Damage Control

Summary-

She had been warned when she had accepted the chance to shadow under Dr. Markus Jefferson and help him collect notes for his paper on the Joker. She had heard the whispers and the rumors, but she had ignored it all. And all because she wanted to prove that she was more than just pretty face with the 'most perfect body'. That she could play with the big boys, that she could handle herself.

Chapter One-

Harleen Quinzel hated the way she looked. Wide, doe-like, baby blue eyes surrounded by long, thick eyelashes that always made her look younger than she actually was, a cute button nose, and perfectly pouty lips. Harleen sighed and slipped on thick rimmed black glasses hoping they would hopefully, possibly, sort of kinda, make her at least look somewhat closer to her actual age. Harleen looked back at the mirror she was standing in front of. Yeah. Nope. She just looked like a little girl playing dress up.

With a groan, Harleen turned away from the mirror gathering her long, golden locks into messy bun as she made her way to her desk. It was hopeless. No matter what she did she was never going to look her age. Most women, her age or older, alway tried to look younger. Her roommate had told her multiple times (each and every time in a jealous rage) that she need to stop trying to look older and be thankful she looked as young and beautiful as she did.

Harleen sighed again thinking about her roommate. When the semester had started, Harleen had tried to befriend her new roommate (something she tried to do every new semester), hoping that this one time she could get a friend. But that never happened. Harleen wasn't very good at making friends. And it wasn't because of her attitude or the way she acted. Harleen was nice and friendly, but she wasn't overly nice or friendly because her Brooklyn attitude kept her from doing so.

The reason Harleen was never good at making friends was because of her looks. Females took one look at her and instantly became jealous dubbing her a 'dumb blonde bimbo'. Males took one look at her and tried to get into her pants. It didn't matter to any of them that she had gotten into the Criminal Psychology program (the toughest program at Gotham University) and was the top of her class. It didn't matter because they look at her and get it in their minds that she had an empty head and was using her body to get to the top.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Harleen opened her laptop and plugged in her password waking it from it's slumber. She then set about logging into her email account. Checking her unread mail, her eyes widened when she caught sight of one. It was an email asking her if she would be interested in shadowing under Dr. Markus Jefferson and help him with a research paper. Apparently, as she read further, her Criminal Psychology professor was close friends with Dr. Jefferson and had recommended her for the spot.

Harleen bit her bottom lip. This was the opportunity she had been searching for. The opportunity to show everyone that she wasn't just a pretty face and a 'smokin hot' body. That she had a brain in her pretty little head. But, she countered herself, Harleen had heard about Dr. Jefferson. And not all of it had been good things. Yes, he was a great, if not the best (if you didn't count Dr. Arkham) at Arkham Asylum, but that didn't cover the fact that he apparently only allowed women to shadow him so that he could seduce them into bed with him.

She wasn't worried about falling under his seduction, she had years of practice of resistance in that area, plus she knew how to fight (in both self defense and just an all out brawl) if he got too aggressive. No. What she was more worried about was him kicking her off his project when he realized she wasn't going to put out for him. If he kicked her off the project then everyone would assume she couldn't handle this line of work and that she was just a dumb blonde bimbo.

Harleen was tired of being the dumb blond bimbo in everyone's eyes and had been trying for years to break out of that category. She looked back at the email still worrying her bottom lip, she didn't know when or if she would get another opportunity like this again. This might be her only shot. And she wasn't going to let it slip out of her fingers.

Without another thought, she replied to Dr. Jefferson informing him that she would be honored to shadow him. Within minutes of her sending him her reply, he had replied back with his own response. They replied back and forth for the next hour working out the best time and day that would work with both her schedule and his for them to meet up to finalize her shadowing under him.

? ?￢ﾙﾦ ?￢ﾙﾦ

Harleen followed behind Dr. Jefferson carrying the stack of papers he had handed to her earlier that morning. She had been shadowing Jefferson for all of two weeks now, and today was the first day she would be going into a session with him. Harleen was nervous, yes she was in her last term of studying to be a Criminal Psychologist. But no lecture or late night cram session ever prepared you for actually sitting in a room with a criminally insane inmate.

And, from the whispers she heard from the staff, the patient who session she was about to shadow Dr. Jefferson in was the worst of the worst. A Psychologist's worst nightmare and goldmine all wrapped in one manipulating package. This patient was also the focus of Jefferson's research paper.

They stopped just outside a session room that had two guards waiting on either side of the door. Jefferson turned to her with a sigh as he rested his hands on her shoulders. The first time she had seen Jefferson when they meet to finalize her shadowing him Harleen could see why the females that had shadowed under him before her had let him seduce them into bed. He was very easy on the eyes. His chocolate brown hair combed in a messy style; warm, milk chocolate eyes that were covered by very stylish black and white glasses; that dusting of a mustache and beard thrown together with his very stylish nice shirt and jacket just made the perfect eye candy (just under Bruce Wayne of course).

But even though Jefferson was a very attractive man, Harleen wasn't attracted to him. She had never once been attracted to a man that followed the latest fad in fashion. If a man wanted her to be attracted to him, then he needed to have his own fashion sense, not listen to what the magazines fashion sense told him to have. And Jefferson fell into the category of men that listened only the magazine's fashion sense.

"All right, Miss Quinzel, before we go in there, I need to lay some ground rules. First, you are not under any circumstances to give out any information other than your name, in fact, don't even speak. At all." Jefferson told her sternly. Harleen bit her tongue to keep from letting her Brooklyn attitude snap at him demanding to know what gave him the right to tell her she couldn't talk, knowing that he was just trying to protect her.

"Got it, no speaking. At all." Harleen said and Jefferson nodded satisfied with her answer.

"Second, the moment you walk into that room you are no longer just a psychology student, you are Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Third, that man in there is a master manipulator, he will do everything in his power to get into your mind and play with it, do not let him. He will chew you up and spit you out. Understand?" Jefferson told her.

"Yes, of course." Harleen said her heart speeding up, was that from fear or excitement she couldn't tell.

"Right." Jefferson said before turning back to the door and opened it. Harleen quickly followed him and couldn't stop herself from pausing as her eyes took in the patient. Tied up in not only a straight jacket but also chained to the ceiling with metal chains was the Joker. Harleen shook herself from the shock that had settled over her and forced herself to walk over to the metal table that both the Joker and Jefferson were sitting at. She quickly sat beside Jefferson, across from the Joker, and got ready to take notes while trying to keep her eyes from taking in the Joker from his slick back green hair, that 'Damaged' tattoo on his forehead, the 'J' tattoo under his left eye, that star tattoo beside his right eye, to his cold, steel blue eyes.

"Dr. Markus Jefferson, what an unpleasant surprise this is." The Joker drawled out, drawing Harleen's attention to his lips that still had remnants of his trademark red lipstick, and metal grill.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Joker. As you may already know, I am Dr. Markus Jefferson, Dr. Arkham has asked that I take over your case from Dr Martin Jones." Jefferson informed the Joker after pulling out a recording device from inside his white lab coat, setting it on the table in between him and the Joker, and turned it on. "With me is Dr. Harleen Quinzel, she will be helping me record our sessions." The Joker's eyes flew over towards her with an unreadable look.

"Nice to meet ya," The Joker said shifting in his seat to lean closer towards her, "Dr. Harleen Quinzel." He practically purred, and the tone of his voice (purr?) gave her a sense that he knew she was not a true doctor yet. "How are you?" He asked her.

"Shall we begin our session, Mr. Joker?" Jefferson asked trying to pull the Joker's attention away from her and back towards him. The Joker's eyes flashed over towards Jefferson for a second before returning to her.

"You know, Doc, it's very impolite, practically rude, to ignore someone when they ask you a question." The Joker told her ignoring Jefferson and she couldn't stop the giggle that escaped from her even if she tried at his ironic statement. The Joker flashed her a smile and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to fight the urge to smile back. He sat there staring into her eyes as he waited, his smile slipping from his face as he did so. "Well?" He growled out and bit her lip as her eyes flew towards Jefferson remembering the first rule he told her. Her eyes returned to the Joker, who was obviously getting madder the longer she stayed silent. And from what she's read, a pissed off Joker was something she wasn't quite ready to face yet.

"I'm fine." She told him causing him smile victoriously at Jefferson. "How are you, Mr. Joker?" She continued, figuring that she was already in trouble for breaking the first rule so why not?

"As of right now, Doc, I'm peachy." The Joker said before throwing his head back an let out a loud bark of laughter that rattled her to the core. After he finished laughing, the Joker turned his attention to Jefferson and seemed to ignore her for the rest of the session. Harleen didn't know whether to feel happy about this or disappointed. But she chose not to focus on her feelings right now, and instead focused on taking notes.

Throughout the rest of the session, Harleen noticed that the Joker had full control of the session and only let Jefferson believe he was in control from time to time. The Joker also never answered any of Jefferson's question, well, he did but he didn't. He gave an answer without answering. He danced around subjects with jokes and threats. And by the end of the session they left the room with the same about of information on the Joker as when they entered.

? ?￢ﾙﾦ ?￢ﾙﾦ

"I'm sorry." Was the first thing out of Harleen's mouth after Jefferson closed the door of his office. The walk from the session room to his office had been filled with tense silence. "You told me not to speak, not the let him manipulate me. And I did both. I let him manipulate me into talking." Jefferson sighed and walked over to her, he took the pile of papers from her, walked over to his desk and sat them on it before returning to her.

"No, I am the one that should be sorry, Harleen." Jefferson said resting his hands on her shoulders. "I should have prepared you more for his manipulations instead of just giving you a quick warning." His hands slipped down her arms where he began to (what she assumed he thought was in a soothing manner) rub her. Harleen quickly took a step back plastering a fake smile on her face.

"It is all right, Dr. Jefferson, I know now. And can be better prepared for next time." Harleen said.

"Please, Harleen, call me Mark." Jefferson said with a kind smile, starting up a conversation they seem to have every time they find themselves alone.

"I can't, it would be terribly unprofessional." Harleen told him seeing a flash of frustration fly through his eyes before she looked at the clock. "Is that the time? I'm sorry, Dr. Jefferson, but I have to leave now, I have a meeting with a professor." Jefferson sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Right. Of course." Jefferson muttered before smiling at Harleen charmingly. "Shall I walk you to the door?" Harleen smiled at him as she slipped on her jacket.

"Oh, I couldn't impose, plus you have so much work to do. I know my way out. I'll see you next week." She told him sweetly before leaving the room, she kept a professional speed as she walked down the hallway towards the elevator. She turned the corner and faltered in her step when she saw the Joker still in his straight jacket with chains connecting him to eight guards waiting for the elevator. As if sensing her, the Joker turned to look at her, showing a muzzle strapped to his face.

"You might what to take the stairs, Miss Quinzel." One of the eight guards told her snapping her attention away from the Joker's intense stare that may or may not have been causing her heart to flutter with an emotion that was going to stubbornly remain unnamed.

"Oh, uh, yes." Harleen said before continuing past the elevator trying with all her might to ignore the feel of Joker watching her. The tried her hardest not to not look over her shoulder as she came to the stairs. It hurt, fighting the urge to look. It took nearly all her strength to walk through the doorway to the stairs and not look back until the door shut loudly behind her.

Harleen sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She need a nice long, steaming hot shower. And maybe a good Psychology book to read as she snuggled up in her bed in her dorm room.