Author's Note: Hey everyone, sorry for the delay. I know I promised a nice long chapter but the past two weeks have been ridiculous. After this weekend though we should be back on track. So until then, here's a very Joker-filled chapter to hold you over.

I'd also like to give a shoutout to Moko-Moko Monster who just published their very first JokerxHarley fic a few hours ago and asked me to review it. It's called 'Call Me Crazy'. So when you're all done here and still want some more Joker, head on over and read it :)

Harley locked up her office and began her trip up to max. sec.

It had been a week since her first session with the Joker. Less since her guest appearance on basic max. sec. followed by her brain rattling courtesy of Victor.

Joan had reprimanded her for her lapse in judgment.

"It could've happened to anyone." She had argued.

After much going back and forth, Joan had finally agreed to let Harley continue her sessions with the Joker, only because there was no one else who could take him on.

She hadn't seen Eddie since the attack. After he brought her to the infirmary, Dr. Hower had paged him back to max. sec.

Now, heading to another session with the Joker, she was once again thinking about the things he had said to her. The fact that she had forgone her glasses did not go unnoticed by her coworkers. No doubt the Joker would notice as well.

They were having a staring contest. Harley was waiting for the Joker to get impatient and say something. The Joker was content to sit and stare at the pretty doctor, unnerving her and revealing her secrets all at once. Harley resisted the urge to scratch an itch on her nose. She remained still, only blinking occasionally. The Joker sporadically ran his tongue along the insides of his mouth, never blinking. As the tingling and tickling got stronger, Harley's fingers began to twitch as she tried to restrain them from reaching up and scratching her nose. Eventually, she could hold out no longer.

"Where are your glasses, doc?" He asked when she finally scratched her nose.

She adjusted her papers, avoiding answering his question. She didn't need to encourage him. She needed to distract him with something shiny. Luckily, an idea had come to her during their little staring contest.

"I'd like to talk about the Batman." She said, looking up at him.

He let out a peal of laughter, pulling on his restraints, the chains rattling against the metal chair. The sound reverberated against the walls and crashed into Harley's ears. It still ran an abnormally exhilarating chill down her spine.

"You remind me a lot of Batman. You both take yourselves so seriously. You need to learn to smile." He licked his lips and pushed his hair back. "Do you ever smile, doc?"

"Of course." She answered, not sure where he was going with this.

"Do you ever mean it?" He pressed.

She thought about the false smile she had given Charlie. That was the last time she had smiled. Sure she smiled almost every day, but she couldn't recall the last time she had meant it. Is that bad? She thought. Best not to think about it, not now at least.

"Do you think Batman ever smiles?" She countered.

The Joker ran his tongue along the inside of his scars and regarded Harley with a sideways look. She was deflecting. She learned quickly. At this rate, they weren't going to get anywhere. He would just have to outmaneuver her.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" Leaning back, he continued before she could respond.

"My father was a very serious man." He began slowly. "He went to work, came home, ate dinner, fucked his wife and went to bed. He never took pleasure in anything he did… until the circus."

Harley sat up and began jotting this down quickly. As her eyes followed the words she wrote, he watched her mirthfully. Her naiveté was sickening yet somehow still endearing. When she stopped writing, he continued.

"When the Ringling brothers came to town, dad loaded us all up in the family car and we went down to the big top. Dad was serious through the entire show. You woulda thought he was watching someone do their taxes. But when the clowns came out, I heard a sound I had never heard before in my life. My father was laughing!" The Joker said, as if he still didn't believe it. His mood shifted quickly. "I became insanely jealous. All my life, all I ever wanted was to make my father smile; to see him show some sort of appreciation for me. No matter what I did, his face never changed. Now here these strangers were making him laugh like he did it every day!"

He was visibly hurt. Sorrow and anger fought for control across his face. Then he regained his composure and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"For the next few weeks, I practiced the clowns' routine in secret. I taught myself to juggle, to do all the physical gags I had seen them do. I even stole a pair of my father's pants so I'd have something big enough to hide my tricks in: the never ending handkerchief, the bike horn the water spritzer.

Then one day, while my dad was reading the paper, I came in and put on my own little circus for him. My performance went off without a hitch. I ran around and tripped over my own feet, I honked my horn and sprayed myself with water, I pulled the hankies out of dad's pants. If PT Barnum were there, he woulda given me a job on the spot."

Harley was giggling uncontrollably at the image of a young Joker running around his living room performing all these crazy stunts. A shadow fell over the Joker's face and Harley quieted herself. She had a feeling his story was about to take a sad turn.

"When I was finished, my father folded his paper, stood up and walked right past me without a word."

"That's awful!" Harley said, her voice thick with heart break at the Joker's disappointing story. How could a father be so cold? She thought. Then again, she already knew.

"I was so angry with him!" He continued, becoming more animated with each sentence. "Wasn't I a good enough clown? Didn't I smile big enough for him?

"So I ran into the bathroom, took a razor from his shaving kit and did this," He turned his face to showcase his scars, "and I rushed out to my dad. 'Look, dad!' I said. 'Are you happy now?'"

Harley was a little sick at the Joker's impetuous action. The Joker began to break into a fit of laughter as he continued his story. He laughed harder and harder, teary eyed as he reached the punch line of his own joke.

"And the joke is: when he turned and saw my mangled, bloody face, he was so horrified it gave him a heart attack!" He cackled with sheer delight. "He died right there on the kitchen floor! I reached down, and with the razor I had used, I cut his face to match mine. So you see doc, I finally made my father smile!"

Harley's face filled with shock and horror as she imagined the final interaction between the Joker and his father. Upon seeing the typical human reaction, the Joker let out the loudest, longest laugh she had ever heard.

Even when he had stopped, his laughter continued to follow her down the hallways as she hurried back to her office. It echoed in her head as she typed up her first report on him. It seemed to chase her up the stairs as she climbed the floors leading to her apartment. No matter where she was, it was right there behind her.

For the next few weeks, that laughter haunted her. While interviewing patients, it seemed to grow louder as they described the most horrible acts of violence. When she was alone, she could hear his voice echoing the words he had spoken that day. Every day it got worse. It drowned out all of her thoughts, and she could barely hear it when someone was talking to her. She knew he would drive her insane, but that didn't seem to bother her. In a way she knew it would happen eventually. What concerned her was the fact that she was enjoying it.