Day 4

Bags hammock my eyes from staying up until 3AM, searching for rare pictures and facts of my new interest. I know it's a sad gesture at trying to impress my bosses, for they don't care how much I know. And instead of showing up to Arkham ready to blow them away, I find myself focusing more on pinching myself and downing as many cups of coffee as I can manage.

"You awake, Harley?" Joan asks.

My eyes flutter open immediately, as I realize I was nearly half asleep, whilst eating lunch. My sandwich slouches miserably in my hand, my grip just barely there. I slightly groan in response to let her know I heard her.

"Maybe you should go home. . . I can postpone your session with Mark. I'm sure he'll be a bit disappointed, but you-"

"No! Please, I'm sorry. I had a late night. Please don't take me off the schedule, I want to work."

Joan raises an eyebrow at me. "Mind if I ask what was so important that you came to work nearly dead, Ms. Quinzel?"

I swallow hard. "I was working."

"Second job?" Joan guesses. I shake my head. "Off duty?"

"Sorta." Joan raises her eyebrow again. "I was. . Uh, researching a patient. ."

Joan tries not to roll her eyes, as she knows its unprofessional. Instead she slightly laughs. "The Joker?"

I blush slightly. "Uh-huh."

She smiles. "I meant to tell you- I talked to Dr. Arkham." I try not to shake her violently and beg her to tell me the news. I hold my cool and keep my feet planted and mouth zipped, I can't help but smile though. "He definitely did not like what he heard, but I still relayed your message. He wanted me to let you calmly know-" I held my breath. My chest began to tighten with anxiety until I felt ready to burst. "-that it's a no-go. You're certainly not ready for the Joker." I sighed. Of course it was too good to be true. Joker was too glamorous, too high up on the scale for such a new-comer.

"-But then, we saw you on the camera. The one in the hallway on the bottom floor." I bite my lip, nervous of future scolding and maybe even probation. What I did was against the rules, I merely did it because my body forced me to. I couldn't resist. "And although risky, we saw no fear in you talking to the Joker. . . And I must admit I was wrong. It seems as though Joker did have some sort of attraction to you and it is rare that we actually find someone that he likes talking to. In fact, this may be our first! But, you are granted your one session with the Joker. We'll see where it goes." Any sign of drowsiness has completely vanished my beaming face as I thank Joan. She nods. "Don't make us regret this, Quinn."

"When do I start?"

"Your session should be in about four or five days. If he misbehaves or you aren't ready, there won't be another session. Got it?"

"Got it!" I exclaim. I happily dash to my office, congratulating myself and cherishing the moment with an enthusiastic victory dance. "You did it, Harl! Score one for the new intern!"

When my body slows down I slump back into my chair and begin to think. When exactly was the last time I was so pleased with myself? Or really even happy in general? Most likely during the last of my gymnast days. . Oh, how I miss those. To bring back memories, I sometimes practice in my living room on rainy afternoons. It's probably the only thing that still reminds me that fun is to be had, even when you're an adult. It's so easy to forget. . . I wonder what the Joker lives by. If the crimes he commits is how he expresses fun.

The Joker! I have to let him know about our session before I see Mark! I check my watch, two minutes. That's enough time.

I scramble from my chair and out the door, rushing towards the elevator to visit the bottom floor. I am quickly flagged down by Joan before I have the chance to escape into the elevator. "Harleen!" Her hand grasps my shoulder and I spin around to face her. "There's been a mistake! I asked for your session with Mark to be at eleven, but the Joker was accidentally written in Mark's place. He's waiting for you right now!" My mouth gapes open. "Don't worry, Ms. Quinzel. I'm sure you're as ready as you would have been five days from now. Besides, you probably know more about him than you need to. I'm going to go figure out who messed up the schedule, you better get moving! Don't want to keep the Joker waiting!" She grimaces. "Really."

I nod and rush to my session room. I am standing in front of the room and see both guards nod to me. "You must be, Ms. Quinn," Dan says.

"It's Dr. Quinzel," I snap. His eyes widen and he holds up his hands defensively.

"Have a good session," the other one laughs. They both take a quick glance as I walk in. Pigs. Prepare yourself, Harley! Get a hold of yourself! Stop sweating, don't shake!

Taking my first step into the session room, my mind immediately takes on tunnel vision, only seeking for the Joker's face and not my surroundings. My first sightings are his neutrally lined face as he waits impatiently, his eyes, perfectly aligned and simply unimpressed, no glimmer what so ever. "WHERE'S MY-" he catches me in the doorway and stops mid-sentence "-Doc!" His eyes even smile at me. "It's you! How?"

I smile. "I got my wish."

He lifts an eyebrow and smiles wider. "So did I."

My face shows my excitement, though I try to hide it. "You're joking."

This time both brows raise. "How could I?" He raises his arms as far as he can manage, which remained linked together and cuffed to the chair. "No card up the sleeve, this time, I'm afraid."

Of course he's joking, it's him, right? "Mhm."

"Honest! Want to check them? I promise I don't bite." He smiles innocently. "No? Alright then. But the joke's on you!" He grins his regular Joker grin. "So, please. Tell me how you got your way into this one, Harley? I'm no mere toy the kiddies share so easy." He looks me over before I can answer. "Then again, you're quite the looker."

I blush, but clear my throat to pretend discomfort. "Please, Mr. Joker, let's keep this professional."

"I'm merely stating a fact, Doc." He winks.

Ignoring his compliments, I search for my pencil and flip open my notepad. "Is there anything you'd like to share before I begin, Mr. Joker?"

His teeth shift side to side as he thinks. "Why aren't you calling me patient 4479?" He asks. I don't quite understand what he's talking about until I see the number in small print on the front of his white clothing. "Or are we just past that now?" He chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

"Do they really address you by your patient number?" I ask, a bit taken back. He nods. "Why? They just call you Joker to everyone else. ."

"Dunno, Doc." He shrugs.

"Would you like me to call you patient 4479-?"

"No! No, no, no. Certainly, not, Doc. Call me whatever you please, toots, anything but that."

I scribble down some notes. 'Doesn't like the addressing of patient number, prefers to be treated like a human being than a number.' Next to it I write the word understandable. Who would want to be called that? I take this as an opportunity to get some of his emotion on paper. "Does that make you angry? When they call you patient 4479?"

"Sometimes. Who wouldn't?" He leaned forward. "Would you be mad, Dr. Harls?" He smiles.

The nickname is certainly inappropriate, but I don't say anything. It only means he's comfortable around me, I wouldn't want to remove that. "I suppose I might be a bit agitated."

"You suppose so?" He laughs wildly in his chair. I think I see it move even though I've been told it is one with the floor. "That's cute. Completely frustrating, it irks me, but cute nonetheless."

I am utterly confused. "I'm sorry? I don't understand, Mr. Joker. . "

"The act. I don't appreciate it, Doc." He still wears his cheeky grin, although he is supposedly frustrated.

"What act?" I say, dropping the pencil onto the pad. I cross my arms.

"The professional mask. I can see you're out of your comfort zone, this isn't really you, is it Harley?" My face beats with a lava red, embarrassed. "Is that a no I see?"

I shrug. "How could you tell?"

"You can't hide from me, toots."

I scribble some more. 'Very good at reading people.' "Well, it's my job to be professional, Mr. Joker."

His smile slightly pulls downward. "I would love it so much more if you were yourself, Doc. What are you really like?"

I shrug. To be honest, I'm not even sure what I'm really like. What am I like? Oh gosh, he's turning it on me again! No, we're not doing this, this is about him. "How about we stick with me asking you the questions."

He sighs. "Fine, Doc. You win."

I smile. "Thank you." He shrugs.

"Sure thing, sweets. Take a stab at me." He smiles and settles a little in his chair. He seems relaxed, even with the restraints.

"What is your best childhood memory?"

He clucks his tongue. ". . My best?"

"Mhm. Do you remember your childhood, Mr. Joker?"

His chest shakes with laughter. "Oh, I remember it alright. What a lovely time."

I smile at his words. I wish I had a lovely childhood. . . "Mind telling me about it?"

His eyes cloud over with rage and pain. "No."

"Why not? You said it was lovely." I am a bit confused at his sudden mood swing and try to dodge his threatening stare. It softens a bit as he laughs.

"Oh, Harley, I was joking," he remarks.

Guilt and embarrassment pinch my heart slightly. "I'm sorry. . Are you sure you don't want to get some of it off of your conscious?"

"Certain as a clown can be, my dear. I would only feel comfortable enough revealing such memories if you yourself gave me some of yours to-" The door clicks open and I realize the time flew by. He smiles. "Next time, then."

My heart sinks. If there is a next time. . .

Day 5

Working with the Joker was certainly a new experience. I suppose Joan may have been right about the whole "not being ready" thing, but in a total different way than she had proposed. I was more just surprised than anything. The Joker had this thing about him that just had me looking so vulnerable, and I'm not quite sure why. . . I'm a professional, aren't I? Why else would I be getting paid for this job? I shouldn't be blushing at his comments! If anything, he should feel embarrassed!

I shrug off this feeling and get up for work. My legs throb from laying in the same position all night. I was completely still. Twisting my neck from side to side, I hear a few jaw-clenching crunches and pops. "Ugh," I groan.

I reach for a think black skirt and a turquoise top to slide into. My heels give me at least a little boost. I'd need i to feel any sort of sense of comfort. The Joker nearly towers over me. Not that I'm even sure if I'm seeing him again. A sigh flees my lips and I mentally slap myself. Come on, Harleen!

I'm clicking and clacking my way to the kitchen to eat a quick breakfast when my telephone rings. "I don't have time for this!" I cry before answering much more calmy. "Hello?" A bit of Brooklyn sweeps its way into my voice. Oh no. Not that. Stop, Harleen, you ditched this a long time ago. What's wrong with you. I quickly dismiss it and act as though I sound just as professional as any other day.

"Harleen? Is that you?" It's Joan. Crap.

"Yes! Sorry, something was caught in my throat. Am I coming in today?" A ping of nervousy bites me and I chew my lip. Oh, please God, I hope so. I prepared for the worse.

"Absolutely! I was just calling to let you know, I'm very pleased with you. Come in as soon as possible. I have quite the news for you."

My eyes widen with surprise and I smile triumphantly. "I will!"

"Very good! I expect to see you soon, then!" With that she hung up. I hold onto the phone and a soft squeal brakes the silence of my apartment. I jump up with balled fists and shoot them into the air.

"Yes!" I didn't screw up.

Breakfast can wait. I grab my folders and drive away to Arkham, passing a few red lights. Oops.

Joan is waiting by my office, speaking to a few guards. I catch the words "regular thing" before she brakes the conversation to turn to me. "Ahh, Ms. Quinzel! Just the woman I'm waiting to see!" She wears a happy grin that makes me spark with curiousity.

"Yes, Joan?"

"Why don't we step inside?" She gestures into my office. I agree and she follows, closing the door. Feeling a twinge of awkwardness, I decide to sit and offer her a chair. My office is too small to stand in conversation.

"Mind me asking what this is about?"

She smiles. "I'll get right to it. I am quite intrigued by your session with the Joker. You were great. And if you are comfortable with him as a patient, I would love to push you forward with this."

A giddy feeling courses throughout my body at once and I clutch my chair to hold in my excitement. "Yes! Definitely."

"Good. That is all, Ms. Quinzel. You're next appointment is scheduled tomorrow. Today I just advise you to work on your notes." Joan adjusts her blazer and stands up to leave.

"Wait! May I ask what caught your attention that pleased you about our session?"

Joan smiles. "Reading his file you will see the same things you wrote down. You may also notice, there isn't much of a few words written down until at least the first 6-10 sessions. You're ahead of the game, Harleen. Keep it up." With that she departures and I"m left to squeal and flick through papers of this new clown of mine.

Like a child, I feel the urge to flee downstairs and share this wonderful piiece of news with the Joker, as if we were the best of friends.

I give a minute or two to ensure Joan has made her way down the hall. Ducking my head out the door, I see I am left to my duties. I retreat back inside my office and stuff my folder inside the crease of my arm. If I'm stopped, I would at least want it to look like I was doing my job.

To be honest, I'm not too shaken with my second disobey. The first time was like training for the next.

Quickly, I scurry down the hall and sweep myself into the elevator. A thrill I can't place shoots through me as I press the button that holds his floor. The ding! nearly doubles this feeling, as the doors slide open.

A smile toys with my lips as I walk further down the hallway. My palms are slightly moist.

"She wasn't scared off!" I hear a patient murmur to another as I continue on. A recieve a few more confused and gaping stares as they watch me proceed to the Joker's cell.

I arrive to see him laying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling in thought. Before even speaking a word, I see him smile. He still lay facing upward, not even giving me a glance. "Miss me, Doc?" He sits up, facing me and slightly chuckles.

"I came to tell you that you and me did good, Joker. They are continuing my sessions with you, starting tomorrow." I can't help but smile. A ping of self-anger enters my emotions for seeming so excited in front of a patient. He takes note of it.

"Really now?" He lifts an eyebrow and smacks both hands together. "Splendid!"

A bit of heat rises to all areas of my face, reaction to his delight, and I could scream at myself right now for it. Stop, Harleen! He's only a patient! It's not a date. I clear my throat in embarrassment. Of course he sees me blush. How couldn't he. I'm probably red as a tomatoe right now. Heat tickles my cheeks a bit more for even thinking I would think of flirting with a patient. He gives back a charming smile in return. He saw it. He saw me blush just then. Ugh, Harl.

I need to get myself out of this giant pit I dug myself into. I need to leave. "I best be going now, Mr. Joker."

He tries to frown. "Awww, so soon? Was it something I said?" He jokes.

"See you tomorrow," I say and wave, walking away. He stays in front of the glass, wearing his signature smile.

"Tomorrow, then! It's a date!" He calls after me. His cute remark leaves a soft giggle lingering from me. I know he hears it. Because until I'm isnide the elevator, his laughter chases me away.

Day 6

"The doctor will see you now," the Joker comments to himself as I walk in. I must say, I prepared myself much better for his inappropriate gestures this time around. I don't even smile at his words. He picks up on my lack of emotion. Bad day already, Doc?"

"Not at all."

He frowns at that. He knows my guard is up and is much more sturdier. "Hmph."

I shrug off his disappoinment and try to focus on the root of the entire appointment. "So, is there anything on your mind?" He lifts an eyebrow and stares at me blankly. Completely speechless. Trying to get back at me for not playing along, I'm guessing. "Nothing? Okay, then. Is there something you'd like to focus this session on, Mr. Joker?" Nothing. He's refusing to cooperate unless I play along. It isn't funny if I don't. And to him, being funny is just the beginning. If he's not causing laughter, he isn't causing much of anything. So, I decide to put on my cleets. I'm in Joker's game now. "Sorry, I wasn't really myself when I walked in, was I? I know you know that. But of course you would know that, you have me all figured out."

He smiles. "I already told you, Doc. No need to fake it out in here. No one has to know you're showing your true colors," he says. "It can be our little secret."

"But. . . what about them," I say, nodding toward the door."

"Oh, please. You think they're really watching? Those guards out there?" He laughs. "If I were to jump right from my bindings, they wouldn't have known until our session had ended." I glance back at the door and think this over. I'm not sure if I'm fine with this, or completely terrified. My palms begin to sweat all over again. I'm not sure what's going on with my head, but I tell myself I'm fine. This is fine. The Joker would never. He wouldn't dare harm me. He would be brought to the isolation room, and I'm sure he doesn't want that. . . The Joker lurches an arm forward in his restraints. He cackles. "Scared, doctor?"

I swallow down any discomfort and do my best to mask my exterior evidence. He's no fool. He giggles at my efforts, stretching out in his chair as he does so. "I'm fine."

"Sure, sure." His smile widens. "Anything you say, Doc."

I decide to get a little more real. "To be honest, I'm just not used to this. I'm not scared, I just don't know what to expect. Especially from you. 'Expect the unexpected' is all I hear about you. It's all over the place in your file. It's only smart to take caution, right?"

"Smart indeedy-doo!"

I smile. "You seem to be in a better mood."

Well, of course I am! There's finally someone here who I can at least somewhat trust!" He folds his hands and sets them on his lap.

My smile peaks a little at his words. "You trust me?"

"Sure! Yeah, yeah, you put the act on once in a while, but I know you're not really a stiff. You even said so yourself!" He leans forward a bit. "You open up a tad once in a while, I like that. I feel like maybe we could relate if only I knew you better."

I try not to laugh. "What makes you think we're similiar?"

"Do you like jokes, Harley?"

"Yeah, I guess-"

"See?! There's a similarity right there!" He smiles. "We are alike!"

I really have no response for this. The only thing my mind focuses on is his use of my nickname. Harley. It sounds so different coming from the Joker. The way his voice makes it sound so unique. I decide not to scold him and let him go on. I'm about to open my mouth to speak when it dawns on me I have already forgotten what he had even said. It would sound so unprofessional to ask him to repeat himself. What were we even talking about. . . . ?

"Yoohoo?" the Joker sings, braking my thoughts. I blink a few times and find his face again. He lifts an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Joker, I was just. . ." I search for my paper to save me. "-Going to take notes!"

He giggles. "Of course."

As I scribble down a few words that may just barely pass as note-taking, I realize how distracted I was by nearly everything he did. How easily he steered our conversation, how I let him play his game of mute, how I listened to his voice too closely when saying that name. That name that only friends, neighbors, co-workers, and family call me. That name that has forever been me. That name that had no significance or meaning to me waht so ever when he first said it. I remember it word for word. "How about- Harley Quinn! It only suits you better, don't you think? Now there's a little Joker in you too. . ." Now suddenly, he trusts me and it's one of the most bizarre, yet sweetest sounds to hear. I snap myself out of it and drop my pencil when I see what I have done.

My head swoops up, I don't even want to look at it. Nor do I want him to see it. I carefully slide my papers to the side and cover my notes with the Joker's folder. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing, you just need sleep, Harleen. Just sleep.

"Harley?" There it is again. That voice. That name. Two things that shouldn't be together. But yet is so perfect it can never be seperated again. No. Stop it. Call me doctor, call me Harleen. Please. But I can't say it. I don't know why. Why can't I ask him? It's merely a name, a tag if anything.

"Yes?" He gives me a curious look. "I apologize, my mind is elsewhere today. It's been a long week. Please forgive me."

"No need for the apology, sweets. I get it."

He's so understanding. . . I almost want to apologize again. No, that would be dumb. Instead I smile, something he seems to love. "So, is there anything you'd like to talk abou-"

The door to the session room heavily pushes through and the two guards come in to take him away. The Joker smiles gleefully. "Yes, and we already did."

Dan is clutching him by the shoulders and carrying him out as I shoot him a confused look. I'm quite sure we covered nothing at all today. "You- Harley! My doctor."

I beam. I don't know why. But I do. And I can't help it. The smile just gets brighter as I realize he means me. we talked about me. Very briefly, extremely briefly, but enough to make him smile. Enough to make me feel appreciated by someone. Yes, he is the Joker, but that doesn't make him any less of a person. And he appreciates me. He sends me a friendly wave. "Until next time!"

My smile begins to flee fast, with each cell he is dragged passed. I sigh. What a long day. And it only will get stressful from here.

I shuffle back over to the table to grab my folder and notes before leaving to head back to my own "cell." I don't dare look at my notes again until I'm behind my own safely shut door, alone. I slide the paper out from underneath the folder and quickly glance at it. Even just the smallest peek and I'm flushing red. Why? It means nothing to me. It's not even really a symbol. Why would it be? I glance at it once more before stuffing it away in my bag to take home. Although no one would understand it's meaning, I don't want to risk anyone seeing this unprofessional sketch. Those words, sounding so possesive, swim to my mind once more as I picture the drawing. You- Harley! My doctor. . . His doctor. Harley. A feeling of sickness punches me hard in the gut. It almost tickles. I feel nauseous and lightheaded. I gather my things to head home and those words repeat in my head, that drawing waring down my brain, clouding over my thoughts.

I unpack my things and change into my pajamas after eating a large bowl of ice cream. I slip into bed, turn the lamp off and swtich on the TV. My mind is gone. I take out the piece of paper one last time.

A rose. Not just any rose. His rose. The one he stole for me. His doctor. Harley Quinn. I never did ask for it. I must ask him tomorrow if he still has the flower. I place the drawing underneath a glass of water on my bedside table, not wanting it to leave my protective boundaries. So, if I wake up and see it there, I'll know I drew it and it's real.

I'm about to dismiss TV, remembering the way I was unable to fully focus on the Joker today; until I see this particular documentary that pops its way onto the screen before I have the chance to shut it off. A documentary on Batman and the Joker. My patient.