A/N: Hello my lovely readers! Sorry for the long update period but I've been on vacation in the mountains without computer access. It was saddening. Please review and I'll give you a purple and green cake with red and black sprinkles on it (I seriously made one the other day – twas delicious). Enjoy! I love you all.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat

"We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

-Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Harleen Quinzel lay on the dirty moth eaten couch in the Joker's hide out with her legs carelessly crossed over the arm of the furniture.

Harley smiled at what she'd just written in her notebook. Yes, it was true. She was indeed lying on the dirty moth eaten couch in the Joker's hide out with her legs carelessly crossed over the arm of the furniture.

It was glorious.

She'd just gotten back from school and had flung her back pack by the doorway and thrown herself on the couch with her English Lit notebook. She was supposed to be taking notes on The Mad Tea Party Scene from Alice in Wonderland but frankly, she thought, her own situation was a little more interesting than a crazed hatter spouting potentially useless and definitely cryptic advice.

After all, it wasn't everyday you got to hang out with a super villain that you just happened to be in love with.

Even if he didn't know…or care.

Not that she minded, of course. Even after only a week of him training her, teaching her how to shoot a gun, what commands the dogs used, how to use a knife properly, getting creative with you weapons, how to make people writhe in pain without killing them accidentally, where the internal organs are, how to treat wounds without a PhD., how to make a bomb, etc., she was sure that some force had guided her to him. Not only that, but there was chemistry between them. It was in every touch, every glance, and every laugh that only drew her to him more closely.

The laughter was another thing. Harley smiled as the very thought of his laughter made what felt like an electric current rise up her spine and all through her.

It had become a game – to see just how much she could make him laugh. It was usually unexpected, or right when she was sure he was going to explode with rage because of something she'd done, he'd just stop and start laughing. Sometimes, when he was having a really good day, it would be as if they were in their own little world where nothing, not even threats of the GPD or Batman closing in, could get to them and they'd just have uncontrollable fits of laughter.

Harley adored his laughter. Some days, though, it scared her. Sometimes, she'd noticed, that the laughter was simply the calm before the storm. There were days when he'd lash out at the thing nearest to him and it unfortunately was usually her. Not that she minded really. When a super villain was the love of your life you were bound to collect a few scrapes and bruises along the way. Besides it wasn't heavy duty, just a few slaps and hair grabs at the most.

Harley sighed, dreamily and went to the window, putting her hands on the sill. Guessing from the screams of pain coming from the other room, Mr. J was doing business with some mobster.

The "playroom" door slammed and Mr. J came out. He was in full Joker gear today and he looked murderous. The last of the Arkham drugs had finally left his system. Too bad the stupid Italian had picked today to send a large shipment of guns over to Metropolis without his permission, but it would set the record straight when the others' heard. He shook his head and cleaned his knife on his already bloody gloves, you'd think they'd have learned by now just who they were dealing with.

He looked over to see Harley's backpack at the door and scowled. He wasn't sure why but the girl was growing on him, as much as he hated to admit.

Something had to be done.

He walked up behind her and flipped her around so she was facing him. The blonde smiled and pressed her hands to his chest, her heart racing.

"Hey Puddin' guess what?" she singsonged.

He sighed and decided to play along as an idea came to him.


"I'm gonna be eighteen tomorrow!" she exploded the news as if she'd been holding it in for years. He smirked and licked his scars.

"Guess I'll have to give you your birthday present then. Tell me, do you want it now or later?"

Harley thought for a moment, scrunching up her face a little in the process, going along with the banter.

"Now." He smiled wickedly at her and gripped her wrists tightly.

Her face fell and Harley unconsciously took a step back, the smile on his face was there but his eyes darkened dangerously. The usual watery brown had just turned into a hard black, like onyx, and she'd seen that look too many times before to know it didn't bode well for the person on the receiving end of it.

"Hey, hey, shhhh," he took on an innocent expression but his eyes stayed the same as he pulled her towards him. She'd never seen him like this.

It was the most frightening thing she'd ever witnessed.

He was beautiful.

"I-I think I want it l-later, Puddin," she stammered, unable to turn away from his eyes as they burned into her.

"Ah, ah ah, Harleen, you know what they always say," he said as he flicked open a switchblade from nowhere and waved it to punctuate his words.

"What's that, Mr. J?" she said faintly, trying to smile as she eyed the blade warily.

The leaned her into the couch and pinned her, his breath close to her ear sending a mixture of pleasant and terrified shivers through her.

"Better late than never," he dropped his voice into that demonic octave that always managed to make people realize he wasn't just some silly loony escaped from Arkham.

He sliced through the skin in her cheek with one quick swift movement and she yelped in surprise as the pain washed through her face and, before she could stop them, tears mixing in with her blood, the salt stinging her.

He stopped and looked at her impatiently.

"Hey," he grabbed her chin and looked her over. He studied her face for a second and gave her a furrowed his brows.

"Well, it's no fun if you're already crying."

Disappointment washed through her as she fought to stop her tears. He wasn't proud of her; it was all over his face.

"S-sor-sor-sorry," she choked back her tears and covered her mouth. He smiled at her and patted her shoulder.

"That's my girl," he said before going back to slashing through her face.

Harley's heart soared. He'd called her his girl. She was his girl. The previous disappointment in herself melted away as his words made her feel so happy she could sing, albeit loud and out of key, but there was no other way to describe the way it made her feel. The pain in the left side of her face meant nothing now. Besides, whatever he was doing might even be an improvement. Now she'd really belong to him. And no one, not her father, not nasty school girls, not no one was gonna take him away from her.

The Joker worked over her face. He wouldn't kill her. Oh no, she had far too much potential for that, besides playing with her emotion was almost as fun as toying with Batman. However, that wasn't the point of this. The point was that if she wanted this badly enough she had to stick with it. To create chaos, you had to know chaos and this was just the beginning.