CHAPTER SIX

"I could hear the sizzle and crackle of the fuse; I was filled with combustibles and it was only a matter of time, a mere question of how long and how much more I could take before the final explosions rang out…"

She felt horrible, thus she felt she must also look horrible, but she didn't give a damn. She leaned her head against the steel door and tiredly pressed the code. She groaned silently and righted herself as it opened and stepped in. Honestly, she shouldn't have come.

Four hours of sleep made her a ball of chaos, literally. She wasn't sure what would come out of her mouth once she began speaking. She hated having little sleep; she could function, but she'd rather not.

Her eyes glanced up and she frowned deeply. She really shouldn't have come. One look at the Joker and it was insult to injury. Memories of yesterday and of her dreams assaulted her and she brought a hand to her head, as if to rub them out of her mind.

"Damn it," she muttered, but forced herself to sit down and face the man. She managed to stop massaging her head and took a deep breath.

"Mornin', doc." He twittered cheerfully.

She grunted and turned her recorder on in her pocket, like she did before the beginning of every session. He blinked and leaned back a little to take in her full appearance. She was wearing a pair of tan slacks, a square-necked forest blouse, her coat, and her hair was down. She was radiant, but something was disrupting her usual aura.

"Bad night?" He posed, seeing the dark circles under her eyes.

"You could say that," she mused flatly.

He grinned, "Now, now, don't take it out on me. I'm not the one that made you lose sleep." He licked his lips, "Or was I? I dream of you too, Dr. Quinn. I dream of all the chaos we could cause, just you, me, and-"

'…perhaps your bed.' The thought finished in her mind, repeating her dream, so she didn't catch what his final words actually were. She glared down at the table, cheeks red. "Please, dream of you…only in my nightmares."

"Sleep deprived and yet still saucy," he snickered. "So what did you dream about that's got your panties all in a bunch?"

Harleen raised her head back up and glared at him. "That is none of your business. I'm already angry with myself enough about it."

"Well, obviously it was unpleasant." He pushed up his imaginary glasses and in a faux-professional tone asked, "And how does that make you feel?"

"Doesn't matter; we're here because of you not me." She almost cut him off. She winced at her snappish voice. Had lack of sleep really done this to her? She groaned, and she felt the ache settle in her bones—that heavy tiredness that embraces a person and drains them to the point it feels as if they want to die in order to recover.

"I'm sorry." She said as an afterthought, thinking that her tone was far more bitter than she'd intended. She was too tired, everything was a jumble. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"You're sorry?" She heard the giggle in his voice. "What are you sorry for?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to get your kicks elsewhere. I'm tragically out of character today."

"You sure you're not just still mad at me for yesterday?" Harley snorted at the question. "Am I still mad at you? That's like asking if the sky's blue. I am beyond pissed with you." To herself she added, 'but more at myself for just letting it happen…besides, I can't help that I'm just hot like that.' Inwardly she giggled at that thought.

"Would you like me to apologize? I wouldn't mean it, but if it would make you feel better…Besides if you're so angry with me, why am I still unrestrained?" He raised an eyebrow at her. He loved her pride. She wanted to seem so in control. Her confidence most of the time was enthralling.

Harleen deflated and her head fell on the table. "I am so tired…so not needing this right now, but it's not like I can just skip on work because I had a nightmare, really…I mean, was it so bad? No."

The Joker listened to her. "Um, are you talking to yourself? That's a bad sign, especially when you're also answering yourself." To go along with his invisible glasses he wrote onto an invisible clipboard, vocalizing his air scribbles, "Patient appears to be progressing into an inner world of which only she is a part. Further study will be needed to determine if this phenomenon will progress into multiple personality disorder."

When she didn't respond to his joking he reached forward and patted her head. "Sleep, Dr. Quinzel." He said softly and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. She shot up and batted his hand away. "Don't touch me." She muttered "And go to sleep with you in the room? No! I'll wake up defiled."

The Joker sighed. "I thought we've been through this. I don't do rape." Harleen rolled her eyes. "Whatever, I'd still wake up without pants." The Joker scooted back in his seat and puckered his lips in thought. He tilted his head. "No, why would I do that? It's no fun taking your pants off when you're asleep; it's much more fun trying to get them off of you awake."

"That's it! Can you not just for one day give me a damn break?! I come in here and I listen and deal with your advances every fucking day! You've flirted lewdly with me, you've attempted to grope me, you've kissed me, and I don't know what you'd call licking my jaw, but you did that! And I getting tired of it! Just leave me alone for one day! Tell me your life story or something, but give me a break! I deal with enough of this shit from every other guy and I don't need it from you! Damn why are you so persistent?"

"Why are you so stubborn?"

She tilted her head sharply, her eyes boring into his coldly. He blinked. She was serious, absolutely serious. Her voice hadn't been joking and her expression was steel. She was reaching the end of her nerves today. Yet, it was too tempting. What would she do if he gave her one more push?

"Sleep deprivation does you wonders, doc…you're still so interesting. You still make my blood boil," he saw her frown grow thinner, "but fine." He threw up his hands in surrender. "You want to know how I really got these scars?"

She cocked an eyebrow. She seriously doubted that it would be the truth. "Why not? I doubt you did it for your wife, not that I don't doubt you were ever married, but your scars aren't warrant enough to leave. If I was her, the scars wouldn't matter. And your father, now that one is plausible."

"The scars wouldn't matter?" He asked curiously, following her first train of thought. Harleen shook her head. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you will anyway so…You're not unattractive. The scars are there, but I'd call them a war wound if anything when I told the story."

"Well, at least you're somewhat attracted to me." He twittered. He heard her mutter negatively, but leaned back further. "My scars…my family loved to travel, you see, and of course when I could I would tag along." He smiled. "The lands we saw were beautiful, but nothing compares to you, Harley—anyway," he continued quickly, yet enjoyed the light blush she thought he wouldn't notice. If only she'd let go. He shut his eyes at the thoughts invoked by that one wish. "Anyway, one day we were traveling through some country and I, now I was just maybe eight at the time, I wanted to have some fun. So while my mother and father were speaking to a street vender I snuck away.

"I walked down the street and that's when I saw it." The Joker hunched down and stared into Harleen's eyes. "I saw a beautiful necklace. The jewels were as blue as your eyes, stunning, and I knew I wanted to give it to my mom, but I didn't have enough money. I doubt my entire family did, but I wanted it so I went up and paid for a basket of fruit. While the guy was getting the goods together I swiped the necklace, alright?"

Harleen felt the dread rising in her stomach, even if this wasn't the true story he had a way with the words. Without the threat of a knife at her lips, she was enthralled, waiting for him to continue. "You took the necklace?"

The Joker smiled, "Yeah, and the man didn't suspect a thing until I began walking away and the thing falls outta my pocket. And I stand there and look guilty, but the man…oh, he's furious. He runs up to me, grabs the necklace and then pulls me close. I'm near tears as he hisses in my face, 'So the little boy wants to tell lies does he? Think it's funny to deceive people, does he?' I try to apologize, but I'm scared. That's when he pulls out the knife he used to cut the fruit he gave me and I dropped the basket, its contents falling on the ground. He then sticks the blade in my mouth."

Harleen still heard his words as he spoke, but she was transported back to her dream with the faceless, formless Riddler. "His voice was even angrier as he went on now, 'Well, since you find it funny to tell lies, we'll just make it so everyone can see how happy you are.' I feel the blade against the corner of my mouth and he laughs. 'This will teach you!' And then he'-"

Harley screamed and clutched her cheek, shaking. Her suddenly reaction even caught the Joker off guard. He jumped before regarding her in shock. "Now, doc, I don't think I need that much pity…"

Tears were falling down her eyes as she shook her head. "I-I-that's not it. I just-sorry." Damn it! Her emotions were shambles today. She placed her head in her heads, and tried to calm down. "You're being stupid, Harley, it was just a dream…that was it…just a dream. You're letting the Riddler get to you too deeply. 'Has the red jester fallen for the black joker?' Ha." She muttered, but it was strident enough in a room containing only two people.

The Joker stared at her intently, not intensely, but with enough interest that it was prolonged. When she raised her head, her tears now controlled, she saw him. He had been silent since her outburst, no smart comment, no laughter. Her fear morphed into anger, her curiosity to ire. "What?"

"I heard what you said," he stated, but he placed a hand under his chin. Harleen shrugged, "So, what did I say that you're acting like this?" The Joker licked his lips deviously, "Oh you've just revealed to me more than you'll ever know. The red jester has fallen for the black joker, has she?" Harleen froze, her face caught for a moment in confusion then horror. "The-shit! I was thinking out loud!" She hadn't realized she had verbalized any of that. She shook her head, "It was just a dream…the Riddler just said it off-handedly," she lied, "before he pulled a knife on me. I remember the tug on my right cheek. I woke up screaming, but that's no matter, it was a dream. I'm just letting him get to me. I didn't even understand the dream until I woke up yelling."

She was making excuses. Her emotions were glass in her sleepless state. She was an open book to the Joker now, and perhaps she didn't realize it, but the Joker was enjoying this. She was lying, poorly lying. The dream had a profound effect on her. The Joker chewed on his cheek, taking in her flustered appearance, a beautiful fright. Yet, he strangely wanted her to calm down.

On her this fear wasn't delicious. It bothered him. The Riddler wouldn't dare touch her; he wouldn't allow it. He may have been in Arkham, but every professional criminal still had his/her connections and he certainly did. Through Arkham, in the streets, in the Gotham Police Department, he had men that would follow his orders, except perhaps setting him free from this house, not that he wanted freedom just yet. The answer to why that was sat across from him. He wanted her pliant before he went, and he would give her that time. It wouldn't be long, her tactless self told him that. The conflict in her mind was palpable.

Was the red jester falling for the black joker? Yes, and he wouldn't let her be scared. He would protect her. No one else would come near his Harley.

"The Riddler won't touch you if he values his life." He stated seriously. Harleen stared up at him in surprise at his confidence. "You don't think, so?" Her voice was a bite of disbelief.

"I don't think, I know."

"The guy threatens me with every letter he sends. If the police can't do anything, then how do you expect to stop him from in here? I'm flattered you want to, though, despite how useless the gesture is."

She didn't even attempt to be sorry for her caustic words; plain and simple she wasn't. Why would he care? He didn't, she told herself and turned away, gritting her teeth.

"Harley-"

"Dr. Quinzel."

He sighed, "Dr. Quinzel, I may be in here, but I have people that still work for me. Just because the Joker's locked up doesn't mean he's confined."

Her heart fluttered in her chest, but she ignored it. "I'll deal," she said and leaned back. "I'm mad enough about that dream. I mean it was just a dream, why was I so scared of it? Let the Riddler give me your smile…He'd regret it."

The Joker nodded, "He would." It was a dark promise. If that man tried anything, he'd be shown what comes of messing with the Joker. "There's already one person walking around with my signature expression, me. I really don't think Gotham's prepared for another, and it would be a pity to see your beautiful face scarred, not that," he straightened his posture, "I would mind, I'd still like ya."

"To someone like you," Harleen pondered softly, "I'm not surprised." She said nothing about his statements, his continued flirts. Her head was beginning to throb both from lack of sleep and the losing battle she was having in her mind. Her stomach churned in thrill at the underlying meaning behind his words. They were true; to one who was scarred physically, and perhaps even, she dared a glance at him, emotionally what matter would another's make? They could accept more easily, accept because they knew a darker world. She shut her eyes.

"What are you hiding now, Harley? Fear? What secrets are you concealing behind those lids?"

Harleen smiled ruefully, "More than I'll ever tell you."

"We'll see, maybe one day you'll tell me." He linked his hands together. "But don't you worry about the Riddler…He touches you and he'll pay for it, you'll see. Harley," he reached over and quickly took her hands in his, "I'm very, how you say, protective when it comes to my things, people should know better than to harm them."

Harleen felt his grip, it was firm, but as soon as it slackened she pulled back fast, staring up at him in awe, and she regretted it, she knew it was approval as she cuddled her hands. That look revealed her inner war, and the side that was currently winning. She cursed silently, 'Please let him have not seen that.'

But he had, and it caused him a small impish smile. So was that what she was hiding? His jester was coming around, his jester whose freedom he could never take. She was his, he felt it, but she was also her own. Did that mean he was hers? He squelched that thought for another time as he watched her maneuver in her chair.

He glanced at the clock. "You get good sleep tonight, doc. You may be fun without any, but it's not entertaining to see you so perturbed. I'd help you sleep, but I'm here, unfortunately."

Harley stood up, "I don't think we'd agree on the method you'd try and use. Tomorrow, then."

She opened the door stepped out into Arkham's Halls, but she was too sluggish. The Joker's final words reached her fluently.

"Doc, how lewd! Ya know, saying a thing like that makes me think perhaps you wouldn't fight back so much!"

She flushed darkly, happy she was no longer in the room, as she heard his rumbling laughter. She gave an embarrassed smiled to the people passing her in the halls and rubbed her head. This state was not healthy for her. All she wanted to do was go home and nap for the rest of the-

Her phone vibrated against her side. She pulled it out and wanted to scream at the name on the screen.

Commissioner Gordon.

"Hello?" She answered politely, not allowing her frustration to leak into her tenor.

"Dr. Quinzel, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but the Riddler's sent another letter…and…it's written personally to you."

Harleen glared ahead as she walked into the front lobby. Was this honestly necessary? The Commissioner sounded concerned, but who wouldn't be with a new criminal threatening the streets? But still-

"Well, that's not anything new. What does this new letter say?"

"I don't want to alarm you, but I think you should come down as soon as you can and read it yourself."

Those words never should have been uttered. Harleen was edgy as soon as he had told her his wish not to worry her. She allowed none of that to color her voice, nonetheless. "What does it say?"

The Commissioner was quiet, "It's best you read it yourself. When I say personally addressed, I mean it Ms. Quinzel. He's no longer talking to us. He's talking to you only…and he's not playing kiddy games anymore. He's become very serious, very fast."

Harleen bit her lip. She saw her car a few feet ahead. Her legs didn't seem to move fast enough, now as adrenaline awoke every nerve in her body, pushing her weariness away.

"I'm on my way."

She shut the phone not even bothering to wait for his farewell and stuffed it in her pocket as she unlocked her car door.

The screech of her tires was high in the quiet parking lot as she sped off. What did the letter say? It had to be bad. Harleen shivered as she recalled how uncertain Gordon's voice had sounded. She no longer questioned why any longer, but with that answered came more inquiries, each more disturbing that the last popped into her head.

He grinned as he caught sight of her small figure passing his tinted windows. He easily got out of the car and waved the driver away as he shut the door. He sprinted towards the woman, an interested look on his face. He'd told her he'd find out.

"Dr. Quinzel!" He called and caught up with her as she stopped and turned to stare at with a thin smile.

He gave her a suave grin, but her own superficial expression unnerved him slightly, normally the girl was a slate of calm, but he could feel the distress wafting off her. Her eyes were darkly ringed and a slight weariness dulled the normally bright orbs. "You okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah," and it was obvious she wasn't. Inwardly he grinned, had the news of his personal letter affected her so deeply? "You seemed in a hurry and you look stressed." Harleen chuckled softly, "You could say that. It's just the Riddler. He sent another letter. So what brings you here, Mr. Nashton?"

She was being polite, but Edward could see her anxiety clearly. Her eyes glanced to the side. He held out his arm, "I'll tell you as I escort in, milady." Harleen gave a more genuine smile and took his offered arm and the duo began walking again. "I told the Commissioner I'd come and answer some questions sometime this week, today just worked out. It's quite a coincidence to also run into you."

Harleen nodded, apparently not in the mood for much chatter on her part. Edward, however, did not want the silence. "You work on this Riddler case with the police…why hasn't more been found or done about him? This isn't looking good on the record, you know? What exactly is slowing the police down? I'd be a little incensed at the lack of action. This guy is dangerous, right, and he's still walking the streets. That is not a comforting thought, let me tell you."

"I understand the concern, Mr. Nashton, but you must also understand that the Riddler is elusive. He leaves nothing to trace back to a person. His letters are taped, typed, stamped, and eloquent. He doesn't want to be found. He wants to prove his intelligence to the world. I think he has a secret vendetta against Gotham." Harleen replied.

The two were walking down the various halls in the police department building in order to reach the lower levels where the newly re-built Major Crimes Unit was situated. Edward stared ahead, his mouth pursed. Damn woman always had to be on the ledge of discovery. Yes, he wanted to prove his intelligence against the peons of Gotham, and yes he held a vendetta for the city that laughed at his hypotheses and denied his research. He restrained himself from causing harm to the woman he was leading to the MCU. It would be too hard to get away with that, no matter how much he wanted to do it.

In good time, Edward…In good time…

"No one's ever seen him? Not even the thugs from the Arkham heist?"

Harley shook her head, "No, he was just a garbled voice on the phone line for them." Edward tsked, but he truly wanted to laugh. This was too rich! He felt like a wolf parading in a herd of sheep, all of them too stupid to realize the disguise, but he had to admit to himself: his acting was damn good! He casted a long glance her way and smirked minutely; and soon she would see just how serious he was, but for now the entrance of the MCU was before them.

"You're visit is much more pressing than mine," he bowed releasing her arm. "You can speak to them first, besides, I'm a gentleman. Ladies first always."

He sat down as she walked to the front desk and waved her I.D. from Arkham. He couldn't wait to see her face after reading his threat. He chuckled at her retreating back.

'Quite a coincidence that you're here too; a little too much of a coincidence,' Harleen thought glancing from the corners of her eyes as she entered Lt. Hawkins office. She glad she was out of the man's presence. He was just too charming, too innocent—it unnerved her, and she had no doubt the man knew it.

Gordon stood to the left, against a wall as she fully appeared in the room, the door closing behind her. She nodded her head. "I'll not waste time with formalities. What's the creep done now?"

The Commissioner held out the latest postcard silently his gray eyes revealing the gravity of the letter. Harleen swiped it, and opened it.

She sat down at a glance at the first line, the greeting. It was addressed to her. Her eyes scanned the body, and with each line her pulse increased.

Drop out of this game while you can…

I will not hesitate to take you out personally if your foolhardiness does not stop…

And I will know when you receive it, Harley…

A little advice, though…I wouldn't dare, personally…

Such a simple sentence structure and yet Harleen clearly felt the animosity of the man she was tracking. He was becoming desperate, his riddle revealed that. It was not easy to figure out. The twinge of her head made itself known again. The hand holding the letter fell into her lap and she closed her eyes. Why now? Hadn't she had enough for the day?

This was ridiculous…this was—she felt tears slip from her lids. She was scared. He was going to take something from her. Something that she knew was going to hurt. Who or what was his target? She felt helpless, her mind refused to decipher the puzzle of text on the manuscript. She couldn't do anything, nothing.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and her throat sputtered as she opened her eyes and witnessed Jim Gordon on his knees in front of her. The look on his face told her he had experience in the position she was in. His life, his family's lives had been threatened before.

"I can't figure it out…and he's going to act tomorrow. I need sleep…I didn't need this. What am I going to do?" Her voice was small. She felt like a little child. She wiped at her eyes angrily. Damn it! She hated feeling so vulnerable, so useless. Jim's hand fell to her own. "We'll help. If we can, we'll stop this guy before he strikes." Harleen nodded at him and the smiling Hawkins, but in her heart she knew the timeline was too short. A riddle such as this would not be solved in a day.

The colors of her life were draining away…

She shuffled into her apartment, her face and spirit haggard. She deposited all her belongings in their proper place and crawled into her bed.

The Joker was to blame for this! If he hadn't licentiously attacked her yesterday the dream would have never been and she would have had sleep and maybe she wouldn't be at such a disadvantage. She growled, but even as she thought those horrible thoughts, she knew they weren't true. The Joker didn't know, he was just out for a reaction, he wasn't trying to her hurt like this, and he had been less agitating today, and had actually shown some sympathy for her, fake or not. She shut those thoughts off before they could consume again, and it amazingly worked. Yet, it left her open to ponder the letter, the threat, and how once again how powerless she was. She had failed.

She fell asleep crying, her body too tired to keep her awake even as she despaired.

The Riddler would strike the next day, take a precious something from her. He was out for blood and pain, and he would get it. She wouldn't be able to do anything! Edward knew this and as he was driven away from the MCU he reveled in the feeling of victory. This jackpot was his. He clapped his hands together and broke out into a chilling, raucous laugh painted black with insanity. His driver shivered, but said nothing as the night engulfed them.

Riddle me this, riddle me that…who's afraid of the big, black, bat? Even he would be nothing against him. The Riddler really had won, because Bruce Wayne was no closer to solving the riddle than Harleen or the police were.

The morning would be painted with blood, but would it bring death? Would it just be a fright? Or would a bomb be set off that would shape the story from this moment on? Perhaps all of those would happen, only the crimson morning would reveal that. The present night was silent, uncertain, giving no answers.