AN: Yeah so... they're really nuts. Enjoy. Warnings for some pretty graphic BDSM that teeters into abuse- well, that depends on your view, I suppose, but I'm warning for it, kay? Also sex. And powerplay. And well, not for kids or the squeamish, okay.

Songs for the chapter are:

Daddy Issues, by The Neighborhood

Cosmopolitans- originally a poem by Erin Mckeown- adapted into a mix originally for Nip/Tuck. If you search youtube for cosmopolitans nip tuck, you'll find it.

So Damn Beautiful by Poloroid

Try Tonight- originally released by Lana Del Rey when she was May Jailer on the sirens album. So if you think you know her sound, it was different before, so go listen.

Referenced and honorable mentions: Pretty Baby, also released as May Jailer when he says "if you don't like it when I touch you like that" and Habits by Tove Lo, the Hippie Sabotage Remix was direct inspiration.

Letmeloveyou beta'ed for me, and convinced me to leave the darker bits in- as she pointed out, it's the tinge of madness that's missing without those bits.

Do let us know what you think- now- shut your eyes, put your head back, and enjoy it in bed with our favorite crazy lovers.

And don't forget, no matter what you might think otherwise- it *is* a love story.

"Some are born mad, some achieve madness, and some have madness thrust upon 'em."

Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls

Take you like a drug

I taste you on my tongue

You ask me what I'm thinking about

I tell you that I'm thinking about

Whatever you're thinking about

Tell me something that I'll forget

And you might have to tell me again

It's crazy what you do for a friend

Go ahead and cry little girl

Nobody does it like you do

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

Daddy Issues, The Neighborhood

Have you ever woken up from a dream, thinking it was real? Or wondered if the dreaming was real, and reality is just something blue? I wake up feeling disoriented, just like that. I'm slick with narcotic sweat, and I feel like I'm living someone else's life. As if any second now, someone will wake me up, and tell me it was a joke.

The air smells of cigarette and musk. I open my eyes, and he's sitting against the headboard, and sometime in the last few hours I've anchored myself around his leg. He's smoking, and the ashtray next to him is half full, a cigarette burning in it now. He has a small laptop sitting on his lap, and he's tapping away at it. I'm surprised to see he wears glasses- but even they are anachronistic- they're small, and perched on the edge of his nose, and it if it weren't for the- well everything- he could be a professor, and the thought makes me start to giggle. And it's laughter that feels a bit like madness- it has me by the throat and I can't stop.

It bubbles out of me, and he pulls his glasses from his nose and looks at me, waiting for me to explain, but it only makes me laugh harder. And he's frowning, and it's getting worse, and he puts the computer aside and pulls me up into his lap, and he's drawing circles on my back, wide and "shhhh. shhhh.." As if he's soothing an infant, shhh shhhh. And as quickly as it came, it's gone. I'm distracted. I'm finally getting a proper look at his chest in real light, and it's like someone's fucked up crayon art. A set of cards run over his shoulder, and into the crook of his neck, and I can't help but run my fingers over it. "Fuck you have attention issues" he grumbles. "Life. You're all in, or you're out" And I trace the Ha's splattered over his shoulder and chest like ink calligraphy "Life is rarely funny." and I trace it over with my finger tips, moving to the knife on his arm. "Reality is a knife edge" and over again, swirling my finger tips over the reaper on his other shoulder "Explanatory." I point at the bird on his arm, and he says "Icarus."

I can't help but be surprised, and "You know. Flew too close to the sun."

I know the myth. Why? I ask. I was very angry, at the time. The pain from the needle calmed me down. It's not my most inspired one. Reminds me... not to.. let go." And I trace down, running my fingers over his name. At this he grins at me "So you don't forget who you're fucking, sweetheart. Also doubles as ID if I ever lose a fight. No body mixups."

I run my fingers over them, and then to the J underneath his eye, and his smile widens, and he says, "judgement". "I see you, and I"- and he taps the J. And run my thumb over his forehead. "So you know what I am. From the first moment you see me, I'm not lying. Most people don't want you to know what they are, they hide it- underneath respectability, their family, how other people see them. The suburban dad who volunteers for the neighborhood watch, but really wants to fuck little girls. The teacher who really hates his students, and covers it in a nice suit. The girl who wears the nice pencil skirt and blouse and has a job helping but really wants to kill, to be freed"- and he runs a thumb over my bottom lip. And I'd be angry if it wasn't true, if I didn't feel like somebody else, masquerading.

But really, I can't stop touching his skin... the dark lines are entrancing, and instead Do you ever feel like you're somebody else? And that other person is just waiting for you to wake up and realize that it's all wrong, and you can't always manage it? And that any minute now someone's gonna wake you up and tell you it's all a mistake?"

He looks at me, grabs my chin- makes sure I'm paying attention. "I know exactly." And the gravel in his throat makes my breath hitch, and I flex my hips against his hands, involuntary. "Is there something you want from me?" he says, amusement playing on his lips. And I kiss him instead, and he says, "You're going to learn to ask, you know. But since I want something-" and flips me onto my back and wags a finger at me. "Don't make a sound till I've had my fill- I want to taste your cunt" and he puts a hand on my ribs, holding me in place and then he eats me out, drawing slow, maddening circles with his tongue, teasing, mmmmmm he purrs out, and speeds up and J please and quick as lightning he bites my inner thigh, hard, and all it does is make me want to come and he laughs- "all that chit chats gonna get ya hurt, baby. Now shut the fuck up."

And he starts again and it's so fucking good and it's harder and harder to stay quiet and I can't take it anymore and I try to sit up, and he smacks me hard across the face and "You didn't ask. Good girls ask for what they want. Learn to ask and you'll become more yourself." He bites my nipple, hard enough to draw blood. "I'll help you do anything you want to to anyone else- I'll show you how- but with me, you'll ask." And then he taps me gently on the ribs, and goes back down, and "come on baby, come for daddy-" and he sticks his tongue inside me and thumbs my clit and I'm lost, and I could like being this someone else and he's groaning and it's so fucking good and it takes me a moment to realize he hasn't stopped and "are you alright?" and he clears his throat and "Oh Nothing. Just came in my pants like a teenager-" and he's laughing, and he scoops me up and carries me out, into the bathroom and sits me on the toilet. He turns on the shower and leaves, coming back with my kit in his hands.

He ties the tourniquet round my arm, and measures out a dose himself, and finds a vein, neat, concentrating. When he's done, he kisses me on the forehead and says "No more until I give you more Harley." And he waits for me to nod a yes and starts shucking his clothes.

And if this is being someone else, if this is crazy, I can take it. It's the most gentled crazy I've ever felt, the safest.

I've sent her on her way- as it is, I'm not due at Arkham till 2- Johnny will make sure she makes it into the building without falling into a pit, and in the meantime, I've work to do. The Falcones are demanding to up their rates, but I'll be damned if I don't check the numbers first. After that, I need to talk to Pam about the as yet unplanned grand plan, and then possibly Kitty, depending on how mad she is at me. Perhaps also Crane, but he's unpredictable so talking to Johnny and the others first is a must. It's not possible to pay Nero off, so the difficulty will be in how to sideline him.

I've learned, over time, that questioning other people's motives is a worthy use of time. Questioning my own leads to... problems.

So I won't. I won't. I won't.

And that reminds me to get some water and take my pills.

I am really not going to enjoy the next few months of waiting for trial. I don't regret what I did, but even so I don't like cages. As a consequence, I've turned my cell into a garden, and I'm already bored, and swirling petals through the air, when she walks in, and sits on the floor, not even coated. She seems.. different. Like someone's untwisted something. I'm not sure that's a good thing. Then, instead, she stands and swipes her cardkey in the door, and produces a thermos of coffee.

She sits next to me and pours two cups, and-

Hi Pam-

"You fucked him, didn't you?"

Yep.

"So was it good?"

Also yes.

"Great?"

Mhhhmmm. Also probably a terrible mistake, but split the difference. She shrugs at me. I can't.

"Well, you're screwed now. I hear it was quite the card game though." I can't help but smirk at her, and she smacks me on the shoulder.

Pam! You knew all along!

"I didn't. I only heard up to the bit where you landed in his lap and smacked him on the back of the head. Coulda gone either way."

Fucking Johnny. It was, wasn't it?

"I will neither confirm, nor deny" and I'm laughing, and it feels good- good to have a friend, and she's laughing too, and it's one of those inconsequential moments that mean everything.

And she slips her hand into mine.

"So what's the deal. Why aren't you dying of poisonous plant lady?"

Poison innoculation. Surprisingly effective against most things. Not everything though. But Pam- poisonous plant lady? Really?

And it's not even funny but we sit there and laugh until we're both almost crying with it. And it's good.

Good afternoon, Dr Quinzel.

She tumbles in to the therapy room, looking- disjointed.

"Mr- Joker." And she's already on the wrong foot. She tumbles into her chair. A closer look and I can see the sweat beaded on her forehead. She's starting to struggle.

But she hasn't broken the rules- yet. But she's in worse shape than I thought she would be by 2.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we?" she says.

And begins spewing out a laundry list of questions.

"What's your real name?" It doesn't matter.

"How old are you?" I don't know. I hardly care to remember.

"How do you think others see you?" They fear me. They really shouldn't unless they're collateral damage to my management. I'm hardly an uncontrolled killer.

"And why do you think they should be collateral damage?" People sometimes are. What is the point of all these endless questions. I am what I am.

She's irritating me. Goddammit I have other things to do than talk shit about my... whatever. Like get Pam onside.

He's sitting across from me, legs crossed, completely fucking unfazed.

I, however, am feeling the withdrawal, and my head's hurting something fierce. He's irritated by the questions, but it has to be possible to separate who I am here, from who I am there. Otherwise I'll run mad with it.

I take a moment, and slip an aspirin out of my pocket, and down it with some water. He leans forward in his chair, until his nose is level with mine, and he smells good.

"What, precisely was that?" and it's almost a low hiss, and he's frightening.

Please- don't lean over me. In response he settles his elbows on the table, and pushes further into my space. Aspirin. My head hurts.

And he stands, stepping adroitly around the table, and his hands are tangled in my hair, scratching my head, rubbing the tension out of it, and it makes me sigh. His hands are warm, and it's the first soft moment since 10.

And then he's in front of me, kneeling, and I can feel his hand on my face, and I hold it, despite the distractions in my mind- the fear, Lucius, the bit that's saying come on, harley, you know you want to shoot up- who is he to tell-

and I feel his hand on my face, warm, like a secret, and his cheek is on mine, and he's trying to get my attention-

"Harley- you have to stop hurting yourself. Only I can do that. I have to go now" And he kisses me on the head and walks out.

And he's touched a rarely played string-

Lucius- that day.

Oh you won't die. Only I can ever do that, baby.

And then he'd started cutting me.

I lean over the side of the table, and that voice, the one *you know you want to shoot up* is whispering in my ears and I can't do anything but vomit a stream of hot acid into the wastepaper basket. It takes me less than three minutes to make it to my office, and once I've locked the door -safe- and my gut is clenched with fear and nausea, and clasp my hands over my ears and a keening sound falls out my mouth like water from a running tap.

It's half 6, and I'm sitting downstairs in the bar, trying to pretend I'm not waiting- working, anything.

The mood is already frenetic, surprisingly early- and the music's pumping over the system.

Cosmopolitans and ladies, looking for pills and draperies

Famous, don't you wish you were weightless

famous from this moment you're faded

Makes quite a morning cocktail of insecurity

a fallen pancake breakfast for two

the ladies choice of partner changes from evening to evening

the loneliness is expected, if not predicted

I signal to Johnny to bring me a Jack and coke- it's been a hell of a day. Corralling these fucking people into doing what you need them to is hard when you can't just point a machine gun at the problem. Quite honestly, I'm itching to hurt someone. But I'm not going to. I'm not an animal. I'm rubbing the bridge of my nose when Johnny brings the drink, and he says "oh oh. Here's trouble."

And she's at the edge of my dancefloor, wearing something black and barely there, dancing with a pretty brunette. And by dancing, I really mean dazzling the poor girl, and any second now she could put her hands up her skirt, and the brunette would let her, too. And then she's kissing her, and I'm going to beat the shit out of her. I down the drink and slam it down, and I'm crossing the floor, and grabbing her by the shoulder- she's already slick with sweat and she turns and her eyes are so fucking black I'm amazed she's standing.

The needle marks on her arm are red and shining. She only flicks her hair and says "what? Don't like what you see, Daddy?" and then she wraps her arms round the brunette and sticks her tongue in her mouth, putting her other hand up the girls skirt- and That's enough, Harley. If you've a point to make, come and make it. The brunette has realized she's in the middle of something, and when Harley turns towards me, she slips away.

"What are you going to do about it, Joker? Hurt me?" And the edge in her voice is hard, angry. "I was just fine before you"- and she waves a hand at me. She goes to turn back to the brunette, and of course she's gone, and she laughs and says "You stole my lunch. Now leave me the fuck alone."

Jesus fucking Christ. I pick her up and sling her over my shoulder, and take the fastest path out- down into the storerooms. One is a study, and that's where I'm headed. She's hitting me on the back, but she's too fucked to make much of an impact. I dump her into one of the two leather chairs and pour myself a drink. Explain. Use your words. And she starts laughing and I think she might be madder than me and she slips over and takes my drink and sips it, then kisses me and puts my hand on the inside of her thigh- but the texture is strange, and when I lift the tiny skirt she's sliced herself all the way up and it's a crusted mess. But she's grinning seductively at me and saying "Don't you like it Daddy? I made it for you- and she leans closer until she can whisper in my ear- "I know what it is inside and really you just want to fuck something up. Congratulations, Mister, you found me. I'm an open fucking wound."

And the worst part is that it's arousing, and she's right and I want to do it despite myself. Instead I pour another drink and stay perfectly still, staring at her. And she giggles and turns and walks, sucking down the rest of the drink as she goes, to the pool table and leans over it and whines "C'mon. You know you want to. They always do. You reminded me of that today. Lucius said he was the only one that could hurt me too. You're both wrong"- and the gulp of a breath is almost a sob.

Oh Fuck. This is a mess I might struggle to clean up. "C'mon. Come and playyy with me." And she's giggling again. And quickly, I cross the room and pin her down, arms around her, face in her neck.

I think you want that because it's easier, Harley girl.

"No-"

Shhh. I think you want it because it's easier. Because if I do, you won't feel it on the inside. Because you fucked yourself up and you can *still* feel it. Well, pretty baby if you don't like the way that I touch you- I won't touch you like that. And I keep one hand steady on her back, and bend down and kiss the cuts, slowly, and softly, and it's only when I start to lick them that she sobs, big, frightening sobs- the kind only children and crazy people make- I've heard the sound so many nights over in the asylum.

And she can't seem to control it, and I press my advantage, and kiss harder, and she switches tacks, suddenly. "What? Kiss a girl that can't even last a day. Forgotten how to fuck someone up? You're getting old, J. Losing your touch. No-one told me. It's a shame, it coulda been great." And she tries to get away, twisting away from me. But I'm stronger than she is, and I don't let her move an inch.

I haven't lost anything sweetpea. But if you want to make me hit you- well you're going to have to ask me for it. And I back up- hands out- and sit back in my chair. Get up, get down on your knees, look at me and ask me to hurt you. Come on- and my voice is thick and I know, then, that I want her to. Be specific. And she walks to the door, and stands there. And I want to laugh. And then she turns around and races towards me, and falls to her knees, beautiful blonde head in my lap and says, voice heavier than lead- "I want you to beat me bloody. Please."

No. Look at me. And she lifts her head and dead eyed "I said I want you to beat me bloody. Please."

Please What?

"Please Daddy."

Fine. But there are no happy endings here, Princess. Take off your dress and and lay over the table. And I'm so angry, she's really going to feel it this time. And that other bit of me whispers in my head- are you going to fix her, or kill her? I haven't used in months, but I take some coke out of the desk drawer and snort enough of it her bare ass that I can't hear it anymore and she shivers, and I stick a straw in her nose and say Breathe in, sweetheart. You'll need it she fights me, and I have to hold her jaw closed. Baby, if you wanted out you're too fucking late.

And I turn up the music-

What do you think of me, are you quite proud of this make believe

curtain that hangs around everything you can admire in that girl

she's so damned beautiful

You see me-

and I break a pool cue into a useable length, and roll up my sleeves.

and the first hit, she moans.

The next, she cries out.

On the third, she screams.

On the fourth I have to hold her down.

And on the fifth, I stop thinking about it.

By the time I'm done, she's fallen into silence. And then I sit in my chair and come on babygirl. Come and show daddy how good it was.

And I watch her crawl over to me, tears tracked down her face like needle marks, and I pull her upright and lick them and I'm even harder. And I sit back and hiss at her Was that what you wanted? Are you happy now? And when she doesn't answer quickly enough, I lean forward and land a hard smack on the side of her face, and it almost, but not quite, knocks her over. "It was exactly what I wanted. Just hit me harder next time" and I hate her for it. Come on then Harley girl- Show me how much you liked it.

And she undoes me with trembling hands, and I lay a line out on my leg and and this time she doesn't fight me. Oh you're so.. good. And then I force her head down and make her service me, and dip my cigarette into the coke and light it. And then I let my hands wander- if she wants to be a piece of meat she can feel what that is. Then I lean down and touch her pussy, forcing myself down her throat as I do it. My hand comes back wet, and it's like being lit on fire-well, baby, you really are the filthy slut you think you are, and reaching out I slap her across the face and leave a streak of moisture, and laugh. And the tears are falling, and it's so satisfying I dig my hands into her hair and make her work harder, and lean back and I can't help but groan.

You know, babygirl- I think you were born to be my cunt. And I'm going to do this over, and over and over again until you can't imagine anything different- and you're going to thank me and I'll twist you, baby. If you want me to- I'm gonna hurt you really, really bad- and she groans, wet mouth around my cock and I know, then, that she's been waiting for it all along.

Come on baby and I yank her up, not gently, and lean her over the back of my chair, and then I run my hands up her thighs, and knuckle my hands into the mess I just made of her ass- leaning in at the same moment and licking the cuts on her thighs, and then I swipe my tongue over her pussy and she's so wet and I want to groan. I stand up again and shove my dick in her and- baby- if you do this to yourself again I'm gonna be real mad. I want to cut you up- that's fine, you'll take it- but do it to yourself, and I'm gonna do this"- and I spread her legs and hold her inner thighs tightly, and then knuckle my rings into the cuts and she's groaning. Shutup little girl- now are you gonna be good?

"Yes. Yes I promise, daddy"

And then I fuck her until she screams, and it's not till later that I see my jewelry left bruises on top of the cuts. But for now- be a good little whore and help me come, would you? and the mad sobs come again.

And it's all so fucking sad I could weep.

And later, still, when she curls up in my arms, and says "Thankyou"- I wonder, not for the first time, if there's no fixing anything, and it's all just cruelty by degrees. I don't even know if I'm the lesser evil. Because like pleasure- pain is addictive, and eventually you can't live without it. What will that become, when what I just did to her isn't enough? And I'm thinking it through every minute- especially as I dose her on that shit she can't last a day without.

And instead, it feels good to snort some more coke. Because I could fuck her up for a lifetime. And then we lie there, and

Can't put my finger on it

But I know I want it

I'm willing to try another way

That's if I survive another day

And I'll try tonight

Just try tonight

Happy as the moonshine sifting in the nighttime

Cliches find a home inside of him

when he enters all of the lights go dim

he's so sure he's got a tragic lifestyle

and I'm sure I can't make that man smile

spills out of the speakers upstairs, and she tucks a hand on my chest, and it hurts so badly I just pull her closer and see her blood crusted on my hands, and we lie there- jagged as broken glass.

You see- people don't go mad from one seminal moment. They go mad by degrees- one second at a time.