A/n: This chapter is Joker POV and it is dark, abusive, and pretty sadistic. Thank you for the support, especially to those who continuously review.

Chapter 4: Everyone loves a Slinky!

He was actually surprised that she came back the next day. And the next. And every day after that. The joker looked up at the clock on his wall… 3:35pm, just about the time Harley got out of class, hopped on her scooter, snapped on her helmet and pinched the underside of her neck, and made her way to Arkham. She was a fighter, all right, but he would have to change that. If she was going to come visit him everyday in the name of "employment", he would have to make some use out of her, out of… Harley Quinn, not Harleen Quinzel. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the flimsy mattress, his greasy hair spread out underneath him.

Click, click, click, and click. The locks on the door slid open as "Harley" wedged through the door carrying a tray of medicine, records and other various items. She had become pretty well accustomed to his presence. She didn't flinch, stare, or bite her lip around him anymore. He watched her intently, licking his scars. Harley, as he really did prefer to call her, seemed to talk to herself in little mumbles as she rearranged all the medications. Her delicate finger tips spun the bottles round and round as she read each label. She held one up and paused momentarily… before setting it aside. He raised a curious brow.

"Ya know, if you don't give me all the little candies, your uncle may just be a teensy weensy bit mad." He interjected her little ritual of getting ready. He propped himself up on one elbow, cheek cupped in his hand, and looked up over at her from the bed. She ignored him and continued marking off things on the chart.

"Do you want to take 300mg of …" She paused to struggle reading off the name. "Sertraline hydrochloride?"

A twisted grin construed across his visage. "You're here early." He watched as she dropped his dosage of anti-depressants into a vial of liquid, in which they evaporated quickly. Harley pushed in the top of the vial and placed it in her white coat. Apparently, she had become quite accustomed to the facility in only a week. She was no doubt, a smart, yet malleable girl. The tinfoil teenager finished up her preliminary duties and pulled up a chair, plopping down in it.

"Yeah. I skipped Criminal Justice." He watched her fingers move from her lap to brush a tendril of gold behind her ear. His track followed to her exposed neck, in which there was a patch of red just under her chin. "I was thinking, well I do enough justice here, so why bother!" He watched her etch her own smile and he whooped with laughter, rocking back onto the bed, feet kicking. Why! This girl was a real riot. Dense, yet brilliant. Clumsy, but acrobatic. Predictable, yet surprisingly exciting. In his eyes, she was a real woman, though, he would hardly ever admit it.

She finished her giggle and looked over at him. He rolled on up to sit up, knees to his stomach, smirking right at her. The prince of crime was no longer interested in scaring her off, as he figured this would not be possible, considering the amount of abuse he had already put her through. From now on, he was purely testing what she was willing to endure. She was just so… oh so fascinating, so ripe, so Harlequin.

"Do you have one of them boyfriends, Harley?" He tilted his head and rocked closer towards her. She laughed and shook her head, pigtails wobbling from side to side. For some reason, he felt relieved. The thought of this girl sucking face or sucking else made him grind his candy corn coloured teeth. He thought of slicing said throat of such a delinquent young male, how the blood would run down his chest, how he would try to scream out and how it would only come forth in a coughing gurgle as he stumbled to the ground. The Joker pondered over this mental delight and decided he did quite miss his knives.

"Yeah right, my uncle would never have it. You're the closest I have to a …" Her words cut as her cheeks grew pink. "W-What about you J? Did you have a woman?"

The villain reached the end of the bed, his feet hit the ground and he looked around the room searchingly. "A squeeze, huh." He stopped to reflect. "Yes, I did, however I threw her out a window." He stated in a matter of fact tone. He thought back on the party he had once crashed searching for a particular district attorney. The expression on his face was everything serious, yet not serious at all. His dark stare rolled back around to her, who seemed to be trying to assess the situation.

"Would you ever throw me out a window, J?" She asked whole heartedly. He chuckled to himself before answering,

"Not unless I had a reason."

She seemed to reflect upon this yet again before nodding. Just as he expected, she accepted everything he said, though it was in honesty, not fear, embracing, rather than shakily holding. Before she could respond, he posed another question.

"What's your opinion on… the Bat." His voice became uneven on the last few syllables; his fingers twisted in turned with each one another in his own grip. She blinked at him and shook her head.

"I don't know, what do you mean?" Her blue eyes narrowed. He became impatient with her and shook his head, deranged dirty blonde hair flying.

"Don't you read any fashion magazines? I hear he's all the rage." He scowled at her, yet she only furrowed her brows.

"I don't think he's good, I don't think he's bad. He's just annoying. He gets all this attention and he's not even worth it." She finally spilled with a little bit of a push. He nodded, listening to her. "He acts like he's a prince, and he does whatever he wants, he's no different than…" She caught herself, and her shoulders heaved. He cracked his knuckles.

"Than?" He edged off the bed towards her and extended his hands towards her face.

"Than you…" she softly whispered and looked into his eyes. "Except you're stuck here, and he's out there. Things should be diff'rent J…" Her voice sounded more like a plea, not for his mercy though, not from his wrath. His hands grasped the side of her face, fingers extended to the back of her neck. She gasped such a delicious, fresh sound. He slightly shook her face, pressing the metal of his cuffs against her exposed neck. He grinned and squeezed his nails in the back of her neck before letting go. She let out a soft groan as her body tilted back, quivering. He released his grip of her and gave her a good ol' pat on the head and ruffled up her hair, blood dripping from his dirty fingernails into her sunshine hair.

"Thatta girl, Harley."

She smiled in response.

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Did you have fun? I did. I'm holding the next chapter for ransom in trade for reviews.