going to 4 chapters, 5 at the most. This chapter is to further introduce Harley's guilt over the Joker's actions while struggling with her feelings for him. Sure he's a murderous, abusive a**hole, but he's also all she's got.

So we pick up a few hours later.

Harley closed the door to the small hide-out cabin, holding the knob so the latch wouldn't make a sound. She took her boots off carefully without shaking the snow off of them. She took her jacket off praying that the zipper would remain silent when she placed it on the wooden counter. She did not want to bring any attention to herself yet. Not when the Joker stared intently at the burned wood in the fireplace. Not when she was nearly chocking on his seemingly grim mood.

But she knew better.

He was blood thirsty.

A caged lion just waiting for someone to get close enough to the bars.

That was Harley's job. But that was a job she didn't feel like performing this evening. She had a more pressing matter on her mind. But she didn't want to think about that either...

Harley gathered up a couple of logs and tip-toed to the fireplace. As she placed them inside one by one, she watched the Joker in the corner of her eye. He didn't seem to see her. He was still entranced in his own thoughts. She was fine with that.

Even if she wasn't.

He'd killed him.

He'd killed Robin.

Right in front of Batman…

Harley struck a match and dropped it onto the pile of wood. The flames started small, but she watched it grow. Grow until the fire was slowly burning the wood away.

Harley bit her lip and forced back the tears in her eyes. But her guilt kept climbing up her throat. Down on her knees she glanced up at the Joker as his eyes danced in the flames.

He was reliving it. He was watching the warehouse explode. He was watching the debris being launched into the air, imagining Robin as he was blown away, and then watching everything fall back into the snow. Dirtying its purity. And then… watching Batman race into the ruins even though he knew exactly what he would find.

While the Joker reimagined his victory, Harley studied him. She watched his hands twitch in his pockets. Watched as his shoulders spread. Watched as his chest slowly expanded. Watched as the corners of his mouth pulled upwards.

He was proud.

It scared her.

But there was no one here to protect her.

Harley crawled over and lay her head on top of the Joker's foot, curled up in a small ball.

"Puddin…" she whispered, half hoping he wouldn't hear her.

The Joker didn't move. He didn't acknowledge her existence. He remained absorbed in his fantasy, so Harley simply turned her face into his shoe to sleep.

That was wrong…