Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Remember that knife from chappie 4? Weeelll, if anyone was wondering where the hell The Joker got a knife in the middle of a secured mental institution, then you get bonus points. If not, well, I bet you're wondering now... and lucky you, I'm gonna tell...

can't decide when, though… maybe, uh… later…

"Dr. Goodman. A word, please?"

The stern, middle-aged woman Harley spoke to, looked up from her papers.

"What is it, Dr. Quinzel? I only have a moment."

"Of course, I'll try to be brief. I have a few issues concerning my patients..."

Harley didn't want to say outright that the Joker scared the living hell out of her, and that she may have fallen into his twisted little games. She didn't really want to mention him at all.

"As you may remember, I've recently taken on quite a number of patients, and... umm... well, I'm sure if I can handle such an influx. These people deserve all I can give, and I can't give enough of myself to make a significant difference in all of their lives."

Dr. Goodman eyed her suspiciously,

"So you want let off of a patient you don't like? Is that it, Dr. Quinzel, because we don't tolerate that kind of discrimination here. Unless you have more personal reasons, I can't allow you to quit on just anyone you don't like."

The piercing eyes of her boss burned into her skull, she had never been good at this kind of confrontation. Her courage was failing, and worst of all, she couldn't say what she needed to.

"I-it's not that. Just I-I have a new patient... new patient, the Joker. He n-needs more help than I can pr-pr-provide..."

Way to go, Harl. Stutter like an idiot.

"I see."

She didn't see. Harley had to explain more.

Taking a deep breath, Harley began again,

"I think he should be handed over to someone with more experience than I have. Someone like Dr. Young or Dr. Landsey, not m-me."

Dr. Goodman stood and packed her things to go,

"No."

"S-sorry?"

"You'll do better with this man than any of the others could. You stay on him, but I'm relieving you of your other patients. Until further notice, the Joker is your only priority. Do you understand?"

"But-"

The look from Dr. Goodman silenced her.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she nodded, "Dr. Quinzel."

"Dr. Goodman."

With that, the only outside force that could have saved her, turned on prim heels and walked away in a manner that showed utmost confidence in her decision. That kind of attitude gave the doctor an air of self-importance and haughtiness that everyone who worked under her learned to fear and loathe. She would never listen. Not until it was too late.

NO! Her world was not going to cave on her like this! How could this plan go so wrong? Her reasons were logical; she was young, inexperienced, she was better off with simple patients, not complex criminal madmen!

"Harley! Wait up!"

Dr. Young jogged to catch up with her as she walked the cold hallway back to her office.

"Oh, hi, David."

She could tell from his face that her greeting had been less than enthusiastic.

"Bad day?"

"You have no idea."

His eyebrows shot up.

"If you say so... have you thought about dinner?"

Harley rolled her eyes; leave it to a guy to think about that. No, don't ask me if I'm alright or what you can do. Just keep pestering me until you get what you want.

"Sure. What time?"

She still wasn't very "with it". That was very unusual for her; it's like she was an entirely different woman from the one he went out with yesterday. David didn't know what to say though, so he kept on,

"Eight. I'll pick you up. Don't worry, I know where you live."

He took on a playful psycho tone, but his words still startled her.

"Wha-... how?"

He laughed, "Staff info sheets. You've got my address too, you know."

"Really?"

There's something else she didn't know.

"Yeah."

"Huh… well, then dinner sounds great. I've gotta go… you know, patients to treat… or, I guess I've only got the one now."

He stopped her,

"What do you mean? You've got more patients than anyone else here."

"Not anymore. Dr. Goodman took me off everyone except the Joker; isn't that funny?"

Her voice sounded strangled and her laugh came out choked. David didn't think it was funny at all. She looked so stressed.

"That's odd, I spoke with Dr. Goodman today as well; I requested permission to use a joint-effort on the Joker. I thought you'd appreciate a little help. I know how clingy some of them get."

Her head was swimming. She needed some quiet.

Why had Dr. Goodman denied both of them. Did she think this was funny? Could she not see that in two and a half days a complete stranger had torn apart her world? Or was it because the Joker had already gotten to her…

No. New thoughts… new thoughts… the ones she focused on were much too disturbing.

"David, I really have to go… See you at seven?"

"Eight."

He was hurt that she couldn't even remember that.

"Right. Sorry."

With a quick peck on the cheek, Harley was gone. Into her office: her cell.

Author's Note: I know some of you are like "Where's the Joker?" That's what I was thinking when I read this over.

"WHERE'S MY PUDDIN'?"

He's coming... soon... next time...

I've got a problem with dot, dot, dots... jeez! There I go again! BYE!