A new chapter already?! Well yes, in fact, the other night when I wrote Chapter Twelve, I just kind of kept writing. I could leave this one until I had Chapter Fourteen written, but I got some wonderful reviews this morning and felt all chipper, so here we go :-D

Thanks again everyone for your reviews. They always make my day!

Iswear that I'll get around to inserting Batman in here somewhere. Iswear. At one point he was going to be an essential plot element but over November I think I've forgotten what exactly that was. But that's okay. I'll stick him in anyway, for shits and giggles.

Holy copyright infringement, Batman! I haven't written a DISCLAIMER in ages!

Not mine, bitches. Don't sue. Seriously, don't sue me. Please. I don't own Batman,or Harleykins, or anything in the DC universe. This is for entertainment purposes only! I feel kinda paranoid after writing "copyright infringement", as if this would have suddenly reminded you that you own this stuff.

Except Marvon. He's kinda mine. So you can't sue me for him anyway. Nyer nyer.

Why had she written it? What was she thinking? She could have said "hi"! She could have said "Harley was here"! She could have just drawn a damn giant damn smiley face with a big fucking Joker grin!

Why did she have to go and write "H + J" like some stupid kid with a crush on her math teacher? She may as well have drawn a damn heart around it or written "Mrs. Joker"!

What had possessed her?!

Harley stopped pacing her living room and threw herself onto the couch. One arm flung across her forehead, she reached out the other to grab the remote and turn on the television.

Television failed to distract her from her idiocy. Even repeats of "Frasier" refused to hold her interest. In desperation she turned to cartoons, but the very concept of cartoons reminded her of the Joker. Besides, most of the cartoons on nowadays were awful compared to the ones she had watched as a kid.

At last she gave up, and all but threw the remote through her television set.

It was Saturday morning. The night before she had been so tired that she hadn't given too much thought to her stupid message, but this morning reality had reappeared and hit her between the eyes like a hammer. She had spent the morning screeching in frustration and pacing about her apartment in her underwear. She hadn't even made herself a coffee.

She made one now, perched on her kitchen counter in undies and an old t-shirt, pulled on when the chill morning air had reminded her that normal people wear clothes. Still, it was Saturday. When possible, she preferred to relax. She certainly didn't spend much time relaxing during the week.

Coffee in hand, she picked up the phone. She had to call someone, and there was only one person who knew how to get a girl out of a bind like this one.

He picked up on the eighth ring.

"Hello?" came the sleep-addled reply.

"Marvon!"

"Harley? Just a second…" There was a bump, the sort of thing one might hear if a person had rolled out of bed and hit the floor. "Harley, what are you doing ringing at this hour? It's like…"

"It's almost noon, Marvon."

"…it's like, MORNING. On a SUNDAY."

"It's Saturday, Marvon." Harley giggled quietly to herself, and sipped at her coffee.

"Whatever, Harl, it's the damn weekend. Some of us are trying to retain some of our post-graduate lifestyle, even if it is just on weekends." He stopped grousing, and when he spoke again Harley could hear his smile on his voice. "So, what's up? I haven't heard from you in a couple of weeks! You were meant to call and tell me all about the Joker!"

She paused. "That's what I've called to talk to you about. Marvon…" she sighed. "I think I'm becoming… attached to the Joker."

"Attached? You like him?" There was a laugh. "Well, I know he's the sort of intense personality you love, but still! Harley, he murders people. How could you become attached to him?"

Harley shifted uncomfortably. "Well… He's… He's not that bad a person! Not to me. He's almost… nice. He's become, well, like a friend." Her voice dropped, and when she spoke again, it was in barely more than a whisper. "I'm beginning to worry that I'm getting attached to him as… more than a friend."

There was silence at the other end of the line. "…You're kidding, right?"

"I wish I was."

"Well, maybe… I mean, hey, I know you've got good taste, you fucked me, after all. But the Joker? He's your patient, Harley! If nothing else, that's incredibly unprofessional!"

"Hey, I didn't say I'd done anything."

"Do you want to?"

Had he always been this blunt? Harley blinked into the distance, eyes aimed out over the expansive view of the city of Gotham.

"I… I… God, Marvon, I haven't even thought about that!"

The light tenor voice chuckled. "You haven't even thought about it? Then how do you know you're into him?"

"Well I… I'm almost scared to think about it." She drew her legs up from dangling over the counter and rested her chin on her knees. "If I did, that would mean I'd really crossed a line. Professionally, I'd have to give him up as a patient, and of all the things in the world, Marvon, I'd never ever want to do that. Not because I love him, because he'sfascinating!"

"As fascinating as we'd always hoped?" Marvon's voice at the end of the line sounded wistful; he too shared a passion for that sort of extreme personality, and had he been here, they would have poured over his file together. She would have discussed her sessions with him every day.

"More."

"Well then, tell me about him!"

Harley opened her mouth… and hesitated. "I… can't."

"Why not? Patient confidentiality? Come on, Harl', everyone in that Asylum has read his file. I may be you're friend, but I'm also a criminal psychiatrist. You're not gossiping, you're consulting a colleague. It's totally on the straight and narrow."

Harley smirked. Marvon's outlook on life had always been a bit more… crooked than her own. He had considered that sometimes it's okay to bend the rules – or break them – as long as no one finds out and no one gets hurt. He had influenced her in that regard, for the better, she thought. But having feelings for a patient… someonewould get hurt. And it would be Harley.

"I know, Marvon. But… I don't know, I haven't even written it in the file yet. And it's not because of confidentiality, or anything. I just… can't bring myself to tell anyone. It's like he told me in confidence."

"He told you in session, Harley. He knew that you'd write it down. 'Sides, you can trust me."

"I know that." She dangled one leg off the counter again, taking a sip of her coffee as she looked out over Gotham. She sighed. "All right. But if you write a book, or tell a single soul, I swear, Marvon, I'll – "

"Gut me like a pig and sell my organs on the black market? Yeah, yeah, I know. I won't tell. I don't trust you not to go psycho on me for stealing your book, anyway. You're dangerous when you're crossed." He laughed. It was an old subject of jest between them; she had torn him a new one once or twice when she had been in a rare bad mood. "Now, give us the goods."

She told him about the session she had had with the Joker the other day, fighting tears in a couple of parts, and skipping over the bit where she had actually taken off his restraints. A good friend Marvon might be – the best, in fact – but he would not be too happy to hear that Harley had apparently lost her mind and let the Joker go walkabout in a session.

When she had relayed the story the young man let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's heavy stuff."

"No kidding."

"Uhm, are you – are you crying?"

"Only a little." She sniffled and rubbed her nose. "I haven't even glanced at my notes since then. It was a really emotional thing. It's crazy; he can be all over the place. Angry, then gloomy… and then cheerful, like nothing had ever happened!"

"Nothing like you," Marvon mentioned.

"No. I've been trying to stay in the same place in the middle of stormy seas, and I keep getting pushed and shoved all over the place. I think it's better to just pull up anchor and let the tides take me where they will."

Marvon chuckled at her maritime metaphors. "Good idea. You could do with a little more loosening up sometimes, anyway. It's great to be professional and dedicated – I've always loved that about you – but there's no harm in letting go for a while. Sometimes patients open up to you a little more when you've been honest and open with them."

"Yeah."No kidding. "Good idea, thanks Marvon."

There was the distant sound of coffee beans being ground. "So, you're sure you've got a thing for him? Is this some sort of power fetish, or is it… Hey, you're not a coulrophiliac, are you?"

"You think I have a clown fetish?" She laughed in earnest, and the act lightened her spirits somewhat, and lessened the burden she carried. "No! I mean, I think he's… intense. Incredible. He's intelligent, almost frighteningly so. He's graceful, fun, strong, and, yeah, he's powerful. There are mass murderers and serial killers in there who are scared shitless of him, I mean, how much more powerful can a person be?"

There was a thoughtful silence from the other end of the line. At last Marvon said, "What else?"

"Pardon?"

"Tell me more about him. What else? Not about his psychosis. Tell me what you like about him, and what scares you, and what you hate."

A dreamy smile crept across her face. "He left a rose in my office the first day I was there. He's left another note since then, telling me he enjoyed our sessions. I love his laugh, and his smile. They always cheer me up and make me relax a little. He's thin, but there's real muscle under that white skin, he's quite strong, you can see it in the way he moves. And he moves really gracefully sometimes… not like a cat, really, but there's something there. Call it class, maybe… His suit may be purple, but he still wears spats, tails, and gloves."

"But it's purple."

"What's wrong with purple?" Harley accused. "He likes it! It's fun! Besides, it suits him. It goes with his pretty green hair."

There was another long pause at the end of the line. "You think his green hair is pretty? What about those red lips, stretched out into that grin?" There was a trace of amusement as well as horror in his voice now.

"Ilike his grin," said Harley. "And what's wrong with red lips? I don't see anything wrong with it. Besides, he may be grinning in all those photos you see of him, but he can frown, too. He has an incredibly expressive face." She giggled then, suddenly. "You should see him when he's mad! It's so fearsome!"

"Seriously? Did you just say 'fearsome'? And you giggled, just then. You giggled, like a little giggly girl."

"I giggle sometimes," said Harley, slightly defensive.

"Yeah, okay, but not like that."

"Well," she sniffed, "maybe I've decided to lighten up a little. Nothing wrong with that."

"…Mayyybe not. So, uh, you've really got it bad for the Joker, huh?"

Harley sighed. "Do you really think so? I was kind of hoping that I was just so obsessed because he was a patient…"

"I know how dedicated you are, and how much work you put into stuff like this, but face it, you're totally smitten. You are defending his wearing of a purple suit, you're talking about his hair like a lover! I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you've got itbad."

"But how could this happen?!" Harley wailed. "I'm nice! I don't like it when people get horribly killed! My closet is full of suits and blouses and restrictive high heels! I've never even been to the circus, not even to watch the tumblers and the tight-rope walkers!"

Marvon laughed. "The heart is a mysterious thing, Harley. You gonna be okay? Will you tell your supervisor, and get reassigned?"

"Are you kidding me? Hell no! The Joker is an opportunity of a lifetime!" She sighed. "I'll be fine, honestly. Hopefully it's just a weird passing infatuation. He's different from people I normally associate with. He's famous, and powerful. That's all it is. I may be strangely attracted to him and everything, but I just have to push it aside and be Harleen Quinzel again."

"Why? Who have you been lately?"

She giggled. "I've got to go, Marvon. Thanks for talking to me. Sorry I woke you up so early."

"It's too early for sarcasm, anyway."

"It's never too early for sarcasm." She giggled again. "Bye, Marvon."

"Bye, Harl. Remember: Look, but don't touch."

She rolled her eyes as she set the phone handset back onto its charger. Look but don't touch? As if she'd be getting any from a patient!

An image of a naked Joker bound to the psychiatric couch flashed into her mind, and she blushed furiously. All right, so, turns out that with him bound, she probably could have her wicked way with him. I wonder if his hair is green all over?

She hid her grin behind her coffee mug. Ah, well. That graffito would just have to stay where it was. There was nothing much she could do about it… he had nothing really to do all day but lie back and stare at his ceiling, so he had probably already seen it. She'd just have to give him a wink, say it was a joke, and move on.

He'd probably think it was a joke anyway. Wouldn't he? He flirted with her sometimes. Just yesterday he had patted his knee and suggested she take a seat. That was just messing about, just light-hearted teasing. (Right?) There was no reason for him not to think that this was just the same thing.

Yes. This was fine. She was on top of this. She would just play his game, nothing wrong with a little flirting in jest, and then eventually this strange infatuation would pass and she would regain some semblance of professionalism.

This was just a difficult week. All would be fine.

Yes.

Hooray! Marvon! (Although clearly he has no taste in suits. He should know that purple is the new black.)

Sorry about the lack of Joker, but I'll make it up to you.

Also, I apologize if your brain is now filled with bondage scenes, wherein a naked Joker is strapped to things. Not that it's new. Admit it, you've thought about this before.
I am horribly, horribly tempted to actually do this later on. For the sake of my sanity, I probably shouldn't. And for the sake of the story. I can't write lemons to save my life. Although…. –cough-- Nah...