Author's Note: Greetings! My first fan fic ever! Constructive criticism greatly appreciated! See a mistake, pretty please let me know! Allow me to set the scene for you, fair readers: this particular story is taken directly from a scene Brian Azzarello's 2008 novel Joker. The panel shows our beloved Clown Prince seated (as I have described below), hovering over the telephone while Gotham bleeds from a turf war between himself and Two-Face. You'll find that the Joker is not only a drug addict but also very sexually active (as we all like to think he is). I tried to keep the characters in context with Azzarello's vision, so he and Harley may not be the bouncy, cartoony psychpaths we all know and love. Some of the lines are directly from the novel itself (end dialogue). Plus, there wasn't enough Harley in the novel, so I endeavored to tell this from her perspective. Enjoy and review! :)

Disclaimer: I own nada. Nothing. Zilch. Get the picture?

He didn't move for three days.

I was worried that he was beginning to wear a permanent groove into the five thousand dollar high backed velvet chaise I'd bought last year. The least of my worries, really.

The endless supply of prescription drugs lay scattered like so many dead leaves across the bear skin rug. Dots of pink and blue added a confetti–like appearance to the bear's stuffed head, forever frozen in a menacing growl. Somehow, several pills ended up sitting ever so perfectly in the bear's gaping mouth. Comical…truly it was a sight to see.

There he sat, a veritable prince upon his throne. His slender gloved fingers rapped a steady beat upon the polished wood of the arm rest. He had not the posture of one who was proud. A contemplative visage of patience. He wasn't anxious or irritated. He showed no signs of fatigue or distress. His slouch was casual...content to do nothing but wait. His knees swung apart from one another, set and still as his lungs and heart worked the only obvious actions of his slow and heavy breathing.

The wounds from the cop's ambush, quite fresh upon his glowing skin, stretched along his forehead, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose. He concealed the remainder of his sustained bruises and injuries beneath the charming guise of his apparel. No one would see them but me.

I hated seeing him this way. I knew, however, to interfere with him now meant a guaranteed death sentence. I ignored his wandering green eyes as I milled about the room after work. Since he'd destroyed The Grin and Bare It, I sought after other available opportunities. I had to be his eyes and ears for him. No one else was up to the task. He never complained, of course. My front as a stripper was hardly of import to him.

If anyone could make this stop it was Harvey Dent. I hope he'd come to his senses sooner rather than later. My angel never cared much for playing the waiting game.

The first night I'd found him exactly as I left him, the bottle of Knob Creek Bourbon half empty at his side. His cell phone lay open beside the bottle. I deciphered precisely what was going on.

He was waiting for Harvey to call.

Worse than a woman, I thought miserably, dropping my bag at the foot of our bed and sliding over to the bathroom. I came out a few minutes later and proceeded to strip myself of my garments. The summer was shaping up to be an uncomfortably humid one, and the skin tight leather of my pants clung oppressively to my body. When I'd finally peeled every last article of clothing from my suffocating skin, I shook out the plaits in my hair and snuck a peek at him from the corner of my eye. He observed me with mild interest. He enjoyed a good show. It hardly ever got the desired results, but his mind strayed nevertheless. He was, after all, still a man, whether he cared to admit it or not. I gave him a wink over my bare shoulder and my best million dollar smile. No response from my beloved.

No, my undressing would certainly not remove him from the mission at hand, and I resigned myself to a well-earned shower. I didn't bother keeping my towel afterwards; I had nothing to hide from him. I strutted purposefully to my wardrobe, swinging open the double doors and bending over for him to better see me. I could feel his piercing gaze as I reached for some flimsy little piece of rose colored fabric and slipped it over my head. The man has a will of iron, I decided, grabbing a cigarette and lighter and collapsing on the bed.

I puffed delicate smoke rings into the thick air, refraining from initiating any conversation. He'd speak when he felt like it. I've learned the hard way. Always a lesson to be learned from him. When would I ever truly understand?

It was then I realized he hadn't changed at all. He wore his favorite pressed purple slacks, goldenrod button-up, and hand stitched green vest, complete with elegant spats shined to the toe. The clothes I'd seen him in early this morning.

God, he has such wonderful taste.

The reputable war paint, which he applied with little care, was already smudged in several places, exposing the pale cream of his natural skin. Probably from the heat, I speculated. I twisted my back to one side, hearing the crack reverberate up my spine as the discs gave way and sighed deeply. He wore a hint of a smile dancing ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth. The scars dictated his smile would never fade, but I knew better.

"Long day, dearest?" he asked at last. I put out my cigarette by the nightstand and rolled on my stomach to face him.

"I heard those two detectives were shot this afternoon. Everyone was talking about it at the club. They're saying Jonny Jonny and the boys did it," I commented lightly, watching his features carefully. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, the puckered skin of his scars twitching slightly with the arrival of a growl swelling in his throat. Or was it a chuckle?

"Indeed they did, my love."

Harvey crossed the line. Since my beloved landed back on the scene, Harvey had done nothing but shun him like some ill-behaved pet. The price of doing business on the streets was doing it with Harvey nowadays. My baby didn't like that. No, he didn't like that at all.

"They had connections to Harvey…you're going to make him pay, aren't you, honey?" I cooed, smiling delightedly. He chuckled like the devil he was as he folded his hands together and placed them gingerly between his knees.

"Yes, pooh. I am."

The second night, I arrived at our penthouse around four a.m. It was a late night, even for me.

This time I found him looking shabbier than he had the day before, his clothes somewhat wrinkled, rather drab and unseemly. Not like him at all. His attire was one of his highest priorities. I suspected this waiting game was on the verge of obsessive heights. I thought I was bad. His emerald eyes commanded a blaze of determination, smoldering persistently against the contrasting backdrop of his disheveled appearance. I walked calmly into the room, removing my jacket and allowing the strap of my top to slide off one shoulder. The windows were wide open, welcoming a soft breeze. The smell of the rain drifted in and out of the room while I busied myself tying back the velveteen curtains to allow more sufficient air circulation. As before, he sat in silence, the bottle of whiskey utterly spent of its content this time. His cell phone snapped shut next to it. I stood behind his chair, biting my lip. I desperately longed for his touch. It'd only been two days. I was starting to get greedy. Christ, how much longer could this go on? I wanted to scream, to tell him he was acting like a child. He didn't honestly have to sit all day and do nothing!

"Spoiled," he told me once. "I spoil you."

Damn it. I didn't care if he did hit me. I tilted my head around the side of the chair and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. I felt his make-up smear against my own lipstick and come away on my mouth. I inhaled the scent of his cool musk, the spice of bourbon, and salty sweat, closing my eyes, imagining him towering over me in bed. I battled the urge to run my fingers through the coils of green locks. No…it'd be too much. He said nothing. He didn't even flinch. Several moments passed. Nothing but the whisper of his hollow breathing. I took this as a sign that he'd accepted my gesture but I should not expect anything more of him tonight. Satisfied I'd not been slapped for my boldness, I meandered back to my bed, feeling the lids of my eyes dropping slowly. I changed quietly and went about my nightly routine with hardly the . I wondered if I'd pissed him off. If I had, he would have thrown me across the room instantly. I reminded myself this had nothing to do with me. This was all Harvey's doing. The livestock by the docks were found torn to shreds just this morning. Croc must have been hungry, no doubt. Several other cops were shot following the investigation an explosion at Sami's bar just before I got off work. The boys were up to no good. All conceived to drive Harvey to the brink of desperation. I had a good mind at the moment to drag his sorry carcass back here myself.

Before this was all over, Harvey would lose something dear. He would make sure of it.

At least things would go back to normal…as normal as they got around here anyway.

I snapped off the bedroom light, dismayed at the notion of spending another night in bed alone. He didn't move the night before. What was the chance he'd give in tonight? Before I could crawl beneath the covers for the night, his raspy voice breached the darkness.



"Get over here and suck me off!" he snarled impatiently, sending shivers of pleasure rushing through my core.

I smiled to myself, throwing my bare legs over the side of the bed. Tonight may be a good night after all.

On the third and final evening, everyone in town seethed with rabid fury over the full-blown turf war. The fellas were making Gotham a toilet…and my darling sat in it.

A tray with a luminous pile of pure cocaine sat on the chaise opposite him when I arrived home. I quirked an eyebrow with curiosity, watching as he leaned forward in his seat, resting one hand on his forehead, an empty pill bottle tightly clenched in his fist. Droplets of sweat gently kneaded his temples. His eyes lay hidden under the thick veil of lidded lashes. He was coming down from his high. Fast. He licked his cracked lips slowly, lingering on the corners of his mouth, a habit he'd had as long as I'd known him.

"Hey, Puddin'," I greeted him calmly, discarding my jacket and bag to kneel at his feet. No more games. This madness had to end. He grinned widely at the sight of me, his yellowed teeth flashing confidently in my face.

"Harley, baby!" he shouted, squeezing my lips together like a fish with one hand and planting a kiss on me.

"Can I get you a glass of champagne, love?" I asked sweetly, rubbing his thighs with my palms. He let out a long, theatrical sigh, stretching his long torso the length of the chaise.

"Do I look like I need a drink?"

"I just thought—"

"Well, sweetness, nobody asked you to think," he interjected sternly, chucking the bottle hand across the room. I heard it land with a soft plunk on the carpet and rose to my feet to escape his oncoming wrath. Without warning, he snatched me by the wrist and dragged me into his lap. His hot breath came in short waves against my neck as he snickered maniacally to himself. I shuddered with desire, heat swelling in my abdomen. I missed being so close, suddenly drunk on the power and fire seeping from his figure.

"What's the good word, cupcake?" he asked dangerously. A shock of fear sparked inside of me at the touch of his fingers on the back of my neck. He applied a bruising amount of pressure and I silently hoped he wasn't planning on choking me. Not now. This wasn't bedtime behavior.

"Stacked in your favor," I whispered hopefully into his ear.

"Where is Harvey then?" he grumbled, releasing me with a grunt of disdain. I staggered to regain my balance. Swirling about on my toes, I straightened my dress and rolled my eyes. Jackass.

"He'll have to raise the white flag sooner of later," I said over my shoulder as I stalked to the mini fridge to pull out a bottle of champagne.

"Cupcake, don't talk about things you know nothing about," he warned me in a cheery voice. Worse than the most blatant intimidation he could ever evoke. I departed the field of egg shells and opted to agree with him instead. If anyone should incur his rage, it should be Harvey, not me.

"You're right."

I grabbed the dirty glass at my nightstand, inspecting it briefly before judging it suitable for drinking. God, make this stop. Was it possible that he was driving me nuts?

I settled back on my heels on the bed, gingerly twisting the top of the champagne bottle when the overbearing silence was shredded to pieces by the sound of his cell phone. A fiendish grin rolled over the length of his scars; he ran his tongue over his lips and pouted his mouth in a calculating manner. It appeared as though he was debating whether or not to take the call. I froze, my eyes locked on his phone. I hoped he didn't hear my heart yammering unforgivingly inside my ribcage. He twiddled his thumbs nonchalantly as the phone rang a second time. Then a third. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, upon which stubble began to emerge, and took up the phone. Flipping it open with his thumb, he cleared his throat before sliding it deftly upon his ear. Such a showman. I remained silent as his cold jade eyes flickered in my direction.

"Hello? Why, Harvey…" that fabulously disgusting smile got even wider, if that was conceivable. I bounced on the bed, holding back the impulse to squeal with glee. He sank back triumphantly on his throne. "Sucks to be you doesn't it? Or does it? I never know who I'm talking to…"

He winked at me; I pressed my toes into the plush mattress, my cheeks burned from the subtly flirtatious gesture. Ready to melt on command. He went on casually, "Yes, you're right. We do need to talk face to face…to face."

He snapped the phone shut and tossed it lightly upon the mattress. In one swift moment, he was on his feet and straightening his tie.

"We've got a date, my sweet," he untangled a knot of his hair with hasty hands. In the blink of an eye, his limitless energy returned. You'd never even be able to recognize he was on his ass for the last three days. He practically dove for his face paints, but stopped short in his steps to glance at me.

"Better get out that gorilla costume, Harl. We're off to the zoo! Gotta blend in with the rest of the apes." He winked and disappeared into the bathroom.

I popped open the champagne with an ecstatic giggle and attempted to press my lips to the overflowing bottle. As the bubbles swam over my chin and down my neck, I grinned. He's home...

Waiting time is over. Let the games begin.


Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for giving me the chance to share this piece with you! Reviews are welcome!