Beta: RisqueSno

Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters and WB owns DC and Time Warner owns WB and I'm pretty sure the rest of the world.

Author's Notes: This idea came to me just as I was falling asleep. I liked it so much that I suddenly couldn't drift off and ended up writing the whole thing in my head as I laid there. Enjoy!

One Good Day

She was back, with a shattered kneecap, but back all the same. Joan Leland had been happy to hear the news. Despite all the time she had spent on Harley's case that seemed to be getting her nowhere, she still enjoyed their sessions to a certain degree. Certainly, they were frustrating, but unlike the other inmates she treated, Leland felt safe with Harley. She often wondered if trusting Harley too much would ultimately be her downfall. It didn't help that Harley seemed so much…saner when they were talking. What she said might make little sense, but she spoke intelligently, conversationally and, most importantly, tended to leave the little girl act behind her when she walked through the door.

And so it was with a soft smile that she greeted her favorite patient, blonde pigtails and all, as she was escorted into her office. She needed support due to her cast and the guards helped Harley onto a couch, where they laid her down before attaching the ankle of her uninjured leg to the leg of the sofa.

"I don't think I'm going to be involved in too much mischief with this," she said to the guards, while indicating her busted leg.

"Yeah, yeah, you know the rules," one of them threw back as they took their leave, but their relaxed demeanor indicated they agreed with Harley for the most part.

"Are you comfortable?" Leland asked her patient once they were alone.

"My leg's supposed to be elevated, but it's no biggie," Harley replied.

"Here," Leland offered as she rose from her chair, taking a throw pillow and placing her leg on top of it.

"AAH! You crossed the yellow line!" Harley teased, pointing to the yellow tape that surrounded the couch, indicating a line not to be crossed by either doctor or patient. "Doesn't that mean some horrible curse will befall you?"

"I'll let you know if my hair starts falling out," Leland offered, retaking her seat. "So…here you are again."

"Yep, here I am," Harley chimed back.

"Let me guess. That," the doctor pointed at her leg, "Was just his way of saying he loves you."

"Don't be silly!" Harley exclaimed. "I kinda screwed up on our last job. Tripped an alarm. We escaped okay but came out empty handed."

"And as a result you think you deserve this punishment?" Leland pried.

"Not really," she answered nonchalantly. "I mean, people mess up sometimes and they usually don't face any sort of physical reprimand. No, I don't think it was deserved, but it was certainly expected."

Joan peered over her glasses with a blank expression. "Are you saying that the fact that you expect to be abused excuses his actions?"

"Well, yes, in a way. I mean, I could leave at any time now couldn't I? Maybe 'excuse' is the wrong word, but he can hardly be blamed for me continuing to take what I know I'm going to receive."

Oh, she was an infuriating case and becoming more so by the day. Originally, Harley would defend the Joker's every action in the most twisted way possible, saying that his treatment of her was warranted for this reason or that, claiming that he could not be held responsible with a multitude of arguments. But she was getting smarter after all the time she spent in therapy.

Here she was now, obscurely taking the blame in the manner she had been lectured to. Now it's her fault because…well, they've all told her it was, haven't they? Clever.

"So did you enjoy having your kneecap shattered?" Leland countered, rather irritated.

"C'mon, I'm not that much of a masochist. Having the use of your leg is nice for doing things like, y'know, walking," Harley replied sarcastically, sensing her doctor's annoyance.

"Well, I can only assume that you must enjoy this treatment as you have just admitted yourself that you know it's going to happen again."

Harley's bright blue eyes rolled. "It's not always like this. Why just last week we had a terrific day and-"

"I know. I know." Leland cut her off. "Sometimes everything's just wonderful. You've told me. When it is he's just putting you in a position to put your guard down. Harley, you know this! You've studied it! It's really not all that complicated. It all comes back to a classic case of abuse."

"Not all that complicated?" Harley repeated as though she couldn't believe the words had just come out of Leland's mouth. "I'm with the Joker! There's nothing classic about it. You honestly think this works just like any run of the mill case of domestic violence?"

"Your reactions do. They always do. When he behaves himself it's supposed to make up for when he doesn't, because when he's behaving that's him expressing 'his true feelings for you', is it not?"

"No. God, no," the blonde shook her head in irritation. "Do you think I am that stupid? I…I can't believe I have to explain this. I know you've never had him for a patient, but you know him to some degree. You've read his file. Hell, you've been here longer than most anyone that has been employed at Arkham."

"I'm talking about you, Harley. Not him. You seem to confuse that often. What do you-"

"Have you ever wanted to hurt someone?" Harley interrupted abruptly.

"…What?" Leland responded, confused in sudden change of dialogue.

"It's okay if you have. We all feel angry sometimes. We just try to repress it in polite society. Haven't you ever wanted to, say, pick up that paperweight on your desk and just chuck it at the head of another doctor you've been fightin' with or a patient that's being difficult?"

"Like you?" Leland quipped.

"Sure!" Harley laughed. "I can be quite the handful."

"Of course, I have. Everyone has those feelings."

"But you don't act on them," Harley verified. "That makes you "sane". You're playing society's rules. And it's more than just physical confrontation. We bury our first instincts all the time. If someone asks you if you like their new hideous shirt, you say that you love it. That's the polite thing to do. If a friend asks if you would mind doing them a favor, but you really don't want to, you still agree to because..." Harley prompted.

"It's the right thing to do," Leland agreed. "But I'm not sure what this has to do with what we were talking about."

"I'm getting there," Harley promised. "The Joker is a rare individual who always acts on that first instinct. He would hurl that paperweight as hard as he could at the other person's head and then take to bludgeoning him with it repeatedly. He'd tell the person with the horrible fashion sense just what he thought of their shirt and then probably slice his throat to make sure he never was an eyesore again. He'd tell the person asking for a favor to go to hell and then take him out just in case he had another favor to annoy him with tomorrow."

"And the point is?" Leland asked trying to move the conversation along, mostly because this was beginning to feel like a praise session.

"The point is, the Joker does exactly what he wants, when he wants to do it. So when I tell you we spent the day snuggling on the couch watching a Marx Brothers marathon or walking along the docks with his arm around my waist or laughing all night long in bed, I'm saying-"

"That he was doing exactly what he wanted to do," Leland realized.

"Bingo. And how many people can you name that he'd want to do those things with?"

Leland stared blankly into space.

"Exactly. So, yes, they're rare and, yes, that's why I stick around. You see, he's always expressing his 'true feelings for me' as you put it. Our time together, whether he's happy with me or not, is always absolutely genuine and that's a very rare thing, don't you think?"

Leland was grateful to hear the return of the guards indicating their time was up because she honestly had no idea how to continue from that point. "A classic case," she heard Harley snicker mockingly as she was escorted back to her cell.

These sessions were so draining. It took Leland a good ten minutes to clear her head and think more rationally. She had made it her mission to prove to Harley that this wasn't the life she wanted and Harley made it hers to convince Leland of the opposite. It was a constant game of tug-of-war. A game that Harley was getting too good at.

Harley had a way with words, no doubt about it. Leland had bought her bull for half a second. Actually bought that the Joker might be above falsifying anything, being ingenuine, which of course was ridiculous. He had proven time and again what a master manipulator he could be and wasn't above anything, anything at all…to get what he wanted. It all came back to what he wanted, him being a creature of instant gratification, which unfortunately begged the question of what he could possibly still want out of Harley at this juncture to warrant the instances Harley described. The good day that would make her stick it out a little longer. He already had her. Already proved his point.

Leland had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that there might be some truth in Harley's words after all.

END

End Notes: The idea and title is a reversal of Joker's point in The Killing Joke where he theorized that one bad day was enough to drive a person insane. But, in Harley's case, it's one good day that keeps her lovable loony self.