Oooh, no hints, no waiting- read on!

The drive home had been hard for Harleen. As soon as she was inside her car, she took a deep breath and yelled at her windshield for a good minute. She stopped when she felt her throat begin to hurt and was panting; she puffed at a blonde strand that had fallen in front of her face. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, as if the wheel were the only thing keeping her steady, and rested her forehead against it. Her lip trembled slightly as tears threatened.

She bit down on her bottom lip and breathed deeply through her nose to try to calm herself. With the keys in the ignition, she started her car and recalled the conversation that just took place as she pulled out of Arkham Asylum's staff parking lot.

Harleen hadn't walked but a few steps inside the Arkham Mansion when she was greeted by Officer Cash.

"Hey, Doc, the Warden wanted a report on your session with the Joker." He looked uneasy.

"Of course, is everything ok?" she asked. She began to use a sleeve to wipe around her eyes as they walked.

"Sure. It's just with Batman and Commissioner Gordon being here, AND the incident this morning, well, it's been real long day. Is everything alright with you? You seem like you got in a fight with a hurricane... here," Cash grabbed a large knife out of a leg-strap just above his right boot.

Harleen looked at the knife with a worried, questioning expression. Cash laughed under his breath and said "No, look, you can use the side of the blade as a mirror. You may wanna... fix your hair."

She felt her face pull down into a pout as she bent her knees enough to see her small reflection. Her hair was a mess. it stuck out at all ends and was hanging in frizzy pieces. Keeping her hair tie between her teeth, she use both hands to runs her fingers through her hair; a few tangles caught on her fingers making her eyes water but other than that she was able to pull her hair into an almost-acceptable hair bun. She would need a long bath after this.

"Thank you, Officer Cash. I appreciate the help. It really HAS been a helluva day, huh?" she said, feeling a small hopeful smile pull on her cheeks for the first time in the last several hours. They continued through the corridors with Warden Sharp's door now in sight.

"It... may get a little longer," Cash said. Harleen looked at Cash curiously, prompting him to explain. "Well, you were supposed to report to the Warden right after the session. And he knows you held the session in your office, which he isn't happy about."

"But I didn't have anywhere els-" she started.

"I know that. Really, I do. You're just trying to do your job. Just explain that, shouldn't be any trouble," he said opening the door for her as they both walked in.
Warden Sharp sat behind his desk, looking at a report he held loosely in one hand, leaning back in his chair and there sitting in a chair across from Warden Sharp's desk was Dr. Leland, who looked less than pleased. Again.

"A least, it shouldn't be..." Cash muttered under his breath as they stepped into the room with Cash closing the door behind them.

"Ah, Dr. Quinzel, please have a seat," Warden Sharp motioned to one of the chairs for her to sit in. As Harleen sat down, she crossed her legs and straightened her back a little, giving no sign of distress. She glanced at Cash and half-smiled, thankful for his help with the knife-mirror. She'd have to remember that one.

"So, Dr. Quinzel, busy day today? I think this is your first-how should I put it? 'Eventful' day?" he said, setting down the report and pushing it aside to fold his hands on his desk and give her his full attention. Harleen could see Dr. Leland turn toward her out of the corner of her eyes.

"Yes, this certainly was an experience. I will need to make plans for the future, to be more prepared if or when something like this happens again." Harleen tried to appear as held together as ever but inside she felt as though she wasn't sitting in the chair in the office, but trying to scratch her way out of the room or picking up a chair, hurling it out the window and jumping down. Anything to get away from the false faces and pretentiousness of her co-workers. It made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Of course," he replied, nodding his head once, "We do try to keep such occurrences from happening, although, it is unavoidable in some regard." He leaned back and took off his glasses with one hand and reached into a side pocket of his coat with the other. He pulled out a small, light blue cloth and began to clean the lenses of his wide brimmed glasses. "However," he said, putting his clean glasses back on his face, "let's talk about your experience today."

Harleen wasn't sure what to start with. Did he want another recount of this morning? Should she mention the session at all? No, they'd take the Joker away, and she felt she had a real connection with him now! If she was going to help him, she needed to stay the course.

"Well, I will definitely know to keep an umbrella handy," Harleen tried for light humor. It seemed to work, Warden Sharp looked directly at her poorly put together hair bun and smiled.

"Yes, I see you were hit with the passing storm from earlier. That was from moving Joker into your office here for the session, correct?" he asked.

Crap.

She couldn't gage his emotions right now, his demeanor showed nothing other than a calm listener. He was almost robotic. "Yes, I was told that he could have a temporary session in my office today since the interrogation room was being use by the Commissioner. I don't think I will be doing that in the future, too much of a hassle."

It was a lie, but she didn't care. She had every intention of using her office again. She'd use the cafeteria if she needed to! If it meant she saw her Joker, any place would do.

"I agree." Dr. Leland spoke now. Great. "Not just for the 'hassle' aspect, but the security threat as well. Joker is a hardcore psychotic patient. If he is to be transferred, he should be strapped to a prisoner movement trolly, with armed guards." Dr. Leland looked sternly at Harleen. Hell, did this woman have any other facial expression?

"I wasn't aware of any trolly, but if it is regulation, then of course, I will abide by it. I will say that there were four armed guards with me. I never felt I was in any danger." Harleen felt her face harden, like a mask she was hiding behind. They couldn't see the lies, they didn't care enough to. Only she and Joker knew how she felt.

"It is not a written regulation, but with any of the Maximum Security patients, it is common practice. In the future, if you have any questions what may be required, you can ask Officer Cash," he said nodding toward Cash, "Myself, or the head officer in charge of the shift." With that, he reached a hand forward and asked, "May we listen to the recording of your session?"

Double crap. Harleen pulled the recorder out of her white lab coat and realized it was soaked. She hadn't thought of the recorder the entire time she was outside in the rain. She handed in to Warden Sharp, and her stomach did flips. He nodded and hit the rewind button. When he hit play, her stomach went into tight knots.

"Wwwhhhhhrhharrghhhhhh nnnnmnnrrrrhhhhhhhhurrrrrrrrr." The recorder played a distorted murmur of sounds that indicated it had been damaged, most likely by water.

"Well," Warden Sharp said, turning it off. "More experiences, I suppose. Seems we'll need to hear from you what was said."

Harleen had to fight back a real smile now. It couldn't have worked out better. Now she could say whatever and not have a contradiction.

"Actually, the recorder said more than he did." She looked around at the confused faces in the room before she continued. "Ya see, I had pulled out the patient information sheet to see if he could answer a few questions, but the moment I began to ask anything about him, he sort of.. clammed up. The main reason I said it wasn't worth the hassle- I had no communication from him today."

Dr Leland looked pleased about something. "Joker," she began in a very matter-of-fact way, "does not like to answer questions of any sort. Especially about him or the past. Your direct approach was a bit predictable, perhaps consider taking a different approach next time, yes?"

Harleen felt the angry heat burn in her chest again. 'I am, I'm making REAL headway with him, you don't even know!' is what she wanted to scream in the seasoned doctor's face. But she couldn't. The violent urge to hit the something again was real and heavy.

She folded her hands in her lap and looked down, only nodding with a half smile as her eyes shone with aggression. "Yes, I will do that." It was vinegar in her mouth. She wanted to spit, rinse her mouth of the lies that this establishment was forcing her to say.

"Very well, it is late and I, for one, am exhausted. I bid you all a good evening. Drive safe." Warden Sharp waved them off as a king would in court. Harleen waited for Dr. Leland to rise and leave before she stood as well. Cash opened the door for Dr. Leland and looked at Harleen, expecting her to follow. When she lightly shook her head he nodded once in understanding and left, with the door ajar.

"Is there something else, Dr. Quinzel?" Warden Sharp asked. She stood in front of his desk and lightly rapped her nails on his desk nervously. She wasn't sure how to ask, or even what to ask. She needed to find out if her and Joker were in the clear.

"Yes, there is." After a pause, she went for it, a shot-in-the-dark. "I'm unsure who to ask without receiving a biased answer, so I hoped I could ask you," she started. She walked around to the side of his desk and leaned her hips on the edge, allowing her curves to lightly rest. Warden Sharp may have noticed but said nothing. "Do you have any recommendations about the Joker. A way to get him to open up more without triggering his persona. Without a clear diagnosis of his psychosis... Well, I feel like I'm trying on different shoes to see what fits best."

"Ah," Sharp said, understanding. Harleen wasn't sure how, she didn't understand it herself. She just made it up as she went.

"Unfortunately, it is nearly impossible to receive an unbiased response when it comes to HIS sort. And, if I may be completely honest with you, I don't expect you to have a diagnostic."

That wasn't the answer she expected. "You.. don't?" she asked, confused.

"Assuredly not. As an intern, this magnitude of acting as the Joker's main physician is simply a stroke of luck. I do hope you realize that had it been another patient, you wouldn't have had this caliber for some time."

"I, em-yes. But then, what am I doing then, if not treating him?" she asked, a little exasperated. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wasn't a real doctor to them? She didn't count?

"Well," he said, leaning back in chair, resting his hands on his large stomach, "think of it as experience. Practice, if you will, and a true understanding of the patients here at Arkham. Your notes may help the next psychiatrist who takes on his file. You may even keep him as your patient again in the future, if it goes well. For now, use your fresh skills to hone your abilities."

She blinked a few times before rising off of his desk and going to his large window that looked out over the unattended Botanical Gardens. Warden Sharp didn't speak until did.

"Thank you, sir. I think I'm finally beginning to understand."

"Not at all. Have a good night, Dr. Quinzel."

She left his office. Her smile stayed in place as she went to her office, collected her things and exited the grounds.

Her thoughts were still chaotic as she drove along her normal route through the Gotham streets toward her apartment building. Hone her skills? Practice on him? They were treating the Joker as if he were a sharping stone and she was a sharp blade. Tools. That's all they were to them, simple tools.

The deep gray stones and brick walls that dominated Gotham's architecture were beginning to darken as the sun set over the horizon. The faintest colors of pink were visible in the swirling dark clouds that always hung over the ominous city. Only minutes away from her apartment, small lights began to attract her eyes from different directions. A green flash of light to her left, then orange to her right, then blue in her review mirror. The neon signs, that supplied the only color to the dismal night streets, were being turned on. It would be dark soon, and she preferred to be inside before then. She wasn't in the worse part of town, but she's was no where near the best. The apartment she could afford for now was in the -no pun intended- gray area; the border between the socialites of Gotham and the slums of the Narrows.

Entering her apartment building, she made her way up the trampled carpeted stairs. She was sure they used to be some color at one point but years of being walked on and not cleaned left the thin, threadbare carpet a mix of grey and beige. No one was on the main flight of stairs and she was grateful for it. Certainly she looked as awful as she felt. Her hair would be a pain to wash through and she smelled of rain and dirt. Usually the walk up the four flights of stairs didn't bother her, but today she was exhausted. Once inside, she quickly locked deadbolt and sighed heavily, slumping against the door. Harleen felt as though she had been holding on to that sigh all day. Each foot lazily kicked off the shoe of the other. Hot tears that she had been blinking back started to run down her cheeks. Coughing to clear her throat, she wiped them away angrily.

"No," she affirmed to herself.

She turned on the few lamps in the main living room and drew the curtains closed; she was always paranoid of who could be looking through her windows. The lab coat came off first, then her top, her bottoms, and finally everything else. They lay where she let them fall, she'd deal with them tomorrow. She headed straight for the bathroom and turned the bathtub's faucet on hot. As the tub filled up, she stepped in and waited for the water to rise. Her feet began to warm up first, then her ankles, her shins..

She laid her head back against the tubs edge and closed her eyes. She appreciated baths. She never had until her time in college, when the dorm room she shared with a classmate only had one single shower. Many times she had wished to soak her worries away. It was one of the reasons she wanted this apartment. A few others were in slightly better neighborhoods, one even had a balcony off of the bedroom. But this apartment had a wide deep clawfoot bathtub put in by a previous owner. A little bleach, a little scrub and it was hers. She swished herself deeper in the water that was up to her waist. Using her foot, she edged the handle a little farther down the HOT dial. A little farther...

"Ow! Damnit!" Harleen yelped. Her foot had pushed too far and the too-hot water had made her jerk away in response. Groaning at the prospect of moving more than she wanted to, she leaned forward and turned the handle to a more bearable setting. The water was reaching just under her breasts now.

Still not enough, she thought. She hugged her knees to her chest and focused on the sounds of the streaming water splashing into the tub. Yes, definitely worth it. She laid her head on her knees as she tried to clear her head, but it was an impossible task.

Now that the water was a few inches from spilling over the top, she turned off the water and laid back fully. Eyelids heavy, she recounted everything from today. Being late, the singing patients, his eyes, the kiss...

Her upper teeth nibbled on her bottom lip as her mind began to panic. What had she been thinking?! He was insane , a mental patient, a known mass-murderer even. HER patient. She was his doctor.. She had broken the ethical code and lied for her own sake to her superiors.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself, looking down at her blurry, wavy reflection on the water's surface. Truth was, she didn't know what she was doing. All she could think about was him. His laughter, his views on the world, his.. gravity. It pulled her in. He pulled her in.

Why did I kiss him? It was as if saying the words out loud made it real. She couldn't make it real. If it was real... she didn't know what that meant.

She didn't know how to answer anything anymore. Nothing made sense. Each time she entered Arkham Asylum, she felt like a small piece of her stayed behind. She no longer was the young, optimistic doctor that walked onto the grounds of Arkham that fateful day. The day her world changed, the day she met him.

She remembered that first meeting. They had stared at each other in curiosity. What had he seen in her? Then when he consoled her outside of his cell-shouldn't she be the one consoling him? But he had helped her.. He did care, she knew he did. Even if no one else saw it, she saw a soul in him still.

By the time she had finished bathing, her fingers were quite wrinkled indicating she had been in longer than anticipated. Out of the tub, she lazily dressed, not caring how long it took her to put on underwear. She pulled a red, oversized t-shirt with the picture of a christmas dog over her head and a yellow pair of sleep shorts. She let her towel-fluffed hair hang down not wanting to put it through any more hell today.

She made her way through her dimly lit apartment and walked into the small kitchen, turning on the light. She squinted at the brightness before she froze in shock.

Her brain processed two things at once: 1) she had turned on the lamps when she came home, and 2) someone was standing in the darkest corner of her living room.

Eyes darting, she saw a book she had been reading sitting on the counter and spun as she picked it up to chuck it at the intruder to buy herself some time to run for the door.

"EE-yah!" The red book flew toward her assailant only to be knocked away with a swift arm.

"I'm not here to harm you, doctor." The voice was deep and menacing.

"Yeah, well, you got alotta nerve to say that after breaking into my home!" she quipped, now standing in the most intimidating stance she could. She felt ridiculous with her legs shoulder-width apart and her hands straightened out to chop or strike. She was a ex-gymnast, not a kung fu master! She began to scoot her feet inches at a time toward the door.

"I don't exactly.. phone before a visit."

Her eyes adjusted more and saw a pair of steely eyes stare back at her. Her jaw slackened as she realized who her intruder was.

Standing upright again, she crossed her arms huffily. "What do you want?" she asked raising a brow.

"We need to speak," Batman said, stepping out from the shadow of the room. He was tall with broad shoulders and was clad in his armored suit she had read about before. Batman always made front page news. The cape that hung from his shoulders swayed silently like black water when he moved.

"How did you get in here?" Harleen asked, going to her front door and gave it the handle a good jiggle. "I dead-bolted the door!"

"You should learn to lock your windows, Dr. Quinzel, this city isn't safe."

Glancing at the window, she saw that it was open and the curtain billowed as the cool, damp air came into the room. Rolling thunder could be heard in the distance over the dull motors of cars on the street below. She could smell rain on the air mingling with the smell of Gotham. Gotham, being on the water, always smelled like an ocean breeze mixed with wet stone and grit. It was unlike any other city.

"I'll remember next time," she mumbled. "Well, you're here, so..?" she began.

"The Joker," he supplied darkly. So much was said in the name, she could feel the weight of the words as he said them. His unmoving gaze seemed to penetrate her, as if he could read her thoughts. She had seen that stare before, but in someone else...

"I am not at liberty to discuss my patient," she said raising her chin, hoping to end the conversation. It was her best Dr. Leland impression yet.

"We both know he's no ordinary patient."

"His status in Gotham doesn't matter to me," she challenged back, then immediately regretted it.

Batman's eyes pierced hers as he glared, "Status?" he questioned with offense, his tone was rough, brusque. "Do you know how many people he has killed, doctor? For the mere enjoyment of it?" They were true and unforgiving words. She knew it; looking away with shame, she had avoided that reality of him.

She looked in his eyes and answered honestly. "No, but I can't think of that. If I do, then I lose sight of trying to help him."

"He has killed his previous doctors, you won't be any different. He's a monster."

Harleen's own eyes flashed then. "Then doesn't that mean he needs all the help he can get?!" she threw back in his face. Her hands were on her hips now and she had all her weight on one leg. She was done playing nice. She marched up to him to look him in the eye directly. Well, upward, directly. She barely cleared his shoulders.

"Monster? That may be true, but we're all monsters in our own way," she continued. "But that doesn't change my job. I'm at Arkham because I CARE. I didn't sign up to pet fluffy bunnies; I know what I'm up against. If I can make a difference, then I will. No. Matter. What." She poked his armor with her index finger on the last three words.

She felt red in the face. She hadn't meant to unload her baggage on Batman, but then again, he was an unannounced visitor. He could take it.

Batman just looked down at her, remaining silent for a moment before saying, "I believe you. I wish others were as passionate as you are."

She backed up a few paces and asked sarcastically, "So, that's it? Just here to tell me my mental patient is crazy?"

"Not exactly," his head only slightly tilted to indicate a lighter mood. "I wanted to know if he has divulged anything to you to indicate an escape, or if he has tried to convince you, in any possible way, to break him out. He's more capable than you realize."

"I'm not stupid, I know what he's capable of." Harleen crossed the room to sit on her couch. Batman watched as she put her head in her hands for a moment before running her hands through her hair. With her elbows on her knees she rested her mouth on her folded hands. The feeling of exhaustion began to sweep through her.

She closed her eyes before looking back up at him. "I know what I'm doing," she offered. Would he believe in her? Did he think she could make a difference? Did anyone?

If possible, she thought she saw his eyes soften as he spoke. "I respect your dedication to your work, but when it comes to him, never put your guard down. He's more deceptive than I can put into words, and he will kill again. It's his nature."

She only nodded in acknowledgement looking back down at the floor.

He walked toward the open window and only turned back to look over his shoulder as he said, "You know he'll try to kill you.."

It wasn't a guess or probability. It was a fact that neither could dispute.

"I know," was all she could say. It was barely over a whisper,but she knew he heard her. She glanced up to see the blue in his eyes for the first time. Deep, steely blue that held a similar gravity to them. He nodded once and was gone.

She got up and locked the window firmly behind him but stared out the window long after he had left. Gazing out at Gotham, in all it's terrible and depressing beauty, it began to rain. As her eyes followed a few raindrops slowly streak down the glass, she repeated, ".. I know."

...sir...

He didn't know what to think yet. The wind felt good as it hit his face, the rain felt chilled on his cheeks and jaw. Dr. Harleen Quinzel hadn't been the personality he had expected.

"...sir?..."

Clearly, she had a heart for her work, which he could admit was lacking at the facility that held some of the worst scum within its' walls.

"..Master Bruce? Can you hear me?" Alfred had been trying to reach him, but his thoughts often pulled him away.

"Yes, what it is, Alfred?"

"Ah. I was just checking in to see how the interrogation of the Joker's new psychiatrist went. Any problems?"

"No. She was cooperative."

"And should I create a file for her, sir?"

Batman knew what he implied. A file that could record what would transpire between her and the Joker, to evaluate what went wrong and how he had managed to kill her.

"Not yet," was all he said.

"Oh," Alfred sounded a bit surprised. "Is that optimism in your voice?"

Batman smirked. "Not exactly. She was cooperative but also naive. Dr. Quinzel seems to mean well."

Alfred paused before adding, "You're worried."

Batman didn't need to explain, Alfred was always good at reading him. "I am," he said as he flew past buildings and landed on a small ledge of an old church, looking out at Gotham; the city he loved and hated more than anything.

So, tell me what you think!

I wanted to add so much more but felt it would be too much to put into one chapter. So it will be put in the next installment.