Author's Note: As promised, here is your shorter chapter, sooner. Things have taken a turn here and I must warn that the beginning of this chapter is for Mature readers only. And for those of you who were wondering where that riddle was, it was at the end of chapter 5. So now you have the answer, you can go back and find out what the question was, haha. Please Enjoy!

Harley stood in her bathroom, examining her neck in the mirror. The Joker had definitely left his mark on her. She touched the bruise gingerly. Her skin felt hot, as if he had burned his handprints into her flesh, branding her for all to see that she belong to him.

But did he feel that way? She asked herself. Was it just another violent act from a formidable man or had he really done it with the intent of marking his territory?

She had told no one about their close encounter, and she didn't plan to. If anyone knew that he had attacked her, they would take her off his case immediately. Luckily, she had not run into anyone in the time between their session and her departure from the building. Tomorrow though, she would have to use every ounce of concealer she owned to cover the bruises. Lord knows it was too hot to wear a turtleneck.

Harley placed her fingers over the clear outlines of the Joker's hands. Hers looked like children's hands compared to his. This notion made her feel safe, as if his big, strong hands--though around her throat--would protect her from harm.

She closed her eyes and replayed the brutal events in her mind. As clear as day, she could see those dark, yet somehow human eyes watching her every struggled breath. She could almost feel his weight on top of her. Instinctively she ground her hips upward, as if trying to get ever closer to him. Removing one hand from her neck, she slid it, trembling, down over her breast and continuing down the length of her stomach.

Her other hand pressed tighter and tighter across her throat as she watched him in her mind, squeezing the life out of her. It was at that point that he had stopped, but now, in her memory, she replayed the previous scene again.

Harley had deftly unbuttoned her skirt and slid her hand beneath her panties. She rubbed softly at first, but as she repeated the scene in her head, her strokes and small circles became larger and more fevered. A soft moan escaped her lips and rose louder with each gasping breath. As her excitement rose, and it seemed she could not move any faster, she let out one long, exultant cry. She then slowly released her hand from her throat and the other from between her thighs. Her whole body shaking, she slid down the wall she had been leaning against. Her breath still heavy, she opened her eyes and looked around at her bathroom in a mix of disappointment and satisfaction.

Harley sat in the large leather chair Dr. Crane had left in the office that was now hers. It had been almost a year and she had yet to break it in. It was thus added to the list of things in her office that she could not break in to, the top of the list including the file drawer in her desk that she tried to open on her first day.

At present, Harley was trying to find the right way to open her latest report on the Joker. Every attempt to create an opening paragraph only resulted in little hearts with J+H written on them and a rather accurate sketch of the Joker's eyes and mouth. She had drawn the extremely detailed picture from memory, never failing to remember which scar was placed where and at what angle.

She was acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, and she almost didn't care who knew it. But she couldn't tell anyone about her feelings but him. If she did, they would certainly lock her up too and she would never see the Joker again. The mere thought nearly brought her to tears.

The obnoxious monotone of her office phone shook her out of her hypothetical sulking.

"Dr. Quinzel. How may I help you?" She answered.

"Harleen, the Joker's escaped." She heard Joan say in a monotone to rival her phone.

Harley could say nothing. Joan continued.

"He got hold of an orderly and used him as a human shield to exit the building. He took off in the orderly's car." Joan paused for Harley's reaction but it never came. "Well, I just thought you should know so you don't waste your time going up to max. sec. So um, you can just do rounds until the cops can get a hold of him again, or we can reassign you if you wish."

Harley's jaw lay open, her eyes threatening to flood.

"Well, let me know what you decide… Bye." There was a dull click on the other end of the phone.

As if being controlled by someone else, she slowly set down the phone. As if the sound of the handset touching its cradle had broken some trance, Harley began to sob uncontrollably. Her whole body convulsed as she went from anger that he had left her behind without warning to fear that he might get hurt or even die out on his own. He was in bat country now. Who knew what wretched fate he had planned for her angel.

Her fear then shifted to excitement. Excitement at the prospect that he might come and find her. He had, after all, asked where she lived just the day before. This excitement once again turned into fear. Her apartment would probably be one of the first places the cops would look for him. No, he couldn't see her, as bad as she wanted him to.

She was torn. On the one hand, she feared for him out on his own and hoped the cops would find him soon and bring him back, safe and sound. On the other hand, she feared what the Batman and the police might do to him if they catch him. They might beat him, send him to Blackgate, or worse, kill him! All she could do was pray that her angel was safe, and that he might come back to her just the same.

I'm actually rather please with the way this chapter came out and think it works quite well in a short installment. I hope you all agree. So please, keep rating, reviewing, and adding me to your alerts. Hope my previous delays haven't cost me any fans!