Hello all! ShadowCat here! I'm baaaaack - after a very long break; sorry about that (life got in the way a bit). Who liked Suicide Squad? Not me! Although I thought BvS was quite good from a filmmaking point of view.

Anyway.

This is a one-shot of The Joker's first therapy session with Harley. It's been done many times before, and it looked fun, so I just thought I'd give it a go!

"Doctor Quinzell?"

Harleen Frances Quinzell, commonly known as Harley, looked up at the man who had just knocked on the door of her office. "Yes?" she answered, trying to sound as professional as possible.

The guard smiled sheepishly. "He's ready for you now, Doctor. But if you're busy, we could always wait."

"No, it's okay." Collecting her notepad and pen, she stood up and walked to the door, following him out. "And by the way, you can call me Harley."

Everyone does.

The fact of the matter was that Harley was rather busy. It was rather hard to prepare yourself for a talk with someone who was effectively a convicted mass murderer, especially as he was currently incarcerated in Arkham Asylum.

The 'someone' in question was known as The Joker. Practically everyone knew about The Joker, and practically everyone who knew about him was terrified of him. It had come as a relief to all when he had finally been captured and placed in the Asylum. However, many had said that he shouldn't have escaped jail on the basis of insanity, and deserved to be punished for what he had done.

Harley was slightly glad that he had ended up her workplace.

Of course, she knew that he was dangerous. She knew that he was manipulative and clever.

From her point of view, this made him even more interesting.

She had studied psychology for years and had worked in that field all her life. However, she had never had to work with a patient as unique and as fascinating as The Joker.

Most psychologists described him as an enigmatic character. The media considered him as insane. The public were afraid of him.

His files didn't help. All accounts seemed to differ on his past and psychology. Some said that he had had an abusive childhood, whilst others said that his problems lay in his adult life.

Which, to be completely truthful, was not a lot to go on.

Before she had even started thinking about what she would say to him, they reached the door to his cell. The guard smiled encouragingly at her, unlocked the door, and Harley walked inside.

She thought she had been prepared to meet The Joker. She had listened to countless interviews and seen many pictures, but it was nothing compared to the man in front of her.

He was seated behind a steel table in the middle of the room, opposite an empty chair. Chalky skin, neon green hair and blood red lips greeted her, his mouth upturned in a maddening smile.

He wasn't looking at her, instead staring at his lap.

She closed the door behind her, and took a slow breath. Sitting down in the empty chair, she attended to the recording device on the table. "Patient Interview 1. The patient is only known under the alias of 'The Joker.'"

She looked directly at him. "So. Care to tell me a little bit about yourself?"

There was no reply. He only continued to look downwards, hair covering his face.

Harley leant forward slightly. "I intend to help you, and I can only do this if you let me."

Silence.

"If you would prefer to do this another time, I'm sure that it can be arranged …" She let her voice trail slightly, waiting for his answer. But none came.

The silence was becoming unbearable. She was contemplating stopping the interview then, but, without warning, he started to laugh.

It was different than she had heard it before: more chilling, but more personal. The sound filled the empty room, ricocheting off the walls, lasting longer than it should have.

He stopped laughing suddenly, and snapped his head up. His dark eyes bored into hers. The abrupt silence seemed more sinister than the penetrating laugh.

When he started to speak, it was no more than a murmur. "Y'know, doc. It's strange how the bad guys end up with the pretty girl. Gotta say, you're not just pretty. You are .. gorgeous. Aren't I lucky?"

"That's a matter of opinion." replied Harley, knowing that he was just trying to unhinge her.

"I take that you've read my files. I'm sure you know everything about me already, doc."

"Yes, I have. You're a very interesting character." Harley nodded. "However, I'd like to hear about you from yourself."

"Oh, doc. That's a big thing to tell someone you've only just met. My mother always told me not to trust strangers." Joker smiled widely, and shuffled in his chair.

"Okay then. We'll make a deal. I'll tell you about myself, and you tell me about yourself."

He sniggered, and leant forward again. "So, sweets. What's your name?"

"My name's Doctor Quinzell. Doctor Harleen Quinzell."

" 'My name's Doctor Quinzell. Doctor Harleen Quinzell.' " he mimicked. "Where's Q, double-oh-seven?" He made a finger gun and shot it at her, before collapsing into laughter again.

Harley answered patiently. "Very funny."

"Ah, oh, wait. That was funny. Hang on. Did you say Harleen Quinzell?! I do like that name. If you rework it a bit, you get .."

"Harley Quinn. I know. Ha ha." She sighed. "I've heard that one before."

"Y'know, Harls, it's time for me to make another observation. I do think that you are a little afraid of me."

Harley kept her face blank. Am I afraid? Maybe just intrigued.

"Ha. I mean, it's perfectly natural to feel afraid of something. You'd be crazy if you weren't. But there's no need to be afraid of ol' Mister J. I mean," He raised his hands above the table. They were handcuffed. "I'm all cuffed up here!"

He put his elbows on the table and adopted a thoughtful pose. "Hm?"

She really had no idea to answer that, so blurted out the first thing that came to her mind; "So, you're not scared of anything then?"

Joker laughed again. Harley felt a small smile come to her lips. "Oh, I do like you. I do. Uh .. You're different from the other shrinks. I feel like I can really trust you. Y'know?"

"I think I do." She replied. "We'll leave it here for today then."

Harley switched off the recording device, and placed it in her pocket.

"Harls? Thank you." he breathed.

She walked to the door, a feeling of triumph in her heart. She had achieved more than any other physiatrist had. Just as she shut it on her way out, she looked back at her patient.

He was still staring at her.