A/N: Hi readers! Thanks for taking an interest in my story. I'd like to give major thanks to my beta, Vo. This is my very first fanfic and all feedback (even flames) are more than welcome.

Dirty Business

Dr. Harleen Quinzel sat stoically at her desk. Looking up at the clock, she noticed it was almost quitting time. Her laundry-list of household chores came to mind. Lately it had seemed as though she spent all of her time at work. The dishes in her apartment were piling up, there was no real food in the cupboards and she couldn't remember the last time she had enough time to enjoy a hot bath. No, her work was her life.

She pulled out the day's newspaper. The front page headline read "The Laughing Man: Caper Hits Again." Harleen let out a sigh. This maniac had been snagging the front page all week. She skimmed the article with her eyes, not really paying attention to the words written.

"Dr. Quinzel?" A voice came through the doorway. Her head snapped up, slightly startled. She let out a sigh of relief as she noticed her boss standing in the doorway.

"Sorry Harleen, didn't mean to startle you." She told her.

"Nah, you're fine. It just seems so late, I forgot anyone else was here." She said, recovering. "Can I help you with something?"

"We just got a new patient. Need you to talk with him."

"I'm so close to getting out of here for the night. This can't wait until tomorrow?" She asked, sounding exhausted.

"Afraid not. This is big. We want someone in there now." Her boss said, throwing a folder onto her desk, some of its contents spilling out.

Harleen opened the folder and scanned the papers. She didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He looked like a typical Arkham patient. She got to the end of the pile, to a blank piece of paper. Slowly, she turned the paper over. It was him. The white face, disheveled greenish hair, and that grin. She looked up at her boss.

"We have him?" she asked, shocked.

"We have him."

Harleen shoved the papers back into the folder and stood up.

"Which cell?"

"We're keeping him in isolation, cell A." her boss replied.

The two left her office, down the hallway to isolation.

Harleen was nervous. She didn't bother to hide it. She reached out to grab the door's handle. Her hand was shaking. Harleen had talked with sociopaths, schizophrenics, rapists, murders, but she'd never known someone to have so much impenitence. The door slid open and there he was, at the end of the table. His head slowly turned upward to get a look at her. He licked his lips quickly and gestured for her to sit down.

Harleen took a seat at the opposite end of the table and opened up the patient's folder. She looked up at him. He attempted to frown.

"I don't have cooties you know." He stated.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to sit that far away. I'm not going to bite you."

There was a silence. Harleen went back to shuffling her papers. The few seconds of silence that passed seemed like minutes to Harleen. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off before she could get a word out.

"What's your name doctor?" the patient asked, and leaned forward, interested.

"I'm Dr. Quinzel."

"Do you have a first name?"

"Yes. It's Harleen. Do you have a name?"

The man cackled. "Oh that's good!" He hollered.

"What?" Harleen asked, confused.

"Harleen Quinzel… harlequin. Can I call you Harley doc?"

"If you tell me your name."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something small out, laying it flat on the table. He slid the object across the table to Harleen. She stopped it with her palm and carefully held it up.

"What is this?" She asked.

"That's me. It's my… calling card." He said smoothly.

"The Joker?" She questioned.

"Bingo… unless you'd rather call me Puddin." He told her sarcastically. "So Harley what are we talking about? Hair care, gossip, politics?"

"I was thinking we could start with why you are here." She said, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"Easy. I'm here because you and the good citizens of Gotham think I'm crazy. Am I right?"

"You don't think you are crazy?"

"Crazy? No, no, no. I just roll with the punches. Get my kicks. I'm sure you live your life the way you want to. I live mine the way I want to."

"That doesn't mean you can steal and-"

"Kill."

"Yes." Harleen was alarmed by his bluntness.

"People have been killing one another since we were put on this Earth."

Harleen tried hard to find some sort of response. With any other patient she would have been on top of her game, but there was something about him. Part of him scared her a great deal, but something told her that he wouldn't hurt her. What really tripped her up was that he had absolutely no remorse. He thought what he was doing was perfectly fine.

"Allow me to be the symbol of chaos in your completely structured life… everybody needs a little chaos. Trust me it's fun." He grinned wide.

"Without structure we are stuck in a world of anarchy."

"That's the point Harley!" he said jumping up suddenly. "Anarchy! The way it was meant to be. We don't need rules… we don't need guidelines."

"That's not the way it works Joker."

"Why don't you ask me a question…"

"Any question?"

"I don't care… I mean, that's your job, isn't it?"

Harleen asked the first question to pop into her mind. "What happened, to make you look-"

"Like this." The Joker laughed. "So original." He licked his lips and sat back down. "That's not important. It was just a little accident."

"Okay. You aren't comfortable answering. Let's try a different question." She thought for a moment. "How was your childhood? Usually those things contribute to… well… behavior like this."

"Lets just say I had a rough childhood. My dear mommy and daddy weren't the nicest of people. My father was a mean drunk. And my mother, well I could never make her happy."

Harleen felt a tinge of sadness and sympathy. He was only a product of a rotten childhood, like so many others, she thought.

"That's awful. I'm so sorry." She said honestly.

"She killed herself." The Joker said, looking down at the table. "My mother."

"How did you handle your father, all on your own?"

"I didn't have to. The man drank himself into a coward's grave."

There was a long moment of silence. The Joker kicked his feet up onto the table and leaned back in his chair.

"So Harley, are you married? Do you have children?"

"No."

"Must be pretty lonely."

"I get along fine. Are you married?"

"No. I'm not. Could you really think of someone who would want to be married to this?" He gestured to his face and licked his lips again. "You know what? I like you Harley. You are a great listener. You are probably the greatest friend I've ever had."

"I'm just a psychiatrist."

"Oh. Of course… you don't want people thinking we're friends. It's because of that whole "crazy" thing. You know Harley, you really shouldn't care what other people think."

Harleen thought about this. She was getting tired of conforming to societal standards. Worrying only about her work and what others thought of it. She constantly compared herself to others in her line of work, raising the bar, not because she wanted to but because she constantly felt pressure to. She was tired. She was sick of it.

She looked up at the clock.

"What's the time?"

Harleen looked to the Joker. "It's late." Was all she told him.

"Time to be parting?"

"For tonight."

"Before you go… would you like to see a magic trick?"

Harleen didn't say anything. She just focused on pulling together all her papers.

"It's good I promise."

She looked up at him and nodded. With his hands still handcuffed together he walked toward her. She backed away slowly.

"Don't worry, it's just a harmless little trick." He reassured her.

She didn't know why, but she remained still. And let him move closer. Slowly he reached his hands around the left side of her head. He gave her a quick glance. She looked back into his eyes, not blinking. There was some calming force there. She trusted him. He quickly pulled his hand away from her ear.

"Ta da!"

He handed her a bright red rose. She cautiously took it.

"For you, Harlequin. I'll see you later."

"Thank you." She said backing away from him, towards the door.

"Sleep tight Harley, don't let the bed bugs bite too hard."

"Night Joker." And with that she slowly opened the door and left the room.