Author's Note

I'd like to let everyone know that I'm a stickler for characterization. If I write a fan-fic, I want to be at least 70 percent sure the character could actually be pictured doing these things.

Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker, was mind-blowingly amazing and therefore a bitch to mimic. As Mr. J is my favorite villain in the comic-book-verse, I wanted to get as close as I could.

If it takes a little longer to update then I hope, it means I'm probably trying to find the right speech-patterns for my characters and dip my toes into the scariest villain of all time's mind-set.

BTW, kinda hard to do.

Anyway, I hope you like this, please R and R, I like hearing if you enjoyed it or not. Or what Ican do better.

"Dr. Quinnzelle!" Peggy called my name with that tone I abhorred. She only did that when the news would upset me, so I thought about ignoring her and heading for my next patient, but she caught up. The bitch.

"Harley, geez! I need to tell you something."

Without disguising my heavy sigh I turned to face her and crossed my arms. The tiny girl swallowed, glancing passed me into the cell behind. Whomever she saw there seemed to be putting her on edge, so I cleared my throat.

"Well…it's about Myrnon." She took a deep breath? "You need to take his last case."

Instantly I was angry. "Why in Hell would I do that?" I cried, tucking blond wisps of hair that had come loose from my tight bun. "I already have that plant-woman to sort out and-"

"The thing is, he can't take that case because," She gulped "he's being admitted into Arkham this morning."

For a long moment I couldn't speak, then slowly, I took a breath and nodded.

"So I take it I have the clown?" She nodded. "For how long?"

Peggy looked down, then caught my gaze. "Well, honestly, until you're admitted too."

"What's that 'sposed to-"

"He's the reason Myrnon's strapped to a cushioned mattress."

I swallowed, keeping my professional appearance up. The scary part was, I could see The Joker doing that. Breaking Myrnon down, session by session until his insecurities and doubts ate away at him. But 

she was the Amazon. She never lost herself in a patient and this would be nothing different. She would stay strong and keep herself together against that animal.

"Where's his cell?"

xxx

When I woke we were back out the "Big Tent" and I spelled Chinese.

My head throbbed as I sat up and groaned. Then the lights around me flickered on and I caught sight of the form in the head seat of the table I'd been thrown onto. Mr. J had rested his feet on the table corner, crossed at the ankles. He titled his head with a grin.

"Evening sweetheart." He rasped and I pushed myself up, ignoring the pain in his presence.

"Wha-"

"What happened to you?" he slung his feet to the floor and laughed. "Well one of the boys got a little…antsy." I bit my lower lip to cover my gasp when he lifted a painted head by its dark hair. "I…um…had to let him go." His voice dropped an octave then and it sent a tremor down my spine.

The mouth had been split to the ears and now he stuffed a piece of colored paper into the gaping hole. In what seemed a casual way, he pulled from his sleeve a hooked needle and thick stitching string. I watched in morbid fascination as he proceeded to sew the puckered lips together, humming to himself as he did. It was that moment, that my self-control snapped.

My suit jacket was the first to go, slithered from my shoulders and pooled on the table. I watched him focus on his task as if building a model plane, anything but hacking into a corpse. My boots clunked onto the floor with an echoing clatter in the meeting room. This time, his attention snapped to me and I nearly moaned for it. That man, that wonderful, beautiful man was watching me with detached enthusiasm. Only his eyes told me I should shrink back if I didn't want a new grin.

Those hell-bent eyes tracked me as I crawled to the edge of the table, just in front of him. Those dark pools slip down to the fingers of my right hand as I slowly pulled down the zipper of my black, leather top.

"Mmm." He growled the sound climbing up my spine as he looked back into my eyes. Without looking away, I took his hand and lifted it to the zipper. With no smile or emotion at all save heat, The Joker continued to stare at me. It was unnerving when he's grin left. When he licked his lips as if he were a starving wolf.

Without warning , he stood and in my surprise I fell onto my back. Joker leaned over me, hand slamming onto the polished steel beside my head. My heart was racing, and at the same time I couldn't help noticing how he got this close when he killed a person. How he liked to watch the lights leave their eyes 

after hours of carving pretty shapes in the skin of their stomachs. My eyes widened ever so slightly and without my permission, my hands shot up between us as if to shield myself. I dropped them quickly, but the damage was done.

Suddenly, he looked concerned. "Why, you look nervous. Is it the scars?"

My heart skipped. This was not good. As his psychiatrist I'd noticed the pattern with this story. It was like a warning that his mind had gone farther than usual and left only the sadistic animal behind. When he told this story, people died. Usually the one closest to him.

"Puddin'?" I asked softly.

"You wanna know how I got 'em?" I moved to get up, but he caught both my wrists and forced them in an X across my chest. I couldn't help my whimper and he hushed me lovingly.

That scared me worse of all.

Instead of falling into a fit of desperate pleads, I arched my back, pressing into all of him I could reach. It stopped him mid-sentence and his lips curled wickedly as his gave a slow laugh. Now the violence had left his eyes. Now only the dark humor was left behind, the deep voice that chilled even while it caressed every nerve ending in my body. This had always been my problem. I was an adrenalin junkie. It's why I'd worked at Arkham to begin with. The underlining fear of being alone in a room with the sickest minds in Gotham. The day I started his case had raised the bar.

"For obvious reasons we can only admit you and lock the door. If anything goes wrong, we will do our best to gain entrance and protect you from what lies in this room." The guard nodded to my pen pocket.

"Your best?!" But he continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"Please remove all small, sharp, and/or blade-like items from your person."

I arched a brow, "Is he going to kill me with my pen?"

The guard's expression didn't change. "He'll do a wonderful magic trick and make it disappear."

Whatever that meant. With a roll of my eyes, I pulled everything from my pockets and left my clipboard. "Better?" This time something like remorse filled his eyes.

"I hope so."

Now, he tilted his head and skimmed a palm up my leather vest. The tight leather creaked when the zipper parted ever so slight more. It dawned on me that this was still a game. He knew that even while I idolized him, I feared his outbursts. Feared the idea of being weak in front of him. He knew that I was on edge around him, despite my adoration.

"My, but your fervent." He spoke softly, in the clown voice. I bit my lower lip and made a soft sound of encouragement. We both knew I was only trying to convince him I wasn't useless. It had become a habit 

of his to put me in obvious danger or flip when around me. Maybe he was bored with me, or maybe his wacked mind couldn't take the idea of a like personality so near. Maybe he couldn't deal with someone he could treat like a human being in the den of his mindless droogies.

Most likely it was the bored one.

Thankfully there was a knock on the door so I didn't have to continue and loose his amusement. It took him a long moment to stand strait and allow the guy entry. His eyes however, remained on me.

"We have the sergeant, boss." He said, eyes going to my position on the table then to the back of his psychotic leader. Something like concern crossed his eyes, but was quickly replaced with adoration. I was constantly harassed by these thugs. Lots of:

"Why ya with that freak?" And:

"Come on baby, Try a guy who don't ware make-up."

Was it that difficult to believe that The Joker was capable of fulfilling a woman's needs.

Don't answer that.

"Goody." Mr. J said with a giggle. He turned and completely forgetting about me; left the room. Just outside of the door, he turned back and pulled a small strip of white paper out of the thug's shirt pocket and read it.

"You'll make money. If not for you, then for another company." With that he chuckled, "Like the IRS."

Then dropped the fortune and went to play.

I was breathing heavily, unable to move for a long moment. When I finally sat up, the goon was still there. He held his clown mask at his side and watched me as I zipped my jacket. With equal intensity, I glared back and striated my hair.

"I don't understand it." He said suddenly and instantly I rolled my eyes, pushing off the table. I knew where this was going and didn't need to hear it again. His name was Karryl and he had a widely known lust for me, the crazy bitch. I'd heard him and the guys talking before.

"What I don't get is why He puts up with it. I mean yeah she's a fine piece of ass, but-"

"Ass is the only reason. Yeah he's an emotionless nut job…"

"Sex don't need no emotion. He's a guy, end of story."

"Boy did he win out though, yeah?" he laughed. "Who knew brauds could come in fine AND crazy?"

Karryl shook his dark- haired head and crossed his arms.

"I mean, it's obvious the guy ain't got no feelings for you. Why can't you open your eyes and see that."

"Shouldn't you be with the others, helping with the sergeant?" the acid in my voice made his eyes narrow. These were still criminals.

"I'm not in the mood to listen to screams."

That made me smile wickedly. "Not loosing your nerve are ya, Karryl, buddy?"

He sighed angrily and shook his head. "Look who's talking. Was that real, or is acting terrified part of some kink you guys are into? You play the rape game often?"

I had no reply. Not only was this one of the horribly few times Mr. J came this close to me, but I knew he was right about my fear. Eyes to the floor, I hurried out the door. Today just wasn't my day.