Hey, guys. So this is a story I've had floating around in my head for a while, but have never had the chance to get it down in print because I've been so busy with school. Freshman year at college, hooray! Haha. It actually is really fun and I love it, it's just so much work. But it's worth it.

This is a Nolanverse Harley/Joker fic, and I'm taking my own liberties with Harley. This is set post-TDK to post-TDKR.

I obviously own nothing, it all belongs to DC and Christopher Nolan.

It's kind of short, but it's just a start. Anyway! I hope you enjoy the story and I hope I do the characters justice.

Chapter One

Today was the day. The day I would finally be taking over the Joker's sessions. The Joker had been with us in Arkham for over a year now and had already gone through several doctors. Thirty-eight, to be exact. Dr. Arkham kept having to hire new psychiatrists after the Joker would make them run screaming from the sessions. Some lasted longer than others, but none lasted longer than a month. With all of the best professionals being sent packing, Dr. Arkham didn't want to risk using me. I am the youngest psychiatrist Arkham has ever hired, but also the best, and I was only hired because my college professor wrote me a sparkling letter of recommendation. Since I'd been here, I had treated some of the most notorious criminals Gotham had ever seen and had successfully gotten them to a state where they could be released on parole.

I had only been working here three years, but there was never a patient I couldn't cure, and Jeremiah Arkham valued my employment too much to risk losing me to the Joker, too. That's the only reason it had taken so long for me to be put on the case. And I have to say, it's about time.

Ever since he first started his crime spree in Gotham, I had been fascinated by the Joker. How he talks, how he commits crimes, and especially how he leaves a calling card. What kind of criminal wants to get caught? People would call him crazy. I never bought into hearsay. There was something different about him. He never seemed legitimately crazy to me. But I guess I was about to find out.

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I walked in to my office, expecting it to be empty, but he was already in there, sitting on the couch. He wore no makeup and his hair dye had faded enough to let his natural dirty blond hair show. He watched my every movement with his dark eyes, studying me like a predator would its prey. Despite what he clearly intended, I was not threatened by this. I wasn't even remotely frightened. I knew who he was, but he obviously had no idea who I was.

I repositioned my glasses on the bridge of my nose, cleared my throat, and adjusted my long, blonde ponytail quickly before sitting down in the chair across from him. Just as I had assessed him, he was assessing me. He was catching every movement I made and analyzing it as if he thought I would attack him and he needed to be prepared. Even with his wrists and ankles cuffed, I knew he could do damage if he really wanted to. His eyes continued to roam me and I broke my professionalism with a tiny smirk before I regained character once more.

"So, Mr. Joker. I see here that you've gone through thirty-eight different doctors. How on earth have you managed that in the short time you've been here?" I asked in my most professional tone.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," he drawled out my name. "Is blonde your, uh, natural hair color?"

I sighed. "I'll be asking the questions, Mr. Joker." I knew this would happen. He had never wanted to talk about himself or his life with any of the past doctors unless he was making up some story of how he got his scars.

He licked his lower lip and shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no. That doesn't work for me."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Seeing as I want to help you and am not legally able to tell you anything about myself. And these therapy sessions are recorded," I gestured to the recording device on the table in front of me.

He tilted his head to the side and stared at me. "Awe, doc. I thought you'd be more fun than that. Than the others…"

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. With my eyes closed, I heard him chuckle. At me, I assumed. When I opened my eyes, I returned his stare for a good minute before I reached over and stopped the recording.

"Alright, how about this. I ask you a question, you answer, I stop the recorder and you can ask me a question that I will answer. Since these first few sessions are vital to be recorded, this is the way it'll have to be. If at some point, you want to have some unscheduled sessions without the recorder, we can do that. But we have to get through at least three sessions with it before that can start. And all of our regular sessions must be recorded. Sound good?"

He only smirked at me.

gothamcitygothamcitygothamci ty

I silently ran across the rooftop of the mob boss' base for drug deals. I ran as fast as I could before the explosion. The moment I reached a high rooftop far enough away, I sat on the edge, ready to watch the fireworks.

I smirked as my mental countdown grew smaller. Three… Two… One… As soon as my mental clock reached zero, the building went up into smoke and flames with joker cards flying everywhere. My smirk grew into a smile as I watched my handy work. It was the perfect crime. Everyone knows the Joker is brilliant, but nobody can figure out his thought process. So who's to say that he wouldn't break out of Arkham at night to commit crimes and then get back into the hospital and pretend nothing happened? It could be fun for him. You never know. He's just such an enigma.

I watched as the fire trucks and police cars showed up blaring their sirens and grinned. Once the authorities started looking around the area, I decided to take my leave and get home. After all, I had to work tomorrow.