I talked to the professor and the warden about giving the inmates the opportunity to decorate their cells, just a little, maybe a colour of paint they liked and a couple of figurines, or news paper clippings, they said it would be ok as long as it was nothing that could be made into a weapon. We decided to only do a few at a time, only the ones who had been behaving or who had made good progress, like a reward. We asked the doctors for reports on the patients they thought were progressing best, of course I gave a glowing report on Joker.

That week was fun, we gave the chosen inmates a flip book of wall colours and a few magazines, so they could pick decorations. Jack even did a news piece on it.

Just as I had guessed, Joker picked to paint his room pale green and purple, and the decorations matched what you might think a ten year old boy might pick. A couple of Batman and Joker posters, which I was instructed to check behind every now and then to make sure he wasn't trying to tunnel out, and a couple of stuffed toys, again Batman and Joker.

As I walked in that evening, I had to admit Joker had done a very nice job painting, it almost looked professional.

"Harley!" Joker bounded up to me and gave me a hug, I closed my eyes and squeezed back "hey puddin'" I said jokingly, I knew he hated how my voice sounded when I said that. He chuckled and skipped to his bed, "Thank you so much for setting this up, its made me feel so much better about myself."

"Well that was the idea" I smirked, went to sit on the chair and pulled out my notepad again.

He grunted "And again with that notepad, what have you got written on that about me?" He sprinted over and snatched it from my hands, despite my protests he began to read it, holding it out of my reach so I couldn't get it back.

He mumbled as he read: northern Irish... father evil... mother killed... mute... adopted English family murdered... uncle in mob... America... batman... acid... "Hah and some funny pictures, oh Harley it's all here, but I never told you I was northern Irish. How did you guess that?"

He handed me back the note book, "I guessed by the way you saluted the warden, only the English army solutes like that, if you were southern you wouldn't have done it like that."

"Ooh very smart Harley!" he smiled, but something about it seemed insincere. I wandered over to one of the posters to admire it, a cartoon batman standing on top of a building. "Oh I do love that poster Harls, it really helps me" and he laughed suddenly, it was that odd laugh again. I shuddered at the thought of what it meant, he noticed this and burst out laughing "oh come on Harley don't be like that, your so old fashioned!"

"...so what does that mean?"

"It means I get excited at the thought of killing my enemy's." He chuckled evilly. Then looked over at me almost lovingly.

I picked at the edge of the poster "HEY HEY, Harley what are you doing?" "I've been told to do this to make sure you won't tunnel out of here."

He strolled up to me, stopped inches from my face "Oh Harl, does that really sound like my style?"

"Well no I guess not..."

"No! Of course not!" He lifted his hand, as if to hit me, then stopped and held his hands to his face "I'm so sorry Harley, I didn't mean to shout." He held his hands to his eyes and sobbed, then turned and walked to the corner of the room, looked at me, and smiled weakly. I walked to the door. "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to report that." and left.

As I walked past the glass window I saw him leaping and spinning around his room, laughing.

Did he care at all?

He must do, a lot, or else he would have struck me, and probably killed me. That thought made me happy.

The next morning as I walked into the asylum, I was met by a horrendous noise, shouting, screaming, roaring in delight and terror. I ran to ask a guard what had happened, "The Joker escaped! He's killed Frank and John, and 3 other guards are seriously injured."

I ran to Jokers cell, I wanted to see for my self the damage that'd been done. I gasped at what I saw. Blood, all over the cells floor, and the white outline of a guard and the outline of his head about a foot away. "We know how he did it." said the voice of a man behind me, the warden.

I span round and asked what. "He tempted one of the guards into his cell, tackled him, then decapitated him with his key wire." my mouth fell open "AND, what makes it more confusing is that he had a gun. Can you guess where miss Quinzel!"

"Where?" I had a feeling I knew where but I didn't want to say. "BEHIND HIS POSTER! WHY DID YOU NOT CHECK THERE WHEN I TOLD YOU TO!"

"I was going to, but then he threatened to hit me. I was going to tell you this morning but... this..."

"You should have come up and seen me last night. Miss Quinzel I'm putting you on probation for this, come back in a week."

I walked slowly back through the pools of blood and body parts, all I could think of was Joker, why would he run away? Was it because of last night? Was it my fault? I could feel my self tearing up. I pulled out my note book, I had to find him, I re-read my notes, where could he be? At last I found a place, and old comedy club north west of the harbor.

It was a long drive there, it was almost dark. I smashed a window and climbed in, the place was massive. I traversed my way through the rubble of the half knocked down theater to the center, which had been cleared and had a few brightly coloured blankets and joke toys strewn around it, in the middle if the blankets a vase, with a rose in it, the note on it said "I knew you'd come, now go home-J" I burst into tears. No don't cry... I tried to stop myself but I couldn't.

Suddenly a voice came from the shadows in front of me "Do you care about him?" and a man dressed in a bat suit stepped out of the darkness "I really do batman" "I'm looking for him too miss. You should help me find him."

"I can't"

"Having him loose is worse for him than good."

"I know but I can't. He'll find out I helped and it'll all be for nothing. He'll never want to talk to me again. Just try to find him."

"I will. But don't expect me to be gentle with him." and he left.

I had a feeling that if my puddin' was here he'd be laughing at that.

Anger welled up inside me as I realised what had just happened. Batman had come to a place Joker had only ever told me about, what right did he have to come to Mr J's secret hide out in the hope of catching him, And you heard him 'don't expect me to be gentle'? Why would he beat up my puddin'? He's a good person, he's just made a couple of mistakes. Everyone's made mistakes. I know I have. Why should Mr J be the one who was being picked on?

I was still crying, fuming, when I got home.

I missed him.