CHAPTER FOUR

"He had told me I bet unwisely, but at the end of the day I was the one left with the first jackpot, and from then on I knew the game was going to change drastically."

He was not pleased. Not pleased at all. Had he been too much for the little doctor yesterday? He'd told her the truth—he wasn't a rapist, maybe a little homicidal, but not a rapist. It was truly more trouble than it was worth. But irritating Harleen, surprising her, now that was something that was worth his time; he'd get to know what saucy Dr. Quinzel was hiding. He had a feeling it was very, he giggled, appetizing.

He grunted and wiggled his wrists, which were hand-cuffed along with his ankles. She had acted far more quickly than he'd expected, and oh how he loved people that could surprise him. Despite the reasons behind it, just the fact she had him handcuffed again enthralled him. Dr. Harleen Quinzel, the bombshell jester of his darkest dreams, or rather fantasies. He was a man, and Harleen was a very, well, attractive, no…fascinatingly desirable woman. She wasn't trying to be, but she was his seductive drug, and he craved her.

He sucked on his cheeks as his eyes trailed upwards to the clock in the far-side of the room. It was about time for her appearance. He smirked, such a little woman, and yet already he saw a huge potential for her mind. If only she thought like him, but maybe that was the kicker.

He leaned back and laughed unbridled. He could see it in her eyes, her posture. Chaos, it licked at her edges. She just hadn't fully embraced it yet. She was so lovely just dabbling in it, what would she be like if she took it for all it was worth?

The idea was both delicious and terrifying—a perfect combination for the Joker. He rocked in his seat, wondering how to greet his shrink today. He wouldn't be able to hug her like yesterday. He frowned a slightly, he didn't like repeat performances anyway. Too bad he couldn't shock her by taking off his shirt; no one said they couldn't begin where he left off yesterday. He licked his lips in disappointment. So what could he do?

Resigned he shrugged. He'd just go with the flow. Now all he had to do was wait for the petite blonde. He closed his eyes after one last glance to the clock, waiting for the sound of the door opening.

The consultation rooms were mostly sound-proof, but if there was one sound the Joker could make out, muffled extremely or not, it was gunfire and a plethora of screams. His eyes shot open, but they shined not with confusion, but thrill. He leaned forward and he felt his arms strain with his movement. He tried to peer out the small window of the door.

It was clear for a moment, but in the afternoon light sudden shadows were cast when someone blocked it. He heard the twitter of the keypad and then the door swung open.

"What the hell?!" A gruff voice exclaimed and three masked people entered into the room.

One man and two women composed the intruders. The Joker's eyes first fell on the man, the leader it appeared. The male in question pulled his mask off with the hand that didn't hold a gun and threw it on the floor. He turned to the two women.

"She's not here!"

The Joker merely watched them. His next object of attention was the first woman. She was a tall, red-head, wearing a mask that resembled the Tragedy of theatre. She shrugged at the man.

The other woman was also a red-head—shorter hair—and she was half a head shorter than her comrade even with the brown stiletto heeled boots she wore. She wore the partner mask of the first woman—comedy. His eyes brightened at the sight of her and he licked his lips. He recognized her stature and her body frame. She also shrugged her shoulders, but let out a small laugh, stuffing her gun in the belt of her dark cargo jeans.

"Huh, will ya look at that, she ain't." Her voice was high and a little irritating—bubbly blonde was the first thing the Joker thought.

She turned her sapphire gaze to the Joker, "But look at this. It's her patient." She walked forward and stood across from him. "You seen your pretty little doctor?"

"Giggles, I ask the questions, not you." The man stated pushing her slightly in frustration.

'Giggles?'

She gave a slight, indignant huff, but held up her hands. "Well, boss you weren't takin' any initiative."

"She's right," the Joker smirked at her and turned his stare into the man's almond eyes. "And that's cold, even to a guy like me, pushing a little chit like her."

"Shut up, clown. Dr. Quinzel, have you seen her?"

The Joker smacked his lips. "Depends. What do you want with her?"

The man opened his mouth, but the Joker shook his head. "I won't talk to you, you're rude. Although," he turned his stare to the short red-head, "for you, I may be a little more loose-lipped."

The girl giggled again and turned to the other woman in the room. That's when the Joker noticed the tattoo she had on her upper, right forearm revealed by the sleeve-less state of her gray tank-top. The three black diamonds seemed to form a sort of arrow design.

The taller woman snorted. "You always attract freaks, Giggles."

"Giggles? Is that your real name?" The girl turned back to the Joker and shook her head.

"Of course not, Mistah J, but I have a life to return ta, so ya understand." The Joker nodded, a conceding expression on his face.

"Stop flirting! Get on with what you're supposed to be doing!"

"Fine, geez, is it impossible for ya to say please, huh?" She rolled her blue eyes.

"Mistah J, have ya seen your doc today?"

"Nope, can't say I have."

"You tellin' the truth, you freak?!"

"Ah, ah, ah," Giggles shook her head. "Sit down boss, take a breather, you've done enough. He said he ain't talking to ya, so it'd best for the plan if ya did as asked. I'm sure the Riddler would like that this one go without a hitch."

The man ran a hand through his short, black hair. "Yeah, he'd like that. That bitch's really been a pain in the ass." He walked up to the chair that would have been Harleen's and sat down. He deposited his gun on the tabletop. "At least he's restrained. What? Your doctor don't trust you enough to go un-cuffed?"

The Joker licked his lips, "I guess I was too hot for her yesterday, besides the experience is better this way. Tomorrow I get to cuff her to the chair."

The man seemed disgusted, but Giggles sighed, "Ah, sounds like my kinda relationship."

"If I was unrestrained, I'd show you a good time babe, trust me."

"With them watching?"

"They could leave." He winked and Giggles lived up to her name once again.

"Oh my god," the man sighed, "how did I get stuck with you?" He pointed to Giggles and placed his head in hands and shook his head. "What are you, on crack?"

"You snorted again?!" the taller woman exclaimed. "Oh shut it, Red, let a girl have some fun every once and while."

"That's why we're doing this aren't we? So you can get more crack money!"

Giggles turned around and using her arms lifted herself onto the table, her legs dangling over the edge. "Actually, no. I wanted to have some fun and perhaps maybe the money could buy me those shoes I've been eying."

Red, who had tensed, eased. "You got to get-"

"I was joking, I'm clean. Have a sense of humor."

"This is a bomb!" The leader proclaimed. "The Riddler is going to be pissed. And trust me, he ain't killed yet, but he is one scary son of bitch when he gets angry."

"Sounds a little wacko to me." Giggles stated off-handedly.

"You aren't helping! I get stuck with you. Now, Red is fine, but you're annoying."

"Well, Mr. Grumpy…" She crossed her arms. "If I had any choice in this matter, I wouldn't have worked with ya either. There, be happy with that."

With her tone of voice the Joker could imagine her sticking out her tongue in rebellion. He snickered.

"What's so funny? I see nothing amusing in your situation. You know you use to be big, and then the Bat caught ya."

"Oh, you're scary," the Joker laughed at the man, "I highly doubt your ego'd be so big if I wasn't hand-cuffed."

"Yeah, right." The man rolled his eyes and turned to Red. "Where is that abominable doctor?"

"Sorry, boss, I'm no wiser to the situation than you."

"Well, this blows."

"Red, why don't ya give him a massage, or something. That'll calm him down. Maybe then I won't have to hear his irritatin' voice."

"Why you little-" The man exclaimed and looked as if he was about to pounce, but was interrupted by a loud belch.

"Sorry," the Joker twittered, "meant to puke there."

"Just ignore her, Boss," Red sighed and walked behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and kneaded them. "Would you stop being irritating, Giggles? You're the one that talked me into this."

"Whatever," the girl huffed, "you know, if that doctor was in her right mind she would have high-tailed it outta here."

"Yeah," chuckled the man, closing his eyes at the pleasure he felt as the muscles in his shoulders were eased. "I agree with ya there. In fact, why are we waiting in this room for her?" But he didn't seem quite ready to stand up to leave.

Giggles turned her gaze downward and slowly pulled the man's gun off the table and clicked the safety off. The man heard the distinct click and his eyes shot open.

"Giggles-"

"Don't move boss, it'd be a pity to have make a mess. Pam, tie him up." She had the gun pointed at his forehead.

The woman behind him pulled off her mask, revealing high cheek bones and blazing emerald eyes. A brush of freckles enhanced her look. She smirked brazenly down at the man before ducking behind him. There was the sound of a zipper and a rope was tied about his wrists after she pulled them through the arms of the chair.

"What are you doing?" He gulped, but did not move.

"Not so brave, now, huh? It's just a gun." The Joker offered, laughing. He stared at Giggles and licked his lips. He was really liking this—it was like dynamite, ticking away. He wondered when the explosion would happen.

The man was speechless as he stared into the black barrel of the pistol. Pam straightened up.

"Thanks, Pam." Giggles said, though her voice had lost his annoying edge.

"Don't mention it. The mob owed me some favors anyway."

"Remind me never to ask…"

The man stared up at Giggles. "Who are you?"

Using her free hand, she pulled on her crimson hair and it came off, revealing a blonde mop beneath it. She shook her head and threw the wig away and then removed her mask, revealing a dainty face with shocking blue eyes beneath.

The Joker laughed. Yep, he had known it. The explosion had arrived. He was really enjoying this.

"The name's Harleen Quinzel, I believe you were meant to take me hostage today? Get a message across that I was messing with someone out of my league? That the job, puddin'?" She smirked down at him.

The Joker whistled, "Mmm, feisty and dangerous, where have you been all my life, doc?"

Harleen cocked an eyebrow at him, "Trying to avoid you."

"I do love your playing hard-to-get."

She snorted at that and turned to the man she was currently holding hostage. "My, my…how the tables have turned. So tell me what you know about the Riddler."

"How did you do this?! How did you know about the job?"

Harley pulled the gun away and tapped her chin with it. "Ya see, there's one thing your leader failed to calculate…the fact that I'm not a hermit. I have friends…friends with connections in the mob." She glanced at Pam. "She told me everything after Sal Maroni told her."

"She one of his whores?"

Harley laughed openly in amusement. It was the first time the Joker had heard the sound. It tittered on the edge of demented, but kept sane, a trait that made it all the more eerier. "Pam are you a whore?"

"Yeah, about as much as you're a prison inmate. My father is a businessman working with the Falcone crime family. I'm not very involved with them, honestly. Greedy bastards, but I saved their hide at some point in their life and they owe me, so when they found out that this Riddler guy was threatening a friend of mine, they called me up."

"How'd you do this? This was done too quickly!"

"Now that's a secret, but I'll give you hint. Since the mob gave the Riddler men they also removed two of them, namely the two that were supposed to be your true partners…and we stood in. We got all pretty to cause a stir." Harley grinned. "Why, ya don't like that the plan didn't go, uh, according ta plan?"

The man scowled, his bravery apparently returned without the gun pointed at his head. He began to rock in his chair violently. Pam stood across the room, with her arms crossed watching him with amusement.

"Awww, poor you. You're powerless against me."

"You think." He bit out and the hit was sudden. He had freed himself and his fist connected with the side of Harley's face.

He stood up, expecting her to screech, but she growled. She clutched the side of her face, her eyes dark. Pam made a move to restrain him again, but he jumped back and made a run for the door. Harley quickly let go of her face.

Three shots were fired and the man screamed, falling to the ground. Harley lowered the gun, now smoking in her hands. She tilted her head. "I know." She commented and slid off the table. She waltzed over to the man.

"Oh, c'mon, I just shot ya in the leg. It hurts more than it's injured. But, ya see, what you made me do? If someone," she leaned down and tapped him on head, "would have been more cooperative, they wouldn't have gotten hurt." She sighed, "But of course, you won't listen." She stood up back up and emptied the gun she had used.

"Now to get the rest of this done." She smiled to herself and reached into the top of her tank-top. She pulled her cell-phone from her bra. "Where no one would think to look." She muttered and flipped it open.

"You got anything else in there?" The Joker licked his lips.

"No." Was her clipped reply. She dialed the number.

"This is Harleen Quinzel," her voice sounded distressed, "I'm at Arkham Asylum and-"

Pam shot off her gun a few times--aiming at the ceiling. Harleen screamed and jolted across the room to stand beside the door. "Oh my god! There are guys here with guns. They're holding people hostage. I'm able to get out, but I have friends in there. Please, help them! Please!"

She smirked at the guy on the floor who was gritting his teeth. "Oh, okay…okay," she took a cleansing breath and seemed to calm slightly. "Thank you, oh please…I don't know what they want." She hung up and walked back to the man. "You gonna tell me what you know about the Riddler?"

"Listen lady, I don't know nothing. He just calls with a job and we do it." Harleen glared down at him. "You have his number?"

"You aren't getting it." Harleen cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not? What would you like to lose next? You're other leg? Your arm? Your," she pointed to his groin. He shook his head, she nodded.

"Yeah, yeah." She reached her hand out for Pam's gun, now sorry that she'd emptied her own. "OKAY! OKAY!"

"Good, you see, following orders is just so much easier."

She continued to point the gun at him as he fumbled through his pocket, pulled out his phone, and threw it to her. She ran through the numbers and grinned.

"Awww, 'Boss'…is that him? Cute that you actually put that."

"Yes!"

"Pam, come over here and make sure he doesn't move maliciously. If he does get rid of the rest of his limbs" She giggled and hit the Call button.

She walked back over to the table, turned the phone on speaker and set it down.

"Davis! What the hell is taking you so long?! You should be on your way here now with the girl!" Once again it was that mechanical voice, but Harleen smirked.

"Davis? So…that's his name. Evenin', Riddler."

"Harleen?"

"Yes, this is Harley Quinn speaking. Guess what I did?" She sing-songed the last part.

"You little—what have you done?"

"She just shot your Davis-guy in the leg, bub." The Joker declared excitedly. "Never seen a quicker draw in my life. Harley's got some skills."

"You shot him?"

"Oh, don't get your balls in a knot, I didn't kill him…there'd have been no fun in that…and the mess. No, don't a choice. But I turned the tables. You might be holding all of Arkham hostage, but you haven't gotten me. I took your little plan, Riddler, and I turned it on its head. You are a schemer, you have plans, and I'm just working to show you that its useless. I'll beat you every single time, you try and act. I'll give you props though…you must have been up all night trying to get me. Funny thing, with just an hour's worth of planning and discussion on the way here, I foiled you again. I believe that makes me a bishop now…and I'm about to take away all your knights…The police are on their way as we speak."

"Why can't you stay where you are? Why can't you submit like a good little girl?"

"Me?" She laughed, "I'm just having fun and trying to stop you. You offer that, ya know. You give me plans that I can turn upside-down. You're trying to take this city, for what purpose I don't know yet, but I will. I'll map your mind you, you…You narcissistic, bi-polar, scheming, arrogant bastard. You've challenged the wrong criminal psychiatrist, Mr. Riddler…I fight your plans with a randomness that rocks dynamic systems."

"You mean?"

Her eyes swept to the Joker, "Yes," she purred, "I mean chaos. I'm an Agent of Chaos. Surprise, surprise. You ever met a legal practitioner of the art? If not consider me your first. That's why I'm so annoying to you, but, uh, I'm also intriguing aren't I? You can't figure me out because I'm your anti-force. Who's gonna win? I'm serious about playing; are you? Stump me, Riddler, stump me good if you can. Goodbye…I got a hostage to gag, a note to leave. I've not finished my destruction of your plan just yet."

The Joker couldn't help the glint in his eyes at that. And the way that she had stared at him as if she was revealing a delicious secret. It was pure elation, pure pleasure. An Agent of Chaos…

She flipped the phone off just as the Riddler screeched loudly and she slid it across the floor, back to Davis. "Now to tie you up. Pam, you tied his hands too loosely before. I think more promising methods are in order."

"Sorry about that." Pamela replied.

Harley snickered and pulled a pair of hand-cuffs from her side.

"Dang you'll have to buy another pair now to cuff your numerous and exciting lovers. I'm sorry."

Pam grabbed Davis's hands. The man was being very cooperative now, even without the gun brandished at him. "Pfft, yeah but that leaves you with yours still. Now you can cuff the Joker whenever your pretty little head wants to."

Harleen sputtered. "You! Eww no!"

The Joker chuckled. "Are they fuzzy and pink? And am I going to get to cuff you after your turn?"

Harley clenched her fists. "Pam, that's not funny. I don't have handcuffs, and especially not fuzzy pink ones. And no, you'll never get to cuff me because I have no want to do that to you."

"Then, uh, doc, what's this?" He looked down at his wrists. Harley sighed and Pam stood up clapping her hands.

"Well, I didn't want you ruining what I was going to do. It was in the best interest of all involved if you were restrained. It was sudden call I made, fifteen minutes before I even left the house this morning." She wiped at her brow and winced. "I have a black-eye don't I?"

"No," Pam clucked and walked over to Harley. "But that's a nice bruise, reminds me of when we were in high school."

Harleen grinned, but it was pained. "Good times…good times." She looked around the room and saw her wig. "Well, Pam, we'd best get out of here, you have a class to teach and I, well, I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but something."

She leaned over to get the fake hair piece and her gray tank-top rode up slightly revealing another tattoo on the small of her back—a portion of it at least.

"Ohhh, what's that?" The Joker asked. Harley turned back to look at him and her eyes narrowed. "If you're-"

He smacked his lips. "I wasn't making some comment about your hind-quarters Ms. Quinzel," he said loftily, "but since you brought it up…Nice ass, I like it." His voice was dark. "Anyway, I was talking about your lovely little back art…I saw the design on your arm. Simple, yet unexpected. You never took me for one with a passion for tattoos, not that I don't like 'em. What's that on your back?"

Pam snickered. "A testament to you."

His mouth quirked. "Me? You a fan? And all this time you deny me. Harley-"

"It was a dare," she said standing up and pulling her shirt down deliberately. "I was drunk and Pam, over there dared me to get a Joker card—your signature one in fact—tattooed on my back with the words 'Agent of Chaos' embroidered in it. Long story short, I did it."

"I want to see it next time you're here, I want to see it closer. You owe me for not ratting you out."

"So you did know it was me. I figured as much, the way you acted…It was a giveaway."

The Joker grinned wolfishly, "If only you'd truly return my words like that. I enjoyed the show, too bad I couldn't have participated. So you're an Agent of Chaos?"

"Apparently so," she shrugged as if it was nothing big. "Sure made the Riddler piss his pants. Poor baby." She chuckled lowly.

Pam placed the gun in her green tank-top. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," she nodded and turned to Davis, "now you be good, I better not hear you gave anyone any more trouble."

She replaced her wig and mask as Pam did so as well and the two left the room. They were questioned no further as they claimed the Riddler was requesting they report to him. They both smirked beneath their deceiving disguises at the stupidity of the thugs and they escaped out onto the highway just as the police swarmed the building and the hostage situation ended with only one injury—Davis's gunshot wounds in the leg.

"Did you get that in the situation yesterday?"

Harleen glanced over at the secretary as she entered the building. She blushed lightly when she realized the woman was talking about her bruise, "Yeah, it still hurts too. But, at least it wasn't any worse."

"I hear that, I wonder what those men wanted." Harleen shook her head, although she knew quite well and had a discussion with Gordon not long after the building had been secured. "I don't know, but I bet the police are handling it. You're lucky you were off."

"Are you here to meet with the Joker? You're coming in later than usual."

"Yeah, I had a prior engagement earlier today, so I had to reschedule…at least that isn't a hard task to do with my patient." She smiled and took the slip of paper with the code on it. With a nod of thanks she left.

"I'd almost thought you forgot about me, doc."

Harleen shook her head at the Joker who was sitting placidly at the table, "No, I just had something to do earlier today. Having to answer questions and analyze criminals from yesterday is a hard task. But I'll not go back on my word to Mr. Arkham; I told him I'd take the Joker case so here I am."

"Then we have something in common, Dr. Quinn. We are both people of our words."

Well, this was strange; he'd not made a move at her yet. She sat down and stared at him a moment. "People of our words, huh? I seem to recall that you won't tell the truth about the origins of your scars. That doesn't sound like keeping your word to me."

"I could tell the truth, but where would be the fun in that? Besides keeping my word and telling the truth are two different things. So, did you have fun yesterday? You sure seemed to."

Harleen cocked an eyebrow, "If by having fun you mean ruining whatever the hell the Riddler was planning, than yes, it was blast, but the guy punching me in the face was not a lovely experience at all. Not at all."

The Joker smirked, "Yeah that does look like a nasty bruise. It hurt? You want me to kiss it and make it better?" He reached up, but Harleen smack his hand away. This was more like it. "Yes, it does…and no."

"What kind of guy hits a girl, especially one as little as you, in the face? That's rude, even to a guy like me."

"You wouldn't hit a girl?"

"Well, I wouldn't hit you. If you tied me up I wouldn't mind. And besides, you're not the one that tied him up." Harleen grunted in slight amusement, "I bet you'd love for me to tie you up, and while I'm at it do you have a request for the lingerie I should wear while I do it?"

"Who says you'd be wearing anything?"

Harleen shut her eyes for a moment and nodded, "Of course, should have known." Her voice was flat.

"When did you decide that matching my quips would help," the Joker asked, leaning on his hand, eyes alight, "because it doesn't." "Who says they're not, I happen to find myself better able to deal with the random, yet expected comments that fly from your mouth."

"And I find myself enjoying your company even more. I love it when you talk dirty with me." He waggled his eyebrows and his tongue swept along his lips.

"Do you need lip balm or something? You're always licking your lips." That action had caught her attention before, but she'd always lost grasp on the comment before it could be expressed.

"You seem very fixated on my tongue, Harley. Would like me to put it to another use?" He leaned forward and she instinctive leaned back, holding her chin up defiantly. "That's Dr. Harley to you." The Joker gave a musical sigh and returned to his original position. "I'm good, doc, my lips are fine. Thanks for the concern, though."

"I'm surprised they aren't chapped then."

"They aren't. They're very soft actually; you can touch them if you want." He puckered and Harleen shook her head, laughing. "I'll take your word for it, Mr. Joker."

"Is it the scars?" He asked, a quirk in his lips.

"No, really those aren't horrifying to see. I would think the pain was tremendous, but I've seen worse injuries in medical school."

"They, uh, don't bother you?"

Harleen shook her head again. "No. They're scarier with the make-up. That's why you wear it don't you. It's not to hide the scars, like those other doctors have proposed; it's to enhance them, isn't it? It really is like war-paint to scare people."

"Why do you have tattoos?" He didn't answer her question. She'd already answered it herself. Harleen shrugged, "The first I did as a rebellion to my parents when I was eighteen. The second I told you was a dare." She told him the honest answer because there was no reason she saw not to. What was the harm in it?

"Speaking of your lovely body paintings, I want to see the one on your back closer up. I think you owe me for yesterday. I was good."

Harleen nodded, He had behaved himself. "Okay," she was relieved that he had asked for something so simple. She removed her ivory lab coat, determined to allow him a quick look before turning back around. She didn't trust him that much. She turned around and began to lift the hem of her powder blue, blouse.

The Joker stealthily stood up after making sure he wouldn't have to scoot his chair back. He leaned over the table and watched as her lower back was revealed. He sucked on his scars as he examined the tattoo.

"It hurt?" He took in the intricate design that made up a replica of his signature card. And the black letters of the phrase "Agent of Chaos" were splendid. It was, for lack of better wording, utterly beautiful.

"Worse than the diamonds on my arms."

She stiffened when she felt one of his warm hands tracing the card. She tightened her body to turn around and smack his hand when the other came around her waist.

She squealed in surprise and fright when she was pulled backwards roughly. She was drawn over the table and against his chest. His other arm was then thrown across her own and held her even tighter against him. He chuckled softly and lightly patted the side of her head.

"You shouldn't have, uh, turned your back on me, Doc."

She frantically flailed against him, trying to get free. "Obviously!" Her voice was sarcastic.

He tightened his grip on her, "Such a fighter, and such a string-less puppet. Look what you've gotten yourself into. You shouldn't have trusted me. Didn't they warn you against my personality?"

"Of course."

"Then why, my little Harley Quinn, didn't you listen?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She didn't know, but like hell she was going to show how humiliated the situation was making her feel. Where had she gone wrong? Why had she even put an ounce of trust in him? Was it because he was civilized yesterday? That he had done nothing more than attempt to molest her previously? Had she been so easily deceived? She bit her lips and her eyes blazed.

"Well, you gonna to answer me?"

She gave a defiant grunt and kicked her legs, attempting, she supposed to gain some type of leverage on the table. She pulled her upper body forward as well, or at least attempted to do so. He laughed at her fruitless efforts. She felt the vibrations of his chest behind her and that struck an idea. She was able to limitedly move her arms, but it was enough. She jammed her elbow into his chest.

The Joker winced; he had expected some resistance, but hadn't expected her to be this good. He instinctually loosened his grip, a little proud of her and that's when she acted even more unexpectedly. Any of his previous psychiatrists would have tried to then escape his grip and make it to the panic-button.

Harley instead wedged herself sideways, in doing so letting up her offensive tactic. This confused him, but with confusion came irrefutable intrigue. What was she doing? He tightened his grip again, unintentionally helping her progress in her plan as she turned to face him, her legs ending up dangling on either side of his hips.

Now doctor and patient—captive and captor—were face-to-face. He stared down at her, into the dark glare of her eyes. He'd never seen her that angry. For Harleen, embarrassment at one's own folly brings out an unmatchable ire.

"I swear," she said vehemently, "if you don't let me go right now, I will tear into your jugular with my bare teeth."

He blinked and then smiled widely. There was an indescribable swelling in his chest. "I think- I think, I love you for that," his tone came off joking, but in his mind, he was anything but. He released her, surprising her, but quickly cupped her face in his hands—careful of her bruise—and leaned forward. Without further ado he kissed her soundly on the lips long enough to be more than chaste, but over swiftly enough to rob her of time to react.

She stared at him blankly for a moment, adrenaline rushing through her being. She blinked, but finally forced words to form. "You've got some nerve."

He was still close to her, "I have nerve? And what about you? You fight and threaten me; a man they say has no empathy for anyone. You don't call that nerve?" He leaned forward again and stared into her eyes, noticing with glee that she didn't even attempt to move away. Her fury may have had a role to play in that as she stared back at him coldly.

"Get away from me," her voice was drenched in burning coals. It sent a pleasant shiver down the Joker's spine.

"Why," he purred in her ear, all giddy joking gone from his voice, "I love it when you're rough. It makes my blood boil." He brought his arms up and wrapped them around her waist and buried his nose in her neck.

Harleen's face flushed. In the back of her mind a hazy voice kept pleasant commentary, 'You've never been so doted on by any guy. No one's ever gotten this close, this affectionate.' Then the other voice, the real Harleen—or so it professed to be, 'He's touching you! A mad man, a liar, a murderer…if a guard walks by…should fight back…'

"Harley, Harley, Harley." She felt the movement of his lips against her skin, the scrape of stubble and the irregularity of the raised skin of his scars. 'Push him away!' The proper voice entreated. He inhaled. She bit her lip and clenched her fists. Lust, lust for the bad boy, that's all this was. She was a doctor and this was inappropriate! This was her patient and beyond that the Joker! He was manipulating her, all for some twisted enjoyment. He couldn't feel. He didn't really like her. He—he ran his nose a little further up her neck.

She was Harleen Quinzel; she was not some girl that would be turned to putty by wiles. She hoped he didn't hear her shaky breath, but she had to compose herself. All he was doing was breathing on her and that was nothing, at least to Harleen as she worked to stuff away the butterflies it caused her. This wasn't making any sense! She didn't like him! She despised him and his incessant attempts to fluster her (they were working now!) and all the degrading phrases he had said to her. He was pig! A scar-faced, childish, intelligent pig! And yet with each moment she didn't fight him back, she wondered what it caused him to think.

"Get away from me! Stop this!" Suddenly she was struggling again, trying to extricate herself from his embrace. She continued to thrash even as she cringed at how distressed her voice sounded—it gave away her conflicted mind, it was a dead giveaway. The pleasant voice was reprimanding her. What if he simply stopped? Her gut clenched. Did she want him to play just as rough, fight her, and find her out? Find out what? She wanted out, she didn't want his affections! Why would she? What did the Joker have that she wanted?

"Aw, c'mon, babe. The guards won't be coming for at least another ten minutes. And only sooner if you scream…" Boldly—when was he anything less—he licked the tender flesh along her jaw line and she shivered against it. She then redoubled her struggle. "If," she began, finding composure in her voice once more, "I were to let you win this easily where would the standards go for our next encounters?"

The Joker smirked, "Are you implying you're wanting to let me win, Harley?" He placed a small kiss at the curve of her jaw, near her ear. It was tender, as if he was trying to soothe her. She winced against the flutter in her stomach and punched his chest, hard. "You are so vain!" She pushed herself as far away as she could. She was a gymnast, how the hell was he this strong?! She barely gained an inch. 'You've met your match, you shouldn't complain. Doesn't he make you feel good?' There was the deceptive voice again. She gritted her teeth. Her human lusts would not win her over. She knew what was right and justified and this was not it.

"You're not going to take advantage of me! You're my patient, nothing more! I will not go against protocol just for your enjoyment." She felt her voice rise. "I don't even vaguely like you, you freak!" For the first time in her life she was helpless, but it was in that moment her pride and anger lashed out. But it was all for naught, somewhere something whispered denial, told her that this moment with the Joker was both exhilarating and extremely frightening. She thrashed like a caged animal, she had to get away; she just had to.

With a chuckle he let her go. She had called him a freak, but unlike most that had done little to anger him. It was actually endearing. Harleen Quinzel was hiding behind rules, rules that if she just broke she could be free. Freedom with him, he liked the sound of that. And he saw she wanted to let go; sure the hints were subtle and few, but they were sufficient enough.

Harleen hadn't seen the action coming at all, and she landed on her butt as her support drew back and force caused her to lose her balance on the table. She glared up at him and swiftly rose to her feet, dusting herself off.

"You're right, doc, shouldn't rush things. If I gave it all up now, what would keep you coming back for more?" He smiled innocently and straightened his shirt. He sat back down calmly and stared at her with, was that smugness?

He saw her face color in anger. 'Let it out,' he mentally whispered, 'show me the extent of your chaos.' He didn't question the zeal he gained in seducing her and the want he had of her returning the teasing, oh if only she did…He was an agent of chaos and he went with the flow. He wasn't thinking of consequences, just the moment. He would enjoy this, even as gut told him something was different with this lust, something major. Chaos, he'd take it, enjoy it, and not care.

She was devastatingly beautiful. He knew she had every potential to be Eris's protégé, and he wanted her for his own. Her mouth was pursed as she composed herself and fixed her ruffled clothing. Her baby blues bore into him. They were chilling, but he met them placidly with a small smile.

Some scathing remark built up in her lungs and she placed her hands on her hips as she opened her mouth. The Joker smirked, here it came, the grand mal.

Darkness; the lights went off, and the whole Asylum went eerily silent. The Joker stared at the place Harleen stood, but heard nothing that denoted fright or distress. She was good, but any further thoughts were interrupted by the sound of air passing through the door to the room. He heard Harley move slightly and inhale. Of course, someone stalking the dark would frighten her.

The lights came back on and there he stood. The Joker broke into a wide grin.