Christmas gifts were supposed to be fun. And yet...

"I'm super bored." Harley tossed a dart, sighing when she missed. "I'm usually really good at this game."

She aimed, squinted, and let another dart fly. Her aim was less than true, but she kept at it.

The whimpers in the corner did little to dissuade her, mostly because they sounded like giggles through the filter of her own insanity.

"Your turn!" She held out a dart to the cowering mass in the corner, but nothing happened. "Take it, the game's no fun without friends."

The woman plucked it from the palm of her hand. Tears coated her eyes, and she stared at the dart like she couldn't comprehend its use.

"Hurry up now before ya regret it!" Harley said.

A second later, the dart hit the wall, well clear of the...target.

Harley crowed, "You suck worse than I do!"

The woman crept back into the corner, huddled and crying.

After another unsuccessful hit, Harley decided the whimpers were to blame: "Ya know, it's rude to make noise. I was quiet for you!" The chains rattled, but the whimpers ceased. "Thank ya, doll."

Although she had been sure of her gift only an hour before, now she was sure that Puddin' would be disappointed. One more throw, and the target let out a gleeful shout as the dart pierced his eye. The plaything affixed to the large wheel groaned and then passed out. Blood pooled around the dart stuck in his eye, accentuating the white paint slathered on his face.

"Bulls-eye!" Harley squealed, jumping up and down. "Bulls-eye! Get it?" She turned to the woman, who cowered.

"Please, stop it," she pleaded.

Harley approached her new toy, reaching out to fluff the polyester red and blue braids. The woman trembled, the chains on her legs softly clinking together.

"Here's a tip on being me: I would never beg for the fun to stop," she tsked.

The scene was too much, too predictable. Two clowns who couldn't even entertain? Ugh. Puddin' adored the strange, and these two were just strangely sad. They wouldn't do at all.

"Ya know, sweetie, I will stop." Harley pecked the toy on the lips, savoring the salty wetness of her tears. "See ya later."

She flounced to the door, surveying the two one last time. A tall green-haired clown nailed to the dart board as target practice, and a red-haired beauty in a tiny get-up who had the audacity to call herself Harley.

Well, the real Harley had attended their performance downtown, and was...unimpressed by their lackluster imitations. She'd intended to hammer sense into their silly heads after the show, but had been inspired to share their story with her Puddin. After all, it was Christmas Eve.

"Thank you!" the imposter cried.

"Oh sweetheart, don't thank me until you meet the love of my life." Harley threw a nod at the corpse of Mr. J's pathetic excuse for a doppelganger.

Understanding washed over imitation-Harley's face. She shook her head, saying, "No. Not him. Please!"

Piercing wails followed her out the door, and with each one, Harley's grin widened.

She climbed into her blue sports car singing "Jingle bells, jingle bells, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm."

She could never quite remember the words, but the melody was enough.

~*~

Pedestrians and buildings blinked on by as Harley pushed the car to 85 miles an hour. There was no point to driving without speeding.

Usually, she'd be zipping in between cars, nearly hitting them, grazing some. Double points! However, tonight the streets were empty, which would make scoring new presents even harder.

After five minutes of running red lights (talent!), Harley spotted a potential pair a block up ahead. She slowed for a better look, and decided against picking them up: it was a young couple, hand-in-hand. The girl nuzzled the boy's shoulder while the boy smiled.

Absotoot-alootely adorable. She missed Puddin' so much, she ached. But he'd be back. He always came back, and when he did, she intended to have a scrumptious gift waiting, something more spectacular than clowns.

Harley continued zooming about town, the blinking stars overhead prompting her to hum "Jingle Bells" all over again.

Though the streets were dark, a flash of black drew her notice. She'd know that whooshing thing anywhere, except...no Batty clouds lit up the velvet sky. Then it was two capes, bobbing alongside one another.

The cloaked figures dashed into an electronics store, emerging minutes later, their backpacks bulging more than before.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she said in her best English accent.

In a quick jerk, she jack-knifed the car onto the sidewalk, effectively cutting off the path for the lank youths. They halted, ready to bolt until she hung out the window, exclaiming,

"It's been a night of imitations, but I wanna hang with ya anyway. We cool?"

The two exchanged glances, trying and failing to understand their sudden change in fortunes. Finally, they nodded, with the fatter one gesturing for her to follow. Harley was already out of the car and ready to rock. It'd been awhile since she'd indulged in chaos for chaos sake. She usually had an end goal, even if it was just to please her Puddin. Lately, she'd taken to doing things for herself, and it felt damn good.

"Ya kids are pickin' out your own presents, eh? That's smart. Way easier than buyin' for someone else," she said, prancing behind them into a jewelry store.

They seemed to be able to waltz in and out of wherever they pleased without triggering an alarm. One of them flashed a small device at the security panel, and they were in.

First thing she noted was a display of gold chain necklaces, but she squashed the thought. Mr. J had enough of those, and didn't really care for jewelry.

Bent on their klepto-destructo fest, the fake Batmans (aka FATMANS!) busted open the register, broke signs, and raked various baubles into their backpacks.

As she watched, Harley liked them more and more.

A shiny red ring winked at her, and she smashed the glass counter to grab it.

"Get yourself a present," she murmured, trying the ring on and finding it fit perfectly.

The two Fatmen would make perfect presents for Mr. J., but they didn't have to know that.

~*~

After twenty minutes of reckless pillaging, the party moved to a nondescript building with a generic sign: General LLC files and Holding.

Of all the fun places, the Fatmen had to go and surprise Harley with a dull move like this. They were in it for the smash'n'grabs to be sure, but the two were organized in their disorderly state.

"Why are we here? Nothing shiny at all." Harley circled about the office, smashing lamps with a crowbar as she went.

One masked crusader waved at the filing cabinets and kissed his fingertips, as if to say they'd arrived at the creme de la creme. The thieves still had yet to say a word, perhaps cognizant of the cameras, but they weren't above laughing.

As they raided the files, their laughter reached a fever pitch, resulting in a victory cheer. Fatman number 1 threw up a stack of papers in the air, declaring, "Eureka!"

Fatman number 2 strolled out the back door, whistling, "Easy Street".

Nosey, she snooped through the closet drawer and pulled out a file. Inside was a lotta boring legal mumbo jumbo about a hospital, Gotham General Hospital to be exact. The fact meant little to her, until she opened up five more, then ten more files detailing the same organization. Harley picked up the file folder they'd emptied out, labeled CHILDREN'S CHARITY FUND.

"Ugh, c'mon," she sighed.

So unoriginal. She thought the Fatmen were all about destructo-rama, but on a responsible scale. Hurting kids never turned out well for anyone. The few times she'd lowered herself, it'd been hella hard to climb back out. She didn't want to get caught in that dark well, the one where the laughs sounded like screams, and the tears from other people pierced through her...No. Not again.

The Fatmen had disappeared, but not for long. She caught sight of their capes flapping in the wind, and whistled after them. They ignored her and hightailed it around the corner. She stopped chasing after them to consider the options: go home and finish a fun but predictable game, or capture two new toys. Stealing from a children's charity on Christmas Eve amounted to bad, but not that bad. This was more of a side-job for the Bat, but screw him. Well, screwing him might be fun, but she shook off the wanton images. One smooch didn't mean a whole lot, but damn, that didn't mean she could easily forget it. Harley hated to admit, but the Bat almost kissed better than Mr. J.

No need to put a stupid bat-shaped cloud in the sky and ruin everyone's Christmas. Still, help wasn't a bad idea. She considered calling her Kitty friend, but no, they weren't really friends anymore. Red was next on her call list, but she hesitated.

A present for yourself.

Who said she needed anyone's help? Kickin' the Fatmen's asses would be her pleasure, and hers alone. If they survived and made it to Mr. J., that'd just be a lovely bonus.

First, she needed one thing. Harley high-tailed it to the car, grabbing her trusty-rusty bat. She ran her hands lovingly along the wooden handle, humming more Christmas tunes. She honed in on a persona from years ago, from her days as an assassin. Her tracking skills, dormant but not gone, kicked in. A couple blocks down, she spied a store sign flapping, and a motion floodlight. Ah, they made it almost too easy.

Harley hurried on their trail, leading to an empty alley. A metal door with the words YOUR MOTHER spray painted on it was the only possibility, and she kicked it open. The Fatmen squatted on the floor, the files spread between them and two laptops. Their masks were up, revealing two scraggly male faces. They weren't young, and they were even less attractive and bulkier than she had assumed. No matter.

"Hey, you don't look like doctors to me!" Harley drawled.

They dove for the files, but relaxed minimally when they saw who had crashed their hideout. In a few moments, they wouldn't be so relaxed. They'd be laughing, hard.

Fatman number 1 eyed her, hands clutching some papers. "What do you want? Score's done."

She ambled into the room, making sure the weapon was visible. "I brought one of my best girls." Harley swung the bat in the air, catching it in her other hand. "She'll help you rest."

Fatman number 2 edged towards the door, but in a flash, Harley struck him, the bat connecting with his temple with a satisfying thwack! He collapsed in a heap, out cold. Even so, she beat about his melon a few more times, effectively caving it in.

"Ah, pretty," she said, briefly admiring her work before advancing further into the small space.

Fatman number 1 fumbled around, presumably for a weapon. He found none and appealed to her sympathies.

"Please, don't hurt me."

"Oh sweetness, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just gonna put ya to sleep." He crawled back, the papers with various bank accounts and and dollar signs crinkling beneath him. With that, Harley drew the bat back, and then she lowered it. "Wait, I feel really bad."

Fatman looked hopeful. "You do?"

Harley nodded. "Yeah, I forgot to tell your buddy Merry Christmas!"

Then she hefted the bat and put him to sleep.

~*~

A bloody hour later, Harley skipped to the entrance of the apartment, whistling as she went.

When she opened the door, a flurry of red snouts greeted her.

She waded through the crowd of lovable animals, some with snatches of red and green hair caught between their teeth.

Harley refilled their water bowl. The poor things had to be thirsty after such a large meal! She bent to offer the water, and the hounds licked her in appreciation.

She giggled and hugged them. "But who let you out?"

Red stepped out of the bedroom, clad in a white shirt and boyshorts. Her fiery locks tumbled over her shoulders, highlighting her unnaturally emerald eyes. "I thought they deserved a Christmas treat, and I didn't wanna clean up the mess."

"Smart and sweet!" Harley said, throwing her arms around the tattooed beauty. "I had even more fun tonight!"

"Mmm, really?" They shared a few lazy kisses before breaking apart. "Tell me all about it over some hot cocoa."

Harley brightened even more. "With marshmallows?"

Red's green lips pulled into a smile. "Of course, my dear. I'm not a monster."

Over warm mugs of cocoa, Harley dished out the night's events, with Red prodding for details, shaking her head now and again, or laughing when appropriate. Harley blathered on, her adrenaline waning until she could barely keep her eyes open. In all the excitement, she cared little about the fate of Mr. J, even conceding that he might never come back and not really caring.

After a few more marshmallow kisses, the two trotted off to the bedroom, with Harley crawling into bed.

She murmured, "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaaaay. Yay, I remembered the song!" A second passed, and her eyes closed.

Red chuckled, and tucked Harley in with a kiss.

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