The floorboards creaked under Harley Quinn's footsteps. Her red nightgown adorned with black bows brushed along her knees as she stepped down the elaborate staircase.

She rubbed her eyes, her hands falling back to her sides.

"Jay..." she yawned, "What... What are ya doin'?"

He sat at the table, a bottle of whisky clutched in his hands. A shattered empty bottle was lying on the table next to him. Glass shards lay gleaming on the table and glittered all along the wooden floors.

The Joker glanced up at her, his eyes glassy, "Hello, darling!" He grinned.

She carefully stepped around the broken glass and stood before him, "You're drunk," she whispered, "Ya need to get to bed."

"Nuh-uh. Not... Yet." He took another swing, "Sit with me, baby." Joker's words slurred.

Her eyes darted to the side, "Mistah J..."

"Now."

"O-Ok, Puddin'..." Harley trailed off. He passed her another bottle lying on the table. Harley took a tiny sip.

"You're too quiet, Doll. What's on your mind?" He laughed. Joker downed the last of the bottle, the room seemed to spin for a moment. His laughter became erratic, and he leaned back in his chair, his movements unsteady.

"No-Nothin', Puddin'," she said softly, "I'm just worried 'bout ya. That's all."

"Nothing to be worried about," he rolled his eyes, "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine to me." Harley laid her hand on top of his. Joker squeezed her hand tight enough that it hurt. He took another desperate sip of the bottle.

"Harley, my sweet. You know, I've got a story to tell ya."

"Yeah?"

"My old man..." he chuckled, "Used to give me a real taste of a circus at home. A real freak show." Harley's eyes widened.

"He thought beatin' me was discipline," Joker hiccuped, "And now look at me? Covered in scars," he laughed, "I guess I was the freak show."

Harley couldn't breathe. She reached out, cupping Joker's pale face in her hands. Catching a tear falling from his green eyes. His eyes, filled with anguish. He blinked. And it was gone.

"Dance with me, my lovely harlequin. Let's waltz through the chaos of Gotham," the Joker grinned.

Harley hesitated, but took his hand. They spun around in the living room, "Jay... How long have ya been up like this? Drinkin'?"

"Who knows, darling? Time is a funny, funny thing. An hour, a minute. It's all a blur. But hey, we're havin' fun aren't we?"

Harley Quinn forced a smile, "Uh, yes, fun. But... Maybe we should, well, get some rest? I can't keep up with your wild moves, Puddin'."

"Oh, Harley. Aren't you adorable?"

They stumbled around the dimly lit living room. Joker's hand never leaving Harley's. He continued to trip over his own feet, catching himself just in time.

"Jay, I don't think—"

Suddenly, Joker stumbled over his feet, crashing into the nearby table. The side of his head collided with the table leg, a gash sliced in his forehead.

Harley gasped, she rushed to his side as blood began to spill from his forehead, "Puddin'! Are you okay?"

The Joker lay, sprawled on the floor, grinning maniacally. His laughter was tinged with quiet agony. Harley frantically searched for the hydroperoxide under the sink and a tissue, carefully maneuvering around pieces of glass.

"I've gotta clean this up..." she mumbled.

"Harley baby...!" Joker called from the floor, his words slurred, "Am I hallucinating? There's an angel standing in our kitchen."

Concern etched itself on her face, "Huh? What are ya seein', Jay?"

"You."

Harley Quinn's cheeks flushed as she dabbed the tissue to his forehead. Blood filled up the white tissue.

"I was there, Harley."

"What do ya mean?" Harley whispered.

"I watched her suffer. I begged her. But she never listened." Joker's hands clenched into fists.

"Who?" She asked softly. The tissue fell from her hand. Joker's eyes gazed to the ceiling, salt spilling from the corners. He raised a weak hand to her face, running his long fingers along her chin.

"Who?" Harley repeated. He looked away from her.

"Bring me another bottle. It's the only thing that keeps this madness at bay."

"Jay, maybe we should take a... Break from the drinks. I think you've had enough for one night."

Joker's expression darkened for a moment, his vulnerability replaced with a fleeting glimpse of the unpredictable rage that lurked within him.

"Don't deny me, Harley."

Harley Quinn stepped around the shards, grabbing a nearly empty bottle from the table. She gripped the bottle tightly in her hands.

"No." 

Then she downed the last sips, swallowing the fire down her throat. Joker yanked the bottle from her hands, throwing it against the wall. He pulled her in for a kiss as shards of glass rained down on their bodies.

"Kiss me like you're going to die tomorrow, Harley Quinn," he rasped. She pulled his body into hers, and they collided, their bodies sliced by pieces of broken glass, and their lips tainted in whisky.