-Le sigh- Well, at least there's a little action in here...


Chapter Two, Haunt

That name sent a thrill of dismay through Harleen. This was partly because he had almost destroyed her beloved Gotham City. However, it was also partly for far more personal reasons.

She'd studied him for her application for the internship in Arkham Asylum. She'd had to choose an 'unresolved' patient and present a file on them, complete with her own opinions and theories based off of available information. Never for one second predicting the consequences, Harleen decided that choosing the Joker for an application topic would be a suitable decision.

Well, it certainly proved informative, but not in the sense she'd hoped for. It wasn't long before Harleen was obsessed by her application. The Joker haunted her, news clips featuring his arrest floated before her even when she closed her eyes. She heard his insane, eerie laughter whenever she tried to sleep. Worse still, the information on his earlier, more personal kills ran ceaselessly through her mind. Desperate to regain control of her own mind, Harleen immersed herself completely in her application, trying to completely rid herself of any trace of the Joker. She didn't sleep for three days.

However, by the end of it, Harleen had produced what her examiner detailed as an 'original, observant and superbly written approach to a difficult and chilling topic. Almost as if you were hovering just beyond the limits of the Joker's very mind itself!'

Well, that was a compliment hitting just a little to close to home for Harleen's liking. Once she'd secured her internship, she did her best to forget those three nights where the Joker was all she could think of. Now, it was all coming back to haunt her again.


The Joker was bored. He'd been counting the number of individual cushioned bits on the right hand wall of his cell when a thought struck him. He was in a padded cell to stop himself from hurting himself or worse. The good citizens of Gotham, or the police at least, wanted him alive. They feared he'd try to derive them of that doubtful pleasure. They thought he was going to kill himself if given the opportunity. How funny.

So funny in fact that the Joker had laughed for five minutes straight. As if he'd rid himself of the opportunity to make Gotham suffer further in the future! How stupid exactly were these self-proclaimed doctors and 'therapists'?!

Sadly however, the mirth hadn't lasted long and afterwards, the Joker was bored. Whilst he didn't mind the security measures (beyond the obvious annoyance of imprisonment of course and even that was a temporary issue), the boredom was killing him. Ha ha ha…

Not really. Grimacing slightly, the Joker scratched at the corner of one of his scars in irritation. They kept the air conditioning on all day here, the dry air played havoc with his skin, already sensitive after constant exposure to the paints. The skin around his scars was red and itchy, not at all funny. He didn't like not having his paints on, it was…

Awkward. That was the word. Not quite frightening or embarrassing, because he was fairly sure he wasn't quite capable of those two emotions. Just awkward. Like introducing yourself to a co-worker, only to realise that they've shared an office with you for two years without you even realising.

The Joker supposed he should at least be grateful he had the use of his hands. Originally, they'd wanted him in a strait-jacket for most of the day, but that hadn't gone well. Pissed off at being so confined, he'd refused to eat for three days and whenever a nurse or orderly had tried to force food upon him, he'd quite cheerfully bitten them as hard as possible. One of the nurses had required twelve stitches to her forearm as a result. The common joke after that was that she'd need a rabies shot.

Whilst the Joker had found that remark quite insulting, he'd been pleased by his little tantrum. It'd ensured he was allowed to remain unrestrained within his own cell, provided he didn't assault any other staff. Granted, that took a lot of fun out of his current predicament, but he supposed it was worth the sacrifice if he got to stay out of a strait-jacket.

That didn't leave much to do sadly, so the Joker was now very bored. The only things left for him to do at present were exercise and talk to himself. Both of which he did, almost to an obsessive level. He was careful not to let the staff become aware of either habit. They'd put him on medication if they heard him talking to himself and they'd probably diagnose him with an eating disorder or something equally ridiculous for the overexercise.

Speaking of which…The Joker figured from the sounds of people moving outside his cell that it was the shift change. That meant it was time to get up and move around. He had plans (haha, and they believed he never had plans!) to get out of this place, and it would really suck to have it all ruined simply because he got a cramp in a muscle.

He was halfway around his circuit of his cell when there was a buzzing sound. That was someone on the other side signalling they were coming in and that he was to remain behind the red line painted across the floor. The Joker looked down at his feet. One of them was behind the line whilst the other was in front. Whatever, he wasn't planning to do anything. This time.

Just then the door opened and an orderly walked in. The Joker knew this guy; he was named Doug and had all the patience of an agitated rhinoceros. He was such fun to mess with.

"Hello Doug," The Joker grinned widely at him, knowing he'd have to compensate considering the gesture wasn't nearly as effective without his face-paints, "Come to see me again? I'm, uh, flattered, but I don't think we'd make a suitable couple."

It was well known that Doug was a massive homophobe. The big man shuddered and shot the Joker a vicious look, hands twitching with an obvious desire to close them around his tormentor's throat.

"Shut your mouth you freak!"

"Fuh-reak?" The Joker repeated incredulously, smacking his lips as he did so. "I don't think that's very…very good for my self-esteem. Might stunt my treatment you know. Make me…prone to aggression. Wouldn't want you to be hanging around when that happens."

Doug barely contained a growl.

"Whatever. I have to ask you a few questions."

That one got the Joker's attention. The only questions ever asked where during his 'therapy sessions'. What could be possibly be of such importance they were asking at this time of night?

"Really?" He drawled, feigning disinterest, "And why isn't Doctor Marvel asking these, uh, questions?"

Doug fixed the Joker with flat stare that was obviously meant to intimidate. The Joker just tilted his head to one side and laughed in response. Honestly, how stupid was this buffoon? As if he was going to be intimidated by this glorified janitor!

"B'cause," Doug grunted, "These questions don't come from Marvel. They're from an intern."

The Joker wagged his brows and tutted.

"A lowly intern?" he mused out loud, "How…insulting. What's this intern's name, hmm?"

Even if Doug didn't want to tell the Joker, he had to. Under Gotham law, the Joker was entitled to the names of medical personnel who were obtaining any personal details of his. Several doctors were trying to have this law changed in the Joker's case, for personal security.

"Harleen," Doug replied sullenly, "Her name's Harleen Quinzel."

That one sent the Joker into near-hysterics. It took five minutes for the insane laughter to end and by then, Doug was reduced to a cringing mess. The Joker's mirth seemed to have that effect on people. On his first day in Arkham, he'd actually reduced a nurse to tears. That'd been a wonderful experience.

"You're being honest with me?" The Joker asked with a delighted smile, "Her name is, uh, actually Harleen Quinzel?"

"Yeah, now are you gonna answer the questions or not?"

The Joker mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. Doug shot him one last glowering look before glancing at the palm card where Harleen had scrawled down the questions he needed to remember. Just as Doug opened his mouth to begin, the Joker suddenly thought of something.

"Why doesn't…doesn't this Harleen Quinzel ask me herself?" He asked suspiciously, wondering suddenly if he'd missed something. It didn't happen very often, but it was still a possibility. Theoretically speaking.

"She's an intern," Doug reminded him bluntly, "She ain't allowed to talk to max-sec patients unless authorized. Her mentor, Doctor Vahns hasn't had a chance to sign the paperwork yet. I'm playing message boy for now."

"Really?" The Joker mused out loud. "Sounds like, uh, Miss Quinzel is…biting off more then she can chew."

Doug eyed the Joker warily at that remark before turning back to his real purpose here.

"She wants to know if you ever communicated or came into contact with Sanjay Pirii. According to Harleen, this includes both in past and present terms, inside and outside of Arkham."

The Joker grimaced; this 'Harleen Quinzel' certainly was thorough. He had to give her credit for that at least. Normally, he would have delighted in giving a response that was half-true, but in this case, he wasn't sure he had that option. Maybe he'd just have to answer the questions fully and see what fun he could manufacture from the results.

"Sanjay?" He repeated, pretending to think about it. "Sanjay Pirii…Hmm…"

Just when Doug had reached the limit of his patience and was about to go report the Joker was being uncooperative, the Joker brightened.

"Oh!" He grinned, "Michelle Justins' killer. Suffered from psychosis."

Doug narrowed his eyes, not at all liking the malevolent glee in the Joker's expression. There wasn't anything he could do about it though, so he just nodded slowly.

The Joker noted the orderly's unhappiness and his grin widened.

"I, uh, did at one point speak with him. Not very…he was a terrible con-vuh-sersationalist though."

Alarmed now, Doug asked the next question Harleen had thought of.

"How did you talk to him? You ain't allowed into contact with other inmates."

The Joker's brows shot up and he gave a small giggle.

"I'm, uh, pretty certain that the correct term is 'patients'…"

Doug scowled.

"Whatever. How did you talk to Pirii?"

The Joker giggled again and shook his head.

"If you can't figure it out, I don't feel inclined to answer that. Next question?"

Doug growled and shoved the little piece of paper with the questions scrawled on it into his coat pocket.

"No way! You answer all the questions fully or you get put in a jacket!"

The Joker's smile was condescending now.

"That didn't…Yes, that was a huge success last time, wasn't it?"

Doug didn't reply, fists clenched and struggling to resist the urge to strangle the psychopath. The Joker took the man's tension and obvious temper in with calculating eyes and resumed the attack.

"And buh-sides, I hardly think the doctors are going to listen to a glorified janitor, especially when I, uh, tell them about your previous little indiscretions-"

Success. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Doug lunged forward, slamming the Joker up against the wall. Barely noticing the pain of the back of his head smacking against the concrete through the thin, padded layer, the Joker started giggling uncontrollably. Enraged further, Doug punched the other man square in the face.

"Oh!" The Joker's words were thickened a little by his now broken nose, "This is wonderful! You really are a thug! That's why you hated Sanjay so much, because he reminded you of yourself from all those years-"

Another punch. Made clumsy in his fury, Doug lost his grip on the Joker and before he could react, the Joker drew his legs up and kicked out. His feet hit Doug solidly on the chest, simultaneously winding and pushing the man back. Flailing wildly to keep his balance, something fluttered from the orderly's pocket without his noticing. The Joker started forward, but at that moment, two more orderlies came rushing into the room with an armed security guard.

"Ah, the cavalry arrives." The Joker noted, still giggling. He quickly raised his hands and stepped back, behind the red line. He patiently stayed there, smiling and laughing, whilst the orderlies tried to get Doug under control. After a minute or so, they gave up on attempting to calm him down. They quickly just gave him a shot of sedative and bundled him from the room. The security guard stayed for a moment longer, eyeing the Joker warily. In response, the Joker waved to him merrily. Shuddering, the armed man quickly left the room. The electronic doors slid shut and locked automatically behind him.

Immediately, the Joker stopped laughing. Interestedly, he put his hand up to his nose where blood still trickled profusely. Not at all perturbed by the injury, he merely wiped as much of the blood away as possible with his sleeve. Shaking excess blood away from his clothing, the Joker quickly walked to where the item that had fallen from Doug's pocket sat innocently on the ground.

It was the piece of paper with all of this mysterious 'Harleen Quinzel's' questions scrawled on it. Her handwriting was an intriguing chaotic mess of loops, curls and points.

1. Did he talk to Sanjay Pirii? (both past, present, in and out of Arkham)

2. How'd he talk to another inmate?!

3. What'd he say?

Hmm. Predictable questions at best. Downright insulting at worst. Curling his lip, the Joker turned the paper over, looking for anything more. That was where he struck pay-dirt. Obviously in a hurry, Harleen had written the questions on the first thing she could get her hands on. In this case, it was an email printout addressed to Ms. Quinzel from a 'Vern Roamin'.

Hey Harley, long time no talk. Fair enough, you moved on I guess. You were lucky, I stayed and look how that ended up. The cops are still tearing us apart, it's fucking insane. Speaking of insane, little bird tells me you guys at the funny farm are housing the Joker. Just wanted to give ya a warning: that guy's a fucking nutjob, he'll cut ya soon as look at ya. Watch yourself Harley.

By the way, I ran into Lucy the other week. She says you haven't seen her in somethin' like three months. She's worried bout you. Says you weren't even halfways through therapy yet. I just wondered why you stopped seein' her. Yeah she's a shrink for some of us, but just coz you see the same shrink as my family don't mean you have to come back to us.

Whatever, just wanted to give you the warning mostly. Unless something happens, I'll probably leave alone for good now.

"Well, well, well," The Joker mused out loud, a grin inching back onto his face, "Miss Quinzel is not all she seems."

Suddenly, he liked the idea of meeting his new therapist very much indeed.


Actually, just realised this... It's never a good thing when the Joker is interested in you...Usually means /bad/ things...

Anyway, hope that wasn't too awful to read...

TTFN from Vampassassin