Disclaimer: I still don't own the Joker or any of the Batman characters in this fic. They all belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in The Dark Knight. I only own the plot and any original characters I may choose to include.

Chapter 3: Harleen Quinnzel

A/N: Harley finally makes her debut. The chapter title gives it all away.

Song: It's All Over by Three Days Grace

On the that Gotham's Dark Knight had apprehended the Joker three months earlier, Harleen Quinnzel had supposedly lost her mind. She had been on one of the two ferries that were transporting citizens and condemned criminals out of Gotham. At the time, she'd been on her way to Manhattan to visit family. But that visit never came to be. And once the Joker had made his little announcement, everything went wrong.

His heartless voice had echoed over the speakers of both ferries, with simple "instructions." That is, if one could use such a civilized term for the heartless demands. Each of the ferries-one filled with innocent citizens, the other with condemned criminals-had been rigged with a hundred oil drums and a bomb set to go off at midnight. And the only way to avoid being blown up by the Joker, was to blow up the other boat with a detonator that had been provided. The orders had been simple. One of the ships was to be blown up by midnight, or the Joker would blow them both sky high.

Harleen sat crammed between two families, both with small children no older than seven. She enclosed herself in her coat in a futile attempt to protect herself from the heartless ideas that several of the other passengers were voicing aloud.

"Just hit the damn thing!" the man on her left shouted. "Those murderous bastards had their chance, and they screwed it up! We shouldn't have to die because of them!"

Harleen willed herself to move, but her body had been numbed by the fear of death. Death. She had seen so much of that already. Too much. She didn't want anyone to kill the criminals, but she didn't want to die either. Truly, this was a no-win situation. And poor Harleen, much like the other people on the ferries, was caught in the dead center of it all. Sadly, it was eventually put to a vote whether to kill the passengers on the other ship or not.

Harleen, who had been in and out of trouble during her twenty-four years of life, voted against killing the people on the other ship, because she believed that they deserved a second chance in life, just as she had been given. Of course, there was quite a bit of noise over the decision, but when the clock in Gotham Harbor struck midnight, everyone on board the ferries prepared themselves for the cold embrace of death.

But it never came.

Batman had come through for everyone on board the ferries, having succeeded in stopping the Joker and leaving the deranged clown hanging off the side of Prewitt Building. Once the ferries had been safely brought back to shore, Harleen headed for home, praying that the Joker's chaotic reign was at an end.

That night, her dreams were turbulent, full of agonizing pain and fear. She darted in and out of an oppressive haze that slowed her thoughts, leaving her vulnerable to manic laughter of the Joker that ravaged her mind. She saw faces, grinning at her from all sides; knives wielded by disembodied hands; rooms covered top to bottom in the thick, viscous blood of innocent people; and then... darkness.

Harleen had awakened, crying and screaming in terror. One of her neighbors had called the police, under the impression that Harleen was being attacked. But when the police arrived, they found her curled up and bloody in the bathroom amongst the shards of the shattered bathroom mirror.

They had tried for three days to calm her down, and everything failed. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, her employer and head administrator at Arkham Asylum, had even gone down to the police station to try and talk some sense into her, but in the end, they had decided that her mental stability had failed her, and that it would be best if she were sent to Arkham Asylum, not as a psychiatrist, but as a patient.

6 - 7 - 6 - 7

"Jesus, that was... pathetic," the Joker muttered, arriving in front of "Doctor" Quinnzel's cell. "Didn't think he'd crack that easily... Is the Bat the only one in this godforsaken city that can actually make things interesting?"

The door was made entirely of tempered steel and must have had a thickness of at least three inches, if not more. The Joker glanced at the flimsy plastic card key in his hand. If he hadn't taken the pass key from Arkham, he would have needed at least seven pounds of dynamite to blow the fucking door down. Possibly more. A sardonic smirk crossed his face as he tossed the key to the floor. Then again, why make things easy when you could make them interesting?

6 - 7 - 6 - 7

Harleen Quinnzel lay on the padded bed in the cell, wondering if she'd ever see the shimmering lights of Gotham again.

That bastard, she thought. It's his fault I'm trapped in this hell. God, why did I ever come here in the first place? Why did I get on that ferry? Why did I...

A muffled bang sounded from the other side of the door, startling Harleen into sitting up, her blond hair falling over her shoulders. There was another bang as the door exploded inwards, charred pieces of metal flying around the cell as Harleen flopped to the floor in an attempt to avoid getting her head whacked off.

"Who's there?" she barked, wishing she wasn't cuffed. Had she been free to use her hands, she would have lunged straight into the heavy cloud where the door had been. Her face, previously contorted into a nasty grimace, paled to a ghostly white when the Joker entered the room.

"I thought the old man was kidding when he said you were in here," he sneered, stiffling a laugh. "I'm pleasantly surprised..."

Harleen glared at the Joker furiously as she growled, "You." Oh, the things she'd do to him if she had use of her hands. A few well-placed kicks to the groin would have done for a start.

"You were expecting, maybe, Batman?" he smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking her over. "Or the Easter Bunny?"

She hated how he stared at her with such interest in those dark eyes. To a lunatic such as this, Harleen wouldn't have been surprised if he saw her as an easy target. Harleen twisted, managing to prop herself up against the wall. She moved steadily from side to side, wishing she could gouge his eyes out to keep him from staring. Didn't he have any manners? No. She supposed not, considering the fact that he was a mass-murdering lunatic.

"No," she shot back, ignoring his childish sarcasm. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone but Jeremiah."

He shrugged, drawing a switchblade from his pocket as he approached. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as he crouched before her, running the cool blade against her skin. "Sorry, doll, but Arkham's gone. The poor old guy met with a little... accident." He winked. "If you catch the drift."

Shiiiiiiit, she thought, rolling her eyes. I'm a beautiful, successful woman who is handcuffed in a straitjacket, and I have a mass-murdering, psychopathic clown hitting on me. This is not my day... She paused, running his words through her mind once again. If she had heard him correctly, he'd said that Arkham was...

"Gone? What the hell do you mean 'gone?'"

The only response he gave was that sickeningly painted grin. The nerve of the bastard. Harleen had no damned idea how the hell the Joker had gotten her cell open, and quite frankly, she didn't give a rat's ass. No... she took that last part back. The smoke, loud explosive sound, and the unmistakable scent of gunpowder told the whole story: Dynamite. And a damn good amount, to be honest.

Harleen squirmed, trying to inch herself away from his frightening gaze. "In comparison to my next question, Arkham's 'accident' is irrelevant. I just want to know how in God's name you got out of fucking solitary confinement."

Seriously? Another smile. Was he really that unoriginal?

"It was a simple, step-by-step process," he drawled, running a finger along the blade. "Step one: Get the idiot guards angry enough to open the door. Two: Take a hostage. Three: Kill him, and watch the rest of them take off. Four: Kill the old man, and then walk out like nothing happened. Easy as pie."

How sick could one person get? In all her years, she'd never met someone as maniacal as the chuckling man before her. "Is this your idea of a joke?" she demanded, glowering at him harshly. "If it is, I'm not laughing because it's not funny."

"Want proof, Harley girl?" he muttered, raising his eyebrows as he pulled her off the floor. "'Cause I've got undeniable evidence..."

Harleen pulled away from his grip once he cut her out of the straitjacket. The bastard seemed almost eager to fetch Arkham's corpse. He was far creepier than she had ever thought. "No, I don't want proof. And, for the record, my name is Harleen. And you're serious? You killed Jeremiah Arkham?" she scowled. She'd never even met the freak in person until now, so how would she know if he was being serious?

This guy is such a pain in the...

"I just answered that," he snapped, pushing her against the wall. "And Harley... watch what you say," he chuckled, running the blade down her throat. "Ya see, doll, one wrong move and I might... lose it like I did with the good doctor up there. That clear enough for ya?"

Harleen was at a loss for words, and, since she was being held at knife-point by the Joker, she nodded carefully. Scared as she was, she still didn't appreciate his blatant disregard for her comment. And... doll? What the hell was that? He licked his lips and picked the lock on the handcuffs, seizing her wrist.

"Hey! What are you doing? I-"

"Have no say in the matter," he said, finishing her sentence. "I break you out, you stay with me. I'm done talking about it. Unless... you have any... objections..."

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Clearly, this was not the time to be disagreeing with the man holding the knife. "N-not at all," she choked as he practically dragged her out of the building. "Why are we doing this so quickly? Isn't there..."

He laughed loudly, leading her towards a dark van waiting at the bridge back to the mainland. "This place is gonna be blown to Hell in about thirty seconds, and you're asking me 'why?'" Another laugh. "Harley, don't you know me at all?"

"Wait, what?"

His pace quickened, but she could see that he was rolling his eyes as he spoke. "I rigged the building with charges before breakin' you out. Hello!" She flinched as he turned and rapped her on the head with the knife handle. "I thought you were supposed to be... intelligent to be a doctor."

"You what?" Harleen was in shock What kind of a deranged fool are you? What the hell is wrong with you?" Harleen screamed, trying to wrench herself from the madman's grasp.

"Do you ever stop asking questions? Just shut up and get in!" he barked, practically throwing her into the backseat. "Women... Fuck!"

The Joker yanked the door open and got in with Harleen ranting at him the whole time. "I cannot believe this! You psychotic, bat-obsessed bastard!"

"Would you shut the hell up?" he barked, signaling for the driver to take off as he clamped a hand over Harleen's mouth.

It was clear that she was starting to wear on his patience. Not that he had much of it to begin with, according to the news articles. The stunning silence that had been present vanished in seconds. As the van screeched and pulled onto the bridge, the whole building went up in a cloud of smoke and flying rubble, sending the Joker into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Harleen stared at him, eyebrows raised as she removed his hand from her mouth. "You sick, perverted bastard!" she shouted, giving him a slap. "There were people in there!"

Her timing had been horrid. He turned on her, slamming her against the window, hand at her throat. "I'm gonna say this one more time: You need to shut up." The last bit seemed to make his eyes blaze. A frightening sight if she'd ever seen one.

"Damn..." Harleen wheezed as he released her. "Pissy aren't you?"

He clamped a over his ear, rolling his eyes. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Because if I don't... someone's gonna get hurt... badly," the Joker snarled, waving the switchblade in her face. "And ah... my little friend here," he said, looking fondly at the knife, "has a slight tendency to... bite when he's angry."

"Fine, fine. I get it," she snapped, pushing his hand away. "But... what do you think?"

The silence was worse than it had been previously. Just as awkward, but worse... somehow.

"About me..." she continued when he didn't answer. "Am I as crazy as everyone thinks?" Harleen fidgeted in her seat, her blond hair falling across her back.

What the hell are you doing? she mentally scolded herself. He's psychologically deranged, and you're asking for his opinion about your possible insanity? Nice move...

The Joker's eyes widened, giving her the impression that he'd swallowed something sour. "You expect me to know? Pfft! I'm no shrink, Harley-girl. Ask someone who actually has an interest in those fucking labels."

Harleen quirked an eyebrow. "What did I tell you?

"About...?" His sarcasm was so encouraging.

"About my name, you dolt. My name isn't Harley, it's Harleen, you damn clown. Get it right for fuck's sake," she scowled, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

I swear, men are all idiots, she thought bitterly.

"What the hell...?" he muttered popping a cigarette into his mouth as he looked her over. "You look like shit..."

How fucking reassuring... she thought, staring at her clothes. I've been in Arkham for weeks, and he expects me to look like a bikini model?

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed."

The Joker sputtered, blowing smoke out the window. "What's not wrong with them? You look like an accountant. I can't have a doll like you dressed like an accountant!" His underlying grin assured her that he was simply trying to piss her off.

"I... No! No way! Absolutely not! You are not turning me into your... pet!" Harleen spat the last word with venom, moving as far from him as she could. Why the hell should she do anything he wanted? After all, his little stunt three months prior had cost Harleen her career and, quite possibly, her sanity.

"Not your call, Harley. I got you outta there, so you owe me. And when I see something I want... I go after it."

She felt uncomfortable knowing that he saw her as his little captive; trapped in a corner with no choice but to do what he wanted. It was official: She was in hell. Harleen had gone from the freezer to the frying pan. And she had a feeling that it wouldn't be easy getting out of it. Especially if the Joker was running this show.

I hope this was enjoyable, and that it put a picture in your heads. Please review.