The Joker, Harley Quinn, and Batman do not belong to me. Only in my dreams...

Two Bullet Holes Are Better Than One


Harley gasped, waking up with a jolt from the worst nightmare she had ever had in her long history of nightmarish dreams.

The worst part was that it had felt so real. Harley pulled her covers around her body, shaking like a frightened baby rabbit. Thinking about her beloved Joker dying was surely bad enough.

But seeing it play out in dream-mode (or nightmare-mode, as the case was) had been absolute torture.

At least there had been one good part to it. Her puddin' had finally admitted he loved her. With his last breath, yes, but still. It was a fact that people showed their 'true colors' in their last moments—the Joker himself had taught her that.

Waaaaaiiiit a second. It had only been a dream. Oh, well (she still knew he loved her).

"But was it really all a dream?" whispered Harley, blinking so hard and so fast that her blonde pigtails almost bounced, "My puddin's not really dead…right?" She listened carefully for the Joker. It was early in the morning. He was probably still sleeping.

"But he laughs in his sleep," said Harley, strainining to hear anything, anything at all.

There was nothing.

"Like in my dream!" Harley whispered, "I walked into the warehouse, and no-one said nuthin' 'cuz Mistah J had kicked the bucket!" She quickly hopped out of bed, and, disentangling herself from her blanket, started towards the door.

Then she stopped in her tracks. "Why am I in here?!" Harley said, blinking a few more times. No, no, usually she and the Joker shared a room (lots and lots and lots of whining had forced him to finally give in)….but…then why was she here? the basement?

"Oh, yeah," said Harley as realization hit her. She had screwed up one of Mistah J's plans. And he had been so furious that, thanks to her, they had missed out on a 'wonderful opportunity to take out the bat' that he had forced her to sleep in the basement.

At least he had given her a blanket.

On the downside, he had locked the door. Oy.

"Sheesh, when he's mad, he's mad…" Harley muttered, taking out a bobby pin and swiftly picking the lock. The door swung open, and she dashed up the steps to find the Joker.

She was a little scared of what she'd find. He wouldn't actually be dead, right? It had just been a dream…right?

But Harley wouldn't be able to think if she didn't know for sure that her puddin' was a-ok.

She wasn't thinking straight—and that was why she arrived in the Joker's (purple and green painted) room and threw herself on him, screaming, "WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP!!!"

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Startled, the Joker fell on the floor with a loud scream. Regaining his senses, he sat up and glared murderously at Harley…

…who squealed happily, and hugged him tightly.

"Harley…" growled the Joker, getting angrier by the second.

All Harley said in return was, "You're alive!"

Joker pried her off him. "Yes, Harley…very keen observational skills ya have there…" Pushing her roughly away from him, he added, "Mind explaining to me why you're screaming at the top of your lungs at—" He checked his watch. "—2 o'clock in the morning?!??"

Harley had begun to cry again—now she stopped and gazed at him. "I had a bad dream."

Joker stared at her, then stood and went back to his bed. "G'night."

She pulled him back to her. "No, wait—it was a really bad dream. Dontcha wanna know what it was about?"

He yawned. "Not really."

Harley began to tell him anyway. "We were gonna set off a huge bomb, and the whole Bat Crew came 'cuz…I guess I messed something up—"

"There's a big surprise," cut the Joker.

"—and they came an' Batgirl chased me outside and I had to leave you with Batman and Robin and Nightwing!" She paused and looked at him. "Sorry."

He yawned again. "Whatever."

"So then after Batgirl had left, I went back to our hideout, an' the lights were all out and stuff so I was calling for you and looking for the lights, but I couldn't find them. You know how those warehouses are really big, ya can't find anything there…"

"Don't I know it," grumbled Joker.

"So I was looking and calling and looking and calling, and then I found the light switch and I turned it on—" Harley mimed flipping on a light switch. "But the lights didn't come on for a second or two, so while I was walkin', I tripped on something." She had been walking around, and now she pretended to trip. She fell to the floor at the Joker's feet.

He put a hand to his forehead. "You're trying my patience, Harley…and you know I have very little of that…"

"So I turned—" She turned. "—to see what I had tripped on. And it was you!"

The Joker blinked. "Well, that's stupid. What was I doing lying on the floor?"

Harley started to cry again. "Y-you were dead…I…I saw the bullet hole…and I started crying…" She wiped away her tears and stood up. "An' I started yelling while I was crying 'cuz I was mad at Batman for...for killing you…and then guess who showed up?"

Flatly, the Joker responded, "Santa Claus?"

She sniffed. "B-Batman."

"Oh. I was close."

"And he said that he was sorry that he killed you and that he was sorry he had always told me that you didn't love me 'cuz apparently when ya died that last thing you said was that you did." She looked at the Joker to see how he would respond.

"I don't get it. Did what?"

"Love me."

He snorted, and then went to go back to bed. "Sheesh. Stop fantasizing so much; it's unhealthy."

Harley pulled him back again, ignoring his irritated sigh. "And…and then I really went bezerk, and I looked around 'til I found a gun and then…and then I killed myself… 'c-cuz I couldn't live without ya." She made her fingers into a gun-shape, and then pretended to shoot herself, falling backwards with a 'thud.' "See, like that. BANG!"

Joker gave her a long, confused look.

"Then I woke up. And I was scared! I thought that you might be actually dead, even thought it had jus' been a dream. So I ran over to your room—" She gestured around her. "—to make sure that you were ok." Harley hugged him tightly again. "And you are!"

The only thing he said was, "Are you done?"

Harley nodded.

Joker slapped her, so hard it sent her spiraling across the room. When she hit the wall, he climbed back into bed. "I'm done hearing your disturbed dreams. 'Night, Harl." As he pulled the covers over him, he muttered something along the lines of "…so pathetic it's not even funny…" He was still scowling when he closed his eyes.

Harley stood up and blew a kiss, undaunted by that last blow. She turned on her heel to leave—

—and stopped mid-turn. What if I have another bad dream? Tapping one finger against her chin, Harley studied the Joker. After a moment, she walked back and climbed into bed next to him, wrapping her arms around him.

She could have sworn that she saw him smile.