Day 7 (The Joker's P.O.V.)

I had to admit, the first time I laid eyes on this Harley of mine, I knew she was too easy to break. But I find myself not wanting to rip her to little bite-size pieces. Not quite yet. She was too much fun. Too pretty to waste. No. I would make her crazy, yes, but crazy for me. I snicker at my progress so far. She was already falling for me, I could see the idea already planted in her mind. She thought I was a nice, caring gentlemen. Maybe still afraid of me a little, but she shall soon forget why I am here.

I lay on my rickety cot, the bland sheets barely comfortable. They're too scratchy a fabric to be anything more. My ceiling is just as boring, but I spend time to study every speck, every lump in the tile.

"That's quite the intern you have there, Joker," Crane speaks, a cell away.

"Mmm, indeed she is." I don't sway from my somewhat comfortable position. This is as good as it gets at Arkham and it takes nearly twenty minutes of tossing and turning to get it just right.

He snickers. "If only they had stuck the poor gal with me."

I laugh. "Please, 'Crow-man, don't flatter yourself. She asked for me." I peek over at his cell to see him lift an eyebrow.

"I'm sure she's having the time of her life," he retorts.

I grunt my dissatisfaction. No good Halloween decoration. "And she would have a jolly 'ol time studying your simple mind, Johnny-boy."

Oh, he didn't like that one. "Watch yourself, clown!"

This only encourages my laughter. "Hand me a mirror!"

By now Scarecrow is shaking with rage. Then I see a slight twitch at his mouth. He begins to smile. No. That's not fair. "Let me know if you need any help surfacing those fears of hers. . . I'd be more than happy to take your place."

This makes me jump from my cot. I'd be damned if I were to see even a blessed word be exchanged between him and Harley. "I'd be worried about yourself, there Johnny, you lay a finger on her."

"Soo, the Joker cares for the girl? How amusing!"

Care? Ha! Oh, the thought. It sends violent chuckles, rattling my spine. "My dear, Johnny. I am merely claiming property. Nothing more than business here."

"Of course, Joker." He winks and smiles. "Of course."

"Bah! Forget you." I'm not going to waste my time convincing a perch for birds that I don't have such feelings for this little intern. Sure, she had her looks going for her. Yeah, her mess ups were considerably cute. But none of that pulled at any of my strings. It couldn't, because they simply aren't attached to anything.

Scarecrow accepts my frustration silently as he creeps back into the dark corner of his cell. "Simple-minded," I mutter to myself, glaring at him from my cot. I lean myself back, head resting into my folded arms.

A pair of heavy footfalls come to a hault in front of my cell. "Come to tell me I'm legally sane, fellas?" They only grimace in response. I chuckle. "Didn't think so."

I am releaved of my cell and the men grasp both of my arms as they drag me away to the session room. Soon enough I am hauled inside and strapped down into the chair across from my doctor's. She has yet to arrive and this room and I are left alone to absorb each other. The white walls, bland and stained from previous incidents. These walls. . They could tell better stories to Harley than, say, even me.

I'm about losing my patience when I see the heavy door push through, revealing little miss Quinzel. One of the guards, Dan, is saying something to her. I strain to hear and catch the end of it. "-yeah, just let me know, sugar." He eyes her as she enters the room. Oh, what an airbag. He thinks he can get her? How hilarious!

"I certainly will, Dan!" She gives him a smile. -what?! This can't be right. This girl is supposed to be falling for me! Go find your own psychiatrist! My thoughts send a slight giggle from my lips. I mean, the brute is a security guard at Arkham, surely he needs one.

Harley shuts the door hard. Immediately, I notice her choice in attire. Much more flirty and bold today. A deep violet blouse with ruffles raveling down into a V, accompanied by a tight black skirt. "Why, hello, Harley!"

"Hello, Mr. Joker," she greets warmly. "How are you doing today?"

"Absolutely splendid now that I'm back here with you!" My little Harl is already blushing and we've barely begun! Oh, how easy this is. I fight the urge to yawn. "How is my favorite doctor?"

A smile breaks her professional exterior, as it is much more than any generic grin. No, no, this is a smile of a potential crush. "I'm well, Joker. Thank you."

"Thank you, Doc! You asked first, after all." I lean back in my chair, familiarizing myself with its cold, hard surface. "I must say, Doc. Love the outfit." As if she had forgotten what she was wearing, her head dangles down to address the clothing.

"Oh, this?" She says, sounding surprised, tugging at the top.

"All of it."

"Thanks. . ." She hesitates for a moment. "I was dressing this morning and didn't even realize I pulled this on. Then, driving on my way here, I realized that's another thing we have in common."

I lift an eyebrow, confused. "Another thing we have in common?"

"You know! Purple!" She exclaims, pointing to me.

"Ah!" I smile. "So it is. I told you we weren't so different, Doc!"

She smiles even wider. "I tried not to laugh, when I realized, but I couldn't help it."

"Never postpone laughter, Harley! It's not good for you." I shake a scolding finger at her.

Checking her watch, she decides it's time to get down to business. "During our last session I feel like the time just flew by! I figured I'd bring my watch. So, let's get started!" she says. "How would like to begin this session, Joker?" She asks, straightening out her papers.

Folding my hands in my lap, I smile. "I do believe we were just getting into the topic of you, Doc. Our similarities. And you have found another!" I exclaim, tossing my arms up into the air. She gasps, seeing I have worked my way out of my bindings.

"Joker! Your restraints!" She shrieks. "H-How did you-?"

"I believe the effort they put into producing these gets sluggish every year! It gets easier every time!" I smile. "Or maybe it's just me." I work out the indentations that they have left in my wintery-white flesh.

Harley sits back in her chair, a hand to her mouth. "I-I think maybe you should put those back on, Mr. Joker."

"Ohh, but they're soo tight!" I complain, showing her the marks in my skin. It works just as easily as I thought it might. Her face softens with pity.

"Awww. . ." She says to herself.

"Not to worry, sweets! They'll be right back where 'ol Danno left them before they're back. They'll never have to know!"

Undecicive, she rubs the back of her neck, in thought. "Well. . . Alright."

"Delightful!" I exclaim. "Now, tell me something about yourself, Doc! Something I don't know yet!"

"What would you like to know?"

"Anything you're willing to spill, cupcake! Like say, your childhood?" I gesture a hand as I speak.

Just when I think I've got her, her forehead creases. "Now wait a minute, that isn't fair! You wouldn't even tell me about yours!"

"Well perhaps I might tell you if you start first."

She thinks this over for a minute and I smile when I see that she nods in agreement. "Alright, Mr. Joker, you win."

"Excellent!" She beams at my excitement, but it slowly fades as she thinks back to her past. Her face is completely solemn now. Perfect, this is going to be easier than I thought.

". . . I'm not so sure where to start. . Frankly, because I didn't think I'd ever have to explain my past to anyone," she begins. Her voice is grave and tired. "I chose to forget it, as if it were yesterday's grocery list." She glances at me for a brief moment, those big blues holding her old, forgotten pain. I smile sympathetically for her. "I never did have the best childhood. I had good friends in high school, but they didn't last very long because I wasn't allowed out of the house. . . Dad, well he wasn't much of a family man. I tried my best at school to please my parents, but it never seemed to be enough. Especially to dad. . . He never saw any potential in me. ."

"Awww, you poor girl," I say with a pout. She gives me a trying smile. A pathetic, small one.

"He was a conman, a charming one at that. He used it to his advantage, destroying families. . Including our own." She is fighting back tears with every fiber of her being. "I knew he loved me though. . I had to know. . What it was like in that mind of his. So, that's how I ended up going to college for psychiatry, after going to college for gymnastics."

"Gymnastics, eh?" I ask, raising a brow.

"Yeah," she smiles now, proudly. Her tears slowly evaporate into nothing. "Was on my way to the Olympics!"

"Wow, a tough one!" I praise. "What stopped you?"

"Eh, I didn't make it. . ." She frowns. "I could've though! If they had just given me a chance!" She sighs.

"There, there, Harls. You don't need them, not a single one. You've got me!" She goes to smile, but catches sight of her notes. Picking up her pencil, I see she wants me to begin now. I'm not quite ready. "How about I see a flip or two?" My voice is innocent and playful. She doesn't resist it's pull for a minute. I see the pencil drop and I smile.

"Sure!" I catch a hint of Brooklyn in her voice, and raise an eyebrow. "Oh jeeze, sorry," she says. "Thought that part of me was gone."

"I like it!" I exclaim.

"Really?" She asks, surprised. I nod enthusiastically.

"Oh yes, quite a lot, Doc. Don't chase it away, let it stay! It's just a little bit more of the real you!"

"O-okay!" She shrugs and smiles. "I guess if you don't mind it."

I clap my hands together, rushing her. "Those flips! Let's see them!"

"Right!" Harley jumps from her chair, pushing it aside. Her hands grab ahold of the top of the chair, as she pushes off. Within these few seconds, Harley's in the air, and suddenly she is at my feet, landing from a triple front-flip. "Tah-dah!"

"Bravo!" I whistle and give her praise she is so unfamiliar to. Her smile has never been so wide. "That was superb! And you didn't make it to the Olympics? Tsk, tsk."

"I know!" She begins to frown a little. "Dad didn't like the idea anyway."

"Oh, what does he know. Why, just look at you now! Some joke on him, eh?"

"Thanks for understanding, Joker," she says with a smile. This moment, right here. I knew she was more comfortable around me than when she walked through that door. She trusts me. I decide that it's time I give the poor girl what she wants. Hope you brought some tissues, Harl.

"Oh, of course, my dear. I understand all too well, you best have that pencil ready, cause you're in for quite the story." I nod toward the thing as her face wipes away any trace of sadness, excitement washing over.

"You mean- you're really going to tell me?"

"Sure, toots, I'll give you something to stick in your notes." Harley's expression is glowing with enthusiasm. Even her eyes seem to speak. For some reason, I picture them having a real bubbly voice, not this professional make-over she insists on having. And that Brooklyn accent.

As I shift in my chair, in thought, I see her study me closely from the corner of my eye. I look back at her, and quickly she ducks behind her notepad. A let a soft chuckle leave my lips to let her know I saw her. A softer hue than before floods her cheeks. My smile flees as I begin. "I suppose you might say we have a bit more in common than you anticipated, Harl. I don't have the good memories the next guy might have, simply because I have only one memory I ever recall ever being slightly happy." I see her head peek from her notes, waiting for me to go on. Her entire face pours sympathy.

"Oh, Mr. . ." Her voice fades into nothing. Each word drips with comfort.

"It's quite alright, sweets. My dad was consumed by the grape, y'see." She nods and adds to her notes. Here goes the real kicker. "This toxin. . The awful drink that made me nothing more than a lonely punching bag. No one to care for such a misfortunate soul." Harley drops her pencil and clutches her chest as if she has heart burn.

"You poor thing. . . He. . hit you?"

"Oh yes. Sometimes not, but those were very rare for such a troubled man. Quite unheard of indeed." My psychiatrist now chewed her lip, blood specking the surface. "Doc?"

"Sorry, Mr. J, I just-" her voice catches, mid-sentence. Her head lurches up, to see if I noticed. Oh, I did. "I-I. . . Sorry."

"Please no apologies, Doc. It's just as fine." I begin to giggle. "That and the nickname." Her eyes widen and cheeks flush deep crimson as I address her slip up.

"Sorry, Mr. Joker, I-"

I hold a hand up to stop her. "No, no, Harls! Keep it, it's so much more pleasant!" I smile. "Say it again, for me, Doc?"

"Mr. J. . .?"

"Ah, that's it! That's the one!"

Harley creases her forehead. "Are you sure that's appropriate?"

"So what, if it's not? You have yet to tattle on me for calling you Harley. And I don't think you will." A smug smile leans into my lips and she folds her arms.

"What makes you think I haven't?"

"Because it makes you smile, giggle, and blush too much." Her face beats red at this. "Plus you wouldn't risk losing me." I frown. "Would you, Doc?"

She sighs, defeated. ". . No. You're not like the others. To be honest with you, I would be devastated if I was assigned someone else."

"Awww! Harley, I'm flattered." I bind up my left wrist as I talk. I'm perfectly capable of restricting the other alone, but it would be such a shame not to have her do it. "Wanna help an 'ol friend?" I shake my free hand at her.

"Oh, uh, sure." Quickly, her small steps end at my side, as she nervously takes my hand in hers and places it in my restraints. "S-Sorry if this hurts. . ."

"I've had worse, Doc. This is probably the most careful anyone's ever dealt with me." She pouts. "Arkham ain't so nice, toots. Get yourself outta here while you're new." I begin to cackle. "Or get yourself in! They're all a bunch of whack-job losers, but I can sure show you a good time!"

She laughs at my joke, but I don't think she sees the reality in it. After tightening up my right wrist, she lingers a bit closely before sending herself back to her seat. "You know I probably would be saved a spot down here if they ever found out I just did that!" A wave of panick washes over her face. "Please don't tell!"

"Your secret's safe with me, cupcake." I give her a reassuring wink.

For some reason, Harley's face does not color like I am so used to. Hmm. Perhaps she has grown used to it? Nahhh. But then the door gives and Dan and Rick come to take me away.

Dan turns to Harley to say goodbye. "I'll see you soon, doll." I growl at him through clenched teeth. This bungling bafoon thinks he can just try to move in on her? I am about ready to speak up when I see Harley isn't even looking at the fellow. Why, she is batting those eyelashes at me. She doesn't even notice Danny boy!

"See ya, Mr. J."

Day 8 (Harley's P.O.V.)

Wow, I think, taking a second glance at my notes. Joan better be pleased with this one! We made some serious progress! He actually opened up for once. Yeah, it took a bit of my background to get us there, but hey!

I wasn't very excited about the idea when he first brought it up. . . But looking back on our session, I'm glad I told him everything. No one's really asked, or really cared for me to tell. . . Joker was different than the typical Arkham patient, he cared.

The thought of placing those bindings upon his wrist sends an upsetting twist in my stomach. The ugly knots that make up Gotham. How they all see him. As this sidistic madman. . . He doesn't deserve these cuffs around his wrists. . He's just misunderstood. . . If only they knew what his home life was. Maybe then they would see.

Harleen comes back to bite me. Focus! Yes, alright. . . So you admit it, he is sadly, adorable, in some sort of guilt driven way. But he is still a criminal who has done terrible things. You need to remind yourself of that. I say these words over and over, whispering them to myself until my mouth runs dry. But they don't seem to fit in my heart the way they should. They sound wrong to me. I can't even convince myself.

Time to bring out those books I bought.

I dig through my office, leafing through the most professional of psychiatry, finding some sort of explanation to such inappropriate feelings. None seem to cover the problem I am faced with. Looks like I'm doing this on my own.

Sighing, almost defeated, I slump back in my chair, thinking over our session. Such as any details I missed that need to be written down in my report, or something I might have done wrong, or the Joker's smile. . . No, focus!

Now that I have lost my train of thought, there's no going back now. Once I lose my attention, it's hard to gain it back. His smile haunts me, that laugh echoing inside my skull, bouncing off the corners to remind me it hasn't gone anywhere. And neither has the Joker. . . It must be so boring cooped up in that gross old cell. Oh please, Harley. You have a session again tomorrow. I'm sure he can handle the Arkham cells just fine without your company. He's been doing it for years.

Finishing up my notes, I slap them down in a pile on my desk. Oh, and his childhood! That poor thing! I thought my younger years were bad! I thought I was going to bubble up into nothing, tears braking whatever professional exterior I have salvaged. He was right though. . . We do have more in common than I had thought. He made that clear today. With our family issues. Poor Mr. . .

My heart doubles over. Mr. . . J. Mr. J. That name. My voice. I wonder if he had the same moment I had, caught up in the two unfamiliar ideas. How did I even come up with such a nickname? It's like the name just fell right out of my mouth before I could scoop it back and claim it as my own secret thought. But now it was out there in the open for him to observe. To pick at and joke. Smile at. I'm not quite positive if the smile is out of glee or simply a mock of my sudden childish name for him. I think back to when he asked for me to say it again. He enjoyed it. The recipe of a Brooklyn melody singing out a name that resembles his own. A song he asked to hear not once but twice. So instead I sang it for him three.

Mr. J. . . Ya know, for an accidental remark, that wasn't half bad. I actually think I like it. It fits him. It isn't so. . formal. It's cute and fun, like him. I sample it summore, dusting off my old Brooklyn accent to use once again. "Mr. J," I whisper to myself. I smile at the sound. "Mr. J. . . Mr. J!" What a great combo! A hand on my hip, I proudly take blame for such a brilliant pair. I didn't see any other doctors come up with such a thing. Heck, I don't think any of them even liked jokes! I have stuff in common with, Mr. J. I laugh out loud to myself, walking to the kitchen to grab some late-night supper. I was so wrapped up in the Joker I had forgotten to eat!

A generous bowl of corn flakes will suffice for tonight. I have too much on my mind to really focus on a meal. Not really in the mood to cook, either. Whilst putting the box away rather than cluttering my counter further, I see my giant pile of mail. Ugh, bills. Bills, coupons, and credit card offers. Much more than usual unfortunately.

Riffling through the thick stack in my hands, I toss the offers aside. I claw through the envelopes, to see I'm much more behind on my payments than I was afraid of. Of course. Well, my new title should rake in more than I'm used to, I just have to remember to pay it. I don't play well with deadlines.

Something catches my eye. Generic scribbles on the front of the envelope. No deceiving plastic, no stamps, no stickers. A genuine letter. Hmm, no return address. Odd.

Dismissing this, I flip it over and tear it open. I peek into the envelope and find a thin film. . A photo, it seems. My fingers carefully slip it out, without tearing it. My heart skips as I look at this familiar face. She stares at me, the ocean captured within glassy sockets. A soft pink line of a mouth, pairing with resting cheeks. The sunny locks drip around her face like rain. Her exterior innocence appears cute, but I know the truth. This college student is no angel. She never was I guess.

Because I know I certainly am not now.

Who sent this? I think, seeking the name on the front. No address, but I'm left with a name to call this sender. I'm not sure who he is, I've never heard of him before.

I turn over the photo and see in small scroll "a friend." What friend would send this? I don't remember withholding many friends in college. . No one that would send me a picture of myself, unless it was some sort of gag. "Whatever," I say, tossing the picture into the trash, along with the envelope. I don't know a Jack White.

Day 9

Okay, this guard wants to go on a date with me tonight. . . Dan. Which only makes it much more awkward when I show up to work today. "Hey sugar," he greets me. The other guard smirks as he waits outside the door with him. I know I agreed on the date, but the second I see the Joker, surprisingly waiting somewhat patiently for me to arrive, Dan is the last person I want to think about seeing.

"Hi." He takes notice in my syrupy new voice, eyes wide. He opens the door for me as I enter.

"See you tonight," he adds. The Joker perks his head up at us when he hears Dan's voice. I steer my head around to address Dan, not wanting to be rude. I say nothing but nod and slightly clear my voice to tell him to leave. The Joker picks up on this.

"Run along now, she won't be needing you Dan-O." His hand gestures as far as his cuffs allow. Dan grunts angrily.

"Shut it, clown! No one's talkin' to you," he growls. Joker just smiles back at him. Dan's attitude has set me over edge. I won't let Mr. J take that.

I set my shoulders and straighten my back, turning around. "He's right. Leave. Oh, and next time maybe a little lest hostile to the patient? Thanks." My voice has a bite to it. Dan's face twitches with surprise. He says nothing and shuts the door, murmuring things to himself.

The Joker busts out in a roaring laughter. "What a riot! You certainly have a sterness to you, Doc. Who knew!"

"I won't let them talk to you like that, Mr. J. No one will from now on, 'kay?"

"Gee, thanks Doc! I've never had anyone stick up for me like that! Except maybe my boys, but. . Oh, hell, even they aren't always loyal!" I hear his words but for some reason they aren't registering. Just his voice. . . If only I could ask him to say Harley again. . . "Doc? Did you hear me?"

"Sorry, Mr. J! Just thinking. . ." I frown. "Do you know a Jack White?"

His eyes widen with surprise, but quickly wipes it away with a smile. "A Jack White, eh? . . . Sorry. It sounds familiar, but. . . Nope! Doesn't ring any bells!" He narrows his eyes, but the smile insists on staying. "Why? New love interest, Doc?"

A laugh escapes me. "Ha! Hardly. My dating life is. . . Well, it isn't very salvageable."

He raises an eyebrow. "Right. And that's why you and that brute are on for dinner tonight?"

I sit back in my chair. "Oh, yeah, that. I thought he was nice and all but. . If he's gunna talk to you like that- no way!" I sigh.

The Joker giggles happily. "That's the cherry on my day. Maybe now this poor soul can have a chance!" He points a thumb into his chest, his wide grin is proud.

I blush. "Well, you certainly had a better chance to begin with."

Oh crap. Why did I just say that.

"That's cute," the Joker laughs. "Have a little crush, do we Doc?"

"Um. . . I shouldn't have said that-"

"But yet you did! And you wouldn't lie to me, Harl! I know you wouldn't. You're too sweet, too kind of a doll to do that to your Mr. J." He pretends to frown. "You wouldn't want to make this clown sad, would you?"

He said it. Harley. Well. Even shorter. Harl. His unique early-English accent rolls it so perfectly that I melt. I melt right into the palm of his hands. "No! Nevah, Mr. J! I only want you happy."

"Ain't you a sweetheart, Doc. Warm my little heart!" He dramatically clutches his chest as he says this. He creases his forehead suddenly, his arms calmly descending back to the table. "So, who is this Jack White?"

"I'm not sure. . . I was hoping maybe you would know. Dunno why, cause I don't even know and he's sending me letters." I sigh. The Joker raises an eyebrow, displeased.

"Sounds like a secret admirer to me, Doc." His voice has grown cold and low.

"Doubt it. I mean- maybe. But he seems more of a creep than an anonymous flirt."

The Joker chuckles. "A creep you say? Why so?"

"He. . Sent me a picture."

The Joker gives me an odd look. "Of what, exactly?"

"Myself. . . When I just had entered college. . I think maybe he was from the same school, but. . You would think I would remember the name." I shudder slightly at the thought of some stranger swiping pictures of my past and mailing me them. I'm not used to stalkers, hopefully this Jack fellow keeps his distance.

"My, my, Harley, you are a busy bee! Ya got Dan, me, and now this bafoon," he spits. A hand squishes into his cheek, propping his head up. His expression is tired.

I smile when he says I have him but it quickly disappears. He thinks of me to be some two-timer broad, I'm guessing. This was so not my angle. Yes, it was a nice gift to use when I needed it, and flirting was rather fun. But, I could care less about some beefy guard sending me compliments, asking me to dinner, or a random pen pal sneaking photography. It's all just small pieces that make up a day, really. But the Joker. Now he was different. The Joker was certainly more than just my patient. This very session room was a small fortress away from the real world where my smile was accepted, accent was asked for, and laughter was always music. The small hour that brightens my every day. So much, that I was losing focus on why I was here. Crap, your notes! You should be asking him real questions! Not gossiping about romance and what have you. "I assure you, I have no means to keep contact with this anonymous Jack fellow, and well, you know the story on Dan. But can we-"

"What about me, Doc?" His eyes are playful and his smile excited. I'm sure he knows the answer to this one, he just loves playing this game with me. I want to get back on track, but he won't cooperate without an answer, I know him.

"I don't need to tell you that story, Joker, you could tell it to me like you wrote the book yourself." Ugh, this flirting thing needs to be taken under control. I need to stop. I try to erase the flirty smile my face holds but my nerves have frozen.

"Oh, can I? And what do you propose I know about your thoughts of myself, Harley?" He waits for my response, but I wasn't ready to answer this. I'm not ready to expose my deep thoughts, because to be honest- I've been lying to myself! Trying to shove away the truth. . . If I can't tell myself I . . I l-like the. .- no! I won't even think it. I can't. . . How can I tell him?! How did I even get these feelings? He's criminally insane! He's a nut! "Hmmm?" He asks, waiting. He sees my look of panic and I see it has pressed his laugh button, climbing up each step until he is roaring.

"I. . . I don't know," I lie.

How stupid of me. If anyone can see through lies its the Joker. "I don't believe that's true, Doc. Why don't you go ahead and tell the class- when you're ready of course. I promise I won't laugh! Well. . . No, that's a lie." He giggles a bit.

I decide to work an edge he can't throw me off of. A grin appears on my lips as the words form in my head. Words that are true, but do not expose what's deep down. "I think you're a very funny guy, and a fantastic patient. I enjoy our work, Joker. Which if you please, I would like to get back to?"

His laughter abruptly ends and his mouth shrugs, disappointed. "Just when we were getting to the fun part!"

His child-like response sends my laughter his way. What can I say? He was adorably funny. "Well, if you like our sessions so much, then I'd hope you'd cooperate so we can still have them, Mr. J." I frown. "Or do you want me to get fired?"

"Oh, of course not! What would I do without you, Harls?"

Would he really be so out of place without me? He's the Joker, he's always on top of things. "Not that I'm at all unhappy with your answer- but I'm sure you were fine before me, Mr. J."

"-Well, if you got fired to be put in here with me I wouldn't be all too remorseful," he says with a wink, ignoring what I said completely. It's alright, he doesn't need to answer what I said. I'd rather not hear the truth anyway, I like when he makes me feel needed.

I need to stay focused. "Alright! Seriously, Mr. J, we need to focus on the session."

"Okay, okay, fine." He looks very bored now, but he'll have to deal. I need to gain my control back, whatever control I ever had to begin with. He places his arms behind his head and crosses his legs, resting his feet on the table, as if this were just a hotel he was staying at momentarily. "Whatta ya got for me, Doc?"

"Last session you said you had only one good memory of your childhood?" I try to blanket my sadness, covering it up with a firm exterior. "I was wondering if. . If maybe you could tell me what that was. ."

The Joker smiles brightly. "Oh, of course, Doc!" His face softens with the memory. Such a cute smile. "The only day a smile found my father's face. I remember it vividly. I was just a seven-year old tot at the time. He took me to the circus, something I've always wanted to see. I was so excited! When those clowns came out, I couldn't stop smiling." He looks at me, a happy gleam in his eyes. "Why those silly guys were running around dropping their pants! I thought it was funny, of course, but hid my laughter from dad, thinking it was inappropriate- but I see my 'ol man laughing too! Laughing! I had never heard such a sound before!" The Joker jumps up from his chair suddenly and points a finger in the air as he talks. "So that following night- I sneak me some of his favorite slacks and pull them to my shoes-" within the seconds he says this, his Arkham pants are to the floor, exposing his red and white polka-dotted boxers. "Hi, Dad! Look at me!" An uncontrollable laughter begins to surface, not at his boxers, but at his cute attempt to make his father laugh. "Slipping, I fell to floor and ripped a great big hole- right in the crotch!"

Laughter erupts, busting from not just the Joker, but me too. This small joke gone wrong is just too funny. Picturing this small child that was once the Joker, running around with pants too big for him, tearing right through them as he falls. It was simply the most hilarious and adorable scene I could ever picture. Tears are now surfacing, dumping down both cheeks as the laughs just keep coming. The character the Joker uses as he talks, getting right into the moment, it was like you were there when it happened. He should totally do audiobooks. He slips his pants back up, his smiling disappearing.

"-And then he broke my nose."

Stop.

It all ends. Just like that. The laughter, the smiles, everything, except the tears. Those stay right where they are. I gasp, bringing a hand to my lips in shock and horror. "Mr. J! He didn't!" By now I'm sobbing.

"Aww, Harl, don't take it to heart. That's just how comedy works, I'm afraid. You'll always take shots from folks who just don't get the joke," he says with a sad smile. He turns to walk back a crossed to his chair, but I shoot up and catch his arm before he walks back. He turns around with surprise on his face. I embrace him in a warm and loving hug.

"How can't I, Mr. J. . . ? You'll always be funny to me. ." The tears still roll down my face, but I have them more under control. His arms return the hug, patting me on the back softly.

"Awww, Harley, you're as sweet as pumpkin pie." He pulls away, I'm sure he's not used to hugs. I think about how awful the brake must've felt, as I look at his nose. If he cares at all about my opinion, I think his nose is perfect. "Poor Harley, your makeup is running."

"Sorry, Mr. J, you shouldn't see me like this," I say. I go to wipe away the tears with a sleeve, but the Joker appears suddenly at my side.

"No, no, Harl, let me." He soaks up the black tears with his own white sleeve, staining it. "There! Beautiful." He makes me smile so big, my heart is pounding with emotions. I don't care how foreign it may seem to him, I can't not hug him again. I need his embrace again. It's so comforting, so warm. He hugs me back without hesitation this time. We are so close, I know he can feel the thundering of my heart, but I don't want to back away. "Ya know. . My father never hugged me."

This only makes me want to squeeze tighter, never let go. But unfortunately, just as soon as my force becomes stronger, the Joker pulls away, yet again. "Do you. . . Not like getting hugs, Mr. J?" I work out the creases in my top. "It isn't very professional of me either, I'm so sorry-"

"Stop, Harley! They were fine." He gives me a comforting smile to cover up the slight raise in his voice. "It was fine."

"Okay. . . Sorry, Mr. J."

"No matter. Check the time, will ya toots?"

I gasp, seeing Dan and Rick will be entering any minute. "Your bindings!" But he is already strapped in his chair when I look up. ". . You're good, Mistah J." He smiles, as my accent has deepened even more. My face flushes.

Dan is tugging at Mr. J's side. "Bye, pumpkin."

I smile. Dan grunts, displeased, as Rick slightly chuckles with surprise at my welcoming of the Joker's pet name. "You don't get to call her anything but doctor- got it?" Dan spits.

The Joker just laughs. "No one ever told me that." Dan shoves him violently forward in frustration. "Oh, oh!" Joker adds, excitedly. "I forgot to mention! It seems that you'll be going out with yourself tonight. Sorry about that, Dan-O. There's plenty of Docs in the asylum! No worries!" His cackles deepen. "Better luck next time!"

Dan turns back to look at me but I just shrug, still smiling. The door slams, leaving me alone in the session room.

And I'm still smiling.

Author's note: Don't you just love how quickly she's falling? It's sad, yet. . . So cute. There has always been an ongoing battle between Batman fans on whether or not the Joker has any feelings, even the smallest, for Harley. And I have my own opinion on the matter, given what Paul Dini (creator of Harley Quinn's character) says about the Joker's thoughts on Harley in Arkham files: Harley Quinn - "Somewhere deep down in whatever shriveled up little nut he has for a heart, there might be a little bit of affection for her." But I will not quite reveal whether or not those feelings are there in the story so it pertains to both sides, creating a bit more of an easier read for fans on either side of the subject. Anyhoo, I hope you're enjoying the story! Perhaps more days in the Joker's P.O.V.? They will be limited, considering the matter explained above, but- give me feedback! Like on what you think of the use of Jack White, eh, eh? ;) quite the twist. More to come! Keep reading/reviewing! Love all of my followers, greatly appreciate all of them!