Hey there! Thanks so much for the input that's been coming in for this story. I've had way more PMs than reviews, and that's totally fine with me. As long as I know there's someone interested :p I have a small idea about where I want to go with this story and a few of the incoming ideas have really helped, so thank you. This is the only other chapter I had pre-written. After this, I have to finish the third and then start new, so it's still up in the air about what I end up doing.

Hope you like this chapter!

The car ride was uncomfortably quiet as they made their way to Arkham Asylum. How could it not be uncomfortable? She was sitting in the backseat of his fancy, gadget-filled car with her arms cuffed behind her back and her legs tied together. Unless something impossibly crazy happened, there was no way she was getting out of this.

Shifting as best as she could, Harley placed her weight on her back and avoided any pressure on her wrists. For a moment she was worried that the cuffs would break her charm bracelet, something she wore at all times. It had a few items that held plenty of sentimental value, mostly tiny reminders of her parents. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything in the shape of a key or anything that could be used to pick the lock on the handcuffs.

And to make things worse, she was finding out that the bat wasn't much of a talker.

She tried a few times, not because she was truly interested in holding a conversation with him, but simply to fill the awkward silence with something. She hated these kinds of situations. But his response to her comments and questions was always the same: Cold silence.

Harley frowned and puffed her cheeks to let out a slow breath of air. This was getting irritating. Was he going to pretend she wasn't there the entire time and then just dump her on the front doors of the asylum? Like dropping off a rabid dog at the pound? Just cleaning the streets of danger and taking them so they could be put down. Except they weren't going to put Harley down. They were going to keep her alive and locked up.

"You two are the same," she muttered, wishing her legs weren't bound together so that she could stomp one of them in frustration.

There was a slight movement as he turned his head to look at the rearview mirror. His eyes met hers for a brief moment, but it was all Harley needed to see the slight confusion in them.

"Who is the same?" he asked slowly.

"You and the Joker," she said firmly, frowning again.

"Why do you say that?"

She resisted every urge to spit, "You both ignore me." Instead, she managed to mutter, almost indifferently, a calm, "You just are."

The bat was quiet for a moment. "I fail to see how."

"Neither of you care."

"Care about what?"

Me.

"Care about what you do. To both of you, doing what you do is what you guys are good at. You catch bad people and he does bad things. There's no reason for it other than the fact you both enjoy the game as much as the other."

"Is that what you think?"

Harley pushed herself back against the leather seat and sighed. "It's what I know," she said quietly, finished with her outburst. "Neither of you care. It's just a routine now. You're completely the same."

Again, silence fell between them with the only other noise being the soft purr of the engine. She didn't mind it this time. She was more mad at herself that her anger towards the bat had led to a conversation about the Joker. Avoiding the clown completely was going to be more difficult than she thought. He came up in everything.

"Maybe you're right," the bat said quietly. If Harley hadn't been absolutely silent, she probably wouldn't even have heard it.

Huh.

Maybe she was right? Did that mean she won? But what did she win? Was this even an argument? The bat said she was right. She did win.

So why didn't it feel like a victory?

Arkham Asylum looked just as lifeless and nauseating as always. Its thick gray walls might have been breached several times by risky escapes and daring rescues, but you couldn't tell that by looking at them. Two feet thick and seventeen feet high, the outer walls surrounded the entire facility with false pride and daunting authority.

The gate doors that were kept chained and bolted swung open as soon as they saw the bat approaching in his car. No one ever questioned his actions or his motives. He was there for business and the asylum had learned to let him roam free. Why get on his bad side when he was the main reason most of the inmates found their way back to the treatment center?

As soon as the door to the car opened, the bat pulled her out of the car by the cuffs and untied her leg restraints. He led her inside, hardly looking at anything that wasn't straight ahead of him. She stumbled along numbly, refusing to say anything or even look at him. They walked in silence to the room where they did the routine searches, ridding the new or returning patients of any weapons.

"We'll take it from here, Batman," announced a young doctor she'd never seen before. The bat handed her over and suddenly the pressure of handcuffs around her wrists is gone. She brought them around and rubbed the tender skin slowly, wondering if the swollen flesh was going to bruise.

A quick search revealed she has nothing of importance. She already knew that, as she had been adamant on leaving everything behind when she stormed out of the clown's hideout. Therefore, it was a huge surprise when the doctor asked for her to remove her charm bracelet.

"Why? I never take this off."

"I'm sorry, but we need to remove it to make sure it isn't used as a weapon."

Harley shook her head, refusing to hand her bracelet over. Every charm on it was small and harmless, every edge rounded off by coincidence. It wasn't bulky or sharp and she would never use it on anything or anyone. The only plan she had for that bracelet was keeping it close at all times.

"The other doctors always let me keep it," she argued, pulling her wrist up to her chest and covering it with her other hand in an effort to protect it.

The rest of the doctors at the asylum had allowed her to carry the bracelet around, knowing how much it meant to her. The official report from her patient file said, "Emotional attachment is too great. Removing it from her possession could result in a violent outbreak that might see herself and/or others harmed."

This was what one of the previous doctors had written. No doubt it could be very true, but the reason it was written was to ensure it was never taken from her. The one who wrote it was a doctor who had started at almost the same time Harley had gotten her job at Arkham. She had been on good terms with him and a few others until the day she escaped. On her return to the asylum, this time as a patient, the doctor had done her a favor and let her keep it. Patient or not, she was once one of them. She might have deviated a bit into a more…extreme lifestyle, but there was no reason to see each other as enemies. Some of them might even go as far as consider her a friend while she worked there.

That is, until she threw it all away for a psychopath.

This doctor, however, was new. He didn't care about an old evaluation. He didn't know her and didn't feel the need to do her any favors.

"I'll have to take it up with my superiors," he stated indifferently. "If they say it's alright, you can have it back. Until then," the doctor trailed off, holding out his hand.

With a small sigh and an urge to cry and break the man's neck, Harley slowly removed the bracelet and placed it in the man's chubby hand. But not before planting a small kiss to the charms first.

The man took her bracelet and shoved it into a box that looked like the lunchbox she had as a kid. The difference now was that instead of looking at the little metal box in joy and curiosity about what Mom might have packed for lunch, she was staring at it with a bitter hatred. She watched with a frown as the man closed the lid and locked it with a key, slipping it into his front shirt pocket when he was finished.

"I promise that if my superiors say it's alright, I'll get someone to give it back to y-hey!'"

The lights in the room had gone out, leaving it in complete darkness. It was so dark that Harley couldn't see the doctor in front of her only four feet away.

Just as suddenly as they had gone out, the lights shot back on and drew a groan from everyone in the room. They all reached up to cover their eyes with their forearms until their eyesight readjusted.

Harley was expecting to see the Joker there. Or at least one of his henchmen. Someone who was there to help her escape.

But there was nothing different. Everything was just as it was before the lights went out. Those few seconds of darkness were simply the result of a malfunctioning electricity generator.

He wasn't here to save her. There wasn't a single noise outside that hinted to an escape mission. No bombs going off or people screaming as inmates ran like hell and the doctors, as well as security, ran around trying to subdue everyone.

So who was she kidding? She had to remember that the Joker didn't care about her.

A familiar smell that she couldn't quite place reached her nose on the next intake of air. She'd smelled it before, she was absolutely sure of it, and it definitely wasn't a smell that belonged there, but pretty soon she gave up on trying to identify it. All she knew was that it wasn't the smell of laughing gas or dynamite. Nothing that could help her now.

"That was strange," smiled the doctor, shaking his head in slight disbelief. "We'll have to get that checked out. But first, let's get you out of here so you can rest!" he said cheerfully with a single clap of his hands.

Harley almost wanted to laugh in pity for the doctor. He's new. He's happy. He also has no idea how this place will suck the liveliness out of someone, no matter whether you're a doctor or a patient.

The guard that picked her up was a tall man with a large scruffy beard that looked like it hadn't been shaved in years. He looked at her up and down a few too many times but Harley decided to brush it off. She only stared back at him with a blank expression as he gave her a wink and blew a kiss. Her bracelet had just been taken from her and she was in no mood to add more reasons to be angry.

If the Joker himself hadn't used her body, who in the hell did this chump think he was?

Not that the Joker had a lack of time for attempts to convince her. It simply wasn't in his areas of interest. He wasn't human. His only desire was to cause pain and misery. Pleasure was nowhere in that equation, unless it came from watching someone squirm in anguish from being tortured.

Let this guard try something and she'd prove to everyone why she could end up in a place like this for real. They wanted deranged and volatile? That's exactly what she'd give them.

Harley watched in loathing as the doctor walked in the opposite direction, metal box in hand. He better hope that bracelet came back to her just as it was when she handed it over. If even a single charm came back damaged…she'd do things that would send her straight to the electric chair.

The walk to her old cell was familiar, despite all the weeks she spent away on this most recent escape. These halls had been engraved into her memory and the way to her cell was simply routine. When she got there, Harley was surprised to see the other cot empty.

"Cellmate's not here," said the guard. He lifted his hand to point a finger at the metal bars that covered the window near the ceiling. "Hung herself from those last week."

Harley watched as the wicked grin spread over the guard's face. So similar to the clown, taking joy out of the thought of other people's suffering. Or maybe that wasn't it. Maybe he was just telling her in an attempt to scare her. But the news didn't phase Harley. Her cellmate had hung herself from the bars using a bedsheet? Unoriginal. She was the third one. The news from the first one had been bad but it got easier the second time. Now Harley didn't really care.

"You'll get a new friend tomorrow," he said with a laugh, closing the door to the cell once she was inside. "Or whenever it is that they catch another freak." He used his baton to bang the bars a few times as he walked away, leaving Harley to the dark familiarity of her cell.

Her cot was the same as always, stiff as a rock but better than the floor. The musty smell was as present as ever, but Harley ignored it as she rubbed her eyes and laid down. A heavy sigh was all she could manage at the moment.

Great. Despite her best efforts, she was back in one of the worst places on the planet. She couldn't believe how happy she had been when she got the job here. What was she thinking? Maybe in a different life, things could have been different.

The feeling of her wrist without her bracelet makes her feel oddly exposed. Almost naked. She can't remember the last time she took it off. Who cares if the cuffs the bat put on her were going to make her wrists bruise? It was nothing compared to the feeling of losing her most prized possession. The charms that represented her childhood and her memories of happier times. Of her parents.

Harley brushed a few stray tears she didn't know had been welling up. There was no use in crying. The doctor said he'd give it back, right? Why wouldn't his 'superiors' allow her to have it? It was just a harmless bracelet.

It was coming back to her. It had to be.

She was about to get comfortable for the night when a feeling in her stomach caused her to freeze completely. A feeling of dread was slowly creeping into her, making chills run up her spine.

Someone was watching her.

The question of how she was going to defend herself raced against the notion that maybe she's in more danger than she can handle. The guard was back to try something funny with her. And he probably had a weapon or two on him.

Her eyes scan the entrance and find nothing, making her frown in confusion. She almost thinks she's being ridiculous in her paranoia when she decides to search in the shadows of the other half of the room, just to make sure.

To her surprise, it's the bat that takes a step closer so that she can take a better look at him. She was sitting on her cot now and looking up at his tall frame with wide eyes. Harley wasn't sure what to do. Against her better judgment, she decides to stay completely still and not say anything until he does something first. He wouldn't hurt her, right? If he wanted to do that, he wouldn't have brought her here. Or he would have hurt her at the park or in his car when no one else was around.

After another step forward, the bat lifted his hand slowly with his fist out, leaving it out in the air in front of her.

What the hell did he want? The Batman came all the way to her cell…for a fist bump?

The sudden realization of what he was doing made Harley mentally kick herself. Careful not to make any sudden movements, she reached out slowly and placed her hand directly underneath his. The huge gloved hand opened slightly to drop a thin object into her open palm. It didn't take her long to figure out that it was her bracelet.

Unsure of what to say, Harley again remained quiet and only looked back up at him. She hated that her vision was blurring with the tears that were welling up. Made it harder for her to see him. The confusion was also growing inside her again, questioning everything. She doesn't like the fact that her enemy is pulling strings to do her a favor, but her joy for having her bracelet back seems to take over. She'd like to thank him and hug him and question why he did it but instead she remained silent.

Thankfully, the bat didn't seem to be waiting for any sign of gratitude and turned to leave. As his cape dragged along behind him, Harley got a momentary waft of his scent, something that smelled of leather and metal mixed with what she guessed to be a man's cologne.

It was the same smell that was in the room when the lights went out.

The bat walked over to the cell door and nonchalantly pulled a key out of his pocket to open it. Just as he was about to walk out, he turned his head slightly in her direction. Not enough to look at her or to see that she hadn't stopped staring at him, but just enough to make himself be heard.

"We're not the same."

Harley swallowed to clear her throat. "W-what?" she stammered.

"The Joker and I. We're not the same."

She glanced down to put her bracelet back on and when she shifted her eyes back up, the cell door was already closed and the bat was standing on the other side, still visible through the bars.

"At least not entirely," he muttered.

With that, along with another flap of his cape, he disappeared into the shadows once more.

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