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Story Notes:
So, this is my first attempt at writting a story about the Joker and Harley, so please be kind. I'm new to this, so I don't know some of the details, like Harley's professor's name, so i made one up. Feel free to tell me what it really is, and i'll change it.
I like the story over all, but it seemed to have a mind of its own, and constantedly changes in point of view, and mood, which i hope is not too confusing. My characterization of Harley is also, kind of off, but I tried. My chracterization of the Joker, also came off as too nice, but i do like some of my lines, which I can almost imagine being said by Mark Hamill's Joker, and the Joker also breaks the fourth wall.
Ok, Hope somebody likes it. Please tell me what you think, both positive and negative comments are encouraged.
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

It was an unusually cold December 24th, in Gotham City, and the town was wrapped in the a thick white blizzard of snow, where it was normally blanketed by capes. Leaving behind the rousing faculty Christmas party in the university’s main building and muffling the drunken cheers and jeers of the ordinarily somber faculty with his scarf, Gotham University psychology Professor Paul Greenburg headed out through the bitter cold, to his office in the Wayne Psychology building next door. He had left some important files on his desk , and had duck in to grab them before he headed home to his wife and his six year old daughter. It was already past one and the poor thing had probably already gone to bed alone, visions of him and comely students dancing in her tired head. However much he tried to reassure her that, he was done with that, was ready to be 100% faithful to her, she still suspected him, and he felt ashamed of the past years when young female students had turned out an unusual amount of A’s after spending a few hours behind the closed wood door of his office. But that hadn’t happened since...he still licked his lips a little at the memory of the beautiful blonde, who he’d failed until she’d shown up in his office with those legs of hers, and all her gymnastic tricks, and somehow emerged valedictorian. Then he’d learned how much trouble his grading processes could create, and had fallen prey to an inordinate amount of media speculation, and landed in major hot water with the department, after she’d fallen apart and had ended up on the other side of the Arkam Asylum walls. They were still watching him, and he knew it. Such a promising student, Such amazing talent wasted, the press screamed, having a veritable field day with the news story of a brilliant psychologist, lead astray by the Joker (if he could crack her, HIS DOCTOR, then who was safe?) while only he had known the truth. He chuckled at bit, in spite of himself as he watched a group of students, heavily bundled up for the cold laughing and joking as they made their way across the quad, throwing snowballs at each other.

Reaching his panelled office door, Paul, stopped to dig his key ring out of his coat’s plaid lined pocket, before noticing the door stood slightly ajar, and the formerly secure lock was burst out of its socket. Someone had clearly broken into the office, but why? He had nothing of value except students` files. Yes, that had to be it. Some misguided kid, had busted in trying to change the grade on their midterm. Those kids, he laughed, no one knew how to do honest work anymore, the ‘brightest,’ ’most promising’ students were no longer the ones that worked, but the ones that fucked, hacked or thieved their way to glory, especially in this town. One of these days, he reassured himself stepping into the office, his violated sanctuary, I’ll give it all up and go somewhere tropical, where bats and men are two different things and jokers are only faces on playing cards. He stopped mid-laugh, Funny, nothing looked out of place, his office looked just the way he left it. There was his briefcase in the corner full of Criminal Psychology 101 essays ready to be graded, there was his empty coffee mug, there was his there was his comfortable brown leather chair, carelessly turned to the wall just as he left it. There, was the file, the important file he’d come back to get, knowing that the cops were going to want to see it soon, and not wanting to take any chances. The thick manila folder , stamped with the name, Harleen Quinzel. He quickly reached for it, ready to make a quick break for it, but at the same time a small, pale hand reached for it, and the chair whipped around to reveal a girl with thick blond pigtails high on either side of her head wearing a long black velvet coat over what looked like a standard grey Arkam uniform. Clearly, she'd just gotten out.

“Harleen? What are you doing here?” She smiled at him, and with her other hand, held a pink and white candy cane, twirling it around in her mouth the way a little kid does, trying to see how sharp a point they can make out of it.

“The name’s Harley, remember? Just thought I’d renew my acquaintances before the holidays,” she laughed, “ I didn’t really have your number on my Christmas card list, so I thought I’d stop by”. Noticing he’d gone both pale and silent , she went on, with the candy cane going in and out of her pink mouth as she talked, “And besides, you’ve never had a problem with me in your office before, have ya, Professor? How’s about a little auld lang syne between old friends, huh? ” She prodded at him with the file, and as he tried to grab it she pulled it back, “Un-un-ah!``, she slapped his hands playfully, `` Don’t ya know better then to touch things that ain’t yours? And besides, It does have my name on it.” She sucked on the candy cane again, and moaned a chorus of Mmms, “Bubble gum flavoured candy canes. What will they think of next?” Then she murmured, more to herself than to him, “Or what will he?”

In the past couple of minutes, Paul had been trying to collect himself, and finally he was able to talk, trembling as he spoke-he’d heard what she had done at the Joker’s side-, “ Fine. Take the file. But then please go! Remember,” he said gently, ``Harley, I have a family to support, I have a daughter, a little girl who needs her daddy to tuck her in at night and check for monsters in her closet.”-Come to think of it, Where was the Joker? From what he’d seen on the news, the crazy girl in front of him would never allow herself to be too far away from the Clown Prince of Crime.

Harley’s big blue eyes widened, but far from compassion, they filled with self pity, and the ever-present candy cane stopped twirling in her pale hand. “That sounds nice”, she remarked softly, almost wistful, “Your little girl sure is a lucky one. I never had all that, growin’ up,`` She stood, leaning over the desk to where he stood scared stiff, “But ya know, darling,” She grabbed his tie, (silently remarking to herself at how boring a dresser he was) and pulled him to her, drawing a strange parallel to their seduction, over a year ago, “I’m much better for it. Much. Much. BETTER. And besides,” she crawled over to the other side of the desk, forcing him into the student chair on the other side, and standing over him,” I’slways did like a few monsters in my closet, they’re good for what ails ya. And i did find someone to tuck me in at night. Someone who, listens to me, and confides in me,`` she lulled off there, her face filling with an expression of love, and bliss, “Didn’t I Daddy?” , she called out through the shadows, as a tall, lean man, with chalk white skin, thick greenish hair, and a scarily wide red smile that seemed to convey every one of Paul`s childhood nightmares with a single glance, elegantly dressed in a purple suit emerged. He spoke in the smooth and syrupy, but somehow gruff voice, that Paul had heard so many times on the news, and struck fear in the hearts of just about everyone in Gotham. It was THE Joker. And he was mad, “HARLEY! Stop playing with the poor guy and finish the job!,” He turned to Paul, and spoke to him genially, putting one cold white hand on Paul’s trembling shoulder, “Sorry for the kid, she’s still rather new at this,” He turned back to Harley, “Well! What are you still doing standing there! What do you want? Cue cards?,” with his other hand he swatted at her, ramming the candy cane into the back of her throat, “ TIE HIM UP! “, Choking a little, Harley jumped at the order, and crouching on the floor, begun to tie his ankles binding him tightly to the hard wood of the chair, the bubble gum candy cane still not budging from her mouth.

The Joker continued on, putting his purple silk clad arm around Paul as if they were old buddies out drinking, “You see Professor, “ he begin drawing out the syllables in professor, menacingly, “Harls here” , he put his other hand possessively on her shoulders as she crouched over, hurriedly tying Paul`s hands to the chair, as if afraid of what would happen if she didn’t get it done quickly, “is mine. All mine, to do with what I please. Isn`t that right Pooh?``, he grabbed Harley`s face and pulled her chin upwards and towards him. She winced in pain, and gripped her teeth around the candy cane to keep from making a noise, (she squealed a bit anyway), and quickly choked out her response, ```Yee-e-s... Mistah J! Anything, boss!`` Just as abruptly, he dropped her, and she hit the floor bewildered, ``Good Girl, `` he snarled petting her, as she squealed, at his touch, this time with joy, he turned back to Paul, this time exploding with anger, ``AND I DON`T LIKE PEOPLE TOUCHING MY THINGS!`` Paul stuttered, trying to make out a reply, but somehow finding the entire English language had left his terror stricken mind. The Joker, however seemed to be waiting for something, and begun to furiously tap his left foot, in its spat , in a rhythm strangely familiar to Paul, but one that he couldn`t quite place. Finally he snapped again and yelled to Harley, who appeared to be standing there, watching him with a look of admiration in her big blue eyes, (how she yearned to run her fingers through that green hair, and put her lips to his wide blood red smile- but that part would come later, she reminded herself).``HARLEY! How many times must I remind you to play your part in the caper! You were the one who wanted to play a bigger part in my schemes! Do I have to remind you graphically ?``. `No-ooo Sir!``, She quickly shook herself out, and back to the task, picking her file from where she`d dropped it on the wood floor, and advancing back over to action, trying to hide where her knees were shaking. She carefully flipped through the pages of the file throwing them randomly around the room, when they were determined not to be what she was looking for. Until, with a high pitched ``Ah-ha!``, she plucked out a thick stapled bundle of pages, with a large red A plus, scribbled in Paul`s own careless scrawl on the corner of the page. ``My final thesis! The one, I worked for weeks on, and Paulie here gave me an F on, until I slept with him! Unfocused! Unresearched! Unedited! Well look who`s laughing now! HA HA! Right Puddin` ?`` The Joker glared at her, ``Right. I know, I know don`t call you Puddin``, She turned back to the quivering Paul, who had begun whimpering,`` Boy, you do like to talk don`t cha, Well, we`ll have to put a stop to that! You`re going to eat your-well- my words! Open up, Baby , there`s lots of psychobabbly goodness and delicious nutritious vitamins!"

The Joker took a large metal contraption out of his coat pocket and fitted it over Paul`s mouth, keeping it open no matter how hard he tried to close it, he brushed of his gloved hands and leaned casually against the desk, watching Harley shove what had once been her precious chance at getting the Arkam internship she`d yearned for, down her former professor`s throat. Watching the man would had so much power over her that she`d slept with him for the grade, cower and cry as the tables turned. It was a beautiful sight to the Joker, and one that he would relish repeating. Harley was his, not that he loved her, or even cared for her, as she insisted when she got in one of her `moods` and flounced around the hideout in lacy negligees, but that she was of interest to him. A new toy, he hadn`t gotten bored with yet and wanted to try out, to see what it could do. He relished how he`d made her fall, how he`d manipulated, a master manipulator, someone who`d used everything at her disposal to get ahead, and now only cared about pleasing him. But, as much as he hated to admit it, and denied it, even to himself, there was something else. Something he thought he`d never feel again, a white hot, fury at the thought of anyone else possesing HIS Harley, holding or hurting her, that was HIS job! He had driven himself into a fit, thinking about these things he hated to think about, and now he needed to take it out on someone, he`d been so angry that he`d broken the snap on his jacket. No matter. Harley would fix that later.

Back at the chair, his Harley was just finishing shoving the last scraps, of her report down Paul`s throat. The Joker , tuned back into to the scene, and heard Harley remark, ``Try to tell me I`m wrong now! Go ahead try! Can`t, can you! I know him better than anyone else, I`ve proven my theories through practise! Is that research enough for you, and your A , Professor?`` she looked so funny, screaming at the tied up man, gagged with ripped scraps of paper sticking to his face, that he laughed, and moved in gently to put his arm around her, he had to get this over with soon, or he didn`t know what he`d do. ``Go ahead. Finish `em Harley-girl! That`s the punch line. The jokes no good without it.`` She squealed again, both at his touch and at his urgence, snuggling into his embrace, relishing it for a minute as she didn`t know when his tender touch would turn back into rough punching. ``Really Puddin`? You`re letting me finish the joke!`` ``Go ahead Baby, and quickly, before the Bat shows up.``

Quickly and carefully, she pulled the candy cane out of her mouth, its tip sharpened into a point a sharp as any needle, drawing it slowly across the quavering flesh of Paul`s swollen throat tracing his veins, and his adam`s apple, before sharply and savagely stabbing him with the candy cane and puncturing it . She kept tearing at his throat with the candy cane, ripping until blood and scraps of paper, sputtered everywhere, and Paul stopped moving. She moved off of him, and surveyed her handiwork, the powerful man with a big hole gauged in his throat, and a candy cane sticking out of it, with pieces of Harleen Quinzel`s thesis everywhere. It looked like revenge. It also looked a lot like Christmas. ``We just need to leave a holiday greeting!,`` she said as she used her sleeve to wipe Paul`s blood off her round child-like face and the Joker plucked a scrap of paper off the tip of her nose. It said a single word, ``laughter`` and he smiled, that was right.

He walked over to the corpse and pulled the candy cane out of its throat, and roughly stuck it in her hand, its tip was covered in ruby red blood, the best paint. And Harley bent over and used it to scribble a message on the floor in front of the spectacle, `Happy Holidays, From Your Uncle Joker.``. She knew better than to add her own name, in situations like these it was implied, almost as if she was just an extension, filed under the name Joker. And besides, the scribbled hearts and flowers, kind of spoke for themselves. Then she plunged, the candy cane back into Paul`s cold dead throat, and digging through her coat pocket, found another and rapidly unwrapped in and plunged it into her own mouth.

She went back over to him, and gave him her most seductive glance, the one she`d spent her teen years testing in front of the mirror. It only ever made him laugh, but today that was what he wanted. To remind him, that she was and would always be his, and the glance would only ever be turned his way. He pulled her into him again, and she drew his coat around her, Something was going to happen now, she could feel it. He did love her! He needed her! She`d shown him that she had a purpose, that she could keep up, that he could keep her around. She`d definitely made him proud! And she hadn`t even needed to get into another one of her negligees or fuss with her hair!

As they left the room, the Joker turned back over his shoulder, and as if someone was watching the scene unfold, proclaimed, ``Happy Holidays, Boys and Girls!`` Cuddled deeply into his coat, Harley poked her head up and mumbled, `` ``Mistah J? Who are you talking to?`` ``No one, Harley-girl. No One.`` he responded, and they walked off covered in blood and paper, happily through the fresh falling snow, and sung alternate lyrics to jingle bells at the top of their lungs.
``Jingle Bells, Batman smells
Robin Laid an egg
Batmobile lost its wheel
And Joker got away.``

And it would be a merry Christmas.
Chapter End Notes:
Ok, i hope someone out there liked it. It was supposed to take place somewhere early in her being Harley Quinn, so he's still kind of experimenting with her, but the time line got kind of messed up.
I got the idea for the end from making points out of my own box of bubble gum flavoured candy canes, and wondering if you could get them sharp enough to kill someone. I doubt you actually could, but I liked how it worked in the story.

If nothing else, it was catharsis to write. Is it weird to wish i was Harley?
Happy Holidays.

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