Problem #104 with writing Joker fanfics: there's only so many goddamn ways to say "smile".

Problem #104b: there's only so many goddamn ways to say "laugh".

Problem #075: No matter how you try, the phrase "he laughed" can never truly invoke the awesome that is Mark Hamill.

Problem #008: The further into the Joker's brain you try to go, the more you get the feeling that you are going slowly insane.

Problem #005 with making lists like this: you start feeling like you should be using the Official Discordian Numbering System. And then you recall that the Principia Discordia says "There are no rules, anywhere", and wonder vaguely if the Joker is a follower of Eris. And then the plotbunnies pop up and say "Hey man, the Principia Discordia is Kopyleft, All Rites Reversed. You can totally use as much of it as you want. FTW!" and you start having mad ideas of a young Jack Napier stumbling across a certain yellow book… 0.o Hmm.

You may have to wait a while for Chapter Eight. Longer than you have been recently, anyways. This is on account of Chapter Eight being filled with Drama, and writing it drove me slightly insane, so massive rewrites may be necessary before I decide it is ready to post. Plus, of course, I'm working on Chapter Nine, so I'm not sure when Eight will be ready.

Don't own, don't sue.


"So, I hear you got the intern."

The Joker, stretched out across one of the day room couches, looked up from his newspaper into the twisted features of Harvey Dent.

"So I did, Harv'," he said, his voice low and self-satisfied.

"How'd you swing that one, clown?" The gruff man dropped down onto the other end of the couch and gave him a suspicious look.

The Joker took the time to fold his newspaper in half and dropped it to the floor. "Why, elementary, Harv'. I just ensured that I was the very best choice." He smiled. "Besides, you know I'm every intern's wet dream. They'd give their right arm for a chance to talk to me." He narrowed his eyes smugly. "She probably just waved that pretty ass of hers in little Jeremiah's direction and he gave her whatever she asked for."

Two Face seemed unconvinced, but evidently decided to drop the subject. "You're repulsive," he said, a disgusted expression contorting the features on the unscarred half of his face.

The Joker gave Two Face a cheery smile and a wave as the tall man stood, turned his back on the Clown Prince of crime and went to speak with the Riddler.

The Joker met Nygma's eyes, and grinned. The man, arm in a cast and sling, frowned and turned away. My, didn't they all look jealous?

Professor Crane approached the couch, leaning his arms on the back and giving him a nod.

"Joker."

The Joker smiled up at him. "Jonny. How's things?"

"I hear you got the new intern."

He smirked, putting his arms behind his head stretching his legs out along the couch. "That I did."

The man known as the Scarecrow smirked and raised an eyebrow slightly. "I hear she's still here. Having trouble scaring the little girl, are we? Like a little help?"

The Joker sat up with frightening speed, bring his face up barely an inch from the Scarecrow's.

"Oh, I don't know, Jonny," he said mildly. "I thought I'd keep her around awhile. She's easy on the eyes, you know – easier than your last intern, at least." He cackled, pleased to see the Scarecrow's self-satisfied look change to one of anger.

Crane turned and left without a word. The Joker sank back down onto his cushion and picked up his paper again.

"Ha! That Garfield cracks me up."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Joker awaited his escort, a smug smile plastered across his face. Today was his second session with miss Harley Quinn, and instead of the irritation he usually felt at having to spend time with a shrink, he was rather looking forward to it. It was an agreeable by-product of The Plan that he hadn't anticipated.

Ah, his escort had arrived. He gave Charlie and that other fellow a cheery smile and bounced to his feet.

"Ah, there you are, boys," he said, clicking his heels together. "I've been waiting for you."

Oh, look at them fret! Poor fellows! The Joker giggled to himself. It was true that he wasn't usually so eager to head into his sessions, but really, they should have learned to expect the unexpected with him by now. He narrowed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

"Well then, shall we?"

Charlie opened his cell and they each took an arm. The guards held him tightly, as always; almost – but not quite – tight enough to bruise.

The Joker walked serenely between them, humming his favourite tune quietly to himself. The guards exchanged looks behind his head, clearly uneasy. It made him smile.

The heavy steel door of the session room swung open, and the Joker stepped sprightly into the room, looking about for his pretty blonde shrink.

He froze.

The smile disappeared from his face, and rage flamed up within him.

Behind Dr. Harlequin's desk sat one Jeremiah Arkham.

The Joker looked up at Charlie with a vicious snarl. "Take me back to my cell! NOW!"

Dr. Arkham looked up, paling slightly. "Ah, Joker. No, no, don't move, fellows… I'll be out of your way in a minute…" He quickly cleared up his files, giving Charlie and Denny an apologetic smile. "Sorry, lost track of time." He met the Joker's fiercely glowering eyes and attempted a weak smile. "I'm – I'm sure Dr. Quinzel will be along in a moment."

On cue, Harley's voice rang out in greeting from down the hall.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, slipping into the room. She beamed.

Dr. Arkham gave her a look that said better you than me, and beat a hasty retreat.

Harley pursed her dark lips slightly, taking in the rigid set of the guards' shoulders and the almost palpable tension in the air. "Is something wrong?"

Charlie hesitated. "Ah, well…"

"Not at all, Dr. Quinzel," the Joker said, a wide smile returning to his face. "We were just exchanging pleasantries with Dr. Arkham, weren't we, Chuck?"

Charlie looked down at the clown, then across at Denny, who shrugged. "Uh, I suppose," he said warily. "Come on, Joker."

The Joker let the guards man-handle him towards the psychiatric couch. They were being somewhat rougher than he felt was really necessary, and he let out exaggerated expressions of pain at every sharp tug.

"Aww, stop your whining," Charlie said, fastening the final restraint about the clown's ankle. The big guard looked over at the pretty doctor with concern in his eyes, and the Joker felt a bitter anger stirring in his veins.

"You sure you want to be alone with him today?" Charlie was asking her. The nerve. "He's acting a little weird, even for him."

"I'll be fine, thank you, Charlie," she told him, waving both guards out the door.

She closed it tight behind them and turned to lean against it, blowing air up across her forehead.

"Something wrong, Doc?" the Joker asked mildly.

Harley shook her head. "Not at all, Joker," she told him. "I'm just catching my breath. I lost track of time and had to run down here."

"Oh?" The Joker stretched out his toes, his tone light and almost bored. "What were you doing?"

"Reading your file, as it happens," she said, smirking, as if she knew it was what he wanted to hear. He tensed, but relaxed as he noticed a faint colour rising to her cheeks. She was telling the truth.

He gave her a long, slow smile. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I always do," she said, pulling up the office chair and scooting it a little closer to him. "I've pretty much memorised it by now."

The Joker narrowed his eyes at her. "You're teasing."

She just smiled in response. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about today?"

The Joker looked up at the ceiling, rolling his tongue around in his mouth. He could sense her eagerness, her hope that he would decide to start telling her his 'secrets'. Haha, not quite yet.

"Can't we talk a little more?" he asked her, his voice soft and wheedling. "C'mon, toots, we were just getting comfy last time when that big ill-bred lummox interrupted us."

"That 'big ill-bred lummox' was kind enough to deliver a message for you," she reminded him, giving him a reproachful look over the top of her glasses.

The Joker grinned back at her. "You got it, then? Good! I was worried our Chuckster might have delivered it to the wrong office." He raised an eyebrow slightly, watching Harley's face. "Like Dr. Arkham's, for instance."

"I'm glad he didn't," she admitted. "If he had done, and Dr. Arkham had discovered that I'd received a note from you before without telling him…" She shrugged. "I'd be in trouble. I would have been dismissed from your case at the very least."

"And I wouldn't want to get you in trouble," the Joker said, his voice earnest. "Then we wouldn't have any more time to play!"

Dr. Harlequin pursed her lips together, and looked at him over the top of her glasses. "Is that why everyone was so uneasy earlier? Were you annoyed to find Dr. Arkham here, and not me?"

Damn silly girl thought she was clever.

"Well of course, Doctor Quinn," he replied, his eyes wide and innocent. "Who wouldn't be unhappy, expecting to see a pretty little thing like you, and instead coming face to face with Jeremiah?" He made a face, and was delighted to hear her stifle a giggle at his expression.

Harley resettled her glasses. She looked as if she wanted to probe a little deeper, but instead she shrugged and wrinkled her pretty little nose. "Don't call me 'Dr. Quinn'," she asked him. "It makes me think 'medicine woman' every time somebody says it."

The Joker laughed. "Sorry, doc. It's just that to me, you'll always be 'Harley Quinn'. You don't really mind it, do you?"

She wrinkled her nose again in distaste. "Harley Quinn I can live with – just," she said. "Dr. Quinn? Not so much."

The Joker dropped his voice a little deeper and adopted a pseudo-seductive tone. "I don't suppose you'd let me call you Harley?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

She giggled again, but shook her head. "I think that we can stick with 'Doc' for the meantime, don't you, Joker?"

He didn't, but it was better than nothing. "Sure, doc, anything you say!"

"Well then, shall we get started?"

They spoke for five minutes about small, meaningless things. The subjects had been easy conversation before, but somehow, they were missing the sense of camaraderie that they had enjoyed in their last session. She was more restrained, almost as if she was intentionally holding back. The Joker probed at her with a couple of jests and some light-hearted questions, and she smiled and answered well enough, but she didn't show the openness that she had done before.

He lost his patience after she had barely more than smiled at one of his jokes. He frowned sternly.

"Have I done something to upset you?" he asked her in an overly sweet tone of voice. "You don't seem quite yourself today, Doc."

The little psychiatrist sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She removed her glasses, pulling out a cloth and polishing them as she spoke.

"I had a talk with Joan Leland yesterday," Harley explained, eyes focused on her fingers as she cleaned her glasses. "She warned me not to tell you anything about myself. You could use the information against me."

"But you knew that already," the Joker pointed out. "Didn't they teach you that sort of thing at Shrink School?" He nodded to her glasses as she tucked her polishing cloth away. "Leave 'em off, you look less serious without them on."

She smiled, and walked across the room to place them safely on the desk. "Do you like that?" she asked as she returned to her chair. "When people look less serious, I mean."

"I like the way you look all the time," the Joker assured her with a lecherous grin, "but you have a certain something without those specs hiding away your baby blues. Something a little more… carefree."

She even seemed to be feeling less reserved without them on. Without her glasses to hide behind, her emotions showed through a little more clearly, as if by removing them she had removed a barrier between herself and the world.

She brushed an imaginary stray hair from in front of her face and blushed slightly. "Do you think so?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly from its usual professional tone. "I don't really need them, I'm only a little bit long-sighted… I just read so much during the day that my eyes are always tired by evening."

"Well, you won't be doing much reading in here," the Joker reminded her with a smile. "May as well leave them off, hmm?"

"I suppose so." She dropped her gaze to her notepad again, tapping the end of her pencil against the paper. Still quiet? Irritating girl.

"You know," the Joker told her, "you've already told me quite a bit about yourself. It's too late to worry about it now, don't you think, Doc?"

"This is true, Joker, but I'm really not sure I feel comfortable – "

"You felt comfortable enough the other day," he interrupted with a pout. "I'll bet you still feel comfortable now. You're just trying to tell yourself that you're not meant to feel comfortable." He smiled. "Just like you're not meant to receive notes from dangerous patients."

She was fighting it, he could see it in her eyes. She probably hadn't broken any rules in years. Teacher's pet, top of her class… poor girl was being crushed by the heavy constructs that Society had tried to program her with. But Harley – the real Harley – was still there, under all of that corporate mess, and she was bubbling up from underneath. And the Rules were trying to keep that from happening.

She was giving him a slow, appraising look. Ah, he could see her so much better without those damn glasses. He could look right through into her soul.

"Would you kill me?" she asked him suddenly. "If I were to release your restraints, right now, would you kill me?"

He blinked, his expression affronted. "Me? Kill you? Why, I would never!"

She crossed one leg over the other and straightened her back slightly. "I know you could, you've done it before. I've read the reports of the doctors you've killed in this very room."

The Joker rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah… just because I could doesn't mean I would, though, right?" He blinked innocently at her.

At last Harley let out a sigh of defeat and tossed her notepad to the floor. "Fine. You're right. I've already told you enough about me, what could anything more do? You could kill me whether you knew anything or not. Hell, I knew that when I applied for this job, let alone took you on." She leant forward slightly, her eyes focused on him. "I decided long ago that talking to you – to any of you – would be worth the risk. I'm not going to change my mind now just because Joan's paranoid I'm going to wind up dead."

The Joker laughed in triumph. "Ha! Nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh Doc?"

She pursed her lips. "Hmm, yeah, and don't let me down on that one, huh? There's only so many of these 'just talking' sessions that my superiors are going to let us have."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Doc. Say, whatever happened to that boyfriend you were telling me about the other day? You never did finish that story."

"Who, Marvon? Oh, we decided that we'd be better off as friends…."