Disclaimer: This is based on Harley's and Joker's relationship as portrayed in Suicide Squad, which is quite different from the original portrayal in a number of ways. Based on Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn and Jared Leto's Joker.

I think I need an aspirin
I gotta get my head right
Can't remember what I did last night
Everything, everything is still a blur

.

Harley woke up slowly, stretching out her limbs and yawning. The first thought struck her: where the hell am I?

She never used to care about her surroundings; she had woken up in the strangest of places ever since she entered the Clown Prince's world. It wasn't anything new to her, she never knew what her eyes would focus on next time she woke up – if she woke up at all – and she found it exciting if anything.

Still, there was a very big gap somewhere in between the last time she was awake and now. She couldn't focus, and it wasn't something she normally would care about, but one part of her liked being in control.

Something just felt too strange, a dull throbbing in her head, as if she had drunk too much at the club - but she knew she could handle that. She could handle anything. She was, as Mr J liked to put it, The One and Only, Infamous Harley Quinn. A faint pain throbbed in her chest because something wasn't right – but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was.

She turned around slowly, noticing the deep purple satin sheets underneath her body. Her eyebrows shot up; somewhere she had a faint memory of bright orange clothing - oh, how she detested that hideous color - and a green plastic bed – and it just didn't make sense. She was used to waking up on the cold concrete floor, her entire body electrified. The difference was laughable. She just couldn't connect the pieces and, for once, she wanted to know.

She gave a quick look at her pale body and noticed reddish and bluish stains on her lower body – bruises around her hips, one exactly below the "Lucky You" tattoo on her panty line, complete with a hickey. Curiously she inspected the rest of her body. Her bare skin was stained with dried blood, but it wasn't hers. She had a great deal of hickeys, she noticed with pride.

She raised her gaze and found herself perfectly portrayed in a mirror. Golden framed mirrors everywhere, from every angle surrounding the enormous bed. Her bright hair, surrounding her face like a ruffled halo, her lips swollen and bruised. Cherry lipstick smeared over her chin and her eyes surrounded by dark smudges. She recognized the woman in the reflection, but something was still missing.

She had woken up in the most strange places in this life, yes, on the hood of Batman's car with his kiss still lingering and the laughter spilling off her lips. The sudden memory made her gasp. That still wasn't what she was looking for, but her shattered mind couldn't collect the pieces. It toyed with her and she growled in annoyance.

Another place; it turned and twisted in her mind, she sat crouched on the ground and heavily armored guards approached from everywhere. In the hazy memory she threw her head back and gave a loud laughter; it was so funny how they looked in those ridiculous helmets, but stopped when she felt the sudden intrusion of a thick syringe in her arm.

All of those places couldn't compare to this one. Sitting up in the bed, still naked, she glanced over at the dark marble floor. Knives and broken glass decorated it, the shatter was an image of utter chaos. Blood smeared out, guns and empty shells. Someone had written HA!HA!HA! on he limited space on the walls that wasn't occupied by the mirrors.

Mirrors… she knew about that. It made him feel safe.

The familiar scene on the floor made her instantly feel much more comfortable, she recognized this. She just couldn't connect the dots… It must be because she had gone off her meds. The question was just, why? The prison always gave it to her.

We're going home.

Going home from where? She remembered, faintly, the taste of coffee in her mouth. Oh coffee… she'd shoot a man to get some down her dry throat. Her tongue licking metal bars… the sudden shock that passed through her body and sent it flying off the bars, landing on the floor.

She shook her head violently, what the hell? Maybe they had drugged her and given her shocks so she wouldn't remember? Bright explosions, the feeling of falling, falling down – as if she couldn't focus her vision, someone kept on turning out the lights.

She turned around and inspected the bed frame that was riddled with bullet holes. There was a gun on her bedside stand and she grasped it, immediately feeling more hopeful. She missed the sensation of a wooden bat, but this was better than nothing.

It was when she turned around again she noticed that she wasn't alone in the enormous bed. Someone lay there, sleeping soundly. Curiously, she leaned over the body with the gun in her hand. A white face, that for the first time she could remember looked strangely relaxed, dark lipstick smeared out just like hers. The person in the bed looked like a mixture of a zombie and a clown, but somehow much more beautiful.

Harley's eyes widened, her mouth fell open and she almost dropped the gun.

"Puddin'!" she exclaimed. A hand snatched up and grabbed her wrist. Those familiar ice blue eyes looked at her blankly. Harley felt her heart beat faster with joy.

The Joker took the gun from her with a swift movement and his dark lips stretched out in a slow smile, showing off metallic teeth. He seemed to still be half asleep, which surprised her – he used to be just as insomniac as she, he barely slept at all.

Harley had still no recollection of how she ended up here in the bed with him; they were floating freely in a empty room and she couldn't care less. Her Puddin' was here. Her chest didn't hurt anymore, she felt better than ever.

I'd do anything for you.

She snuggled up to him, suddenly overjoyed. "Did ya miss me, Puddin'?" Something told her it was a while since they last shared a bed, especially by the look in his eyes.

"Oh, Harley…" His voice was hoarse, dark, and her heart skipped a beat when a sudden picture appeared in her mind – his growling in her ear and her excited giggles.

Suddenly she wanted that blank spot in her mind to go to hell.

She leaned over him and kissed him passionately, and he responded. He rolled them over and she was pressed down into the soft mattress by his weight. She ran her fingers through his lime colored hair and grinned. There was something slightly off, the way he looked at her, how tightly he held her, it was almost bruising. Almost as if he had… missed her.

"You're so… lively," he growled. As he touched her, her eyes grew wider. She was standing in front of the espresso machine, she had quickly grown fond of it and dubbed it her 'baby', patiently waiting for it to produce its twelfth cup of sweet caffeine when the explosion shook the building. There he had been, in his Joker armor, he had broken into Belle Reve, for her, and she had thrown herself into his arms. Her Puddin' was back. She was back in his headquarters; not in her electrified cage.

She squinted as she tried to capture the last strands of memory.

"Did you have fun while I was gone?" she teased sweetly. A quick look around told her exactly what he had done during her absence. She couldn't keep herself from chuckling. The wall decorations, the knives and machine guns and dried up roses and champagne bottles, all arranged in perfect circles. All for her.

"It's been no fun without you, Harls," he said darkly and she could see the spark in his eyes. She knew it all too well.

"A joker who has no fun?" She knew she was treading a thin, dangerous line, and she loved it, how his facial expression got darker, more unpredictable by the moment. She kissed him again just as the bedroom door opened.

One of the henchmen stood there, looking very awkward. "Boss, we -"

Harley grabbed the gun from her lover's hand and shot right at the door, hearing the thump as the body hit the floor. She wrapped her arms around the Joker's neck as he laughed loudly. He was smiling again.

"That's my Harley girl", he smiled manically.

Harley licked her lips and chuckled, it was finally clearing up in her head. His pale, muscular body so close to her, and their daring dart game with knives – that was the reason for all the blood on the floor. Someone must have taken the bodies away. It all was crystal clear now; the expensive champagne he spilled over them both, and some over the former henchmen, utter glee in his face. Somewhere in that, she realized that he was happy.

And he had had months to play knife dart and Russian roulette while she was locked up in Belle Reve – but now was by his side again. The thought made her grin wider than him.

Warmth spread in her entire body, starting in her belly. She remembered his mouth on her, why she had lipstick down there and so many new hickeys – grape soda and a bear skin rug against her moving back. Just like he promised her.

She wasn't letting him go, she decided, as his arms grew tighter around her body. She threw her head back. "Come on, Puddin'. Whataya waiting for?"

The Joker chuckled against her neck.

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