I was with him, he was with me, the Joker and Harley Quinn. It was perfect. My love for him was clear. God, I loved him but there was that same question repeating itself in my mind. Did he love me? The vat, Harley, he saved you. Did that equal love? Or was I just a toy? My shoulders rose and fell with my pent up anger and I gripped the edge of my dresser, my knuckles a bony white. I was back in my room after that encounter.

Everything was contradictory. He tortured me, then saved me, then hit me, then walked away. It doesn't matter Harley. You're with him. I pouted. But it did matter. It really did. I wanted him to need me like I needed him. Did he even know that feeling? The suffocating feeling of absolute desperation, that if you couldn't be with that person, you would die. I had felt that ever since I first lay eyes on him back at Arkham. Even back then he was so composed, so in control of the situation even though he was the prisoner and I was the therapist. He had become my therapist back then, twisting my words and mind and thinking. I was his creation.

There was always that gleam in his eyes when he looked at me, that sly gleam that made me feel like I was his prey, but...also like I wanted to be that. Like he was the hunter in the woods and I was the deer in his crossbars but I couldn't move and I didn't want to. I just wanted him to keep his attention on me, for however long it was, before he would pull the trigger.

He didn't see me and love me, he saw me and was amused. That's what it was: amusement. He was amused by me. I stared at my reflection in the spotless mirror. If he thought I was just some item, some fling, just another stupid adoring woman after him, then he was mistaken. I might adore him, but I'm not going to be an item. I needed to prove myself. Show that I was just as bad as him, and just as dangerous. That I was more dangerous.

After the vat incident, his red shirt had melted off into my hair making it pink on one side, the other blue from my shirt. I let go of the dresser and separated my hair into pigtails, then looked at myself. I looked the part. I grinned. Now all I had to do was find an outfit. Seeing as there was nothing in the drawers, I would have to go shopping. A chance to enter the world as Harley Quinn for the first time. I smirked and quickly decided not to mention this little trip to the Joker. Sometimes it was better to keep people in the dark. Maybe he would even come looking. Now that would be interesting. Maybe that would prove it. If he came looking, if he noticed that I was gone and came looking, then he cared for me.