Thank you for all of the reviews! I hope you all really enjoy this chapter! It's a surprise guest!

So there I was, sitting beside a half naked Joker, rubbing at his neck as he sniffed my pillows. I had pinched him several times, hoping he'd stop, but it would just make him shudder, and his make-up would crumble away onto my pillow, and then I'd be stuck with a face smear of make-up. He seemed lost within his own little world, and for a few moments, I wondered if I could just sneak away from him and get back to the tent. Or better yet, leave the warehouse. Though that was very unlikely, due to the gun in his hands. I doubt I'd get a step near the door without him aiming that barrel between my eyes.

The smell of lime and melting greasepaint was starting to make my head spin. I was about to tell the Joker that I wanted to get back to the tent, when the worst possible situation happened.

I should probably tell you at this point, that I have a habit of attracting attention. And I had figured at that point that things could not get any worse. I should have realised that situations like this can always get worse, no matter who you are or who you're with. I seem to be able to draw in bad news like flies to a honey, and it's always at the worse possible moment. Which is why I probably shouldn't have been so surprised when Harley Quinn walked into the room at the exact moment that I was massaging the Joker's neck.

She was impressive. Impressively scary, I should say. She had a stature that beamed 'badass', but in a feminine way. Her curves started and ended in the right places, and her scantily clad outfit complimented her figure, very much like whenever I saw her in news clips and police file photos of her. I remember seeing her prance about on the 6 o'clock news, like a dancer. The Joker had a habit of making and sending his own home made videos in to news stations, ranting about one thing or another, and more often than not, Harley Quinn would appear as his sidekick, though it was obvious that they were romantically linked as well. No-one quite knew where she had come from, but everyone had become nervous at the sight of her, because if the Joker could convert some random girl into his own little psychopath, then what else could he do? And everyone knew that he had converted her, and not any other way, as he held dominance over her that was apparent even in their videos. She was athletic, according to some; and there were those who believed she had once been a ballerina or a gymnastic, but no evidence had ever come to light. No-one seemed to recognise her either, which suggested to some that she wasn't local, but I wasn't sure. She seemed to know Gotham well enough, to me.

Oh yes, we psychiatrists do have fun analysing the villains of Gotham City.

Looking up at her now, I was able to admire her form as she stood over us, watching us back with her steady blue eyes. Her short blonde hair was hastily drawn up into pigtails, which surrounded her small, white painted face. Her eyes were surrounded by a black lace mask, and I could see the anger and disappointment in her eyes.

She stepped forward, brandishing a champagne bottle with blood smeared across the base.

"Puddin', what's this?" She said darkly, aiming the bottle at me.

I was staring into the bottle, stunned as her face contorted into a dark expression. I wasn't about the question her choice of words, after all. I glanced up at her face, and noted the black lace mask surrounding her eyes. I felt awkward for staring, but she seemed familiar. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew her.

She gripped the bottle tightly, and I thought in that moment, how happy I would have been very to slink out and hide in a shadowy corner, but her mouth opened and a sinister, low-pitched voice came tumbling out awkwardly.

"Answer me!" Her voice sounded strangled on that last note, her eyes captured on my hands and danced about to meet his face.

"I'm sorry…" I mumbled. "He…"

"Shut up! You little harlot!" She shrieked, her attention switching back to me.

"I thought you were still in Arkham." The Joker asked casually.

"What is she doing here?" She asked, pointing at me.

The Joker laughed, sitting up. I was still in shock in this moment, so as he sat up, with me still leaning against him, I fell to the floor, and said nothing as Harley's thighs came into my immediate view. I saw the champagne bottle fall to the floor and smash in front of my eyes. I looked up, and saw her guns aimed at me. I gasped and froze as she cocked her guns.

"Everything's a joke, huh, Mr. J?" She growled.

"She's a doctor." The Joker laughed darkly, batting her gun away from my face.

"She's a psychiatrist!" She shrieked again, her hands trembling.

"Yes, but… Wait, how do know that I'm a psychiatrist?" I asked, momentarily distracted.

"I know you quite well, Charlotte."

I wasn't sure whether or not I should have been pleased with that simple statement. She smiled darkly at me, looming over me as I shivered in her presence. Puzzlement crossed her face, and she bit her lip

"You don't remember me?" She asked, her voice surprisingly lilting and musical.

Her shaky laugh thrilled me as she leaned down, her hands on her hips, guns aimed lazily as she smirked.

"Well, I'm insulted. And here's me thinking that we got on real good last time we met."

I was able to detect some sort of Queens accent as she began to relax, and she winked at me as she stood straight again. Harley Quinn.

Harley Quinn. No, wait, it couldn't have been as obvious as that, could it?

"H-Harleen?" I asked, my voice trembling in surprise. "Harleen Quinzel?"

"Hole in one! Though you could have gotten there sooner." She said, wrinkling her nose.

Harleen Quinzel. Of all the people the Joker had to pick, he picked the one woman in all of Gotham who was psychological damaged, and somehow managed to treat people just like her! This woman was once a psychiatrist, just like myself, but the only difference between us was, that while I pampered to the rich and desperate, she had slaved away at Arkham Asylum, enjoying herself. I daresay she was the only psychiatrist there who turned up on time. No, wait, there was Dr. Crane, and as I do recall, he soon became a villain himself. Which just goes to show…

"Charlotte, you're tuning out…" Harley, Harleen, said.

"Harleen, what happened? You, you just disappeared one day. And then a week later, the Joker broke out! We all thought he had you … killed." I mumbled, confused and distraught.

"I broke him out." She replied, smirking to herself as she emphasised the first word. "We fell in love, and we were like Romeo and Juliet, true love."

She cooed the last two words, and I stared at her in a mixture of horror and confusion. I looked around me, dazed as I realised that the once perky and happy-go-lucky girl I knew a year ago was now the psychopathic little tortureress before me.

"That last time I saw you…" I murmured to myself.

"No, not me. Not the real me. You never knew the real me." She replied. She pulled one gun up to aim at me. "And I guess I never knew the real you."

"Harleen…I'm not here willingly. The Joker kidnapped me. He wants me to bring this half-dead man back to life!"

Harley's face showed surprise, and she turned to look at the Joker.

"This true, puddin'?" She asked, clearly confused.

He shrugged, and both Harley and I pulled a face at his indirect answer. She glanced over at me, and frowned.

"And this?" She asked, gesturing to the Joker.

"He told me to massage him. After I suggested to him that he ought to see a masseuse. He's got this problem, you see…"

"He en't got no problem, Charlotte." She shrieked, "He's perfect. He sent his guys to come break me out tonight."

"I see." I said, awkwardly. "Harleen…"

"For how long will you be here?" She asked, a harsh tone in her voice.

"Harleen, please." I pleaded, her tone hurting me. We had once been associates, though not best friends. We had gotten along quit well whenever we saw one another, often comparing notes on our patients, but now…

"It doesn't matter. You'll be gone soon enough. Now, me and my Mr. J are gonna have a little chat. Run with your tail between your legs before I break them." She threatened.

I clambered to my feet and left the room as swiftly as I could. Their laughter cackling behind me, following me back to the tent, as I lay beside the groggy Dr. Derby, hugging my knees as I thought of Harleen … Harley … and I once being friends, but now enemies.