I'll say in advance that there's not really any action in this chapter. However, it was an important one to write because I think it really starts to delve into Harley's past and how even things from when she was only five years old have shaped her mind now. You also get to see the very beginnings of Harley starting to feel the effects of the Joker's psychological torments. So yeah, just read and tell me what you think :)

Chapter Four, Ticking Clock

Harleen was vaguely aware of Derrick yelling behind her, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. She needed to get away. To hide. Escape.

Barely aware of her surroundings, Harleen ran through the Asylum, crashing through the double doors that separated staff facilities from the main part of the building. Here, major construction was being undergone. Everything was stripped bare, leaving only dark, dank concrete and the flickering of disconnected wires and blowtorches manned by grimy construction workers. Harleen could hear her feet smacking against the concrete floor as she ran.

Somehow, she found herself in a bathroom. The tiles, originally white, were grey and brown with grime, dirt and age. The tarnished mirror reflected the dim room, complete with the single, naked light bulb that hung from a chain. Harleen lunged up to the mirror, desperate to find some safety, some reassurance in the reflective surface.

There was none. All Harleen saw was her five year old self, complete with chubby face, twin blonde pigtails and too large, baby blue eyes. And then, right before her eyes, it all came back. All the horrible, painful days of her childhood.

"Class, we have a new student today," Ms. Ferguson smiled at her rowdy troupe of kindergarteners, "She's only just moved to Gotham, so I expect you to all be super nice. Everybody, say hello to Harleen Quinzel."

"Hello Harleen." The class chorused back. Harleen didn't look at them though, preferring to hide by Ms. Ferguson's skirt. Her teacher looked down at her and just laughed.

"Don't be shy," She said cheerfully, "None of them bite. You can go sit next to Michael."

The boy in question, a big lad with dark hair, turned to her as she sat down by him.

"You got a stupid name." He said without preamble, smiling nastily.

Harleen shrunk back, confused by such unprompted spite.

"No it's not!" She replied in a hurt tone, "My mummy says-"

"Harleen?" Ms. Ferguson paused in the middle of her lecture on basic addition, "Please don't talk when I am, it's very rude."

That was it. Ms. Ferguson didn't yell or threaten, but she didn't need to. Harleen liked school, and the prospect of being in trouble scared her senseless. Shutting her mouth, she gave Michael one last frightened look before bowing her head.

"I didn't do anything to him!" Harleen moaned, fresh tears trickling down her face, "It's not fair of him! Everyone always….Everyone…"

She couldn't finish, suddenly remembering what happened next.

When lunchtime came, Harleen had mostly pushed the matter of Michael's meanness from mind. Skipping out onto the leaf covered playground, she looked around, gleefully taking in the swing-set and the playground. And then she saw a small group of girls nearby, playing jump rope. Harleen loved skipping, so she ran up to them.

"Can I play please?" She asked politely, making sure she used her nicest smile. All the girls looked at each other, giggling before shaking their heads.

"No way clown girl."

Harleen was upset and confused.

"I'm not a clown girl!"

The lead girl, a tall African American wearing pink converse, sneered at her.

"Yeah you are. Harley Quinn!"

Harleen realised she was being made fun of here, but she still didn't understand.

"What do you mean?"

The girl snorted and turned around. She shouted to Michael, who was throwing rocks at a pigeon.

"Michael!"

He came running over, leaving the pigeon looking relieved. When he saw Harleen, he stopped and began to laugh at her.

"Clown girl!"

Harleen's bottom lip quivered and she clenched her fists.

"Stop calling me that!" She yelled, "I don't even understand!"

Michael grinned malevolently.

"Harleen Quinzel. Harley Quinn. Harlequin? That's a clown dummy!"

Harleen froze, suddenly understanding. She knew what a harlequin was; she had a picture of one on her bedroom wall. Her mummy had put it there, saying she should be able to see her namesake. Harleen hated that picture; clowns scared her.

"I'm not a clown girl!" She repeated, not knowing what else to say, "I'm not-"

"Clown girl!" Michael cheered, "Harley Quinn!"

And then, all the kids on the playground were chanting it.

"Harley Quinn!" They shouted and jeered, "She's a clown girl! Harley Quinn!"

Suddenly, Harleen hated her name, despised it. Not as much as she hated the kids before her though.

"Stop it!" She screamed, tears flooding down her face, "I don't like it!"

"Harley Quinn! Harley Quinn!"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

"-Quinn! Clown girl!"

Bawling and angry, Harleen ran from the playground.

"-You could become Harley Quinn!"

The Joker's words floated through her mind, mixing with the cruel taunts of the kids and echoing louder and louder until Harleen couldn't stand it anymore. Tearing her fingers through her hair, she began to howl.

"STOP IT!" She was shouting again, at the mirror this time. "JUST…STOP!"

There was no reprieve though and all Harleen could see was the Joker's horribly amused, scarred face, grinning at her. All she could hear was his taunts coupled with the laughter of the children all those years ago. She hated them, all of them. She'd always hated her name, and now it had reached a personal level like nothing before.

'HARLEY QUINN!'

"Noo!" She choked out from her hiccups, "I'm not…I don't…"

It was all too mixed up in her mind, a swirl of colours, sounds and laughter. Harleen gasped, trying to catch her breath beneath the onslaught. She didn't know who she was, maybe she was Harley-

'No!' Some small, resilient part of her mind surfaced from the maelstrom suddenly, snarling in defiance, 'You are not Harley Quinn, you are Harleen Quinzel and you've just had a rough day!'

Shaking from exhaustion and the tears, Harleen weakly turned the faucet on, watching the water gurgle down the dirty little sink. She noticed that her knuckles were turning white from gripping the stained porcelain so tightly. Gingerly, she removed her hands and cupped them beneath the water, splashing it onto her face sporadically.

"A rough day." She mumbled to herself out loud, not entirely convinced by the apparent vigour of what little sanity she had left, "I'm Harley…I mean, Harleen Quinzel."

'Exactly.' That little sane voice agreed. It was far weaker then before though and Harleen thought she could hear the laughter back on the peripherals of her mind again.

Trying to ignore that uneasy thought, Harleen let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes for a moment, just happy to have a moment of pure, uninterrupted peace. After a moment of regaining her nerves, she opened her eyes and looked up to the mirror again.

She very nearly screamed out loud. For a split second, Harleen was certain she'd seen the Joker's reflection, right next to hers. There was nothing there now, but the panic remained. With trembling fingers, she reached out to touch the mirror. Nothing happened and suddenly, Harleen was angry with herself.

"What is wrong with you?" She demanded in annoyance, all too aware she was talking to herself, "You have one encounter with the Joker and all of a sudden, you're eligible to share a cell with him! Just get a hold of yourself!"

She paused, listening to her words echo into nothingness around the room. When nothing else happened, she sighed and looked at herself properly. If she'd thought she'd looked bad before her little run-in with the Joker, it was nothing to how she looked now.

Pallid skin. Dark shadows all around her eyes. Insanity glittering hidden in her expression. Harleen reluctantly had to admit she looked like total, undisputable shit. There was nothing to do about it though, so Harleen just shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, gingerly trying on a smile for size.

"Just keep on smiling Harley," She muttered to herself suddenly, walking towards Doctor Vahns' office.

"Harleen!" Doctor Vahns jumped from his seat to his feet when she walked into his office. "I've had everyone looking for you. Derrick said you went running from the room, and that he tried to talk to you."

Harleen grimaced, inwardly annoyed at Derrick. The man was kind and polite, but he seemed to think that just because he was secretly in love with her, he could try to act like her knight in shining armour.

"I was upset," she grudgingly admitted, "But I'm fine now."

Vahns gave her a doubtful look. She didn't look fine and truthfully, she wasn't either. However, Harleen gave wide smile and tried her best to look endearing.

"Really," she said sweetly, "I'm alright. A little shook-up maybe, but otherwise…"

Doctor Vahns sighed and sat back behind his desk. Noticing the expression on his face, it occurred to Harleen for the first time since meeting her mentor that he was getting old. Maybe too old for this sort of thing.

"So what happened?" He asked wearily.

Harleen frowned thoughtfully.

"Simply put? I wasn't prepared. I didn't…don't have any clue of just how…hmm, manipulative the Joker is. I assumed I could make him play my way, and I paid the price. I'll be ready next time."

"Next time?" Vahns sounded incredulous and he raised his brows, "You seriously want to go in for another round with that maniac?"

Harleen nodded.

"I do."

"Harleen," Vahns pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly struggling for words for a second, "You barely made it out in one piece this time. You're my most promising intern. You can not honestly expect me to risk your safety and potential by putting you against the Joker for a second round!"

Harleen resisted the urge to clench her fists. She needed to remain calm if her wishes were to be granted.

"Please," she said imploringly, "I know I'll do better next time. He got to me this time; I want to show him he's not as powerful as he thinks! I have the clearance, I have the training…let me put it to use!"

For a long moment, Doctor Vahns just studied Harleen minutely. Then, he shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief of his own foolishness.

"Alright Harleen." He sounded defeated. "I'll let you keep running this. I'm just worried you're making this into a personal case though."

"I'm not." Harleen promised, "Strictly professional."

Vahns nodded and Harleen turned to leave. Before she could do so however, he spoke up again.

"I don't suppose you remembered to ask the Joker how he sent an intruder to your house?"

Harleen winced and slowly turned back around.

"He sent Doctor Stevens."

"I know." Vahns said flatly. "I took the liberty of calling our friends in GCPD and sending them to your place. I know you probably won't thank me for intruding into your personal life, but I didn't know how long you'd be with the Joker and I know the sooner the police get to a crime scene, the better."

"I guess." Harleen was annoyed at her mentor stepping in where he wasn't wanted, but she also knew he was right. "Do you have any idea why he agreed to help the Joker and to kill himself?"

Doctor Vahns nodded unhappily.

"For the last six months, Stevens' work performance had been progressively worsening. His behaviour changed too, he became withdrawn and depressed. I think that maybe, the Joker picked up on this and began to mess with his mind, twist it, until poor Stevens was so impressionable, he'd do anything he was asked."

"Oh."

"That's what he does you know," Vahns told Harleen pointedly, "He twists people's minds and thoughts until they're not even the same person anymore. You should be careful."

Harleen gave a smile, trying not to release a hysterical giggle.

"Don't worry," she replied, a little too brightly, "I always am."

Vahns nodded and gestured for her to leave. Walking back down the hallway to her car, Harleen let herself give into the nervous giggles that were bubbling up behind her self-enforced wall of self-restraint.

She didn't stop laughing all the way home.

"Miss Quinzel?"

Harleen looked up from rummaging through her purse for her keys. To her slight surprise and annoyance, her apartment door was wide open and the whole area was abuzz with police officers, photographers and casual lookers on. A policewoman stood before her, brows raised when she didn't get an immediate response.

"Oh." Harleen blinked and refocused on the policewoman. "Sorry, just taken by surprise."

The woman smiled sympathetically.

"Not surprising. Doctor Vahns called us whilst you were at work and again once you'd left. He said you'd had a stressful…experience and that you might be a bit distracted when you came home."

Harleen narrowed her eyes and fixed the policewoman with a grumpy stare.

"Did he now?" She muttered, more to herself then out loud. "How…kind."

The other woman wasn't stupid, she heard the sourness in Harleen's voice. However, she also knew she had a job to do, so she chose to ignore it and beckon for Harleen to follow her into the apartment.

"We've got everything under control," She told Harleen, leading the way tactfully past the gory kitchen and into the living room, "But we still need to ask you a few questions. Commissioner Gordon will take care of that."

Harleen stopped dead in her tracks, brows flying up to a point just below her hairline.

"What?! The commissioner-"

At that point however, Gordon himself appeared from the kitchen, wearing forensic gear. He stripped off his gloves to shake hands with Harleen. She returned the gesture, albeit somewhat weakly.

"This seems a little excessive," Harleen said, by way of greeting, "I mean, I wasn't aware that Police Commissioners bothered with small time murders."

Gordon's eyes narrowed slightly, obviously picking up on the less then welcoming tone in Harleen's voice.

"Well, this is hardly 'small time'," He replied, a little defensively, "Considering this is the Joker we're talking about."

"Mmm." Harleen gave a non-committal sort of sound as a reply, not quite trusting herself to say the right thing. Something about Commissioner Gordon just put her on edge, made her feel like a child who's broken a vase and was nervously hoping that their parent would not discover the remains of it in their toy-chest.

"You were with him today." Gordon didn't make it a question. There was no need to. "Care to explain the motivation behind that?"

Harleen shot the man an irate glare.

"You make it sound like I was fraternising with him!" she snapped. "When actually, I was merely attempting a small investigation into some purely work related matters. It is my job to spend time with him, to try and get answers to certain questions!"

"Such as?"

Harleen, becoming increasingly frustrated at being treated like she'd done something wrong, laughed incredulously.

"You honestly think I'll answer that?" She demanded, "I'd lose my job! There is such a thing as doctor patient confidentiality!"

Gordon looked irritated, but to his credit, his voice remained level.

"Miss Quinzel, you must realise, we can not afford to take any chances here, not if the Joker's involved. I need to be able to gauge how much of a threat he is at present, and one way of me doing so is to investigate what influence the Joker is having on his immediate surroundings."

Harleen suddenly realised that quite a few of the officers were starting to eavesdrop on their conversation, intrigued by the increasingly hostile exchange between their boss and the woman whose apartment they were currently in. Gritting her teeth, she carefully lowered her voice and turned back to Gordon.

"I suggest you talk to Doctor Vahns then," she said, voice shaking from the effort of remaining polite, "Or even Director Banks. He's currently in charge of all maximum security patients. I will advise you get some sort of court order or mandate from the DA however; neither Vahns nor Banks are avid supporters of your administration at present. Not after the Dimengo case."

Commissioner Gordon grimaced. The Dimengo case had fouled relationships between the Asylum and Police Department considerably. A patient named Jose Dimengo had been admitted to Arkham after being granted the title 'criminally insane' after his bloody slaying of a mother and her two children. Barely two months after his admittance to Arkham, both Director Banks and Vahns had called for Jose's removal. They claimed his insanity plea was a mistake, that he showed no signs of being mentally unstable. At the time however, Gotham jails were overflowing with similar maximum security prisoners and Gordon had ordered that Jose was to remain in Arkham. As a result, Jose escaped (proving once and for all he was in total control of his mental faculties), killing two doctors and one nurse in the process. He was shot to death by police a week later when he tried to turn a robbery into a hostage situation.

Gordon knew that Harleen was being deliberately hostile now, he gave her a glare.

"Are you honestly telling me that you'd allow something like Doctor Stevens' death in your own home, to go without investigation, just to protect the privacy of someone like the Joker?!"

Harleen gave a brittle smile.

"Are you telling me that you'd let me lose my job for breaching protocol, just so you can cut investigative corners?"

There was a long silence. Neither of them was willing to say anything, knowing that they were guilty of exactly what the other claimed. Eventually, Harleen stirred. She realised she was really pushing things here and that the last thing she needed to do was make an enemy of the Police Commissioner. After all, say the Joker did escape Arkham and did come after her; she would need Gordon's help. Even if she really was starting to despise the man.

"Look, I'm sorry." She sighed, "I've had a long day and I'm taking it out on the wrong people."

Gordon relaxed a little, although his eyes didn't lose their wary expression.

"I can understand," he told her, "I'm no saint either when something ugly like this occurs. I don't think its easy going for anyone to have a person commit suicide in their apartment and then have to go talk to the psychopath that talked them into doing it."

"Oh, so Vahns let you in on his theory as to why Stevens did what he did?" Harleen asked, a little stiffly. She'd just made a big deal out of doing the right thing and respecting her work protocols, and yet Vahns, a senior Doctor, had gone and blown protocol right out of the water by releasing personnel information that should have been highly protected. She wondered if he'd said anything about her.

"He felt it would assist out investigation," Gordon replied, a little coolly as he sensed her disapproval, "And it has. There really isn't much more for us to do now, mostly just cleaning up and paperwork."

"So I'll have my apartment back soon?" Harleen brightened a little. Her cheer was quickly quashed however when Gordon half shrugged.

"Not tonight I'm afraid," he said bluntly, "I can't give an accurate estimation how long we'll be here right now, but two days at least."

Harleen felt like screaming out of pure frustration. She'd had the mother of all bad days, all she wanted was to collapse in her bed and sleep all her stress off. Yet, she couldn't even do that!

"Fine." She gave up on being polite. "I'll stay in a hotel for tonight. I'll just need to pack some possessions."

Gordon nodded.

"We'll pay for the hotel," he said, "And you can ask one of the female officers to help you pack if you want."

Harleen glared at the Commissioner.

"One of the female officers?" she repeated, "You think this is a 'girl's job'?"

Gordon didn't rise to the bait; he shook his head slowly and replied in a totally calm, level voice.

"Not at all, I merely assumed you would feel more comfortable with a female officer. By all means, feel free to ask one of the men. You have my apologies for leading you to false conclusions."

Harleen, furious at being bested once more, just spared Gordon a withering look before storming off to her room.

Gordon watched Harleen Quinzel storm off, shaking his head. One of the nearby cops, George Leslie looked up at him.

"Was she a real bitch?" He asked, pausing briefly to photograph a trail of blood that led from the front door to the kitchen. Gordon scowled at him.

"That's inappropriate language to be using in a professional environment George," he reprimanded his forensic photographer, "And no, she wasn't. She's just… Well, she'd had a very bad day for one thing."

"Oh yeah, you can tell." George grinned, handing his camera to one of his aides. He walked up to Gordon, suddenly sombre. "Seriously though, I don't like the look of her."

Gordon knew that this sort of thing was not far from gossip, but George's hunches about people were often very shrewd. He'd been right about things like this before.

"Really?"

George nodded, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. He was a wiry man who looked older then his thirty-eight years.

"Well, she just strikes me as…unstable I guess is the word I'm looking for."

Gordon shot his friend a sharp, warning look.

"Arkham puts all their employees through strict psychological screening. I'm sure that if Harleen was unstable, she would have been rejected for her intern's position."

"Maybe," George was unconvinced, that much was obvious. "But I look at Miss Quinzel and I just picture a little clock, ticking along until something goes boom."

Gordon realised he felt the same way. However, he had no right in acting upon mere 'hunches', so he shook his head and frowned at George.

"I'll keep that in mind George," he said bluntly, "But she's done nothing wrong and she's had a very rough time lately, so I think that for now, this should be the end of this discussion."

George nodded, unwilling to push the matter if Gordon had made his mind up.

"Yes sir."

Harleen was angrily stuffing clothing and toiletries into her suitcase (it was the only one she had, and it was pitifully small) when there was a light knock at her open door.

Looking up, she saw a female officer hovering uncertainly.

"I thought you might need some help."

Harleen exhaled crankily, determined not to take her temper out on the woman.

"I'm alright thanks." She said carefully, "But you can stay if you want."

The woman seemed to understand it was sympathetic company Harleen was after, because she smiled cautiously and walked into Harleen's room. She sat on the edge of her bed.

"Rough night…Morning?"

"Yeah." Harleen replied wearily, trying to stuff her toiletries bag into her tiny bag. "Most definitely."

There was an awkward silence and then the policewoman spoke up.

"My name's Ramirez." She offered. Harleen froze and looked up at her.

"Aren't you-?"

Ramirez grimaced and gave an ashamed sort of nod.

"Yeah. I guess you read my name in the paper?"

Harleen felt guilty for making Ramirez embarrassed. The whole situation was awkward enough, what with Harleen being several years younger then her caretaker and yet the one making orders.

'Um, yeah. I never thought badly of you though."

Ramirez grimaced again.

"Don't," she asked, "It's…Well, it's history now. Gordon gave me a formal pardon and let me keep my job. I'd rather just forget it all."

"Oh, of course." Harleen nodded quickly, "Sorry, I just…yeah. Fair enough. So, where am I going after this? I presume when Gordon said the Police Department would pay for a hotel, he didn't have the Gotham Four Seasons in mind or anything?"

"Um, not quite." Ramirez smiled. "There's a standard place we send people to. It's not exactly luxurious, but it's close to where you work."

"Hey, I live in the freaking Narrows," Harleen laughed, feeling like crying again suddenly, "Anything is more luxurious then here."

"Told you so." Harleen giggled smugly, looking around her hotel room. Whilst it was small and a little Spartan as far as decorations went, it was perfectly clean and it even had its own little kitchenette. Not that Harleen intended on using it; she was a terrible cook and besides, Gordon had also offered to pay any food expenses whilst she was displaced from her apartment.

Ramirez laughed as well.

"Well, so long as you're happy. I'm afraid I have to go back to work now; will you be alright?"

Harleen laughed again, gesturing to her surroundings.

"Oh I think so."

Ramirez studied her thoughtfully though.

"I'll leave my card anyway." She told Harleen, feeling like an older sister suddenly. "Female solidarity and all that. Just call if you need anything at all."

Harleen knew she should appreciate the thought behind the gesture, yet she couldn't help but think that the only reason Ramirez was bothering was that she wanted to look as good as possible after her corruption coming to light.

"Sure." She replied eventually, forcing herself to smile in return as she accepted the card from Ramirez. "I'll do that."

Well, here's my questions for you:

1) I was thinking of creating a sort of working relationship between Ramirez and Harleen. They may not especially like each other, but they know they have things to gain from remaining allies. Do you guys like that idea?

2) Do you want to see the appearances of any other villains? I didn't have it planned, but if there's a character you guys would especially like to see, I'd consider including them. No Harvey Dent though. Sorry, but he's dead and gone. Never liked him much anyway :p

Also, on a side note, Batman will be appearing soon-ish. So for all you Bruce Wayne/Batman lovers, not to fear, he will appear!

...I just rhymed. How funny :P