A/N: Wow all your responses were so so amazing to read, another huge thank you to prankstergangster83 and all the guest reviewers for taking the time to tell me your thoughts! It means a lot :)

18.

Harley ran her finger along the spines of the musty books in front of her, eyes methodically scanning the titles as she moved along the shelves. Behind her, the soft bubble of evening conversation drifted to her ears, the clink of mugs and peals of laughter distracting her from her search. Preoccupied with her new task, she hadn't anticipated that the staffroom would be so busy, perhaps if she had she would've brought her headphones to drown out the unhelpful background noise. Oh well, all she could do now was grit her teeth and get on with the job at hand.

The History of Arkham Asylum was one slippery book, hidden somewhere among all this clutter that was just dying for someone to organise it. On any other day, perhaps she would've taken up the mantle, but right now there were more important things to deal with than alphabetising the asylum's literary collection.

She thumbed the dust off the title of a thick blue tome and sighed. Maybe it wasn't here at all. Arms coming to rest on her hips, she took a step backwards, squinting at the thick bookcase like it might be deliberately withholding her book. Just as she was about to give up, she caught sight of a familiar dark red jacket, sandwiched between a copy of Psychology Myths 101 and The Science of the Mind. Aha! She pulled it down, relief washing through her system. At last, now to find the D block blueprints.

Turning over the wafer thin pages, Harley flipped forwards until the neat text was replaced by sprawling diagrams. She hesitated, taking in the images with a newfound concentration. Fine blue lines spider webbed across the double page spread, depicting A block and the entrance lobby. Not far to go now, she must be close. Rifling through the next few pages, she finally reached a heading that read 'D Block, The maximum Security Wing'. Underneath the print lay a spread of rectangles and squares, mapping out the details of the Joker's resident block.

She smiled triumphantly, lips curling upwards in satisfaction at her find. Perfect, now to locate an accessible stairwell. It was certainly easier said than done, the architectural shorthand and generous use of symbols splashed over the design made it hard to wrap her head around, but after a few seconds she noticed a small set of stairs, tucked away down an otherwise dead-end corridor.

There it was, her golden ticket. From the author's labels it looked like they had been built as a way to give security personnel patrolling the higher stories quick access to the max wing should there be any trouble, which seemed ironic given the use for them that Harley had in mind.

Pleased to have made a bit of progress, she shoved her thumb between the pages she needed and shut the book, swiftly exiting the stuffy staffroom to make her way to D block. It was all well and good reading about stairs, but she needed to make sure that she could find the bloody things in person, or she ran the risk of getting lost tomorrow night. An image flashed through her mind like a terrible premonition, and her grip on the red book tightened. That was not going to happen on her watch, apart from anything else she'd never be able to live it down.

Once through the D block entrance, Harley wondered the corridors, occasionally consulting the blueprints. Eventually a stairwell materialised, and she took a brief moment to thank her lucky stars that Arkham's management had been lazy enough not to renovate the complex since it's construction and therefore make this nice and easy for her.

Now however she had a bigger problem to face, one which couldn't be solved by old books. Somehow, she had to get the Joker out of his cell.

Resting against the concrete wall, Harley tipped her head backwards and let her eyes slip closed, trying to summon up the scheming part of her brain that normally didn't get a chance to come out and play.

One way or another, she would need to acquire a set of keys, that much was obvious. What was less clear was what the source of those keys would be, or perhaps who the source would be. She needed someone that either wouldn't notice they were gone, or wouldn't report them if they were. While it was true that Arkham's guards were thoroughly lazy, those requirements necessitated negligence to the most extreme degree. No immediate candidates came to mind, making Harley almost reminisce over the days when Moustache and Baldy patrolled the halls…almost.

She frowned, forehead creasing as her mind worked on a solution. Perhaps she was looking at this the wrong way, maybe what she needed wasn't some useless guard, but a loyal one, someone who wouldn't rat her out.

Her eyes snapped open and she pushed away from the cinder-blocks, absentmindedly wiping the powdery dust from her back as she headed for the staff cafeteria. If she was lucky, she might still catch him.

The canteen was busy with orderlies and nurses fuelling up for their night shifts, a queue of people behind the trays almost winding out into the corridor. Harley waded into the crowd, swivelling her head from side to side as she hunted for the unmissable head of ginger hair.

There he was, speaking animatedly to a pair of bearded men in the corner of the room as his half-finished plate of spaghetti bolognese got cold in front of him. Stepping around the bodies that blocked her path, Harley steadily made her way over to the small table, walking like a woman on a mission.

The guard opposite George registered her first, bushy eyebrows scrunching curiously when she came to a stop behind her friend. When it became obvious that she wasn't passing but here to stay, she earned the full attention of his hazel eyes, which watched her with growing interest.

Realising he'd lost an audience member, George paused mid conversation, then slowly turned his head to follow his colleague's gaze.

'Harleen!' He exclaimed in surprise, almost jumping when he noticed her presence. 'Hello.'

Harley gave him a shy smile, looking up from underneath her dark lashes in an expression she hoped would read as endearingly timid.

'Hi George, could we talk…in private?' She asked in a soft voice, allowing some nerves to find their way into her tone.

He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing with the movement as he took in her careful display. 'Uh sure, sure.' Still looking like he didn't believe what he was seeing, he quickly scrambled to his feet, eagerly getting up to grant her request.

Inwardly, Harley felt a little burst of confidence fizzle in her chest. That was certainly a good sign.

The man with his back to her muttered something under his breath. She couldn't hear the exact words he'd used, but the resulting smirk from the hazel eyed guard made the subject matter pretty clear. George's cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he hastily ushered her to the side door a few metres away, pushing it open for her and swinging it firmly closed behind them as one of the guards wolf whistled loudly.

Out in the relative quiet of the corridor, they walked side-by-side, the silence stretching as George patiently waited for Harley to speak. She tried to find the right words, knowing she had to do this very gently or risk scaring him away.

'I'm in trouble George.' She whispered, glancing at him with the biggest doe eyes she could manage.

His face pinched in concern even as the blush on his cheeks reached the tips of his ears. 'Harleen what's happened?'

'I've made a deal with the devil.' She replied, wobbling her voice slightly so that she might sound on the verge of tears. The gambit had its desired effect, contributing nicely to her damsel in distress act which she hoped would tug on his heartstrings, being the good man that he was.

'Tell me.' George said gravely, his obvious care for her well-being as touching as it was promising, making a shred of guilt lodge in the back of her throat.

Trying to squash the unhelpful emotion, Harley took a deep breath, deciding honesty was the best policy. 'It's…It's Dr Arkham, he's forcing me to get information out of the Joker or I'll lose my job.' Harley sobbed, eyes welling up and spilling over as she put on the best crocodile tears of her life. It certainly wasn't all fake, the stress and worry that had been churning inside her for so long made the out-pour of emotion that much easier. 'The Joker won't tell me anything, you know how he is. He said he'll only spill something of value if I take him to the roof tomorrow evening. Not to escape!' She quickly clarified when George's eyebrows shot into his hairline. 'Just for a bit and then bring him back.'

'Jesus.'

'I don't know what to do, I'll be fired either way.' She finished, sniffling and looking away, feigning defeat.

The man next to her looked hugely conflicted. After a few seconds he hesitantly put his arm round her, and she turned into him to rest her head on his shoulder.

'I'll get, ma-mascara on your shirt.' She stuttered as he pulled her closer.

It felt like he might've smiled into her hair, a quiet exhale of amusement spreading warmth over her scalp. 'Hey don't worry about it, it doesn't matter.'

'I didn't know who else to come to.' She added, hoping the flattery of being the first choice would make him more likely to play the hero. His arm tightened around her, clearly pitying her situation but not knowing how to help.

'We'll figure something out alright? Why the roof?'

'I don't know, I think it's a test.'

He nodded then took a step backwards, holding her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. 'Harley, I promised you a favour right? This wasn't quite what I had in mind, but I want to help.'

'Really?' She asked, allowing her voice to sound hopeful and relived.

'Yes. You need a way to get him up there, so you're going to need some keys. You can use mine, I'll leave them somewhere for you erm...' He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. 'I'll put the ones that you want in a cup of coffee for you, which I'll bring to your office. That way if something goes sideways, he won't be able to unlock the whole asylum, so he can't break out or anything.'

'You'd do that, for me?' She mumbled, a little stunned that she hadn't had to work a bit harder than that to get him on board.

'Of course!' He answered, then looked down, suddenly fascinated with his shoes. 'Uh I mean, well you know…yeah.'

She smiled at him through her tears, his awkwardness ridiculously cute. 'I don't know what to say.'

'How about a thank you.'

'Thank you, wow thank you so much!'

'Zsasz almost killed you because of my mistake, this is the least I can do.' He shrugged, a new seriousness flitting across his freckled face.

'What about CCTV?'

George frowned, running a hand through his choppy ginger hair. 'I'll handle it, I'll trade shifts with someone so I can be the one in the office.'

'You are just absolutely amazing.' Harley gushed at him, wrapping her arms around his chest in a bear hug. For a second he stood there in rigid surprise, then he tentatively put his hands on her back.

After a few beats, he pulled away. 'This could be really dangerous for you Harleen, how do you know you'll be safe with him?'

The worry in his voice was so touching, she nearly regretted using him like this. 'He won't, we have an understanding. And anyway, I'll have a sedative in my pocket. I'll be fine, trust me.'

'I do, it's him I don't trust.' He whispered fervently, searching her eyes.

'It'll only be for an hour, then he'll go back to his cell and no one will be any the wiser. Are you sure you can do this George?'

'I…yes, I'm in. But Harleen, he's still in solitary, you'll have to get past the two guards manning the entrance.'

'Damn.' She'd forgotten about that little detail. 'Okay I'll speak to Arkham about moving him back to the normal D block cells. I better go do that now,' Harley said as she checked her watch, 'I might be able to make it to his office before he leaves for the night.'

George opened his mouth when he realised she was about to leave, stumbling over his words like he was trying to say several sentences at once. After a few seconds of stuttering he seemed to give up. 'A-Alright, I'll bring you the keys at ten o clock, how does that sound?'

'Perfect George, honestly thank you so much.' Harley called, already backing up down the corridor.

'Harleen, just… take care.'

She nodded and then turned on her heel, leaving George watching her go with a pensive look on his face, like he had half a mind to go after her.

That couldn't have gone better if she planned it, Harley thought triumphantly as she stepped into a courtyard that separated A block from B block, wiping away the last of the tears with the hand that wasn't still clutching the History of Arkham Asylum. This plan actually had a chance of working, what a stroke of luck. There was the unfortunate side effect of putting George's job on the line as well as her own, which was far from ideal, but if they pulled this off then that little problem would dissolve.

Now to convince Dr Arkham that re-homing the Joker was a move that worked in his favour. Perhaps she could chalk it up to a show of good faith that would encourage her patient to talk. Yes, that sounded like a good line.

A spring in her step, Harley had no doubt that this was going to be an easy job. As she straightened her blouse and smoothed the fly-aways that crowned her bun, she hardly even noticed the thrum that began in her ears, a background hum that grew to a near roar when she sat giddily on the train home, bouncing her leg as she celebrated how easily she had talked Arkham round. It was only when she was lying in bed in the darkness of her cold bedroom, that Harley realised what this feeling was. She was excited, her veins sang with it until sleep seemed almost impossible.

Maybe if she had been in a sounder mind, Harley would've taken a sensible step back and realised just what the implications of this simmering anticipation might be, but as it was, she found herself staring at the black ceiling allowing herself to revel in this unbridled emotion without stopping to question it. Was this what freedom felt like? When that little policeman in your head finally shut up?

If it was it was thrilling, and as she lay there on top of the sheets, Harley was certain that she'd choose this feeling over almost any other. This was what it felt like to be alive, just a tiny taste was fatally addictive, for how could you go back to boredom when you knew what it was like to feel this?

A/N: I know our favourite villain didn't make an appearance in this chapter, never fear, he will be more than present in the next one ;) Please do review, it makes my day!

Next time: The plan is put into action...