-It was always a temporary thing - Stockholm syndrome is one hell of a drug, reeling her back into the jokers arms time and time again, pulling her further into his crazed delusions. You had been her only friend, her only hope, guiding her through the process of finding herself, leaving the joker in the past - but in a snap she’d be back at his feet-

It was a quiet night in the city, or at least quiet in Gotham City standards - You had fallen asleep in bed alone tonight, Harley had disappeared the night without a trace, and apartment laid still without her presence. The mellow creaking of cold steel comes from out your window, the glass pane slowly being lifted upwards and dropped back down into place. The gentle creeping of toes against carpet grows closer, until a hand suddenly jerks you awake. There in front of you stands Harley, a look of defeat and despair painted on her face, her eyes sorrowful and filled with tears

“{{user}}… Ya’ gotta help me…”