Holy crap, she's BACK! (Yay!)

Hello, everyone! I'm sorry I didn't get anything done during November. I was obsessed with my novel. If you were wondering, I finished my 50,000 words but I haven't finished the novel yet. I love it, though, if I shine it up enough I might even try to get it published! (Unfortunately it has nothing to do with our favourite purple-clad clown, so may not be of much interest to you ;-) )

Anyways! Here is the next chapter, wherein Harley buggers around and doesn't do anything very much. But that's okay, because there's a couple of bits of Character Development. Also in the next couple of chapters I intend to work in a phonecall from Marvon, who is the only male background character with a name that doesn't end with –y or –ie. Could that mean he's important somehow?! (Actually no, it just means I thought he should be called Marvon. Which isn't really even a name, probably.)

I'll try to update more often from now on!

Oh! Also: my novel's style was a bit different from this story's style. Writing style, I mean. I'm trying to shake off Novel Mode and reinstall Madhouse Mode in order to finish this fanfic, but I had some trouble with this chapter, and I'm also trying to add a couple more tens of thousands of words to my novel. I hope this chapter doesn't seem too off, I might rewrite it later when I find my mojo again.

Love ya!

Harley wasn't sure whether to be grateful that the Joker had stood up for her, or angry that he had exposed their unusually close relationship to the day room guards.

The two men certainly treated her with more respect, but their eyes were more curious than she felt comfortable with. There was a feeling of distant but growing danger, and she found herself reading into every glance people gave her. What if they talked to Joan or Arkham? What if she was reassigned? What if, what if, what if…

She decided that she needed to get out of the Asylum, just for a few moments. Fresh air and a short walk would set her mind at ease after her intense experience in the day room and her vague paranoia. She ended up walking through the grounds just outside of Arkham's first gates, a coffee in hand, attempting to find some peace in herself. She felt a twinge above her left eye; her headache was threatening to come back.

So much emotion… thinking was becoming tiring. Harley was a sensible woman… or she was supposed to be. Usually, she resisted the back-and-forth pull of emotion and stood like a rock in the centre of it all, steady and practical.

Dealing with the Joker didn't allow that sort of thing, she realised with a sigh. He was a force of nature, a tornado, that changed direction apparently at random and dismantled everything in its path. She was beginning to realise that resisting the swirling winds was an exercise in futility that would only result in pain.

The only thing that she could do was relax. Fighting the emotions was only going to exhaust her further, and Harley was just too tired to keep on fighting. It was just easier to let it be. Let go of the tiller, set the sails, and go with the prevailing wind.

The decision was a relief. She turned and made her way back to the Asylum's gate.

To Harley's surprise, she found Joan Leland berating the guard at the door – was his name Danny? – for some transgression.

"…youknowhow dangerous it can be, we're meant to be all but in lockdown! What are you thinking?!"

"Take it easy, Dr. Leland, I'm keeping an eye on her! She obviously needed the time outside!"

"What's going on?" asked Harley, raising a pale brow. "Joan?"

"Harley!" Joan threw her arms around the slight woman and squeezed her until she thought her ribs would crack.

Bewildered, Harley hugged her back briefly, then tried to disengage the woman's grip.

"Joan? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Harley!" Joan released her and stepped back. "I heard that you were in the day room when the lights went out! Are you okay?"

"Oh…" Harley risked a small smile. "I'm alright. I was just a little freaked out, so I wanted to go for a walk outside. Was that wrong?"

"Well…" Joan put an arm about Harley's waist and steered her back into the Asylum. "When the power went out, one of the residents escaped."

"Who was it?"

"Victor Fries."

Harley recognized the name. He had been a cryogenics researcher, hadn't he? She vaguely remembered something involving a woman, and an accident…

"Was he the one with the sick wife? Mr. Freeze, right? He needs to stay in below-zero temperatures."

"That's him," Joan nodded.

"It's such a tragic story."

"Maybe so, but it's a mistake to feel sorry for him," Joan said, giving Harley a careful sidelong look. "Many of these guys have sob-stories. If you feel sorry for them, they can use that to take advantage of you."

Tell me about it, thought Harley, her mind turning automatically to her session with the Joker the day before. It had affected her so strongly… She pursed her lips. She knew she should tell Joan what the Joker had told her. It was important information and had to be written up into his file. Joan would read it eventually anyway. So why was she so hesitant? It wasn't like she was betraying him… He had told her that information during a session! He would know that she would write it down…

"Fries isn't one to attack people for no reason," Joan continued. "He's more interested in personal revenge, but all the same, you are a doctor at this asylum and if he had seen you he might have decided to punish you for any imagined transgressions upon him from the Asylum."

Harley nodded. "Yes, I understand. I'm sorry I frightened you, but I'm fine."

"Good." Joan smiled at her. "Hey, I've got to go, it's all senior hands on deck when someone escapes. But be careful going home tonight, okay? If you're worried, we're got some extra security coming in, and I'm sure one of them would be happy to escort you home."

"That's okay," said Harley, giving the other psychiatrist a reassuring smile. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"If you're sure. Remember, mace doesn't work on Fries." Joan winked. "Anyway, I know you're probably still a bit freaked out from this afternoon, so if you want to talk about anything, come and find me, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks Joan."

Harley made her way back to her office slowly. She found herself at the Rogues Gallery without any real reason for her to be there.

She waved absently to the guard on duty as she stepped through into the wide hall. He looked worn and wary, too stressed by the recent escape to worry too much about her.

She walked slowly down the hallway, viewing the villains who lined each side with a vague, disconnected indifference. They, for their part, eyed her with a new wariness. Why? It wasn't as if she had been particularly brave in the day room. All she'd done was hide behind the Joker. They could still kill her in a second.

The Joker's cell was still empty. Apparently it was taking time to clear the day room of those who had been in there at the time of the escape. She hadn't come down the Rogues' Gallery in order to see him, but it was still slightly disappointing to see his empty cell.

Hmm. Without someone inside, did they lock the cells?

The idea was not a Dr. Harleen Quinzel sort of idea. Occasionally she was known to break the rules in order to get what she wanted, but even so… this was not the sort of thing one did in order to get ahead in life. Curiosity killed the cat.

Somehow, she couldn't resist. Harley pushed the open button on the wall beside the cell, and to her delight it opened slowly. She slipped inside, feeling a little like a child who had discovered where her parents hid the Christmas presents. A forbidden delight.

She had never really looked at the Joker's cell before. When he was inside it, all attention focused on him. She had never really looked at his bedside table, his partitioned toilet, his asylum cot with the dull grey blankets and sheets spread messily across its length.

She sat on it, a thrill running through her as she ran her fingers across the coarse blankets. He slept here. She felt like she was exploring a secret, private part of him that everybody just ignored out of hand. Who cared about his bed? Who cared about where he lived? It was just the same as every other prisoner's cell.

And yet, it wasn't. He lived here. It was, when he was in the Asylum, his home. What would he think if he knew she was in here? It was his space. Being inside it was like invading his privacy. One wall may be made of glass, but it was one thing to look inside, and another thing to be inside. It was… naughty.

Harley wasn't used to doing anything naughty. The thrill of it brought a smile to her face, left her with quickened breath and shining eyes. She leant down to look underneath the cot, slightly disappointed not to find a … a rubber chicken, or a pack of cards, or some sort of explosive. Something she associated with him. The space was bare and free from contraband.

Of course it was. The Joker wasn't stupid. If he was going to have something he wasn't allowed, he wouldn't hide it under his bed.

Part of Harley considered, for a fraction of a second, going through all his things until she found something. This idea was immediately crushed. It was probably the stupidest thing in the universe that she could do. She was only just starting to earn his trust, after all.

The cot was strangely comfortable, for a cot. She bounced on it a couple of times, then swung her legs up onto the cot and laid back, resting on his pillow with her arms behind her head.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With yesterday, and then the drama of today… She was so tired. And this bed was so oddly comfortable…

She jolted awake, going into a panic as she realised that she had fallen asleep. Shit! How much time had passed?! Had anyone realised she was there?

She calmed down slowly as she checked her watch and discovered she had only been dozing for a few minutes. She laid back down and took another deep breath, trying to capture back some of the serenity she had felt before. No falling asleep this time, though… imagine if she had been asleep on his bed when the guards brought him back!

Harley forced herself to keep her eyes open, and looked around the room to find something to catch her attention. She looked straight up, and started when she saw that the cell's resident had carved some things into the ceiling above the cot.

She sat up, then stood on the bed to get a better look at them. There were the standard Batman caricatures, doodles of Batman being brutally murdered by various entertaining methods, and various high-browed versions of what, if the Joker was a less intelligent man, might have read "J woz here".

Harley felt the cheeky urge to add to the drawings. She pulled a pen from her pocket and paused, unsure what to write. She shouldn't write anything at all! If she did, he would know she had been there…

And yet… it wasn't really too different from the rose and the note that he had left in her office, so many months ago. It was the same thing, really. He visited her private space… She had nothing to feel guilty about. He wasn't to know that she'd fallen asleep on his bed, or anything, just that she had visited and left a message. She couldn't leave a piece of paper, someone might find it. No one probably knew these were even up here, it was safer than writing anywhere else.

She lifted her hand, pen clasped between her fingers. She still didn't know what to write… "visited but you weren't here"? "Called to see you"? No, that didn't seem right at all.

At last she scrawled something short and sweet, in her neat but spidery hand, and stepped off the bed.

Harley walked back to her office, feeling unaccountably cheered by her recent breaking of the rules. Life was certainly more fun when one lived with a little mischief.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Joker whistled as they led him back to his cell. So, Fries had escaped… lucky fellow, probably had some dedicated henchmen working all this time to get him out. Fries couldn't do it of his own accord, trapped as he was in that industrial freezer and unable to leave it even if they left the door wide open.

"Here y'are, clown," said one of the guards, shoving him into his cell. "Stay outta trouble."

"Trouble? Moi?" The Joker put one hand to his chest. "I would never!" He gave the guard a grin that made him shift uncomfortably and avert his eyes.

Left to his own devices, the Joker flopped onto his cot and crossed his feet at the ankle. He had just closed his eyes when a strange scent caught his attention.

He sniffed, confused. Why did his pillow smell like ylang-ylang and coconut?

Heknew the scent, he'd smelt it before. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Where… Harley? Yes, she used a perfume, or shampoo, the scent was all over her. But how did the scent get onto his pillow?

The Joker opened his eyes again and stared up into space. He blinked; something seemed different. He focused on the artwork on his ceiling, and his eyes caught on the new addition.

He stood up on his bed to get a better look. It was written in pen, quite thin and not particularly big.

H + J

The Joker let out a high, shrieking laugh and jumped up and down on his cot. His Dr. Harlequin was so taken that she had come to his cell and laid on his pillow! She had scribbled the calling card of lovesick teenagers on his ceiling!

Giggling like a demented chipmunk, wide grin stretched across his face, the Joker studied the graffito with glee. He had her.

Please excuse the chipmunk similie. I was going to go with "like a demented madman" but that would be silly, seeing as he is one anyway. Some sort of self-deprecating footnote would need to be involved. Either way, the word "demented" had to be in there somewhere. ;-)

It was hard as crap to think of a "The " title for this one. --curses-- It TOTALLY counts as one word! It's just hyphenated! I could have called it "the mischief" or "the walkabout" or "Harley's Adventure". Only I couldn't have called it the last one because that would go against the pattern. Besides, it wasn't much of an adventure.

Oh, and I don't know why the Joker would know what ylang-ylang smelled like. So don't ask. The other alternative was cherry-bark and almonds. The Clopman Diamond goes to the person who can tell me (without googling!) where that's from :-D

Coming Soon: A Conversation with Marvon; A Meeting with Batbreath, and Continued Slow Character Development.

Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than January ;-)