"You like it?" the blonde asked with a smile, fiddling nervously with the bow on her new, red silk blouse.

Joker hummed before continuing to shovel the contents of a small plastic box into his hungry mouth.

"You are too kind to me, Doctor. Vanilla is my favourite."

Harleen watched him in amusement. She knew the staff was forbidden to supply anything to the patients, but when she once made a bit too many blueberry muffins on one of her spontaneous Saturday night "baking fevers", she thought he might appreciate an extra treat in between the ghastly Arkham meals. And when he gave her the bright smile of a boy in a candy store, she sort of fell into the habit of accidentally putting too much flour into all of her cake mixtures.

Apple tarts, chocolate cookies, iced cakes, Victoria sponges and when he mentioned last time that he was rather fond of puddings, she wasted no time to buy some moulds. After all, he was even more cheerful and open to her assessment when he had something sweet to chew on. She even persuaded him into actually taking his medications instead of the never ending fights with the nurses and having most of the substances forced fed to him while he was almost paralysed by a tranquilizer…

"I'm…glad you like it." A curt nod before the repeated clatter of a spoon began echoing in the room once more. She averted her desperate glance to her hands, focusing on how the nail polish shined underneath fluorescent lights. She didn't know what more to tell him then. She picked up on the fact he hated talking while he ate very quickly.

To her joy, he soon dropped the cutlery and pushed the empty container in her direction with a big smile.

"Thanks again, doll face. It was delicious as always. You are the best shrink I had so far, you know that right?" Harleen gave him a warm smile before swiftly collecting the box with a familiar blush creeping on her cheeks. He had been telling her that for a while now but the butterflies in her stomach never failed to re-appear.

"Now, how are you feeling this week, Mister J?"

He raised his non-existent eyebrows with a knowing smirk: "If you are thinking about doing that hypnosis thing again, Dr Quinzel, I can assure you no amount of vanilla puddings will make me go to that room again. I think I will suffer from claustrophobia for the rest of my life thanks to that one miserable afternoon with Jerry."

That made her chuckle. Doctor Arkham should be warned.

"I can completely understand. It's not the best room, but I thought it was really quiet so it was perfect for-"

"Oh, it was very quiet and very dark and stuffy too. No, forget it, Doc-tor. Ain't happening again," Joker asserted before settling his amused gaze on her smiling face again. "Congratulations on getting us this one, though. These pretty tiles and cream coloured walls and…is that an oak wood cabinet behind you? Well, it is a nice break from that rat hole they call a cell in this place," he mused before adding with slight distaste, "although…with all the private funding, one would think ol' Jerry could afford to go on a little splurge with the furnishings on all levels of this little asylum hierarchy."

Harleen shook her blonde head with an entertained smirk. He was such a prince sometimes.

"Well, apologies for not being able to accommodate your lavish and expensive tastes, Mister Joker. This is a prison, however. It's not supposed to be pleasant."

"Ha! In that case they shouldn't be hiring such beautiful angels like yourself, Doctor Quinzel. You sure are making my stay here extremely pleasant." He watched with growing grin as she began to squirm. Before she could collect herself, he added deviously: "And I am not that high-maintenance as you make it sound. When I get out of here, you are very welcome to come around to my house and see for yourself."

Oh, Harleen thought with a sigh once again. He could be so charming when he wanted.

"Is Doctor Arkham getting an invite too?"

"Jerry? Oh, his invite is long due. He will be very welcome to bow his head as I put a hole in it. There's a gold 0.357 bullet with his name on it waiting on my nightstand."

Harleen winced. She had no idea whether he was joking again or not but the sudden drop in his tone made her very uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, she quickly pointed out: "When? 'When' you get out of here? You meant 'if', surely. I am keeping a very close eye on you, Mister J. There is no way I am going to let you jeopardize my attempt at curing you for good. You're staying here until I'm done with you."

The green haired man just laughed. "Aw, doctor," he cooed as he leant towards her with a huge smile, "curing me? I see you still haven't given up on this crazy thought of yours!"

"Never," the blonde replied decidedly, folding her hands in her lap with a small smile.

"So you believe it is possible?" Joker teased with a chuckle. "Are you satisfied with our little chats and the effect those tiny, colourful lentils have on my insane mind? You've cracked my case, doc, is that what you're saying?"

"I am very happy with your progress, Mister J. What? Aren't you proud of your achievements yourself?" He gave her a long look before snorting once again. She adjust her glasses and continued with even more vigour. "The guards report on you, Mister J. I have heard it all! You are calmer, behave well enough to be allowed to visit the common room area and you haven't gotten into a fist fight with any of the wardens in more than a month-"

"Has it been that long now?" Joker interrupted with a mock surprise. "I better shatter Bill's ribs again this evening then. The boys in black seem to be forgetting who they're dealing with."

He made fun of her but she didn't mind. Her therapy was a success and everyone in the asylum could see that. Arkham, the other interns, even Joan Leland. She could tell by the sour scowl on the senior doctor's face whenever she passed her in the hallway. Her brown eyes were no longer scornful: just incredibly envious.

"And," she moved on, ignoring his jabs, "I am confident you will make even greater improvements in the future. I knew we would find a common ground eventually, Mister J. I told you before: I always wanted to treat you. I was and still am positive I can do it. The others,…" she paused suddenly as she noticed his widened eyes follow her every movement with a small, unnerving smile plastered on his red lips. "Yes?" he purred. "The others..?"

She gulped. "The other therapists just didn't…get you. They could never understand… I mean, I am not saying I understand everything what goes on in your head but… I think, well. Those before me, just didn't really want to understand you. But I do. I want to help you. I am not going to shy away from you. No matter what you ever confess to me, Mister J. I am here for you. Always." The blonde felt like she couldn't bear his intense gaze any longer but she made the point of staring right back at his suddenly very concentrated face just to prove she meant every word. At least, she hoped he would see that. After a while, Joker relaxed in his seat again and let out a low chuckle.

"You crack me up, doctor." She frowned.

"I feel like I should propose to you after this speech. Always here for you. You're good. So good." He held her questioning glance for a little longer before laughing in her face again.

"You don't believe me?" the blonde pressed, but her voice faltered a bit. After everything she had done for him, after what they had been through together, how could he not believe she cared?

She was left outside in the cold. And it hurt.

She looked up slowly when she felt Joker's pale eyes on her face again. He was thinking, thinking feverishly. She could tell by the way he held his shoulders, the way in which he stuck out the tip of his tongue to touch his upper lip.

She knew him better than he gave her credit for. He needed her. Not just for vanilla puddings and joke-filled sessions before the weekends. She would make him better. He just needed to let her in. And she was not giving up on that, ever. He deserved more.

"Well," the pale man in question interrupted her thoughts, "We shall see, won't we?"

Harleen opened her mouth in confusion.

She was about to say something when he gave her his best silver-lined smile and murmured smoothly: "At any rate, Doctor, I think we are in good graces with each other. I really like you. Not sure about the progress bit, we will forever disagree on the fact. Mainly because I don't think I need psycho help in the first place, but then again, I ain't got an MD like you clever girl. So, I appreciate your efforts. I really do." First, she thought he was mocking her again but when he remained silent and stared at her with a straight face, she had to let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Mister J. It's my pleasure, really," she said with a smile before quickly adding, "I mean, it's my job."

If he had thought anything of it, he did not show it. He just gave her another grin before lifting his pale hands for her to see. They were beautiful, elegant even. It seemed rather horrifying to her that he usually used them to crash someone's windpipe or to pull a trigger and empty a whole barrel into one unfortunate skull.

"I still haven't thanked you for these. I guess that was a great sign of mutual understanding, am I right doctor?" She followed his dancing fingers with her eyes, suddenly feeling very alert. Yes, she had successfully persuaded Arkham to let Joker out of his straight jacket a few weeks ago.

He told her she was mad. And as she watched the wild gleam in Mister J's hard eyes, she thought for a moment that she might very well be.

Somehow, Harleen lost her voice so she just nodded. He chuckled. "Well, I am very happy about how that turned out. Free hands, free man. Now I can finally do what I wanted to ever since I laid eyes on you, doctor."

Her breath got hitched somewhere in her constricting throat as she half-rose from the plush chair, preparing to dart towards the door in the slightest hint of trouble.

But Joker just slowly raised his right hand and covered his jaw. Harleen's eyes widened. Instead of Mister J's smirk, all she could see was a grotesque tattoo of large, red lips stretched into a gigantic smile that showcased an impressive array of pearly white teeth.

"A pretty smile for a pretty girl," he purred, never tearing his gaze away from her confused face.

Catching up on the joke, the blonde doctor laughed. "You've smiled at me before, Mister J."

"No," he said as he leant towards her. "This one," he pointed to his own grinning lips, "is not the best one, it's damaged." He ran his red tongue across the silver-capped teeth for a demonstration.She watched in amusement as he then brought his hands between them again, admiring the red tattoo. "This one though, this one is perfect. Like you."

…..

Laughter. He heard it again.

Exchanging a look with his companion, Officer Bolt gripped the taser gun tighter in his calloused hands. He had noticed the changes. They baffled him to no end.

The high spirits before every session. The way her cheeks glowed and her blue eyes sparkled whenever she emerged from that room, smiling back over her shoulder. It gave him chills. How could she be so thrilled to spend time with that sociopathic freak? He was the public enemy number one for Christ's sake!

He could not believe it. And he was positive not even the blonde doctor realised what was happening.

Henry Bolt pressed his lips. He had always thought she was far too young for the job anyway. Too young and too pretty to wilt away in those cold corridors like a flower without sunlight. Not to mention the patient she spent most of her time with was positively toxic. Always was and always would be. He had no degree in this field, but Bolt was certain the grinning psychopath was beyond rehabilitation. There was something about the way he would pierce you with that pair of aloof, calculating eyes that chilled to the bone. Bolt shuddered at the memory. Eyes are the window to the soul. And from what he knew, Joker had none.

He would look at you, look as if he was searching for something in you. What it was though, Bolt had no idea. All he knew was that Joker would dissect you like a moth under a looking glass, slowly putting together every piece of the puzzle, tying some invisible strings between this and that. He studied you as if you were an object in a museum, as if you were not a living thing at all, just a chess piece. That's what people were to Joker, Bolt knew. Just pawns. And he would observe and notice and save your every move, word or a glance in some special box in his memory until one day, after one involuntary twitch on your part, one smile or a shrug, something in his sick mind clicked. His mouth would stretch into that slow, fucked up grin of his and you'd know you were screwed because he got you there. He got you all figured out.

Bolt gave out a deep sigh and leaned against the tiled wall. Ready to use and abuse, he snorted. He was just vile. All crime bosses were, but Joker, well he was something else. He didn't murder, mutilate, blackmail or torture just to keep his illicit activities going. He did that because he enjoyed it.

Mad as a rabid dog, thought the senior officer. And now he had an inexperienced, young mind there to prey on.

After another echo of laughter reached his ears, Bolt's wrinkled face hardened into a determined scowl.

Something had to be done.

First of all, I hope you are all having wonderful holidays! Thank you so much for your follows/favourites and reviews, I appreciate every single one of them. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Also, I just wanted to announce that I've edited two chapters, Crowbar and Mister J – no huge changes plot wise, but just in case you would be interested I added and rewrote some parts of the dialogue. I think it flows better now. This is my first fanfic ever, so I am definitely in the learning process still, haha.

At any rate, thanks for reading my work and let me know what you think about this new chapter! I'll see you all in 2017 and have a fantastic NYE!

Love,

ZeldaK