Hellooo! First off, I know a lot will be happening in the first chapter, but I just wanted to get things going, heh! This is my second story, I gave up on the first one, but I hope it's good! Please review and tell me what I should improve on :D

By the way, Harley is completely OOC. I thouht of making a completely new character, but I figured it's just easier to use Harley.

Harleen slammed her foot on the brakes and the car thankfully stopped just in time to not hit the old lady that was crossing the street. The blonde groaned, the day was going horribly so far. At least she could get some sleep as soon as she'd get home, or could she? How was she supposed to keep her mind from racing?

She had tried to pretend it was just a normal day, going back home from work, getting something to eat then go watch TV and sleep. But who was she fooling? It wasn't a normal day, you couldn't possibly call a meeting with the Joker, the most wanted mad clown mass murderer of Gotham. She was unscathed physically, but mentally she was stressed out beyond belief. Her psychiatry career wasn't going too well either. It was her first year of work so she wasn't even allowed to even try to treat patients, she was supposed to watch and learn for five more years while getting treated like a child by the older doctors.

That day, she had wanted to eat lunch away from the asylum for once. Since she had no money, Harleen had to withdraw some from her bank, although it was a very bad time to do so, as she walked in on the Joker and his goons robbing it. After messing with her a bit and using her as a human shield, The Joker said three words that kept echoing in her mind over and over.

'See you soon.'

She had been pondering on their meaning the whole day. The blonde wished she had someone she could confide in and tell them about what happened, but there wasn't anyone she knew that wouldn't send her straight to Arkham.

As soon as the girl arrived home, she threw herself on the bed, enjoying the sensation of freshly cleaned sheets against her skin. Pulling the blankets on top of herself, which sent pleasurable shivers thorough her body, Harleen attempted to doze off. Ten minutes later however, she was still wide awake and soon she realized it was pretty much impossible to sleep. And how could she, after all?

With a defeated sigh, she threw the blankets off and just laid in the comfortable bed, allowing her thoughts to wander wherever they pleased, hoping that would help relieve at least some of the dreadful stress that was dominating her mind.

Until that day, her life was the same. Boring, usual, but comfortable and safe. She was at least sure no serial killer was on her tracks. As much as she thought he only said that to scare her and get /that/ reaction out of her, there also was a possibility that he was actually going to 'visit' her again.

But why would he? That's what she didn't understand, why her? She was nothing out of the ordinary, her appearance was quite plain and her personality wasn't too bright either. What could have caught the Joker's eye to mark her as his future source of entertainment? Harleen hoped dearly that wasn't the case, but she had to be realistic. It was a real possibility that she simply could not dismiss, try as she might.

And if she does come across the Joker again , what will he do? Kidnap her and murder her? Neither sounded too pleasant, but she had calmed herself down. There was no point to fear death, as it was something you had to embrace. Once death starts looking for you, there's nowhere you can hide or run.

She somehow doubted he was planning to kill her. What would he gain from killing her? There are seven billion other people he can kill, and he already murdered thousands already. What would her meaningless life be to such a man? No, she kept trying to tell herself he would have slashed her throat already if those were his plans.

The psychiatrist in her desperately wanted to meet him, to talk with him and to try and figure out the way his fascinating mind worked. It had been her dream since she was a young girl to meet a serial killer, but she hadn't imagined it to be so...distressing.

And one had to admit, he was pretty amazing. A mastermind genius, nobody, not even the batman can catch him or threaten him with anything. If he had nothing dear to him, not even his life, then there was literally nothing stopping him. And damn, that was pretty scary. Harley wondered if he had any mental illnesses. It was impossible not to, but which? Sociopathy was the first thing that came into her mind, but there was no proper way to analyse him without talking to him beforehand.

Finally, her lids had become heavy and sleep had come faster than she expected. It was very early and she didn't read any of the patient files she was supposed to, but fuck those. She needed to rest desperately, as her habits of only sleeping a few hours per night were starting to affect her face. The ugly bags under her eyes made her look like a walking zombie and her mood was significantly lower whenever she was tired, and that was always unpleasant.

The following morning, the dreaded alarm clock awoke the girl from her shitty sleep. A headache was throbbing in her head and she was unable to keep her eyes open until her eyes finally managed to adjust her sight to the daylight, about ten minutes later.

All in all, she was feeling as if she has had no sleep that night, due to the numerous nightmares and strange dreams she had. The worst part was that she could remember nothing about them, just that they were pointless and abstract.

With a deep sigh she threw herself under the hot water of the shower, almost falling asleep in the process of washing herself. After messily brushing her teeth and hair, she managed to get dressed with yesterday's shirt and skirt, not bothering to pick anything new.

Harleen stared into the mirror, cringing at what she saw. No amount of makeup could hide the black bags underneath her eyes and their red pigment. Nonetheless, she grabbed her keys and got into the car. There was nothing she could do about her morbid appearance.

As she was driving, Harleen felt like she was about to crash in every tree or post she encountered. Entering a long but narrow one way street she sped up, hoping to reach her workplace faster. She knew this street was usually empty, as nobody really lived around that area, so she didn't think there were any risks.

Suddenly however all her thoughts were proved wrong as her car suddenly collided with something. Something solid. The girl's heart skipped several beats as she Anxiously got out of the car to analyse what had just happened.

She had hit a child is what happened. The kid laid in a puddle of blood, clearly dead, and she had to stop herself from screaming. She couldn't even cry. Harleen turned around, got into her car and instantly drove home, where she would better contemplate what had just happened and whether it was a dream or not. She was still in a state of shock and panic, so her driving wasn't perfect but she was careful not to hit anything else this time though. After a long mental debate with herself, she decided against calling the emergency number. They couldn't do anything.

As she entered her apartment, realization had hit her like a wrecking ball, shattering every piece of her. She would be going to prison, she would get a huge ass fine. She was a murderer. Her life was pretty much over. And even if she somehow didn't get into prison, nobody would accept her again. Her face would be all over the newspapers, probably calling her 'Harleen the Killer' or some other horrid names, people pointing at her whenever they would see her. She would probably be fired from her job, become homeless and eventually end up killing herself.

Harley realized she was just panicking, with good reason indeed, but she was panicking. With a deep breath, she managed to stop the mini heart attack she had been experiencing and allow the tears to come out. She was planning to throw herself onto the bed, but suddenly she felt a hand grabbing her right shoulder, preventing her from advancing.

She felt like her heart and brain were about to completely shut off. Like lightning, she turned around, a waterfall of tears still rolling down her cheeks. The so called Clown prince of crime, the Joker was staring emotionlessly at her.

"What do you want?" Harleen yelled through the tears and the sobbing and sat herself on the bed, attempting but obviously failing to calm down.

He had just raised an eyebrow, followed by a malicious chuckle which seemed so poisoned that he insulted her by just laughing. "Why is my doll crying?" He asked casually as he sat next to Harley, watching her try to contain her tears.

"Because your 'doll'," she said with the best roll of her eyes and sarcastic tone she could muster at that time. "Just ran over and killed a child! I'm going to prison!" she finished as she dared to look into his eyes for a mere second, observing their onyx colour. They had no hint of brown, just black like his makeup which made his eyes look like botomless pits. Just like his soul, probably.

She wasn't even interested to hear the reason he was in her apartment in the first place as she was pretty sure she didn't want to know it, preferring not to hear of anything he had to say as it sure as hell wouldn't make her feel better. If anyone told her she would be crying because she had just killed a child and she would find the Joker in her apartment she would kindly thank them and send them straight to Arkham. There weren't many free cells, but she would have found a way.

"Noo...no no no. Who said you're going to prison? You're not going to prison, doll. Not if I can help it." He said with a mischievous grin. Harleen was certain he wasn't doing it out of the kindness of his heart, he surely wanted something in exchange. And she wanted to find out what as soon as possible.

"Why would you help me?" the girl questioned, her sobbing had stopped temporarily . "What do you want?"

"What do I want..? I want therapy sessions with you, doc-torr." He said, his grin had faded but a malicious grin was still decorating his chapped lips covered in blood red makeup, which extended to his scars. Harley eyes discreetly studied them.

"Therapy? With me?" she suddenly blurted out, rather surprised of his request. If she was unsure he was truly mad before, she was now completely certain of it. Why would he want sessions with a doctor that has just finished college?

"Do you have hearing problems, girl?" He growled, slight annoyance present in his tone. The Joker was studying her features, although there wasn't much to see besides an emotionally wrecked girl. If these future sessions truly did take place, it surely wouldn't help that he saw her at her worst. Although, sessions with the Joker were a million times better than a few good years in jail.

"How are you going to erase all the evidence, though?" the girl asked, truly curious of what he was about to do, although she had a feeling she wouldn't get a response, which made her realized how stupid the question sounded.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that, I have my ways." He responded as Harley stared at him dumbly, her crying had ceased. She was unsure of what to do, the Joker was going to help her? Why? It all seemed suspicious.

"Why would you want to help me for therapy? What do you really want?" Harley growled, her face bore no expression. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of her grey cat which was aimlessly walking around her apartment.

"Isn't that what you want? To prove yourself?" He impatiently answered, a hint of annoyance present in his strong tone. "Aren't you tired of just watching others? Harleyy, don't be stupid. I know you want this." The edge of his mouth curled into a smirk, the scar extending even further. It was hard for her to keep her eyes off them, but he didn't seem to mind. He was probably proud of them.

But yes, The Joker was right. It would be a great opportunity for her to deal with a high profile criminal, the man that every psychiatrist dreamed of trying to treat, to get into his head. He was rarely in the asylum for longer than a month when he did get caught though. And that short period of time was enough to get into the doctor he was assigned to's mind and break it. Harley had always been fascinated by the Joker and knew all of the public and some of the secret information about him. Which might explain why she wasn't flipping out because he was in her apartment. That, and the fact that she has just killed a child and he was her only chance.

"Alright.." she finally said with a sigh as her cat gracefully leaped on her bed with a low meow. She couldn't help but stress out a bit, unsure of what the Joker would do. She didn't trust him in the slightest.

The cat rubbed itself against the joker, he was simply watching it. With a sudden movement of his hand, he scared it away and it retreated into the kitchen, desperately looking for food. Harley realized she had forgotten to feed it, and was genuinely surprised it was still alive.

"I uh, must go. We will see again, Harley Quinn." The joker stated, his lips and scars stretched into a small grin which featured his stained teeth. Coffee, she supposed. He calmly walked out the door, like he was a regular citizen, not a mass murderer.

Harleen threw herself onto the bed, groaning. She was feeling extremely dizzy, and the encounter seemed to be a bad dream. Why the Joker wanted therapy sessions with her was still a mystery, but she wasn't complaining. Indeed it was a good opportunity for her, and no way she would be missing it out.

"Therapy?! With her? Are you out of your mind?" yelled an annoying woman with a russian accent, about 23 years of age, obsidian locks falling on her shoulders and down her middle back. If it weren't for the vertical scar across her right eye, one would say she's the prettiest woman in the world. Tall, but curvy, athletic , and deadly with a gun.

The Joker said nothing, but merely glanced at her, obviously not in the mood for pointless bickering. It had been a long day, figuring out where this girl lived and actually getting in. He hadn't slept in the last few days either, so fatigue was inevitable. But of course, he was stubborn and drank his weight in coffee daily, until he would finally crash and sleep for a few hours. He has been repeating the same unhealthy schedule for the last few years, but he was still alive and well, as such he had no reason to get more rest. After all, sleep is for the weak.

"You were only supposed to kidnap her! Not get in her apartment! What if somebody saw you? Do you even-" the Joker interrupted her by calmly, yet brutally pinning her to the brick wall, keeping her in place as she struggled. Although she was good at her job and was competent enough to handle the brainless henchmen, he did not tolerate her short-temper. It ticked him off.

"Sonyaa." He began, his tone soft and his knife slowly tracing Sonya's scar. Big blue eyes were now filled with fear, the realization of her mistake having clearly hit her. "Annoying people are boring. And you know what happens to people I dislike." He stated, his tongue swiftly running across his chapped lips as he'd press the knife into the scar, opening it up slightly as the brunette winced, her eyes closing to mask the tears ready to fall.

With a minuscule smirk, he released her, pushing the girl in the direction of the basement door. "You are pathetic, little girl." He spat as he returned to his own room, pondering whether he should sleep or try to figure out the rest of the plan. Its first part was clear, kidnap the girl and use her as bait at Harvey Dents anniversary, then lure batman to try and play the hero to rescue her after he would anger him enough.

But then what? He supposed he could live up to his name, the guy without a plan, even though that was a facade he had put on. Although it was true for the most part, he did have a goal, a general plan. The little details, such as blowing out hospitals or killing a few hundred citizens were however insignificant. They were just part of the big thing.

He kept attempting to forget Sonya's misbehaving, but it seemed to fail to slip from his mind. So what if he had some fun with his victims before kidnapping them? It was polite to at least get to know them a bit before plainly using them, or at least so he figured. Besides, it had been two years since his last visit to Arkham and desperately missed breaking the fragile minds of the psychiatrists. They had indeed helped him more than they ever realized, they helped him figure out that everyone had a weakness. He just couldn't discover his. Sure, he greatly disliked the Batman and boredom, but did those really count?

With a sigh, he finally decided to rest. The Joker threw himself onto the amethyst pigmented sheets and quickly feel into a deep slumber.