A/N: Do you ever just put something off for so long then feel really really bad and put it off some more?

Hello everyone who is still interested in this story! I'm so sorry!

Apparently, Scorsese is making a Joker movie…. did I predict that or what with my earlier Goodfellas reference? I took it as a sign I should continue with this. It's so different than my usual writing style and I find I have to be in a particular mindset. Anyways, I refuse to believe it's been a year since I published this! Fastest year of my life. I want to thank all of u that keep this story alive. I'm sorry I left it for so long but if you're still interested, I would love to continue! Muse and time management willing.

xiv ; moonshine

Harley laughed giddily as the Joker bit into a melting Mickey Bar.

The ice-cream in the shape of the familiar mouse ran down his white hand in the Californian sun.

Were they on vacation? Was it some carefully planned stunt?

Harley didn't care.

She grasped his hand as they took in the theme park behind rose tinted sunglasses. It made sense to her. It was the one place where reality and magic blurred. Where no one questions a 5-foot mouse. The Joker wore a garish purple and emerald Tommy Bahama button up shirt. She had pink mouse ears strapped on. For the moment, they were normal in their completely alien way. Whether it was Jupiter, Neptune, or Anaheim.

After all, who needed some perfectly pretend man from a fairytale when she suddenly had her own Prince Charming? Her own version of happily ever after. Him; a Disney Prince off his meds and her; stripperella.

Finally, she knew what the blonde with the missing shoe was singing about. So this was love.

She leaned closer to him and kissed the melted ice-cream off the corner of his mouth. He pulled her closer, a wickedly large grin across his face. She squeaked with joy as he picked her up, twirling her around some pink castle above a moat. It was only then that she noticed all the dead tourists at her feet accompanied by the voice of Chic distracting her from her daydream.

"Harl! Are you listening to me?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," said Harleen. She shifted in the back seat of a taxi she had summoned from an app on her phone. Chic only stared to her. "What?!" Harleen asked clueless.

Chic rolled her eyes, looking out the window.

"Oh, nothing. I was just pointing out that we're taking an Ubber to our own funerals," she mumbled.

"Don't be chicken shit. He doesn't want me dead. I'm their only chance," added Harleen in a whisper.

"Yeah, but what about me?! Are you sure I should be a part of this?"

"Hey!" said Harleen raising her bat. "I call the shots tonight. Whoever's there is gonna havta answer to me!"

"Oh… you've got to be joking me," said Chic unimpressed. Harleen ignored her friend's trepidation and continued with her delusional 'hard-ass' monologue.

"I'm ready to throw down, bitch. Let him check me sideways!" she mimed swinging the bat as Chic flinched. "I'll turn his head sideways, ah-ha!"

Chic looked horrified.

"This is some next-level white people shit. This is a teen novel where the girl is too dumb to not fall in love with a vampire."

Harleen lowered her eyes, "That's racist."

"You're white. Get over it."

"I'm ethnic!"

"You're a blonde Jew from Jersey."

"Not… naturally," she said, taking a blonde hair around one finger.

The driver, a young man who thought it was acceptable to wear a checkered trilby hat and thick framed wayfarer glasses, glanced curiously back to the pair.

Since Harleen had begun swinging around her bat, he looked as if he wanted to make some sort of comment. But the girls relentless back and forth prevented him.

"Hey!" he finally called, catching their attention. "You know your, uh…., destination is closed right? As in closed down?"

"… Yeah," said Harley dumbly. "So?"

"That's sort of weird?" he said, catching a glimpse of Harleen in his rearview mirror before doing a double-take. "Hey, wait! You look familiar. Do yous do porn?"

Her face contorted and gripped the bat tighter. Chic sensed her anger and placed a controlling hand over the possible weapon.

"No, freak," Chic hissed. "Now mind the damn road!"

The man looked slightly disappointed, but persisted.

"Are you sure? Have you ever seen that fake Ubber shit? You all aren't looking for a free ride, huh?" he asked, wiggling a brow with breathy, lingering, laughter.

Harleen theatrically gagged at his implication.

"I think you might want to mind your own business, pal," Chic said before leaning closer, and adding under her breath; "My friend here comes from the Asylum. She's out on good behavior. Her and her bat."

The driver scoffed as his hands tapped the wheel nervously.

"There's only one bat people like me fear at night, baby. That ain't it."

"People like you," laughed Harleen. "As if, buddy! What's on your record? Get caught with pot in college?"

"Ah her her," the man lamely laughed, unable to think of a witty way to deflect the truth. "You have no idea, girl."

"As I was saying –" said Chic with a disgruntled sigh back to Harleen. "There's no way I'm meeting this guy. You got no idea who to even expect! It could be his whole gang ready to wipe us out!"

"You're getting ahead of yourself. Besides, think of the story. Imagine telling your grandkids!"

"Grandkids!? Oh, that's right," Chic sarcastically jibed, "gather round kids! Granny's gonna tell you bout the time she was high on Xan-vodka…"

"You've got it all wrong. This night could change everythin-"

"So…" began the nosy driver, interrupting Harleen, "if the place is closed down… why are you going there?"

Chic and Harleen eyed him sardonically.

"You know," began Harleen, "some drivers have free candy. They don't play 20 Questions!"

"Just wondering. I would hate to image you ladies getting into trouble tonight. Without me that is…"

"I'm sorry, are you new?" came Chic, incensed by his tenacity. "You know we rate you after this?"

"The Gin and Bare It," the man repeated, seeming to think the name over out loud. "Isn't that where that Joker guy killed all those people? Bet it's haunted as fuuuck."

Harleen sneered at his casual mention of the man. As if someone so crass and ordinary had any right to refer to him simply as 'that guy'.

"Yeah," Chic said in deadpan agreement. "We're going ghost hunting, Zak Bagans. Want to come?"

"Pfff, come on," chuckled the man presumptuously, "get real. Tell me the truth, sugar tits."

Chic blinked to him, seemingly blinded by his brazen name-calling.

"You want the truth?" she asked, preparing another sarcastic delivery. "It's a porno. There's a new wave of underground shit out there. Fuckin were there's been a mass murder. Hottest shit on the market."

Harleen laughed out right but the driver lurched forward in excitement.

"Oh, hell yeah!" he cried. "I knew you were pornstars! I can always tell. 10 out of 10. I think I have a gift."

"He believed that but he doesn't buy ghost hunting?" whispered Harleen worried for the man's sanity.

Finally, they arrived to the familiar corner of the slummy strip-club once belonged to.

Harleen pulled her coat around her shoulders and looked to the ominous sight before exiting the car.

"You're getting a one star, dickhead! I'm doing that shit right now," said Chic with her phone in hand, slamming the car door.

The man rolled down his window and smiled to the pair as they left

"C'mon, sweethearts. I'll be waiting here all night!"

Harleen glared to him before leaning closer to the window. She produced a small business card from her coat pocket. One she had left over from orientation at Arkham Asylum.

"You need a good therapist. One that can sort out your micro-penis mentality and tendencies to overcompensate with a shitty personality bestowed to you by a daddy who left before you could jerk off."

The man's jaw became slightly unhinged as she threw the card in his face and smiled with a cheery wave goodbye.

He wasted no time in pulling around and screeching off into the desolate night of downtown Gotham.

"So. This is fucking stupid," spoke up Chic, crossing her arms to gather heat in the icy evening.

Harleen turned to Chic who stood before a chained entrance to the once named Gin and Bare it.

"Shit's locked," continued Chic, reaching for the door and giving it a few firm yanks.

They looked up to the bared-up club. It seemed like a rusted ghost of its former self. Though, it was never easy on the eyes, it now stood a ghoulish memorial to fallen women and gluttonous men.

Harleen swallowed hard reminding herself of a man with emerald hair. She thought of how happy he would be to know she had the courage to attend to gangsters and casually greet villains in the night.

And then, maybe he would realize, she could be enough for him.

Did she feel guilty that she had willed Chic to come along? Did she feel bad for withholding the information that Frost had been very clear in her coming alone?

Not particularly. She was under the naive idea that they needed her. That she had a one-up on the one-uppers. That she could somehow outsmart the criminals who ran circles around a master sleuth with pointy bat-ears.

Chic heaved against the door when a thought struck Harleen.

"Wait! Let's try the back entrance before we catch any suspicious eyes."

Chic begrudgingly followed Harleen around the back alley past piles of garbage and abandoned stripper belongings. Chic pulled a grimace as she tripped over dark mysteriously rotten forms. She pinched her nose at the putrid smell.

"Why the fuck haven't they demolished this shit yet? They just gutted it and left it to rot?"

"No one cared when it was up and running, why would they care now?" asked Harleen with a shrug.

Chic tripped over a bag of garbage and sighed loudly.

"Help me. Help me to understand- Why am I fucking here?!"

"To help me!" Harleen called back. "I'm your best friend who's gonna buy you as many Jimmy Choos as you want. After my first check from J!"

"Jimmy Choos? Please. I'm gonna need some Louboutins."

Harleen stopped, and stared her friend dead in the eye.

"How many?"

Chic paused to think.

"How many is too many?"

Harleen smirked, waving a finger.

"No such thing."

She returned to trekking through garbage and Chic wistfully sighed.

"God damnit. Fuck me. It almost worth it."

After another couple of careful footsteps they made it to the back entrance that was free of padlocks. But after Harleen shook the doorknob, she realized it was still fastened.

"How the heck would anyone get in here?" she asked.

"They string up Maroni in the middle of Metropolis and you wonder how they get through a locked door?"

She frowned, "You think they're already in there?"

"You wanna start knocking, girl scout?!"

Harleen slowly raised a fist before carefully delivering a few sharp knocks on the door.

"Hello?!" she called, "It's- It's Harleen! Doctor Quinzel!"

"No one's there," said Chic. Though, Harleen ignored her as a sudden idea sprang to mind.

"It's Harley Quinn!" she called out, hearing an echo from the inside. That name. Again, it sounded so strangely familiar. So oddly natural.

Chic noticed how confident Harleen had said the name. With her chin raised and her shoulders back, she sensed, to her dismay, it was catching.

The pair waited in silence. Chic casually checked her phone.

"Well. It's 10;25."

Harleen turned away from the door, irritated with meandering in the middle ground.

In a fit of frustration, she turned and swung her bat into the door. It bounced off with a loud whack that caused Chic to jump back in fear.

"Jesus!" she mumbled, clutching her chest. "Are you crazy?"

"I can't let him down," Harleen confessed getting an odd look from her friend. "He's counting on me!"

"Whoa, whoa – what are you talking about?!" asked Chic. "Isn't this just about money? Who are you letting down?"

"J!" she fiercely cried. Chic was speechless as Harleen seemed to become emotional.

"I'm his only chance," she continued. "He's in there with no hope! Gettin beaten up by stupid guards and havin his brain fried for fun! Just so they can dissect him and take notes!"

Chic's brow knitted in worry for Harleen. Suddenly, in what seemed to take a singular moment, she changed. She no longer recognized her as the funny blonde with a few questionable habits. In a blink, she had become… someone else.

"He's in there because he's a criminal…" Chic carefully pointed out, as plainly as she could.

"Criminal?" Harleen laughed dryly, almost not understanding.

Chic frowned, eyeing Harleen sternly.

"Yes. Criminal. He killed everyone we worked with! He's terrorized people in this city for years! He pushed Serano's husband off a building and pissed on his paralyzed body!"

Harleen laughed, shaking her head. That fucking bitch Serano. Was there anything she didn't deserve?

"That's what they say. Don't you get it?" Harleen asked. "They don't tell us the truth! For all we know, he's just a patsy. It's the bat that's the criminal."

"Do you hear yourself?" Chic gasped. "How many conspiracies have you read?"

"It's the truth," she insisted before smiling in madness. "When he tells you something, even the most ridiculous and amazing thing, it becomes real," she paused, laughing at how romantic she sounded. Chic only looked horrified. "You know. I knew I was different. And he… he's the only one who ever saw it in me."

"Harl… I've always told you – you can change the world. You can go back to school, become a real doctor!"

Chic attempted to reach out to Harleen but she only turned back to the door.

"Go back to school? For what? Just to be another cog in the machine?"

"To be the person you wanted to be, Harleen."

Harleen chortled at Chic's generous sympathy.

"That's what I'm talking about. You say I can be somebody. He thinks I already am. He sees something no one else seems to."

Chic sighed as she watched Harleen shake the doorknob.

"Besides," she went on, "when I do get him out, and everyone knows my name, I'll only have you to thank."

"Oh yeah? And why is that?"

Harleen turned back to her, "You showed me the internship at Arkham."

Chic felt a chill crawl over her skin. The feeling was inexplicable, yet she felt a very clear sense of dread hanging behind each word.

Harleen only offered a small smile. And in an instant, had returned to her normal self.

"This door doesn't look so strong. Why don't we knock it down?!"

Chic numbly helped Harleen. Meanwhile, her mind raced. The vodka and medicine had clouded her thoughts, and the promise of wealth was alluring. But suddenly, she was stunned to sobriety and she wondered if there was a way out.

As the pair rammed into the door, the oak finally gave in, and they tripped into the darkness of the abandoned club.

Harleen felt a cold bite in the air as she looked around the room. The place had the atmosphere of a graveyard.

"Man… this is creepy," she said.

Chic said nothing as she turned the flashlight on her phone to illuminate the surroundings.

"Is anyone here?" asked Harleen to the dark.

"How could they get in?" wondered Chic.

Harleen felt stupid, somehow, she had forgotten his company were only mortal too.

They moved slowly across the floor, past the empty bar, and by the dismantled stage.

"I can't take this," Chic muttered. "Why haven't they tore this damn place down yet?! This city likes to be reminded of girls with no other choice gettin murdered. Girls who were only doing their job!"

"He wasn't here to kill them," Harleen spoke up. "He was here to kill the mobsters who wronged him."

"So why'd he kill them, too?"

Harleen said nothing but she didn't like her friend's harshly questioning retort. Inwardly, she withheld several answers;

Because it was fun. Because they were bitches and deserved it. Hell, I would have done the same thing.

That was when they noticed the front door was open.

"Do you see that?" called Chic, shining her light across the room to the door they had first attempted to open. "There's no way. It was boarded up with padlocks!"

Harleen smirked. Perhaps his men weren't completely mortal, after all.

"He was here."

"He? Who are you expecting, anyway?"

She glanced over her shoulder to Chic.

"Frost. The guy I was talking to on the phone. Who I met that night. I think him and J are close."

"Oh… so not only are you tight with the Joker, you and his boyfriend also go way back?"

Harleen ignored her and walked toward the door. Chic attempted to follow her when something on a lone dining table caught her eye. Her light fell over it. It was a piece of paper folded in half and propped up. It was completely out of place as it seemed to be purposely and carefully arranged.

She noticed it had writing on it, so she thoughtlessly picked it up.

Her eyes fell over the scratchy writing and grew wide.

"I don't know," said Harleen sighing back to Chic. "If he was here, he's gone n-"

She glanced back to Chic as she gawked at the mysterious note in her hand.

The look on her friend's face caused Harleen's heart to drop. She knew that look. A mixture of hurt, distrust, and fear.

"W-What? What is it?" Harleen asked softly.

Chic dropped the note and looked horrified to Harleen.

"You fucking bitch!" she yelled, her voice sharp as venom as she raised the note in the air. "You're trying to get me killed?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? He told you to come alone and that I'd be killed!"

"What? No! NO! That's a lie… He's lying! Chic… believe me…"

Harleen tried to reach out to Chic but she jerked away. She looked back to the letter before reading it aloud;

"You don't seem to be that good of a listener. My time is money and I strictly told you to come alone or risk death. We have no time for snitches and even less for the hard of hearing."

Her voice was tense and uncharacteristically shaky.

"He… he didn't tell me that! I swear!" Harleen choked on her dishonest words.

"Shut up! I know when you lie because your left eyebrow twitches!"

"It's a nervous tick! I can't help it!"

"Whatever," mumbled Chic throwing the letter behind her as she marched past Harleen. "I'm fucking out of here. Keep your blood Louboutins. The red will go great with a bright orange jumpsuit."

Harleen sneered to her as she walked to the door.

"What?! Did you expect this would all be fun and games?! Free money! Free shoes! Sorry you broke ho! I ain't an ATM!"

Chic paused, "I didn't want your worthless stolen money. I wanted Harleen back. The Harleen I knew, anyway."

She ducked out of the exit and Harleen quickly ran after her.

"You know how hard all of this has been on me? I'm sorry my life is such a burden for you!"

Chic typed on her phone, ignoring Harleen as she confronted he on the empty sidewalk.

"That's it then? You're leaving me here?"

"No. I'm going home and you're coming with me. Just so I can sleep tonight knowing I left you safe in your bed. After that, we're done."

Her words were so cold, so final, so empty… they left Harleen spinning, lost in space.

"I'm not going with you! I'm staying here. I told you – he's counting on me!"

"So what? He's a psycho! A freak with metal teeth-"

"You better shut your mouth!" cried Harleen, stepping closer to Chic as she carried on.

"He's got you brainwashed like a stupid whore with her first big spender."

"You're wrong."

"Am I? Wake up! How can you not see what he's doing here? He'll have you break him out so he has a nice, cooperative, stupid, little stripper to blame."

Harleen waved her bat at her side, "I was never no stripper! Unlike you, ya dumb slut!"

"Okay Harley Quinn… the stripper!" she bluntly responded.

"I thought I could trust you! I thought you'd be the only one to understand."

"Well that makes two of us. You let me wander into all of this against that lackey's orders!"

"I… I…" Harleen stammered, unable to think of a comeback or another string of lies. Chic crossed her arms, sending a scornful look to her once best-friend.

"So I knew, fine!" spat Harleen. "But they need me! He has me working for him, I'll practically be their co-boss!"

"Oh, bitch. You are fucking insane!" said Chic in shock stepping away. Harleen attempted to follow her but her feet seemed to be stuck in place.

"You've lost your mind. You're done for."

"If you just listened to me you'd be on our side! The friend of the famous Harley Quinn!"

Chic narrowed her brow, shaking her head.

"No one will understand. You'll end up just like him."

Harleen smiled, her eyes turned to slits, cursing Chic.

"Huh… that doesn't sound so bad. Rich with Gotham at my feet."

"No." she said just as a car approached them, "Alone. And hated."

"Back already?" called the familiar driver, "It was a quickie I guess!"

Chic rolled her eyes.

"I'm so fucking pissed I don't even care this freak is stalking me!" she said, more directed to the man behind the wheel.

Harleen watched as she got into the car and slammed door.

"Fine! I don't care!" she cried. "You're jealous! You've always been jealous! You'll see me one day, happy with money and him. I'll be a Queen!" screamed Harleen before she ran beside the car and brutally beat the backseat window. "I'll be the goddamn Queen of Gotham! You hear me, cunt?!"

The car pulled away as Harleen stood alone, arms crossed in the biting chill of nightfall.

She always pictured final goodbyes to be something cinematic. Some black and white old film stars talking about a hill of beans as a plane waits.

The last thing she thought as she saw Chic storm away was that classic line; "Here's looking at you, kid." She saw someone she was mad at. Someone she hated. Someone she loved. Someone she took for granted and expected to be there.

Until she wasn't.

She dropped her white knuckled fists at her side and began to storm toward the main road, muttering the whole way.

She clutched her bat, imagined the different ways she could have struck the wood against her skull. Her stupid, judgmental, small-minded, backstabbing skull.

And then, something happened she did not anticipate at all.

For a spit second, she swore a shadow passed over her, blocking the light of the street lamp and moon itself.

She turned around, her eyes scanning the empty sidewalk and abandoned road.

There was nothing, and yet, she knew someone was nearby.

"H-hello?" she called. "Hey, don't even think about it, okay? I got a, uh, heavy bat here. No softball shit, kay? This is Babe Ruth- Whoa!"

Suddenly, she was grabbed from the back and dragged in between a closed deli and abandoned motel.

Her bat had fallen from her grip as she battled the strong hands around her waist. The assailant pulled her into the shadows and she twisted around, throwing punches at his chest. It was then that she caught a glimpse of his face, it was hidden behind a mask. A mask with pointed ears.

She gasped, jerking away and he finally let go.

"No!" she gasped, "Batman!"

The man began to laugh lowly, a menacing and unnerving sound.

"Not quite."

She watched in confusion as he took the mask off, revealing a stern looking man with a full yet neatly trimmed beard.

"Sorry about the mask. J insists on theatrics. I'm not much for them myself."