A/N: I've always had a fascination with the relationship between Dr. Harleen Quinzel and the Joker, and seeing Suicide Squad only made that fascination stronger. While I enjoyed the movie, I was very disappointed to see that whole aspect of their relationship, particularly their time in Arkham Asylum, being rushed and reduced to an awkward flashback while Rick James plays in the background. So I'm writing this to sort of satisfy my own need for a more in depth look at their relationship!

I know that it says somewhere in the movie that Harley was an accomplice in the murder of Robin but I'm changing that for this story because it's stupid and I think having it happen prior to his meeting Harleen is more compelling. I will also be writing in Harleen's perspective because I don't have the talent or insight necessary to write in J's perspective and do it justice

Reviews and suggestions are always welcome! Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it xoxo

Dr. Harleen Quinzel would have been excited had she been on her way to any other place for her first day of her new job. She wanted to be excited, sure, but that sort of emotion seemed out of place and even inappropriate given the sort of environment she would soon find herself in. Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, she read the intricate black sign a few times to herself as she parked her car. A place filled the brim with all manner of psychotics, schizophrenics and criminally unsound seemed hardly the place for anyone to feel any sort of pleasant emotion. Admitting to herself that she felt excited, even overjoyed to be in that kind of place would be seem uncomfortable and awkward. Still, she could not ignore the warm bubbly sensation she had felt building inside her since the weekend before when she had received the call that she had made enough of an impression during her interview that the board has decided to allow her to work at the institution, three out of five days of the week to start out.

Eager, she decided after a few minutes of sitting in her car. She would allow herself to feel eager- it's not a positive emotion or negative emotion, not really. It's a neutral emotion, perfectly acceptable to feel in any and all kinds of environments. Yes, she was eager- eager to start her career and prove herself to the assortment of male professors who had judged her or told her that she was unfit for the psychiatric ward. She'd taken their disapproval and their critiques, flirting a little along the way to ensure they would still help her along the way despite their doubts they'd had about her. She wasn't necessarily proud of her having used her looks the way she did, but because she was actually intelligent and capable of being a psychiatrist she allowed herself those little cheats now and again. And she hadn't done anything like that to get her new position this time, so the harmless things she had done previously didn't matter to her, not in the grand scheme of it all. She would work at Arkham for a few years, prove herself to the board by "fixing" a few of the garden variety crazies and eventually be given a few of Arhkam's more extreme personalities- the high profile villains. She'd always been drawn to those kinds of people and the challenges they presented. If she could get ahold of one of those, she'd be able to write a sort of tell-all book, maybe even cure the poor psychotic bastard and all of her hard work- the late night study sessions, the low cut blouses and tight pencil skirts- would all be worth it.

It will all be worth it, she repeated to herself as she stepped out of her car. She listened to the sound her red patent leather heels made as she stepped carefully on the sidewalk, their clicking and clacking becoming louder and more aggressive as the ground changed to the hard cold linoleum floors of the asylum lobby. Brushing the stray blonde hairs which had managed to escape her ponytail, she confidently walked to the reception desk. She introduced herself to the woman behind the desk, who in turn handed her a stack of papers- a rather alarming number of consent forms- and directed to upstairs with instructions to find a Dr. Leland.

Harleen had was sorting through the large bunch of papers as she walked up the stairs, speed reading the obnoxious number of pages. She was so caught up in the reading she completely missed the top step, tripping herself. She gasped, trying to catch herself but losing the papers in the process. They scattered themselves over the hallway and Harleen kept her eyes down muttered to herself as she got up, hoping that none of her new colleagues had seen her embarrassing display before looking up to see a woman in a lab coat with her hair cut in a severe bob smiling at her.

"Don't be embarrassed," she began as she scooped up a few of the papers and handed to them to Harleen. "It happens more than you think. We're all so busy and distracted we forget our own feet sometimes."

"Yeah, thanks" Harleen smiled back, accepting the papers with one hand and straightening out her skirt and red blouse with the other. "And I'm new so I'm not exactly sure where I'm going anyway. Say, do you happen to know a…"

"Joan Leland!" she answered back quickly, extending a hand. "We're happy to have you Dr. Quinzel, really. Your reputation precedes you."

"Oh?" she laughed nervously while shaking the woman's hand, hoping her relationships with some of her male mentors hadn't been talked about. "Good things I hope."

"Oh, only good things! Your academic record, your resume- very impressive. No wonder they hired you so quickly out of school. You'll do well here, I'm sure."

"I hope to!" her excitement could not be contained now, though she still tried to hold back that accent she struggled with often when she was too happy.

"If you'll follow me to your office we can sort through these papers, get you your lab coat and then I'll give you're a tour if that's alright with you?" Joan began walking down the hallway, motioning for Harleen to follow.

"Sounds great."

After what felt like hours, Harleen had finished the necessary forms and Joan had left her alone in her new office to get acquainted with everything while she went to fetch her id card and lab coat. Anxious for her tour, she paced around her office, opening desk drawers and adjusting window blinds while she waited. During her mindless wandering, Harleen caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror inside the closet. She reapplied her lipstick, taking in her appearance carefully as she did so. Her hair was still neat, her clothing relatively unwrinkled yet she still suddenly felt as though something were missing. Embarrassed even though she was alone, she reached into her purse and removed her glasses. She didn't need them of course, at least not to read. They were sort of a security blanket for her, something to hide behind that made her feel more professional though she was sure they did little to make others take her seriously. Still, she allowed herself the silly little favor. She put them on, glancing herself over quickly in the mirror again before Joan walked in.

"Oh, I didn't realize you wore glasses," she said as she handed Harleen her lab coat.

"Umm…yea, I-I thought I had forgotten them…" she answered quickly as she slid her arms into the coat. It wasn't a complete lie…she had forgotten them. She stared at herself in the mirror again, this time inspecting herself a little more than before.

"I like them," Joan added. "Very authoritative," she winked as though she understood their real purpose. Harleen held back a nervous giggle as she closed the closet. "Here's your id card, you'll need it to swipe in pretty much anywhere and everywhere," she handed her a small plastic card with a picture of herself printed in black and white on one side.

"Great!" she tucked it away in her pocket.

"Well then, if you have everything and your office is to your liking, I can show you around." She walked out of the office, and Harleen followed quickly behind her, that undeniable excitement coming out to play again.

As they toured the facility, Joan gave her some generic speech on Arkham's goal in rehabilitating its patients, gaining an understanding of their mental condition while attempting the patients to gain some clarity themselves. The first floor was filled with the least threatening of the patients, she was told, and the bottom floor, the basement, was where the worst of the worst were kept.

"You're first patients will probably be on the first floor, but I suppose I should show you the others," Joan conceded as she swiped her access card and opened a large door leading to a staircase. "Now I know I just gave you that whole rehabilitation is the goal speech but, that doesn't apply to the type we hold down here." She glanced at Harleen, trying to gauge her fear level. "These people are mostly beyond help, they rarely receive treatment- almost none are assigned therapist." The pair of women walked down the cold grey hallway, more carefully than they had upstairs.

Even without being told, one would be able to tell the type of patients downstairs were more dangerous than their upstairs counterparts. Normal jail bars of the cells upstairs were replaced with large, thick panels of (what Harleen assumed was) bulletproof glass. Being able to see inside the cells more clearly terrified Harleen more than she expected and cared to admit to herself, but she was equally exhilarated. Being so close to these kinds of personalities ignited something in her that she could not explain and while she tried to hide it from Joan she was sure the woman beside her could sense it, as Harleen couldn't help the excited, wide eyed glances she shot in each of the cells while Joan shot her a few disapproving glances as the made their way down the hall.

"I've always had a fascination with extreme personalities," Harleen spoke, unable to contain herself anymore. "The-the challenge they present, I mean," she added quickly to save face.

"These are dangerous people, Dr. Quinzel." She said sternly, troubled by Harleen's barely hidden eagerness. She carefully emphasized Harleen's title, as if to remind the young woman of her actual purpose her.

"No I know", Harleen agreed, as they neared the end of the hallway. She noted the cell at the very end was the largest, but they were still too far away and the lighting was so dark that she couldn't quite make out who it was containing. "But you have to admit, there is a certain…glamour….to these kinds of criminals, ya know?" Shit. Harleen mentally scolded herself, both for her inappropriate admission and for the slip of her accent.

"Now Dr. Quinzel," Harleen heard Joan begin as they stopped in front of the very cell she had been so curious about just moments before. Joan turned to face Harleen, her back to the final cell as she opened her mouth to speak. Harleen wasn't listening to her scolding, but she could tell she was being scolded by the tone she heard. She couldn't even bother to pretend to listen, as she was suddenly distracted by the white, neon green haired man in the cell behind them.

She was able to recognize him immediately, from the pictures in the newspapers and the breaking news bulletins. The clown prince of crime himself, the Joker. Harleen hadn't realized he would be in Arkham- he seemed such an intelligent man. A terrible man, she reminded herself, who did terrible things. Still, she couldn't believe that anyone had actually managed to capture him, or that he had actually put himself in a position to be captured in the first place.

He must have done something particularly bad this time, she thought to herself. His cell was dimly lit, darker than any of the others, she wondering if that was his choice. But she could still see him, just a little bit, from the fluorescent lights in the hall. She watched as he paced around his cell barefoot, not exactly peaceful but relatively unbothered. But he didn't look as crazy as he had on the news…. she couldn't figure out why though. Her eyes narrowed, staring more intently now.

As if he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was now being studied and he didn't like it, his neck snapped up, his eyes immediately finding Harleen's. Her eyes widened in response, but she did not look away, she was too intrigued- more like entranced really. He didn't look angry necessarily, more amused, like he was trying to make her uncomfortable as he smirked, mouth closed, moving his head from side to side. From the little movement she saw on his lipstick free mouth, she realized two things at once- 1) He was growling. She couldn't hear him but from his mouth and his body language she could tell he was growling at her. And 2) He wasn't smiling.

Smirking, maybe, but not the notorious Joker grin she had come to expect from him. It was odd, though she didn't know him, to see him without a smile seemed eerily…sad. For some reason she felt sad…she felt that he was sad. For reasons beyond her grasp, Harleen Quinzel felt that the Joker was sad. And for even stranger reasons, she felt as though she wanted to make him smile. Without fully meaning to and without fully understanding her actions, she felt herself begin to smile, before Joan's tone snapped her right out of whatever strange emotional state had come over her just now.

"Harleen!" she snapped at her. "Have you been listening to a thing I've said?"

"Of course, Dr. Leland," Harleen lied almost automatically.

"For your sake I hope you have," she cautioned. "I'm your supervisor for the time being, and I like you. I really want you to do well here- I want to see you succeed." She softened a little bit, patting her on the shoulder. "So long as you keep your wits about you and try not to overburden yourself, you should be fine." She began walking back toward the staircase they had entered from, but Harleen stayed just a few seconds behind her. Though she had broken eye contact with the Joker to answer Joan, his eyes had not budged. Sure Joan could not see her to shame or disapprove of her, Harleen shot him the smallest smile before leaving herself.

She didn't know why she did it, why she had let herself smile at him. She even felt sorry for it, awkwardly ashamed of the action and the strange feelings she had experienced. However she brushed it off, deciding that from now on she would be the pinnacle of professionalism, handling any patients Joan would throw out her, not rushing her own selfish agenda. Perhaps Joan was right anyway, she thought as she heading back to her office to fill out more paper work. She fished her key out of her lab coat pocket, reaching for the light switch as she entered. She wasn't ready for the patients downstairs anyways, she thought to herself; she should be a little more careful. And she would be starting tomorrow.

Or perhaps it was too late to try and be careful, Harleen realized as she quickly noticed the small vase on the top of her desk. It may very well be a welcome gift, she thought as she carefully closed the door behind her and made her way over to the desk. But she felt it wasn't, and as she picked up the card, her stomach filled with butterflies as her suspicions proved correct. There were few words written on the card but still she read them over and over again, trying to make sense of them.

Come and see me sometime- J

A/N: Review if you would like, I'm very new to fanfiction and this fandom so I'm sure there are some things I've gotten wrong/ need improvement on! I do want to continue the story though and hope to update as frequently as I can!

Oh I'm assuming it's lipstick on his face and not just the acid because it appears to be smudging in the chemical wedding and also I like it better that way so…yeah.

Thanks for reading!