I wanted to do something a bit different for me: Bermejo Joker and Harley. If you haven't read the Joker graphic novel: a) you won't know what's going on in this story, and b) WHY HAVEN'T YOU READ IT YET? Hehe! Please read and review. :-)

Harley applied her ruby red lipstick as the beams of the light bulbs surrounding her vanity mirror reflected and bounced off her fair complexion. She sprayed her hair once more, making sure the upright braids stayed in place, and she finally placed her toiletries aside and stared at herself.

She was glowing and she knew why. He was coming home tonight.

The radio played softly in the corner of her dressing room and she closed her eyes as Mick Jagger sang about painting the world black. She loved this song; it reminded her of him.

The night before, she had softly slumbered in their bed, alone, like she had for several months. She had been awoken by the noise of the phone on the bedside table and she had carefully placed the receiver to her lips with a gentle "Hello?"

The low purr of his voice sent chills down her back and made her heart pound. Her eyes watered as she listened to him, having very little words for him due to the sudden surprise.

He only chuckled at her shocked silence, making her giggle in turn. He then told her of his impending return and gave her specific instructions, being adamant about her obedience. She agreed with a grin and, as they bid a farewell, she could have sworn that she heard him blow a quiet kiss through the receiver that had echoed in her ear for the rest of the night.

A knock at the door made her bolt off her stool and she quickly closed her cropped denim jacket. "Yes?" she called out.

The door creaked open and her pounding heart finally slowed as Tracey's face appeared. "You're on in ten minutes, honey."

Harley sighed. It was time.

"Okay, Tracey," she told her fellow dancer. The door closed and Harley took one final look at herself before exiting her dressing room, and she gave herself a smile.

She had missed smiling.

Minutes later, she was patiently waiting for her cue to walk to the stage, and she leaned against the bar a few feet from the entrance of The Grin and Bare It.

Every time the door would open the pounding of her heart would reach her throat, and she took a deep breath when she finally heard his voice greet Monty, the interim manager of the club during The Joker's absence.

Harley listened as they spoke, keeping a straight face and staring at the spot she would soon take on the stage in front of her. She knew it would be difficult to not cut her eyes to him when she had to walk across the floor in front of the bar and in the path of the stool in which he was now sitting.

The music suddenly changed to a thumping beat that echoed off the walls and she pursed her lips as she gripped her bag tightly and strutted toward her way to perform.

Although she managed to keep her eyes forward as she traversed, she couldn't help but feel his leering glance and she was sure that his smile was burning into her as he watched her.

Without thinking, she put a small sway into her hips.

She always kept her eyes down when she danced, and she was thankful she did as she never felt that she danced for anyone in particular. They were all the same eyes, the same faces, and the same shouts.

But not tonight. He was in the audience tonight, and even though he was too busy with Monty, she danced for him.

Harley was on her knees now, bringing up the rest of her red and black jumpsuit and slipping her arms into it. Before zipping it over her pert breasts, she reached into her bag and brought out her cowl, and she felt herself transform when it glided over her hair and perfectly shaped her eyes as she brought her gaze upward and looked, not at The Joker, but at their imminent prey that was still sitting at the bar.

The crowd began to jeer when Harley quickly zipped up her suit and turned toward the red curtain behind her. She turned to her disappointed audience and blew a kiss before hiding herself in the darkness behind the stage.

"You think I wouldn't come back to find your greasy fingers in my books?" his voice growled within the bass of the speakers.

Harley could hear Monty's pleading as The Joker held him by the throat, stripping him of his clothing. He suddenly brought his free hand behind him and she reached into her bag and retrieved the hacksaw. Before Monty could utter another supplication, the teeth of the saw ripped through his skin.

It had been a while since Harley had seen blood in this capacity and she bit her lip in excitement as she watched him perfect his art.

Minutes later, the music was brought to a halt as a skinned Monty stumbled onto the stage, knocking his head into the upright pole and flopping down like a disposed piece of rancid meat.

The audience was in shock and The Joker, not looking at her, gave Harley the hacksaw and she held it at her side as she joined him and received the full attention of the shaken faces around.

Later that night, the new kid had taken them back to their penthouse, and Harley went to their mini bar to fix the men a drink, but the feeling of The Joker's hand on her arm made her stop. His lips approached her ear and his familiar purr echoed, "No need. He's not staying long."

She nodded, not looking into his eyes. She had been afraid to all evening, not really sure that if she did, the plan would be ruined. She hadn't spoken either, but this wasn't because of his instructions. She blamed the shock that was still fresh within her, the shock that he was out of Arkham and was finally home.

Harley set down the high ball glasses and walked to their bedroom where she shut the door to let the men talk of the next day's plans. She decided to straighten the room a bit, putting the pills back into the bottle and the white powder back into her vintage medicine box she kept in her personal vanity. After she arranged the satin sheets on their bed, she went into the bathroom and undressed, and soon the cold water from the shower brought her out of her shocked state and her tears finally fell.

She splashed her face under the stinging cold and continued to cry as she found the scar on her left hip where he had left a jagged rendering of his initial with his blade just days before he was taken to Arkham. Harley started to laugh softly to herself, knowing that she had followed his instructions perfectly, and her relieved tears retreated as she made a soapy lather on her chest and neck.

The shower had felt good on her hot skin and the chill stayed within her body as she dried herself. She wrapped the towel around her slender frame and combed out the heavily sprayed tangles in her hair. When she had finally smoothed them out, she quickly placed her comb onto the sink counter when she heard their bedroom door open and close.

He sighed as he walked toward the bathroom and she heard the familiar tossing of dirty shoes against the wall. Harley brought her gaze downward to her hands as the door opened and she heard the soft shuffle of his socks as he approached her.

Her heart pounded as he stood behind her, not touching her for the longest time. Suddenly, his gloved hand swept across the clean skin of her neck, moving her long hair away and bringing his lips downward.

The Joker still didn't touch her, but just inhaled deeply at first. Harley soon had to support herself against the counter when he finally put his nose to her skin and nuzzled it into the nape of her neck.

The scarred corners of his mouth made her breath escape past her lips and his hands were soon resting on her hips. He kept taking deep breaths against her and then finally raised his head and said, against her shoulder, "You don't smell that in a hospital...right, Harley?"

Harley nodded, shivering at the intonation of his voice as he said her name.

"Look in the mirror," he demanded abruptly.

She gulped and slowly raised her eyes to meet his deep green ones, and he grinned as her lips parted slightly.

He sighed. "You haven't said anything all night, baby." He guided her body to pivot toward him, and he placed his gloved hand to her chin. She let out a small breath as his thumb swept across her bottom lip and he chuckled. "Are you mad at me...Puddin'?" he asked with a smile.

"No," she whispered, surprised to finally hear her own voice. "Why?"

"I know that I've been...out of contact for a while, but...there's no need to ignore me."

"No!" Harley choked out, looking deep into his eyes and holding her gaze. "I would never, Daddy. Never, never..."

He stopped touching her and took a step back, looking up and down her wrapped body. He unbuttoned his black trench coat and tossed it behind him. "Take that off..." he muttered, tiredly.

Harley bit her lip, holding her gaze on him as she unwrapped her towel and let it drop to her feet.

He exhaled slowly as he approached her once more, running a finger over her scar. "Why do you have this, Harley?" he asked, his voice deep and menacing.

"You...you put it there, baby..." she stammered.

The Joker pushed his finger into her hip, making her whimper as he pushed her against the bathroom counter. "I know..." he growled. "Can you tell me...why?"

Her breathing became shorter as she kept her eyes locked on his sneer, but it soon faltered when he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders.

Harley grinned at him and brought her lips to his, whispering, "Because I'm yours..."

He forced his lips onto hers and she whimpered as he lifted her body and set her on the counter. She heard the fumbling of his belt and pants zipper, and as she reached out to help him, The Joker soon pressed himself into her, making her let out a surprised cry.

Harley gripped the back of his neck as he delivered quick, hard thrusts against her, grunting with each one as he pinned one of her legs against his waist.

Their lovemaking was usually drawn out, laced with cocaine and sprinkled with pills, intensifying their emotions as well as their nerve endings as they pressed against each other. It was oftentimes brutal, with knives, ropes, and belts, with Harley on the receiving end. She would writhe in both pain and pleasure as he would lace into her with either blade or strap.

But his present movements seemed almost desperate, as if his longing was too much and he was impatient for her.

The Joker thrust harder with longer strokes, making Harley hide her face against his shoulder as she moaned loudly. "I'm...I'm coming..." she against him, the smell of sweat entering her nostrils.


Harley was hesitant, but soon felt his hand grip her hair tightly as his thrusts became more aggressive.

The sound from her body started as a loud whimper and its timbre soon reached a higher magnitude, echoing off the tiles of the bathroom walls and making her body tremble against him as he growled loudly against her neck.

His movements slowed until he finally stopped, panting against her. Harley blinked as her tears fell onto his shoulder, but her eyes widened when he gently wrapped his arms completely around her body, making her press closer to him. She shut her eyes and placed her arms around his neck as she sighed.

After a moment, he pulled away from her and picked up her towel. He handed it to her as he zipped up his pants and looked at her.

"I'll take that drink now," he told her as he turned toward the bedroom where she heard him plop onto the side of the bed, opening Harley's bedside table and taking out her pill bottle.