A/N: Thanks again to prankstergangster83, Koteeva and the guest reviewers for taking the time to tell me what you think, sooo appreciated :)

21.

'You corner him so well, he doesn't even realise it's happening!' Arkham exclaimed, leaning back in his plush office chair and shaking his head in amazement, just as he had the first two times the tape had been played.

'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.' The Joker's voice growled from the tape recorder. Listening to him talk was like caramel to her ears, she'd take being sat in a room with him over the pompous Dr Arkham et al any day.

Opposite her, the asylum's director rubbed his hands together gleefully, 'Here it comes, my favourite part.'

'You sound so certain. Chaos is natural. Is that the reason you decided to become the Joker?'

Harley winced. She hated the sound of her voice being played back to her, it always seemed higher than she thought it was, an unfortunately girly lilt to all her vowels.

'You're sure you want to know?'

'I..I am.'

'Well if that's what the doctor orders, I wouldn't want to disappoint…'

Arkham stuck his chubby finger in the air, mouth opening as he signalled for everyone to listen. The room drew in a collective breath, even Kellerman, who grudgingly looked up from glaring at his lap so that he could focus on the biggest insight into the Joker that the asylum had ever gotten.

'I saw death Harls.'

'Whose death?' She heard herself whisper, her voice sounding awed even to her own ears.

There was a pause, a crackly sound of shuffling as the Joker slumped back in his chair.

'My wife's.'

His wife's. Even now that was a mind-blowing concept, one Harley hadn't been expecting in the slightest.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the recording, her gasp had been loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. Harley remembered his face as he'd spoken. There had been no bravado, no smirk, no smugness. He'd just looked sad, a faraway look in his eyes.

Hearing him say those words again made her heart break for him, though it was nothing compared to the pity she had felt at the time. What an awful thing to have gone through, she couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for him.

'And that's the reason?'

'Not completely, but that was the tipping point.'

'Well done Quinzel!' Dr Arkham cheered, starting another round of applause that his secretary quickly joined in on, making sure not to scuff her purple acrylic nails. 'Excellent work truly. It's a pleasure to have you on the team my dear.'

She smiled tightly, trying not to let her loathing bleed on to her expression. Everyone in this room could go to hell. The terminally chirpy secretary. Arkham and his superficial outlook. Kellerman and his seething jealousy and anger. No one here deserved to lick the mud off the Joker's shoe. None of them cared about what a touching admission they'd just heard, how there was a human being hurting on the other side of the tape recorder. Arkham and his secretary just saw dollar signs, which was a damn sight better than Kellerman who only gathered another reason to hate Harley's guts.

'Wouldn't you say Stephen?' Arkham prompted.

'Good work Harleen.' Kellerman reluctantly added, meeting her eyes for a fraction of a second as he congratulated her.

'Thank you.' She replied dryly, not even in the mood to lord her victory over him.

In the background, the recording continued. 'I'm so sorry J…' But no one was listening to this bit, her consolation deemed uninteresting compared to what they'd just heard.

'I must admit, I'm surprised you did it, I wasn't sure you had it in you.' Her boss gushed, slipping his spectacles off his nose and blinking his sallow eyes happily at her.

'Yes, it was surprising.' His sullen subordinate interjected.

Ignoring the disruption, Arkham stood up and grasped Harley's hand, shaking it firmly in his hammy grip. 'Hats off to you Quinzel, the rest of the day is yours. Take yourself out to eat or something, this is an accomplishment to celebrate.' He bellowed heartily. 'At the end of the month, there will be a considerable bonus coming your way.'

'That's very kind of you doctor.' Harley responded, not quite able to summon up the usual pleasure she got when she received praise. For some reason, all the compliments and admiration weren't affecting her like they normally would, rolling off her like water off a duck's back. Strange, Harley was usually so eager for approval, and yet this wasn't doing anything for her.

It was like the veil had been lifted and for the first time in her life, Harley realised that she couldn't care less what anyone here thought. Their opinions didn't matter. She didn't give two shits. Wow. The revelation was liberating, her shoulders felt lighter in seconds, like a weight she never knew she was carrying had lifted away.

Harley blinked, suddenly aware that a second or two had gone by and everyone was staring at her expectantly.

'Well I best get going then.' She said lightly, her fake smile coming to her more easily than ever. 'Have a good evening everyone.'

'We'll drink to your success!' Arkham promised, and Harley's smile stretched into a beam. Then she turned on her heels and left, shutting the door gently behind her as her face deadpanned.

Despite Arkham's recommendation, Harley didn't go out to a swanky restaurant. Instead, she sat on her sofa and watched half a season of some unremarkable sitcom before climbing under her covers and closing her eyes.

She knew that she should probably be proud of herself, or at the very least pleased about the progress she had made, but she just couldn't muster up the emotions. In truth it didn't really feel like an accomplishment. Yes she had got the Joker to talk, but not with her psychiatric skills. He had talked because she'd brokered a deal with him, placed them both on even footing and negotiated terms. But doctors and their patients shouldn't be on even footing. Patients were vulnerable and dependent on their doctors for care, there was supposed to be a power imbalance.

So why had that gone out the window recently? The answer was obvious, but Harley didn't really want to dwell on it because the idea of the Joker actually being sane raised some uncomfortable points. And yet it was becoming more and more clear that he was.

At the very least he didn't need a doctor, not that one could change him anyway. He was independent, rational, logical, the polar opposite to just about every other patient in the place. The fact he'd even made a deal spoke volumes. Would someone like Victor Zsasz compromise what he believed in for anything? No, such was his pathology. But the Joker had agreed to show a card he held very close to his chest, displaying qualities someone in the asylum just shouldn't be capable of.

Harley could understand why he had been slapped with the insanity diagnosis. He was wickedly uncooperative when he wanted to be and unafraid to say things that most people were too polite to even think. If a vindictive doctor (and from her experience most of them were) sat across from him for an hour, getting insulted and toyed with by his incredible mind, of course they'd label him a madman. It made an awful kind of sense, even if it did paint her colleagues in a less than flattering light.

But now that it was becoming increasingly impossible to ignore that the Joker was in the wrong institution, it was probably time to come to terms with the fact that reaching that conclusion was almost relieving, it made her confusing feelings for him seem less terrible.

Harley's eyes shot open in the dark. Woah, she did not just think that. There were no feelings…were there? A memory surfaced, his face dipping towards her while they were sat on the roof, the electric look in his eyes…her breathing hitched. Oh fuck. Maybe… maybe there were feelings. A tiny, pesky little affection that was more than easy to control. She had everything under control, it was all under fucking control…

Harley groaned and rolled over, pressing her face into the warm pillow and getting a mouthful of hair for her efforts. Her head was all over the place…but even that was just another lie she was telling herself. It wasn't that she couldn't think clearly, it was that all her thoughts these days inevitable led back to him, and she just couldn't decide what to do about it. And even while she was lying here with him on her mind, again, she was still struggling to admit to herself what an outsider would plainly be able to see.

Something told her however that saying the truth out loud would change the chess board irreversibly and taking that step was too scary to even consider for the moment. Perhaps If she could just ignore them all her troubles would go away…

Harley kept her head down on the way into work, having no desire to read all the new speculation that had exploded overnight after Dr Arkham's tip offs to the press. But even so, she caught glimpses of her painted clown left, right and centre, a flash of green and white on the front of the Gotham Times, a whisper of his name between two commuters. It was unavoidable. He was everywhere, surrounding her as soon as she left the house. A constant companion during the journey along with storm Delilah's pouring rain.

He didn't leave her side when she arrived either. The asylum staff gossiped like teenagers and no one seemed to be able to get his name out of their mouth, or hers.

'Well done on your breakthrough with the Joker!' A doctor who'd never shown much interest in her called out as she sat in the staffroom sipping her tea. 'He's a tough nut to crack that one. How did you do it eh?' He said jokingly, pale moustache twitching from the force of maintaining his toothy smile as he approached the shabby couch Harley was sitting on and settled onto the leather cushions next to her.

'Thank you very much Dr Carley.' She replied, smiling politely in return even as she mentally switched off.

'Ant.' He insisted, leaning forward to rest his hand on her knee. 'I want you to know I never believed a word that Stephen said about you, he's always been a git.'

Harley's eyes darted down to the hand on her skirt, annoyed by the notion that he thought he had any right to put his grubby paws on her. She didn't think his friendly sentiment was true either, or at least he certainly hadn't defended her at the time, no one had. Just how fickle were people? Now she had achieved something and was today's hot topic he wanted to be her friend?

She tried not to glare as his fingers squeezed her leg a bit. Absentmindedly, Harley wondered what the Joker would have done if someone squeezed his leg and a bloody image came to mind, one that involved a blunt weapon and a lot of exertion. She blinked, picturing herself beating the simpering doctor in front of her senseless, something heavy wielded in her hands. Strangely enough that managed to calm her down and she drew in a deep breath, calling upon the last dregs of patience from the long dried-up well.

'Thank you, that's very nice Dr Carley.' Harley replied as breezily as she could. 'Please could you take your hand off my knee.'

The unwanted appendage quickly disappeared from her leg. 'Oh of course, sorry Harleen.' The unembarrassed doctor laughed. 'I'll leave you to it, feel free to stop by my office with any tips, I would love to hear what you have to say.'

She nodded, lips curling upwards while her eyes stayed blank. 'I'll keep that in mind.'

Harley waited until he was out of sight before scooping up her tea and quickly heading to her office, keen to avoid anyone else who might crawl out of the woodwork.

Hidden away behind her desk, the rest of the day passed uneventfully and no one came to bother her. It was relieving, her newfound popularity was pretty difficult to come to terms with - luckily avoiding human beings was a particular strength of hers.

When Harley had finished her paperwork and then a cube of bland pasta bake down in the staff cafeteria, she wrapped herself up in her coat and anorak and wearily started the journey home.

With the onslaught of water outside, the subway was more crowded than usual, damp bodies crammed in the waiting carriages with almost no room to spare. Harley clambered onto the humid train and squeezed in next to a handrail, grasping the warm metal like it was a lifeline.

She was sandwiched between two clean shaven men who were probably businessmen from the Diamond District if their pressed black suits and expensive aftershave was anything to go by. The way they carried themselves reeked of privilege and entitlement and Harley instantly disliked them. She'd bet anything that their houses and education had been paid for by the bank of mum and dad, a luxury that most people weren't lucky enough to receive.

The two men continued their conversation over her head, ignoring her while she did her best not to accidentally sway into them as the train started to move.

'I heard that the Joker's new doctor has been in the biz for years, used to be a therapist in Chicago.' One of them remarked in a posh accent.

'He must be the best.' The more red-faced of the two whispered curiously, 'I wonder where he got his degree.'

Harley fought the urge to roll her eyes, of course they would assume it had been a man. She sucked in a deep breath, staring forwards and pulling her handbag further up her shoulder, determined to tune out the rest of the discussion.

It really was muggy in this carriage, she wouldn't be surprised if a little cloud formed against the ceiling with the amount of moisture in the air. What if the condensation started dripping on people's heads? Harley looked up warily, eyeing the droplets that had gathered along the colourful metal above her. Please let that just be rainwater from coats and not people's sweat she thought desperately, not liking the odds.

The fair haired businessman with a big chin scoffed in amusement, shaking his head. As he did so, he flicked water onto Harley's neck, like a dog drying itself after a swim. Harley blinked in annoyance, the sensation of being pelted by cold beads decidedly unpleasant.

'I feel sorry for the Joker's wife being married to him in the first place.' The oblivious pelter chuckled, flicking his hair out of his face by jerking his head backwards and splashing Harley again, much to her growing chagrin.

'I can't believe any woman would touch that with a bargepole.' ' His red-faced companion agreed with a grimace.

'Yeah he's such a freak, ha I bet he's a weirdo in bed.'

'Probably into some really depraved shit.' They both smirked at each other, slimy smiles plastered onto their faces as they sniggered like schoolboys.

Harley frowned, their words rubbing her up the wrong way. For some reason, she found herself feeling angry on the Joker's behalf. It wasn't like he was here to defend himself after all, it seemed unfair. She bit her lip, on the verge of fighting his corner before reason kicked in. What was she going to say? Hello, sorry to interrupt, just to let you know he's actually quite a nice guy when you get to know him. By the way I'm his psychiatrist that all the newspapers are talking about, nice to meet you. No, best to do nothing, they were just rich arseholes, she could ignore them. Yes, just ignore them Harley.

The train began to slow down, her stop no more than a minute away. Good, she couldn't wait to get home, her slippers were probably lonely.

'Maybe his wife is lucky to be dead.' One of them added snidely, prompting another round of laughter.

Harley froze. Fuck reason. In a split second decision, she firmly stepped backwards, the point of her heel crunching onto the leather shoe of the man behind her. He yowled in pain, and as she turned to murmur a fake apology her elbow caught the man in front of her underneath the ribs. He crumpled over with an 'oomph' sound, clutching at the impact zone in surprise.

'Oh I'm so sorry.' Harley mumbled to them both, smiling sweetly. 'It was a total accident!' She added with big doe eyes.

'Don't worry about it love,' The fair haired man grumbled as the graffitied train doors slid open, while his friend gave her the evils and rubbed his stomach crossly.

'Well, this is me.' She said cheerfully, weaving away from the two disgruntled businessmen onto the platform and out into the night.

A/N: Looks like Harley is inching towards a dangerous line...are you excited for her or scared?

Next time: Harley must carry out her side of the bargain...