A/N: Wow thanks again to prankstergangster83, Koteeva and all the guest reviewers! You guys honestly make my day :)))

20.

Harley blinked at the dark ceiling, eyes fixed on the wobble in the blackness which must be her lightshade. Her mind was far away, replaying the evening she'd had at the asylum on a loop. She could still feel the dull ache at the back of her throat from the smoke, still smell it on her hair. It had all actually happened, she hadn't dreamt it. It certainly seemed like a dream, a surreal snapshot in her life that made no sense without context. If someone had told her six months ago that she and the Joker would sit on Arkham's rooftop and smoke like pals she'd have collapsed laughing. It sounded absurd even now.

And there came another thought, materialising in her already crowded skull. Were they pals? Was it friendship that was forming between them? Something was certainly happening, colouring their interactions and shifting their dynamic.

She sighed, a gush of air from deep within her chest. In the end, none of it mattered. He was her patient, she was his doctor; everything outside of that was off limits. But the lines of doctor and patient were being steadily blurred, unravelled by the lengths she had gone to for him. Trying to remember where the boundaries were was becoming more difficult, partly because in doing so she was reminded just how far across the line she had already strayed, and she didn't want to think about that.

Somewhere along the way, she had wandered into deep waters. Exactly where that had been was hard to pinpoint. When she'd helped the Joker beat up Moustache and Baldy? When she'd lied about it afterwards? The first time she'd taken off his straight jacket? Or maybe it was before they'd even had an official session, when she'd blackmailed Kellerman. She supposed it didn't really matter, all she could do was hope she swam instead of sinking.

But even as she sat here worrying about crossing some invisible line, the idea of the Joker being a patient seemed increasingly dubious. Yes he was in an institution for the criminally insane, but the more time she spent with him, the more convinced she was that he was in total control of his mental facilities. He didn't seem unhinged like the other patients she had spent time with. If anything, he seemed more aware of the goings on around him than a regular person. He was viciously perceptive and intelligent to boot. So what if his philosophy was a bit cynical? That was better than naivety right? Choose the red pill and all that?

He's killed people because of that philosophy, a voice in her head reminded her, a glimmer of reason in her sleep-deprived brain. That was an undeniable fact, one she couldn't run away from. People caught up in the Joker's whirlwind had a nasty way of joining the debris left in its wake. And yet…she also couldn't deny that to some extent she had been sucked in to his chaos as well. What was it he had said to her in their last session? If you can't do it, you don't deserve to be part of my world. Well she'd done it hadn't she, did that mean he deemed her worthy of being in his life? Did that make her likely to join the collateral damage?

All these questions and no answers, it was tremendously frustrating. Harley kicked the covers off her, baring her sweaty skin to the chill of her bedroom. Rolling over in exasperation, she slid out of bed and kicked her feet into her slippers, the fuzzy interior tickling her toes. Stretching her stiff shoulders, she padded to the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cupboard, holding it under the running tap while her oven clock blinked 4:28 at her in dim red lettering.

She took a sip of the cold liquid, enjoying the refreshing feeling of it sliding down her throat. In all honesty, she knew she was putting herself in danger by being in the Joker's orbit, but that didn't change the fact that she didn't feel in danger. He had practised restraint with her even when the violent haze had descended. Would anyone else she knew do that? How could be sure when no one had ever exposed that side of themselves to her? He had, he'd let her see that primal animal inside. She knew him better than any of his doctors before her. She trusted him, foolish as it was.

But then again, did flies suspect danger when they flew into pitcher plants? Or roamed past the teeth of a Venus flytrap? No, they just followed the scent of nectar to their deaths. There was a very real possibility right now that she was the bloody fly.

Trusting the Joker was a mistake, he was known to be manipulative and callous. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about their relationship. He didn't treat her with apathy for a start, nor outright malice. That in itself made her the exception to his rule about doctors, and to be the exception for the Joker was something incredible in itself.

Harley drained the small glass and refilled it, thirst not yet quenched. In an ideal world, she would sleep on it instead of staying up overthinking her life. But sadly, that wouldn't be an option, not without her pills to help her. Every night was the same, she'd get home from work, roost on the sofa until the telly had sufficiently numbed her brain to a point where she might be able to sleep, then she'd climb into bed and toss and turn until morning. This was her third time getting up tonight, she just couldn't seem to settle, big surprise there.

Slumping down onto the ratty couch, Harley decided to give the telly another blast. The blue light hit her retinas, a fuzzy movie from the eighties playing out on the screen.

Tomorrow she needed to buy more concealer on her way into work, she was almost out and her bags were getting darker by the day.

Harley arrived at Arkham scowling and bundled up in her coat and scarf. She was soaked through, practically dripping as she made her way through the halls of the asylum in her sodden clothes.

The journey in had been less than pleasant. Gotham was currently under siege from storm Delilah, a blustery downpour that had arrived in the early hours with a great clap of thunder. According to the Gotham news rooms, it would blow itself out in a few days, but reports of damages were already coming in and there had been various power outages across the city.

The dreadful weather seemed to be affecting everyone, with all the staff she encountered in the corridors shuffling past her with drawn lips and glum eyes. Morale was low, a depressive fog blanketing the building, making Harley even more eager to escape it all in that cold concrete box with her clown.

But as tempting as it was to head straight to the session rooms, there was a pit stop she had to make first. Harley needed to give back the keys she'd borrowed, and she owed George a massive thank you for his help.

If the bitchy patrol from yesterday were anything to go by, at this time of day the ginger guard was probably in a briefing with Cash. She could hang around outside for him, but that seemed likely to draw unwanted attention. Harley furrowed her brows in thought. No, it was best to wait somewhere else.

Most people went for a caffeine boost before their shifts began, so George would probably head to the staffroom when the meeting adjourned. She quickened her pace as she checked her watch, the glass clock face winking in the overhead lights. She still had time, she'd lie in wait for him somewhere unassuming, perhaps by the bookshelves.

Harley pushed through the staffroom door and tried to act natural, busying herself with returning the borrowed book from the other day. She slid the red jacket back into its spot on the dusty shelf, making sure to keep one eye on the entrance. For ten minutes, a steady stream of unremarkable people filed in and out as she killed time reordering the cluttered books. Then sure enough, George trundled in, his head thrown back in a laugh as him and a buddy made a beeline for the coffee machines.

She tried to catch his attention as he passed her, noting the bounce in his step and gelled hair. This certainly wasn't a man who had lost any sleep, that was an encouraging sign about how yesterday had gone at his end.

George almost paused, foot slowing down mid step as their eyes met. Harley gave him a firm nod, conveying her success, which he thankfully returned. Then she stepped forwards, making herself known to the man walking next to him.

'Hi George.' She said, adding a touch of shyness to her expression, displaying one of the endearing qualities that was likely to strengthen George's desire to protect their secret. 'I, um, I got you one already.' She added, holding up the polystyrene cup she'd been clutching as she waited.

Hopefully the redhead's companion would mistake the gift to be one borne from friendship, or perhaps a crush - her bashful façade would certainly help that assumption along. To give it more legs, she made sure to be looking up from underneath her eyelashes, not quite coquettish but in the same realm.

The other guard raised his hands, clearly buying the act. 'I'll just be over here…' He declared slyly, waggling his eyebrows and clapping George on the back before heading off with a coy glance in Harley's direction.

Harley smiled and looked down again, maintaining her timid appearance as the other man retreated. George reached out and gently took the cold coffee from her, looking relieved to have his keys back. He grinned at her, clearly charmed by her performance as he cradled the cup against his chest.

'Did you have a good night?' He murmured, the concern she'd seen yesterday sliding onto his face as he tried and failed to look her over surreptitiously.

'I…yes, and yourself?'

He grinned again, worry quickly forgotten. 'Yeah.' He leaned in, lowering his voice to stop anyone from overhearing. 'I erased the tapes, looped some footage from last week in their place, edited the time stamps. No one will suspect a thing if they view the film.' He whispered excitedly, clearly quite pleased with himself.

His happiness was infectious, making her smile back at him even as her brain whirred. That was impressive, it required an extensive understanding of programming, one they definitely didn't teach you in guard training. You had to be something of an expert to pull off a seamless hack like that, what an incredibly useful skill. Harley filed away the interesting bit of knowledge about her colleague, maybe it would come in handy someday. Not for the first time she found herself glad that she'd come to him, what a good choice that had been. He was certainly full of surprises.

'Wow George, thank you.' She whispered back, looking at him with new eyes.

George flushed, crimson blooming on his cheeks. 'Don't mention it, we're even now.'

'Even.' She agreed.

'Yeah.' He mumbled self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Some weather we're having now right?'

Harley hummed in assent, smiling good-naturedly. 'I know, there was water running down the subway steps on my way in.'

'Well the streets could certainly use a clean.'

'That's a good way to look at it.'

An awkward silence swallowed them, the conversation had definitely run its course. 'Thanks again George, I've got to go or I'll be late to my session.' She said, reaching forward to touch his arm for the benefit of the other guard who was blatantly staring at them from across the room.

'Oh of course, I understand.' He mumbled, blinking and ducking his freckled head. 'I'll see you round Harleen.'

'Yeah, see you round George.' Harley replied and turned away, mentally ticking off the first item on today's to do list. Return keys to George, check. Now to see her patient.

If she had looked back when she reached the door, Harley would have seen George standing where she left him, absentmindedly rubbing his arm where her fingers had touched the fabric. Instead she obliviously stalked into the corridor, all pleasantries in her expression dropped as she pondered what approach to take with the Joker as she walked.

When she rounded the final corner, the guards manning the session room shoved the great metal door open for her and she stepped inside, heels clicking on the floor. Phew. She was the first to arrive, that gave her a few extra minutes to gather her thoughts.

With a sigh, Harley shrugged off her lab coat and slung it round the back of her chair to let the damp material air, relieved to finally peel the clingy fabric from her skin. She took a seat, crossing her legs and rolling up the sleeves of her yellow blouse. It would probably be a step too far to slip her feet out of her heels, even though she desperately wanted to, so she settled for loosening her hair from its severe bun instead, tugging out the secure knot piled on top of her head. When the wet strands had been released, she ran her hands along her scalp, shaking out the imprint from the tight hairband. Honestly she must look like a drenched rat, clothes sticking to her and hair plastered to her neck.

With a grimace Harley withdrew the pen from her pocket and picked up her clipboard, it couldn't be helped, better not to dwell on it.

At that moment the Joker arrived, flanked by his usual entourage of uniformed men. Harley smoothed her features, greeting the group with an agreeable smile as the Joker dropped into the chair opposite her.

Once the door had closed behind the troop of receding army boots, Harley stood up and strode to her patient, perching on the cool metal table and helping him out of his restraints. His eyes flicked over her, mouth stretching into a wide smirk as he took in her appearance.

'Not a word.' She growled, sliding the white canvas down his arms. 'Not a word.'

The Joker held his hands up in a mock I surrender, smirk not dimming even as she dropped back into her seat and flicked on the tape recorder.

Fighting the glare she could feel coming, Harley began the conversation in a neutral topic, leading them from hurricanes to chaos and destruction. He followed her chosen direction, face smoothing seriously as he patiently played along while she danced around her question. She kept him speaking, aware she couldn't rush into it, or Arkham would become suspicious when he listened back to the tape.

As they talked, a thick tension spread between them, building up like the charged air before a lightning strike. Her eyes darted to the fleck of white in the wall, silently reassuring herself that it was still there. She swallowed, strangely nervous.

'Chaos is natural, it's order that's freakish. People have a pathological need for control Harls, or they feel helpless. That's all this obsession with neatness and straight lines is.'

'You sound so certain.' She observed. There it was, the opportunity she had been waiting for. 'Chaos is natural. Is that the reason you decided to become the Joker?'

He raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair and sucking his scarred cheek as they watched each other. The cold air whooshed in and out of her lungs, apprehension coiling behind her sternum. Harley rolled her shoulders back and sat up a little straighter, signalling that this was the question she'd chosen. 'What happened that made you become the Joker J, why did you to decide to be chaos's agent?'

He narrowed his eyes at her, expression unreadable. She got the feeling that she was close to overstepping an unspoken boundary, and without their deal in play he'd never have answered. As it was he leaned forwards, a slow movement that reminded her of a cat creeping up on a mouse. There was an elegance to it, a dangerous kind of beauty that made her swallow nervously. His eyes never left hers as he closed the space across the table between them, making her instinctively recoil.

'You're sure you want to know?' It was almost a purr, a low warning that cut through the silence that had enveloped them as they stared each other down.

He was giving her a chance to change her mind, but she'd already considered all possible angles. This was a question that provided an insight into his past without being too personal for her to pass on to Arkham with a clear conscience. It was perfect, a revelation with its only significance being another location on the psychological map she was creating for him, nothing more. The press could have a field day with it, but ultimately his anonymity and frightening reputation would remain intact, something Harley was sure he would want.

'I..I am.' She said as firmly as she could. Her show of confidence was unconvincing, the wavering in her voice giving her away, but Harley meant what she said, and she was ready to learn the truth.

'Well if that's what the doctor orders,' He said through his teeth, crocodilian eyes unblinking. 'I wouldn't want to disappoint…'

A/N: Agh sorry for leaving it there, don't hate me! Please leave me a review and let me know what you think!

Next time: Harley's success is celebrated, but soon she'll need to pay the piper...