Moonlight peeked though a small crack between the splintered wood, binding the windows closed; They sheltered him, them, from the world outside; his own little sanctuary to plan, to think, to wipe the canvas clean and start again without the ignorance of society, to pierce the brilliance of the compounded enigmatic structure that was the human brain. Such world winds of chaotic beauty to be held within a mind; everyone had it- that power to control, to preserve their worst nightmares then turn it into something beautiful and funny. Everyone.

The Luna-rays, although minute and pale in they're complexion, shot across the room, like a bullet exploding from a antiquity smoking barrel, flashed along the ground and finally came to rest upon her face. So simple was the light, like the flickering of a candles glow, yet so very altering to the environment.

There she slept, in his bed; her face so delicate, so fragile, yet it reflected that of a troubled mother, searching desperately for her lost child. Maybe the child wants to be lost. He knew, he always knew; she was dreaming about him, or rather the things he did. It was her own fault! The harsh 'discipline', the mocking, the jeering, the hurting, neglect, ignoring, the purposely taunting and daily build up to knock down process, it was all her fault! She, her, Halrey Quinn, brought it on herself; what with her batting eyelashes, cute smile, big baby blues and dippy attitude- she did it to him, she pushed his buttons, till he projected like a rocket, fists clenched, teeth bared. Silly girl.

But the Joker sat quietly now, surrounded by the tainted darkness, as the deep violet folds of the night passed by. A noise stirred and then the hushed undertones started; he heard whispers: low, plaintive sounds that darted and vibrated and scratched behind the dark eyes that blared his own insanity. At first the murmurs seemed unfamiliar almost alien, as if uttered in another language, but as the seconds drew on, he came to realize every voice, pitch, tone and timbre- as a lioness would to her cubs call in a stampeding fleet of hurdling antelope. Taking note of every word, his fixed expression twisted and distorted to a hateful grin; it was her voice he was hearing in his mind.

"I love you, puddin'" Ugh, he remembered the first time she'd said that. So very distracting. No no no, she couldn't love him, that'd ruin it all, it wrecked the game completely. He didn't want to be an item of her love, NO! The things, the ghastly things he did to the City and its inhabitants, should have suggested, should have bored into her airy worm hole of a brain, that he wasn't breathing to be adored; he wanted to be hated and loathed but... respected.

Flexing his leather clad fingers and scrunching them into balls, the Joker clicked his neck to the left with a single sharp movement, then rolled his shoulders back, relieving some of the tension embedded within the taut muscles, before his purple tinted eyes lay back onto Harley's sleeping face.

How could she cause so many emotions to flood to the surface? It was like a deep, gushing wound oozing crimson feelings. How vile. It wasn't like he thought of her in...that way, so why was she still alive? Why did he keep her around? Confusion swept his now unsmiling face. What was this sudden bewilderment? He didn't understand and anything he didn't understand, needed to be sliced open, dissected and studied till he did.

Darting out his tongue, he swiped the dry surface of his lips and cocked his head to the side in thought, at the beautiful blondes frowning expression. Even in sleep, she still couldn't escape him, Ha. Funny thing, not; when he was in the midst of concocting some new and evil scheme to get the Bat really rallied up, she was in his thoughts as well, shadowing the true importance of his existence. That needed to be rectified. And it would…

Placing his fingers together then drumming the tips collectively in a slow rhythm, the Joker clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, trying to sum up just how to break his harlequins heart...again. Yes, she was his, his to do what he liked with; his his his, he owned her and she'd be a good girl and take what he gave- and she'd like it too.

With an almost muted chuckle, he stood, silent, composed and ready to attack; just like the calm before a storm. Smoothing back loose, messy tendrils, the Joker took stock of his unconscious toy, wondering how exactly to play this time. Would it be the usual throwing her around like a Ragdoll, or a different approach? Strolling towards Harley's laying form, he eyed up and down her body, which was covered by a thin, deep purple, blanket and smiled sincerely, despite himself. So beautiful, yet so deadly. She really was a little heartthrob; he could see now, like he'd just had the gift of vision, why men would want her, why they would pay her the attention she so desperately fought to gain from him.

Kneeling quietly down, grimacing slightly as his knees popped and clicked, the Joker's breathing accelerated at the new found closeness. Why? She wasn't even doing anything and already she was having an effect on him. Rolling his eyes at his own vulgar emotions, he brushed a strand of sunshine hair out of her face and smirked when she stirred and groaned a little. Clearly, his unpredictability, had made her into a light little sleeper. Good, she should be ready to receive him, in any way shape of form, when he demanded it.

Sleep deprivation, that's what they employed in the Army to elicit discipline and respect but it was also used as a form of torture to toughen up the little tikes, make them into fighters, soldiers, warriors...at least they got something right. Too often would the Joker call out, make her get up, wait for her to go back to bed and when he was sure she was snuggly in the land of nod, he'd call out again. Up and down, down and up, it'd be a game all of his own, just to see her try to keep up her smile- which she always did. At least she had resilience.

Now though, now he wanted to be a little more...subtle. Reaching out a long, gloved slender finger, the Joker traced the plump expanse of Harley's soft lips, so perfect. The bleach blonde stirred again, subconsciously aware that something, someone, was there, but too tired from their day of fun, to wake and act on it. Grinning manically at the little frown lines on her forehead, the Joker leant forwards and took in her aroma. She smelt like jasmine and rose petals, it was sweet...too sweet. At such a close inspection, it was easier to appreciate the rougher edges of Harley Quinn; the things he wouldn't necessarily notice if she were conscious, awake and crawling all over him like a cat in heat. That's not what this was about though; he wasn't there to admire her like a fine piece of artwork, no he could do that when she was taking a sledgehammer to some poor souls head; this was giving into his own craving; even if it was just for a moment, he had to tell her. It wasn't ever an intention to hurt her, well only when it was funny, which was most of the time, but really he did it to demonstrate that he was the Alfa male, that he was ahead of her and she would bow down to him. But now, now he didn't need to prove anything; she was so still and angelic, there was no reason to punish her, ha yeah right.

Leaning forwards with a restrained temperament, for once, the Joker's lips found the shell of ear and he gently brushed them against the lobe- and then...then he spoke to her, whispered, breathlessly voiced, so quietly, it was almost undetectable; like the soft patter of snow flakes falling to warm flesh. Drawing back, he smiled at her, knowing that whether she liked it or not, she'd listened to what he'd said, but would never remember it until she once again closed her eyes. The smile, it twisted, distorted, grew into glare as quick as it arrived. Stupid Girl! Clenching his hands tightly together, the Joker stood, no longer quiet nor tranquil and without any hesitation, straddled Harley's waist, effectively pinning her down to the mattress below. She woke with a start, a scared look pasted across her face, but adoration gleaming in her eyes. Damn it. Growling, the back of his hand connected with her cheek, making her head snap to the right.

Yes, as much as it pained him to admit, he did have feelings for Harley, maybe he loved her, but he'd forgotten what that felt like...and now, she'd pay for it every day till the second she died.

It was her fault, IT WAS!

A/N: Alright, I'm aware that was a little out of character, but even the Joker has his moments. Besides, if he cried in front of her before, he could confess something namby pamby, while she slept... right? Haha, okay maybe not, but heyho I thought I'd give it a try. I wrote this pretty early in the morning, so sorry for any typos or what not. Please Review, I really like to know what you readers think :)