Cheryl whimpered, unable to scream or cry or even form words. Her legs grew weak beneath her as she stared downward at the sight. She had appeared to have found Robert, under the Joker's cot was the last place she would have expected.

Cheryl forced the flash light from Rob's face, she could not bare to look anymore and yet she found it hard not to stare. In all her years if nursing and working in the asylum, never had she seen a sight so truly terrifying.

His eye sockets had appeared to be stuffed with bundles of thick, plastic straws. A wide slit traveled from one side of his neck to the other, the wound thick with blood. And those were just the injuries the nurse had seen, several more spread across his body all the work of Joker, a scalpel and a few needles.

She stumbled backwards, unable to take her eyes off the mutilated body before her. Though the corpse's silhouette was obscured by the darkness Cheryl still felt a sick feeling inside her. Disgust at the gory sight and the horrible loss of a friend. But she could not properly grieve Rob because suddenly, it all came together in her mind.

She glanced toward the Joker, still lying seemingly unconscious on the cell's cement floor. Robert's blood trailing out from the cot and forming beneath the fallen clown. This was a trap.

At this realization the nurse bolted for the door, covering her own mouth in attempts to muffle her panicked whimpers. She had just reached the exit, her hand grasped the cool, metal handle; her salvation, when she was forced backwards by her hair.

Cheryl screamed as loud as she could, not holding back now that Joker was about. She voiced a shrill and practically inaudible shriek for help. But is was all in vain as no one heard her but the clown in the cell and she was dragged to the floor.

"Shh sh sh sh," a cold, bloody hand wrapped around her mouth and the Joker's face came into her view from her place on the floor.

A few drops of blood spilled from his cracked, bruised lips and onto Cheryl's forehead. That was Robert's blood in his mouth, she thought, Patient four, four, seven, nine was an absolute monster and she hated herself from believing otherwise.

"Just caaalm down and ev-er-y-thing will be fiiiine," the clown prince cooed easing a needle towards Cheryl's neck.

She sobbed beneath his hand, her eyes widened in fear as she felt the pinch of a needle on her flesh.

Joker prodded the inside of his scars in concentration. He slowly pushed the contents of the syringe into the nurse's veins, being sure not to spill it out of her skin. And eventually the cries stopped, her eyes fluttered back in sleep... or death. The Joker really was not sure what a dose of sedatives, meant for his own body but injected into a smaller female's neck would do.

But empathy was not exactly part of Joker's personality. As long as she was incapable of stoping him from leaving the cell, he was satisfied.

He removed his hand from her face, leaving a red print across her mouth as Cheryl's head lolled to one side.

Joker gathered the rest of the needles that Robert had not moved fast enough to use and made his way out the door.


Jonathan Crane's grey sheets were tucked up to his chin and clenched tightly in each hand like a frightened child. Sleeping was so hard when every little sound seemed amplified. His senses were so heightened that even his neighboring inmate's snore startled him, again and again and again. He could not seem to convince his mind it was simply the sound of snores and not some horrible, deadly creature, not matter how repetitive it was.

Finally he attempted to force himself into sleep. Jonny closed his eyes tightly, refusing to open them again until morning despite the persisting sounds around him. Including the one that came from outside his door...

Quickly, Jonathan rolled over, facing the wall and squeezing his eyes closed as tight as he could. He heard the sound of the door unlocking-no it was his imagination, the knob turning-no it was another patient making noise, the door opening-it was just medication and nerves..... then there was silence.

Breathing heavily he broke his promise to himself and slowly opened his eyes. Jonathan, still facing the wall, saw only a dark and stained concrete wall. After some hesitation, he carefully rolled over to his back again to find the Joker looming over his bed.

Jonathan gasped, Joker's hand flew over his mouth, suppressing the oncoming scream.

"Shhh," he hushed.

Jonathan could barely make out the figure beside him. He could hardly see through the cover of darkness that it was Joker. The shadows of long bumpy scars on his mouth gave him away.

"How did you get in?" whispered Jonathan once Joker removed his hand.

He sat up, squinting to see the clowns face amidst the dark. He could not see very well but Joker's face appeared somewhat vacant, unusual for the clown prince of crime. He lifted a key card hanging from a lanyard around his neck and slowly waved it back and forth.

"Well, where did you get that,"

Joker shrugged, "Some guard I sedated on the way here," his voice surprisingly quiet, "Wanna go exploring Jonny?" he finally smiled, more typical than his behavior leading to this moment.

Jonathan vigorously shook his head no, still in bed.

"Aw c'mon, of course ya do," Joker corrected, tugging him roughly out of bed, "We're gonna visit Dr. Str-aaange's office,"

Before Jonathan could refuse he had him by the wrist, quickly leading him down the hall. Crane looked around fearfully for guards as they rushed through the asylum. Much to his surprise he did not see any, at least not any that were still conscious. The Joker had obviously been well stocked with needles. Jonathan noticed a total of three, fairly large men laying unconscious in Arkham Asylum's dim halls. But that was still not as many guards as Jonny would have expected to be on duty tonight.

"Security's been low lately," Joker began, as if reading Jonathan's mind, "The staff is quiting left and right. Can you believe Jonny? They're all afraid of lil ol me,"

"Because of the fork thing?" he asked in return, still looking around for guards.

"Yep. But I never do tricks like that twice,"

"Maybe they think next time it'll be worse," suggested Jonathan.

Joker laughed a little, "I like the way you think Jonny-boy,"

Jonathan glanced down at the hand Joker held his wrist with, dark red with dried blood. A rush of disgust filled his body briefly, giving him chills. But he supposed that there would always be casualties when the Joker was present. Besides he did not care about the blood's previous owner much, he just did not want it touching his own hand.

Soon they were on the elevator, heading towards Dr. Strange's office on the top floor. Jonathan hated the elevator, his medication making everything extreme, he felt like the walls were closing in. He sat down on the floor and tightly tucked his knees toward his chest. Jonathan looked up at Joker for support but jumped slightly, shocked by the clown's appearance, having noticed in the dim light of the hallway.

His bottom lip was swollen and cracked with a brown, fading bruise below it. Blood seemed to paint his broken lips red and drip downward across his chin in certain places. His dark eyes were bruised as well, both of them. It gave the illusion of his trademark eye makeup.

Joker noticed Jonathan's gaze of both fascination and pure disgust, "What?"

Jonny shrugged.

Joker ran his fingers through his matted hair, the blood tinged pink and red with blood. He smirked at Jonathan, who did not understand why. But of course, there were many things he could not understand about the Joker. Thus making it difficult to report things to Dr. Strange.

Difficult, but not impossible. He would continue to observe, naturally, he could not allow his current doctor to be right. Even if he had to make things up.

The sound of the doors sliding open brought relief, which was then dissolved at the sound of Joker's voice, "Aw greeaat," the clown said sarcastically.

Jonathan looked up to see an orderly in the hallway before them.

"Hey," the man shouted, surprised and angered by the two inmates sudden appearance.

Joker glanced at Jonathan rolling his eyes, like some inside joke directed towards the guard.

"Just out for a str-oll," he approached the guard, "Those cells get boring sooo fast, ya know?" Joker leaned on the elevator entrance, holding it opened and motioning for Jonny to follow.

"I'm taking you back to your cells," the guard's voice was commanding, but the Joker didn't falter.

Crane watched the guard's eyes, attempting to disguise fear. An almost impossible task considering the Joker's appearance was certainly frightful.

Jonathan looked at the clown then, the expression on his scared face unchanged. No sign of fear or concern what so ever. Jonathan marveled, in all his career as a psychiatrist, never had he seen such a perfect sociopath as the Joker.

"I'm curious to see just hooow you'll do that, without a gun?" a smirk played across his lips, "I know my Arkham em-ploy-eeeees. Guards patrolling upstairs don't have guns. Why wouldya need um? What patient will sneak up stairs when the exits on the first floor," he licked the corner of his mouth, snickering slightly.

The orderly looked at Joker and then Jonathan before looking back at Joker, considering his options. Next he rushed at Joker. He was not quite as tall as the clown, but more muscular. That could not save him though. Joker slammed him hard into the wall outside the elevator, holding him there by the collar of his uniform.

"Look Jonny," he called, not taking his eyes off the guard, "He wants to be a hero," Joker brought his face closer to the guards, "So what was your plan? Gonna wrasssle me back to my cell," he giggled.

The guard took the opportunity to hit him in the jaw, his movement limited from where Joker held him. But as always, Joker did not respond much to the pain. He reacted quickly by bashing the orderly head into the wall.

Jonathan stood back, eyes wide, watching the fight. Joker then looped the lanyard from the key around the guards neck while he was disoriented from the blow to the head. It fit tightly when wrapped twice with little slack, but just enough for Joker to fit his hand through. He gripped it tightly and pulled back.

The guard gaged, eyes bulging he slid to the floor. It didn't deter the Joker however. He continued to work, in fact positioning himself on top of the man was even more efficient. He jerked harder on the lanyard cause a reaction of gags and choking noises from the orderly.

The Joker made it seem so simple, both physically and mentally. It fascinated the doctor in Jonathan Crane.

The expression of pain melted from the guard's now reddened face and his eyes rolled back in his head. Joker rose and nudged the fallen man with his foot, he didn't move. The clown knelt again, loosing the lanyard and returning it to his own neck.

"C'mon Jonny," the clown prince said nonchalantly and continued down the hall.

Jonathan obeyed, following close behind his companion until they reached their destination.

Joker carelessly opened the door after taking a moment to unlock it, "Here we are," he went inside and turned on a reading lamp connected to Dr. Strange's desk.

The clown quickly made himself at home, looking around the room. He opened drawers and looked at the pictures hanging on the wall. All Jonathan could do was watch him in wonder. Joker was now browsing through a long book shelve behind he doctor's desk. He was not exactly the image of a killer, certainly not like to ones Crane had treated. The Joker was fair skinned with dark eyes and long lashes. When clean, his hair was shiny and a dark blond with slight waves. Aside from the swollen facial scarring and now fading purple-ish circles beneath his eyes, he was perfect in appearance. Like a fallen angel, he was beautiful and so evil.

Crane continued to watch him paw through books, casting aside the ones he was not interested in. This man differed greatly from the clown that existed outside of Arkham Asylum. He tried so hard to be hideous on the streets if Gotham. With untamed hair, dyed putrid green and layers of caked on face paint, hiding that fact that he was young. Possibly younger than Jonathan himself. The former doctor wondered if this was the reason he provoked the guards into beating him so often, to cover his unpainted face with bruises and blood.

"Whatchya doin' Jon-ny-boy," Joker said in that eerie sing-song voice, as he closed a thick book before letting it drop to the floor.

"Nothing,"

"Wanna look at you're file?" he asked, noticing two filing cabinets in the office space.

"Sure," Jonathan moved from, his spot in front of the door and towards Joker.

He grabbed a stack of folders from the cabinet and settled into Dr. Strange's leather chair.

"Let's see," Joker's fingers danced across the files in search of the name Crane, "Aw here," he plucked out a brown folder and handed it to Jonathan, who headed for an armchair to read it in, "Lemme know if there's anything good in there," Joker playfully smacked Jonathan's bottom, much to his surprise.

The former doctor opened his file, Joker spotted his own.

The clown quickly skipped over his make up-less mugshots and straight to Dr. Strange's notes, "Hey Jonny, he mentions you," he began, "Patient has been known to manipulate others sexually, Jonathan Crane has been subject to this as of late," Joker laughed through his words.

"I told you," Jonathan said quickly.

"Yes and I'm so impressed with your insight on my mind Dr. Crane," Joker replied dryly.

Jonathan still took it as a compliment. He opened his file, his mugshots came first and like most mugshots they looked awful. His hair was a mess and his eyes wide, still suffering the effects of fear gas. He vaguely recalled the camera trying to eat him.

Crane turned to the next page, sure enough he had been diagnosed a narcissist by Dr. Strange. The former doctor silently congratulated himself on an accurate diagnoses. However the notes taken by Dr. Strange were somewhat discouraging. They made him out to be some sort of spoiled brat who could not appreciate the fine establishment he was committed to. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Joker read through his file as well, though not as carefully as Jonathan had. He skipped certain pages in search of more interesting notes about himself. However the more he read they went from slightly amusing to just plain annoying.

'Patient does not like to discuss former love, Harleen Quinzel.'

"Patient seems to exhibit some form of grief over her death. However, small, but still contradictory to his possible anti-social personality disorder.'

The clown made a face and slammed his file shut, tossing it back into the cabinet.

"Do you want to switch folders?" asked Jonathan closing his and offering it to the Joker.

"Nah. There's Nothing good in mine," he laughed slightly, "I think I've got Strange stumped," Joker lied.

"I can believe that," sighed Jonathan.

He placed his folder back in its place and began to look through Dr. Strange's textbooks that Joker had thrown around the room. It had been so long since he had read something of substance.

Jonathan piled a stack of thick books beside him and began flipping through the pages.

"It's like sex for you, isn't it?" Joker watched him from across the room.

"What? No," Jonny looked up from the book for a moment before burring his face in it again, "It's just been a very long time since I've read one,"

"Take some back to your cell," suggested the clown, leaning back in Dr. Strange's chair.

"Really?" Jonathan replied.

"No one's stopping ya," he shrugged.

"True," nodded the former doctor, considering the idea, "And judging by Strange's ability to observe patients I doubt he'll miss these books," a hint of excitement rose in his voice at the thought of some stimulating entertainment in this hell hole.

Joker smiled, picking at his injured lip agian, "You're a nerd,"

Jonathan decided to ignore that comment, having heard it way to often in his childhood. He closed the textbook, deciding that he would simply take them back to his cell. Instead of spending this time with Joker reading, he chose to do some psychoanalyzing.

"Are you alright?" asked Jonathan.

"Never been better. Why?"

"No reason," Jonathan folded his hands across his lap, "It's just that you're covered in blood," he observed.

The clown looked confused, "And you think that's uncommon for me?"

Jonathan supposed it was somewhat of a silly question.

"Leaving my cell got a little messy," he answered the question.

"I see, is that how you were injured?"

"What?" Joker seemed sincerely confused for a few moments, "I didn't get hurt,"

"So what happened to your eyes and your mouth?" Jonny questioned, though his voice was unconcerned. Not that Joker minded the lack of empathy, he himself having none.

"Um it's a game the guards like ta play. It's uh, it's kinda like whack-a-mole... I'm the mole,"

Jonathan nodded, slipping further into his 'Dr. Crane' persona, "And does this bother you?" he asked.

"What's with all the questions Jonny-boy?"

"It just seems as though you aren't well..."

Joker stopped him, "Jonny you told me what a narcissistic personality disorder is, I know you don't really care about my well be-ing,"

"You're right," he replied nonchalantly.

"So uh, what gives then?"

Jonathan thought for a moment, he did not want the Joker to know about what Dr. Strange had told him. He doubted the clown would take to kindly to his mind being spied on by another patient. A strange sounding concept but essentially what the former doctor was doing.

He sighed, "Just reliving my days as a doctor I suppose," he began gathering up his collection of Strange's textbooks, "Maybe I should go someone's going to notice I'm gone,"

"Uh uh," Joker shook his head no, "I've got the key anyway, how do you think you're gettin' back in your cell," he began spinning it around on one finger by the card's lanyard.

Jonathan sat the books on the nearby desk and approached Joker, "Seeing as how you don't care about things like... punishment; could you give me the key so I don't get in trouble,"

Joker smiled slyly, his tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth, "An interesting argument sweets, but uh, I think I need some uh, more convincing... if ya know what I mean?"

Jonathan cringed, "I thought you weren't feeling well,"

"Your words not mine," the clown pointed out, "Besides, you were playing doctor a minute ago... make me better, doc,"

The Joker's advances made Jonathan feel queasy. Did he just sit around in his cell all day coming up with suggestive lines to use on people.

"I'd rather not,"

Joker rolled his eyes, "You're a pussy... a boring pussy. Ungrateful too. After all I've done, it's cuz of me you got all your little books," he sighed, "Here take it," he said extending the key card towards Jonny.

"Thank you," he accepted the key, but upon reaching out his own hand to take it Joker pulled him swiftly onto his lap. Where Jonathan received a startlingly rough and much to his disgust, a bloody kiss.

He then shoved Jonathan off of him, satisfied and giggling at his success.

The former doctor picked himself up from the floor with key card in hand. He frantically wiped his mouth, now horrified that some of the Joker's blood was inside him, as he exited Strange's office.

"Wait," Jonny stopped short, "How are you getting back to into your cell?" he questioned, not out of concern but instead curiosity.

Joker smirked at him, pulled another key card from his pocket and held it up in the air.

"Damn it," Jonathan stormed off.


Joker decided to take a look at Jonathan's file. His mugshots were terrible, but hilarious. The clown was tempted to slid them into his Arkham uniform pocket. It would give him a good laugh later.

After a short time of reading he found that the notes began repeating themselves a bit, but he supposed what else would a narcissist talk about in therapy but himself. Jonathan complained about Batman, his nightmares and what an awful childhood he had. Joker was only dissapointed to see that there had been no notes taken about him. There should have been, surely Jonny talked about him.

He slid the folder, carefully labeled Crane, Jonathan, back into it's place in the filing cabinet.

Joker layed down in the chair, legs draped over one of it's leathery arms. It was an odd chair, tall, smooth and burgundy in color. The kind of old-style furniture he would expect from Dr. Strange. And people thought the Joker was a theatrical.

His eyes scanned the large, wooden desk before him. It's shiny, polished surface was scattered with papers. That's when a folder caught his eye, the brown ones used for patients just sitting out it the open.

"Well Dr. Strange, clearly you've no respect for patients privacy," he faked a shocked tone of voice.

Joker sat up and pulled the folder across the mountain of paperwork to his lap.

"Let's see who thisss beloongs tooo," he sang to himself.

The clown's smile faded after turning the folder to read the labeled tab. He knit his brow in confusion and then read the name again. It didn't make sense. Quinzel, Harleen.

"What the hell?" he murmered, staring at the label for some time.

Was it possible that Arkham kept records for staff members to? Was this from when Harley worked here?

Slowly Joker peeled back the cover of Harley's folder to find a set of mugshots. Harley's blue eyes glistening with tears and stitches lining her mouth in each photo.

Joker ripped the picture out from under its paperclip, which had held it in place, and looked closer. As if it would make a difference, it was unmistakably Harley Quinn, staring back at him. But he killed her... didn't he?

Joker certainly did not forget that night. Nor did he forget the blood that gushed everywhere. How did she survive that? Then it occurred to the clown that he had survived the very same thing.

Still in disbelief he looked at the page lying beneath Harley's mugshots. It included name, age, date of birth, height, weight, hair color, eye color, medications, crimes committed, on and on, describing Harley. Joker began ripping through the pages, angrily, reading bits and pieces of Dr. Strange's notes as he did.

"Patient expericnes rapid highs and lows in emotions. Patient has nightmares. Patient does not want to speak of Joker,"

He stopped turning pages and began to think about the situation. Harley was alive and in Arkham... so who saved her? Obviously she could not save herself, bound to a chair and bleeding profusely. How did she survive? Who saved her? How did anyone even know where she was?

It only took a moment for a name to come to the sociopath's mind; Jonathan Crane.


Sorry, yet again another Harley-free chapter. I miss her too. Probably the next one will have Harley.

But yaaah a gory scene, oh how I've missed them. As for the guard who gets strangled with a lanyard... I dunno if that's possible but I don't care. In my little world it is. At first he was going to kill people with the straws (I got the idea from the ICP song Sedatives) but I'm really unsure that that's possible... sorry Violent J, I'm skeptical.

The fanfic I wrote about in the last chapter; the one about Joker celebrating holidays has been changed to one fic instead of a bunch of little shots. I believe its called Celebrate with the Joker. Read and review for im-batman, her fic deserves it. And she proof reads for me, so without her; my fics would not make any sense at all.