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Prayer
an earnest hope or wish.

She'd frustrated him. A lot. More than most people had, and there had been so many that'd frustrated him. He loved watching the perfect blonde battle with herself honestly, it was funny seeing her squirm. But right now, her hatred for him was outweighing her lust for him. He'd only wished the same could be said for him. Never, had he ever lusted over a doctor. Not even the late Doctor Towns, it'd been blood lust with all of them since he could remember! But this, this stubborn, teasing, blonde Barbie doll of a M.D. came strutting in and had him by the collar of his worn out Arkham shirt? What the hell was happening to him? It had to be Ivy, right? Her stupid pheromones had somehow managed to leak their way through the walls of Arkham, being called on by her, and were fucking with him. That's the only explanation!

He knew that wasn't the case or everyone in this place would be fucking anything they could. None of these inmates had control over their sexual desires, other than him a couple others. Did he truly have sexual desires anymore? He'd murdered most the women he slept with after taking a swim at Ace Chemical Plant several years back. He'd "raped" some of them. Notice "rape". He slept with them and they cried wolf. Which is why he killed most of the ones he slept with, so they wouldn't wake up in the morning, remember the night before, be mortified with themselves for sleeping with a "psychotic clown" and tell the police he had raped them. They did that to feel better. Tell themselves a lie so they didn't question their sanity. Housewives, mothers, respected officials of the city...he never named names in his sessions but he could gladly tell who all in the city council he'd been in at one point, fully at their will too. No, he didn't rape. He didn't have to. But he might just change that for Doctor Quinzel.

She was a completely other story. He'd enjoy the banter every session. It'd start smooth, then hit rock bottom or he'd say something she didn't like, she say something he didn't like and so forth. He loved seeing her mad. Her face would grow a shade of pink, her blue eyes would grow wide, her pupils would take up most of her eyes like a cat who's overly excited and running around the house like a crack head. She'd shake a little, her chest would rise and fall with every angry breath; he couldn't help but look at her chest when she was angry. Her tongue would grow sharper than his favorite knife, spitting some type of complex insult at him and he'd smile at the way she'd hiss to him.

The thought of it made him hard.

"Jesus Christ." he hit his head on the wall of his cell angrily, hoping to knock some sense into himself.

This wasn't what he did for God's sake! He was The Joker, The Clown Prince of Crime, practical ruler of Gotham! He'd brought the city to it's knees, he wasn't supposed to be giddy about anything but fucking shit up! Could you imagine a man such as him high on nothing but love for his Doctor? But it wasn't love! Thank God it wasn't!

This made him calm down a bit. Just lust. No love. Lust. All he wanted to do was screw her. That was normal right? He did tell her he was only human, so maybe this was actually him just being deprived from something that used to be normal. Of course the sex wasn't normal with him, but sex in itself was something completely normal and in human nature. So no, he wasn't going sane, he was still perfectly himself.

But someone wasn't.

He didn't know why he hadn't picked up on Nathan's change. Until Harleen pointed it out, he hadn't noticed anything different about the kid, but three years? Ha! How the hell did he manage to pull that off without Joker not finding out? He knew something was a bit different, honestly. He'd been working with him for nine years, six of those nine he had been extremely...cruel. Now he new damn well Nathan had raped. He wasn't sure he remembered it or not, but he had one line of cocaine and he went ballistic. Joker and his other guys didn't try to worry with it, bad things happened to good people, it wasn't the end of the world. He killed everything Joker needed him to kill, he tortured anyone who Joker needed him to, sometimes he'd torment those who Joker didn't tell him to torment. He was truthfully brutal. But about the time he turned twenty-four, he calmed down...a lot. He started being more like Jonny. And Joker really enjoyed Jonny, truthfully. He liked him from day one of meeting him. Jonny was calm, kind of like an old dog, although Jonny was only thirty-four...he just waited for whatever was said needed to be done and he was always there. And now, Joker knew exactly why Nathan was more calm. Jonny's calm was because of heart break that had humbled him, Nathan's calm was a young woman who had managed to bring some sanity to him.

There was a problem with that...yes, many of his guys were married, had families, blah blah blah etcetera, etcetera. He didn't care, as long as they didn't mess anything up, he didn't mind because the men's family wasn't a distraction! But...if Harleen had managed to distract him, then surely her sister would follow suit, right?

He thought about this for a moment. She had already taken most of his recklessness away, made him somewhat tame...

Joker would have to get out of the hell hole that is Arkham and keep an eye on his lost soul of a pal.

Harleen lied in bed, a blank expression taking over her features.

Why did he have to say that?

Why did he have to look at he like a hungry animal when he said it?

Why did he so bluntly tell her what he'd been thinking, when she couldn't even look at him after thinking he was somewhat attractive?

He made it so easy for her to get angry. She wasn't angry at him partly, it was mostly at herself.

Why didn't she just go ahead to Dr. Arkham and tell him she couldn't doctor The joker anymore? Why?

She couldn't. Joker was definitely, shockingly, her favorite patient. It wasn't because he was attractive, wasn't because he was a smooth talker, or because he knew how to practically charm someone's pants off, but because he was...well, funny. No, not funny. Entertaining, interesting, maybe? Point being, he was her favorite.

He always smiled. Always. His silver teeth, his red stained lips, his blue eyes, his pale skin...all his obnoxious tattoos had honestly kept her busy from all the reading she'd done. Every time she saw a new one being exposed to her she'd always stare at it and try to make out what it might be or what it meant to him. His green hair, his muscle.

God his muscle.

He had tons of it. It was enough to make her wonder how big his...

"No." she told herself in a scolding manner. "No, no, no."

But a certain part of her was screaming "yes"...she was sick. She had to be. She was lusting after a mad man, a lunatic, someone who could easily slit her throat and not think twice, her own patient! She could not and she would not. He wouldn't either. She wouldn't let him. If he ever decided to make any advances on her, she'd immediately tell Dr. Arkham and she would never doctor to him again.

Not to sound snooty, but she was too good for him in a way, and he was too good for her in a way. It was odd really saying that a criminal was too good for her, but this wasn't just a criminal, it was The Joker. Crime Royalty. The man himself was the Devil, Gotham his hot bed of everything sinful...and he had wanted her in it. Any woman would've hopped right into hell with him, but Harleen wasn't like any woman. She was a lot stronger than what she looked, and if Joker thought tossing her some fuck-me-now pick up line would work on her then the man truly wasn't as intelligent as she'd thought. Or perhaps he was. Surely he said that to see how she would react, maybe he didn't expect her to fall to her knees and beg him to fuck her, maybe he did expect her to find it intolerable and let him know she would never.

Oh, yes. He knew exactly how she would react, and maybe being told he couldn't have something made him want it even more. If so, then he and Harleen did have something in common.

Dread filled her, not wanting to wake up and take on work. Not wanting to see him again. Not wanting to face him, or give him the opportunity to keep picking and picking at her until she finally went off again. She knew he liked it when she had her outbursts, usually she was quiet, when she yelled or cursed at him it took him by surprise...and Joker, she'd picked up, had liked many surprises.

At eight the following morning, Joker sat across from her, (yes, sat in the chair not like he normally would) with his hands folded neatly in his lap, his face completely blank as he stared at his Doctor.

Did he not remember what he had said to her? Was he not going to say something smart about it?

Did she not care to remind him to be on his best behavior? Did she not even bother to think about how much sleep she'd cost him to lose, or apologize for it? Once again, he sighed in frustration, waiting for his doctor to say something.

After a moment, she cleared her throat.

"I have something for you," she told him and he raised a brow. "a game." she added and he rolled his eyes, already knowing the game. "I'm going to give you a word, you're going to tell me the first thing that comes to mind, okay?" she asked him and he readied himself, even standing to pop his neck and pace like he always did when he had to think on something. "Cat."

"Dog." she looked to him, almost aggravated and he raised his brows. "That's what I thought of!" he shrugged and she squeezed her eyes closed, taking a deep breath.

"Red." she started again.

"Blood."

"Black."

"Sin."

"White."

"Hell." the doctor furrowed her brows at his words, usually one would say heaven in response to white, but then again; he wasn't just anyone.

"Water."

"Torture."

"Fire."

"Harley!" he chirped to her and she sighs again, really wishing he'd stop.

"Anger."

"Knife."

"Depression."

"Dent." he seethed and she made the connection to Harvey Dent. Yes, he was depressed...

"Risk."

"Damnation."

"Safe."

"Bullshit." She had to hide a laugh from how bland he said this.

"Sane."

"Boring."

"Alcohol."

"Jack."

"Narcotic."

"Cocaine." she also made a connection with this, his file read many arresting's of him from the usage and distributing of Crack Cocaine.

"Sex." She stated blandly, already regretting it. His eyes stayed glued to the floor, but a smile slipped onto his lips a eventually a wicked grin appeared, bearing all his teeth to his most favorite Doctor.

"Longing." he said in almost a growl as his grinning teeth began to grind somewhat in anticipation and Harleen felt warmth at the pit of her stomach forming.

"Blood." she said quickly, trying to hide the blush forming in her cheeks.

"Sex." he looked to her innocently, but she knew what he was doing.

"Kill."

"Fuck." Dear god, this man.

"No." she had discarded her cards by now and was just going on her own.

"Yes." he hissed, taking a step to her desk. She could tell the game was over by now.

"No." she stood slowly as he crept further and further to her.

"Yes." now he was standing in front of her, the only thing stopping him was her desk. Panic flashed through her.

"No." she stated once more. He didn't even reply, he just stared at her like a cannibal would stare at a person. She lost it. Rushing from behind her desk to get to her door, he grabbed her from behind and pulled her body to his, his hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming. She was struggling but he easily over powered her, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered:

"Yes."

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