Just thought I'd start a fanfic on the fascinating relationship between the Joker and the lovely Harley Quinn. Hope you like it and always feel free to leave any comments or review, Thank you! xx

I do not own any of the characters. This fiction is written purely for the enjoyment of the reader. All copyrights go to their rightful owners.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter One

"Are you sure you want this case?" Dr. Weis asked me for the hundredth time that week. "You only just begun working at the Arkham Asylum a few weeks ago."

"I'm more than positive." I smiled at him. I was honestly excited to meet a notorious psychopath. It was the kind of sick thing psychologists dreamed about. Being able to confront one of them and not to mention, the worst of them was like a lollipop for a five-year-old.

"Very well." Dr. Weis gave a defeated sigh. "Remember that the guards are just outside the door if you need anything."

"I won't." I patted him on the shoulder.

My black pencil skirt and red blouse were suddenly itchy and I had to adjust my wardrobe. I was highly anxious and it showed. Dr. Weis smiled at my eagerness and stared at me for a second longer than comfortable before walking away.

"Okay, Harleen, here we go." I coached myself.

I stared at the man on the other side of the glass as he hung his head low. His overgrown green hair fell over his forehead, covering any facial features. His arms were strapped tightly to his abdomen thanks to the white straight jacket. I've been warned repeatedly over the past few days to pass off the case of the particular psychopath in front of me but I insisted. How could I refuse a chance to research one of the greatest and craziest criminals through all of Gotham?

I straightened my white lab coat and fixed my name tag that read "Dr. Quinzel" in big, bold letters. With a quick swipe of my credentials through the machine and a swoosh of the large metals doors, I entered the interrogation room. The room was dark aside from a lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. A single table sat in the middle between the clown and I. I cleared my throat but he failed to look up.

"Mr. Joker. My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel and I'll be your assigned therapist from now on."

The Joker finally, yet slowly, peered up at me. There was an elongated smile on his painted face. I had read in his file that he agreed to sessions with therapist as long as he was able to apply his infamous mask. His eerie smile released a gasp from me and the Joker let out a deep chuckle, revealing his grill.

"Scared?" he whispered. He watched me carefully as I took my seat across from him.

"No." I answered honestly. He studied my face for any sign that I was lying, however, my face did not falter. The Joker was going to need more than a smile to frighten me.

The Joker waved his hair away from his face with a twist of his head. "I'm surprised. Everyone o' my old therapists have run away scared after one session." He started to laugh then.

"Mr. Joker. Get yourself together. I am not afraid of you and I won't be running away either, you can count on that. You're not the first patient and won't be my last."

"That's a shame," Mr. Joker pouted. "I'm kinda jealous. I'd hate for ya to be swept off your feet by another one of these maniacs." His head swirled from side to side, almost hypnotizing me.

I gave him a crooked smile of my own. "Oh trust me Mr. J, no one in this asylum interests me other than you at the moment."

His forehead rose in amusement. "Mr. J." He tasted the name. "I like it. What shall I call you?"

I straightened the black frames on my face.

"I know, I'll call you Harley Quinn, like the Harlequin."

I shook my head. "I don't like nicknames Mr. Joker."

"And why's that Pumpkin Pie?"

I sneered which only encouraged a smile from the pyscho in front of me. This session was going nowhere, fast. I had to get back on track and squeeze any kind of information from the Clown Prince of Crime. I retrieved a paper from the Joker's file. He eyed it curiously. "Whatcha' got there?"

I ignored his comment and cleared my throat. "Mr. Joker- "

"Call me J, Harley."

"Mr. Joker," I continued, wishing to call him no such thing. "What can you tell me about your parents?"

The Joker's sudden frown revealed I had struck a nerve. Perfect. "My what?"

"Parents. You know mom and dad."

"I know what fucking parents are!" He spat at me. His green hair fell back to shield his crystal blue eyes.

I swallowed. Oh, boy. The thing was he did scare me. It was true, every one of his last therapists quit on him. I, however, did not plan to. In most cases, psychopaths were simply misunderstood people who needed a helping hand. That's why I chose this career. I knew first hand what it felt like to slip into darkness and how relieving it could be when someone helps pull you out. I would be lying if I said I didn't jump on the opportunity to be the Joker's psychiatrist. If I could possibly get him to rehabilitate, I'd be a god in this asylum. Not to mention all the credit from the media.

I didn't want to aggravate him. The last thing I needed was for him to shut me out. "Can you please tell me about your past relationship with them?"

The silence stretched between us. I was positive Mr. Joker wasn't going to answer but then he suddenly began to laugh maniacally. His laugh sent chills up my spine but I was unwilling to let him see how uncomfortable I was.

"I'll tell you what Pumpkin. I'll make ya a deal." Mr. J scoot even closer to the table standing between us and leaned in close. I could now decipher and read the tattoos on his face.

"I'll tell ya my darkest secrets but in exchange, you gotta give me one of yours." He smiled.

I scoffed. He wasn't serious, was he?

"I don't think so."

"Why not? You don't trust me? Think I'm gonna run off and tell the other prisoners?"

" I don't have any secrets." I finished off by crossing my legs and my arms over my chest. He took conscious notes over my movements it seemed.

"Everyone has secrets. Let me guess yours." He waited as if to build up the anticipation. Mr. Joker cocked his head to one side as he spoke. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel: Orphaned.. Death of parents unknown. Previous diagnosis of partial insanity."

My cheeks grew hot and red. How could he possibly know that information? Not even some of my closest friends knew some of the things he threw at me. I couldn't hide nor deny any of it. He already knew he hit it right on the nail.

"Bingo." He smiled.

I was fuming. Incredulous about how the Joker now knew the recesses of my heart. Things that belonged to only me.

"So what's your story?"

I studied my nails, suddenly interested in my French manicure. "I thought you knew all my secrets. How about you tell me?"

Joker smiled. "Oh, I missed a detail or two."

My eyes narrowed at him, wishing to put a stop to his little antics. "What are you trying to do Mr. Joker?"

He gazed lustfully at me, biting his bottom lip. "You really want me to answer that? "

There was a stare-down with Joker. Neither one of us spoke. He could clearly see that I was agitated but he made no sign of being condescending. "Mr. Joker. The point of my visit isn't for you to analyze me or sling sexual innuendos at me. I'm here to help you and channel the locus of your… criminal ways."

"I don't need ya' help toots." His voice lowered to a whisper.

I stood up, ready to end the therapy session. "Everyone needs help Mr. J."

"You wanna help me? Get me outta this straight jacket." His eyes were menacing and entrancing all at the same time.

"Maybe next session." I picked up the paperwork on him and before I could exit the room, I noticed the way his head hung, almost defeated. My heart dipped. "Maybe, Mr. J."