"I'm devoted to destruction.

A full dosage of detrimental disfunction."

- Lil Wayne, Sucker For Pain

There was a certain amount of skill required to look like a dirty rat and act like one too, but Intern Griggs had it covered.

Harleen couldn't decide which part of him repulsed her the most. His greasy, matted hair? His gnarly mustache? How he reeked of cheap aftershave and tobacco? Even from across the cellblock, she could smell him. His presence alone made her feel queasy.

Much to her displeasure, Griggs had eyes for Harleen since day one at Arkham Asylum. His main hobbies around the office included smacking her ass, cat-calling, and attempting to ask her out for dinner. She had reported his behavior to Arkham immediately, repulsed by the harassment, but he shrugged off the complaint. Boys will be boys, he said.

A coworker soon clued her in that Griggs was Arkham's nephew. Figures.

At the sight of him, Steven had bolted to the opposite elevator. Joker rolled his eyes and stood, disappointed. They were making such progress.

"Can this wait? I'm in the middle of a session," Harleen hissed at him. Being hit on during her break was one thing, but in front of a patient? Her relationship with Joker may be unconventional, but she refused to be humiliated in front of him.

"Little birdie told me cameras were down," he explained, giving her a wide grin. "Got sent up here to protect you. Keep an eye on things." His voice dipped. "On you."

God, was that spinach in his teeth? His eyes travelled over her figure lecherously, and Harleen pulled the hem of her skirt further over her knees. It made him snicker.

"Joker is in his cell and cannot touch me," she retorted, frustrated. "I don't need to be babysat."

Humored, Joker punched the glass abruptly, making Griggs jump back. Harleen was used to his spontaneity and hardly flinched.

"Little jumpy, huh?" He gave him a slow, unnerving grin.

"Did I say you could speak, inmate?" Griggs barked in embarrassment, stepping close to the glass. Joker lifted his now bruising, inked hand and laughed behind the tattooed grin.

Fed up with how her afternoon was going, Harleen stood defensively. "He isn't an inmate, you idiot. He's a sick man. A patient." She put herself between the two men and placed a hand on Griggs's armored chest, shoving him back. "My patient."

Something inside Joker swelled at her words. Grossed out, he dropped his hand and turned away.

Before Griggs could reply, a deep voice crackled from the walkie strapped to his shoulder.

"Code 10-13. This is not a drill. Initiate lockdown."

Scowling, he lifted the speaker to his mouth. "Copy that."

Harleen narrowed her eyes at him. "What does that mean, 10-13? What's going on?"

"Weather advisory. Tornado." His beady eyes locked with hers and he cupped her cheek with one of his grubby hands. "Nothin' for you to worry about, sweet thing. I'll be right back."

Equal parts bewildered and disgusted, Harleen watched Griggs jog back to the elevator.

Once the doors slid shut, the light above it turned red before powering down completely.

Shit.

"Oh God," Harleen groaned and sprinted to it, desperately clicking the down button and getting no response. Panicked, she pounded her fists on the metal barrier. "Let me out!"

A siren whirred from the floor below. She wasn't going anywhere.

An hour later, Harleen was barefoot and laying on the cold floor of the confinement hall. She stared up at the ceiling and firmly shook her head. "No."

Joker, also laying on his back, was parallel to Harleen on the other side of the glass. "C'mon… Not even an teensy-weensy cartwheel for good ol' Mr. J?"

She rubbed at her eyes. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't in this skirt. Stop asking."

He grinned slyly and turned his head. "You could take it off."

Patience running thin, Harleen picked up one of her heels and chucked it at the glass. Joker laughed and she grumbled, closing her eyes. "You're giving me a headache. You always do."

With a psychopathic clown as her only companion, sixty minutes felt like sixty days.

Joker scratched at his chin lazily, contemplating his next move. This impromptu slumber party had a lot of potential. "I'll make you a deal, Harls."

Brooding, Harleen remained silent and ignored him. She was starving and wanted to go home.

"Give me a somersault… and I'll tell you about my parents."

Her eyes shot open. Was he being serious?

Cautiously, Harleen turned to look at him. He really did have a fascinating face up close. "You mean that?"

Joker gave her a wink and she felt herself blush. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Looking away, Harleen bit her lip and mulled it over. Just a little tumble in exchange for pertinent information. Knowing Joker, she might not get this chance again.

After a minute, he coaxed, "I'm a man of my word, Doc."

The situation made Joker's body hum with mirth. Not only would he be able to convince the girl that he didn't belong here, but he'd get a nice glimpse of those legs. A step towards breaking out and something to whack off to later. He was a genius.

Giving in, Harleen let out a sigh and sat up. "Fine, okay. Sounds fair."

Joker pushed himself up into a sitting position and watched her take a few steps back. A wild kind of fantasy gripped at his brain, vivid and neon. With that lithe little body, she would look so good on his dance floor.

In a cage. Those hips.

Stretching, Harleen took off her blazer — earning her a wolf whistle — and rolled her shoulders back. She took two deep breaths, steadied herself, and proceeded to do two, fluid backwards cartwheels. An effortless flip at the end was the cherry on top.

And it felt good. Really good. She shook out her hair and quickly pulled her skirt back down.

"There you go," Harleen said breathily, turning to address Joker. "Now you."

Swallowing thickly, Joker tried to compose himself. He was not expecting such a show. She was so flexible.

The neon fantasy ran rampant in his mind.

Slicking back his hair, Joker gave her a dark grin. "Impressive, Doc. Ten out of ten."

Unexpectedly flattered, Harleen averted her gaze shyly and sat back down, folding her legs underneath her.

Joker threaded his fingers together and hummed to himself. "Where to begin… Where to begin…"

Blue eyes shot up, shocked and hungry with curiosity. He was actually going to open up.

"My mother was a gentle woman. Quick-witted, too. And boy, was she graceful. Everything she did, every move she made — effortless. Like a ballerina."

His voice was deep and faraway. Afraid of breaking the spell, Harleen bit her tongue.

"That's what I remember, anyway," Joker continued somberly, "She passed when I was a boy. Pneumonia."

A sharp stab to Harleen's heart. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.

He shrugged and leaned sideways against the glass, trying to look vulnerable. "Dad grew bitter after her death. Took to drinking. Didn't want any part of me." Joker gave her a solemn glance. "I looked much like her, you see."

Harleen nodded quietly, brow furrowed in sympathy. She should be writing this all down. This brief look into his childhood was positively groundbreaking, but it felt private, too.

Joker let his gaze fall to his lap and held back a laugh. This was all so easy. "I tried everything I could to make him happy. Excelled in school, kept the house clean. Even got myself a job as a paperboy." He chuckled quietly in mock nostalgia. He deserved an Academy Award. "All I wanted to do was make him smile."

Wishing she could reach out and touch him, Harleen shifted forward carefully. "Did he change?"

"I suppose you could say that," Joker looked up to the ceiling, giving her a dramatic pause, and then — "He began to beat me."

Harleen's heart shattered. She let out a soft gasp and covered her mouth.

"Don't be sad, Doc," Joker soothed her, giving her a sad smile. The anguished look on her face was delicious. "It was a long time ago."

Eyes stinging with unshed tears, Harleen lifted her hand to press it flat against the glass. The poor man. He really was damaged. "Mr. J…" She was speechless.

Slowly, Joker lifted his hand and pressed it to the glass as well, covering Harleen's delicate fingers. A tear rolled down her pretty little cheek.

Hook, line, and sinker.

The storm raged onward into the night, but the thundering Gotham sky wasn't enough to lull Joker to sleep. It was still too damn quiet. Maybe Steven could sneak in some of those tasty blue pills.

Harleen, on the other hand, was fast asleep by midnight. Using her blazer as a makeshift pillow, she curled up against the glass beside him. It was nearing three in the morning when Joker looked over, observing the blonde.

With all of that nerve, that valor, that backbone — Harleen had fallen for his sob story. She was starting to surrender. Smug, he entertained the thought that he was the first to truly sway her.

Distracted, Joker accidentally brushed his hand against the house of cards he was working on and watched it collapse. Frowning, he grumbled. "Rats." This place was so boring.

Harleen stirred in her sleep and rolled onto her back, exposing the creamy expanse of her clavicle. Good Lord. Those parted, pink lips and that smooth, perfect neck — !

Joker grimaced and ran a hand over his face in aggravation.

That disgusting, squeezing feeling in his chest had returned. It made him want to drink bleach.

Joker started to remake the house into something more stable, but paused his ministrations at the whimper escaping Harleen. He raised an eyebrow and watched as her face scrunched in distress. She whined again, pitiful and long. A nightmare. Great.

Annoyed, Joker sighed and rapped his knuckles on the glass in hopes to wake her. "Wake up, Doc. You're creepin' me out." She began to pant raggedly in her sleep. Ugh. He knocked on the barrier again, this time hard and with purpose. "Harleen."

Waking with a start, Harleen took in her surroundings and rubbed at her eyes, mumbling and disoriented. "Yeesh…"

Her presence was starting to cramp his style. How long was this lockdown going to last? Couldn't she go someplace else?

"Go back to sleep," Joker grunted dryly, looking away. "There's no monsters under your bed."

"I keep killin' him. Every damn night, I dream it." Harleen's fists clenched. "Will they stop, Mr. J?" She turned her head towards him sleepily, blue eyes searching. "These stupid dreams?"

A slow, silver smile spread over Joker's lips. "No," he admitted lowly, "They never do."

Harleen turned away from him. Was she pouting? What a child. "Not the answer I was looking for."

"Honesty is the quickest way to prevent a mistake from turning into a failure," Joker spoke slowly, deliberately. A pause. "Then again, it wasn't a mistake. Was it?"

She stiffened, regretting her confession. "Of course it was. I'm no murderer."

"How did it feel?" Joker asked her with sudden interest, "How did it feel when he died?"

"I'm don't want to talk about this."

"Yes, you do." He purred, licking his lips, "Answer me."

Battling with herself, Harleen was silent for a long time. Then she spoke, barely a whisper, "Good. It felt good."

Joker's eyes roamed over her frame in fascination, voice dropping. "Yeah?"

A soft, defeated breath. "Yeah."

Thank you so much for reading. Your reviews mean the world, as do your follows and favorites. Chapter dedicated to Moosmutzel10 for being a sweetheart. Will update soon.