Title: Control

Fandom: Post-Dark Knight

Rating: M

Summary: Sequel to "I Love You…I'll Kill You'. This story is all about the struggle for control.

Pairing: OC/Joker/Harley

Genre: Drama/Angst

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own the Joker or Batman!

A/N: This is the sequel to "I Love You...I'll Kill You. I highly recommend reading that story first because you'll be rather lost if you dive into this story without knowing what happened beforehand.

Ok, so the first few chapters are going to be kind of slow moving simply because I have to account for what everyone has been doing for the past two years. But it has to be done to re-establish everything. Enjoy!

It had almost been two years. According to his internal calendar the official two year anniversary would be sometime next week. He still couldn't believe that he had allowed himself to be contained in this cell for two years. It was very unlike him to allow someone else to control his life and destiny, but now he felt like he had been staying in his cell like a good boy for too long. By the end of this week he was going to take back control of his life again.

He needed to get out of here; he craved the chaos and the thrills associated with causing chaos. Besides, he still needed to have some more fun with Batman. Knowing who the man underneath the mask was would provide him with several options for enjoyment.

He often wondered if Bruce had gotten himself another girlfriend yet because it would be fun to kill her. Maybe he could go after that beloved butler of his again and finish what he had started. Or maybe he would simply try to kill Bruce. He had so many fresh ideas and he couldn't wait to execute them all.

He sighed, lost in reflection about the past two years.

To be honest, he had originally stayed in here because he was tired. Planning Lacy's death and the events leading up to that had exhausted him and he figured this was as good of a place as any to recharge his batteries and think up new schemes for chaos. He really only intended to be here for a few weeks before breaking out.

What he didn't expect was the sadness he ended up feeling over Lacy's death. Commissioner Gordon had delivered the news about his wife's death to him personally, and he knew that Gordon was aware that he had killed Lacy. He could see it in the man's eyes when he looked at him.

At first it pleased him that Lacy was dead. The news left him with a sense of pride that his scheme had worked and almost completely made up for the fact that he hadn't gotten a chance to kill Bruce's beloved butler. But after the buzz wore off, he started to feel something eating at him.

He thought it was just his stomach and that he was hungry, but after eating he found that the ache was still there. It took him a while to realize that he actually missed her.

He tried to deny it, tried to convince himself that the ache he felt was a stomach virus or the flu, but it was no use. After the second week of experiencing it, he realized that he had to face the facts. He really did miss Lacy.

It was a weird feeling for him to actually miss anyone or anything. He wasn't used to it and didn't like it. He hated anything that made him feel common and human—and this made him feel both.

Normally when he felt that way he would go blow something up or kill someone. But given the fact that he was stuck in this cell, that wasn't an option. His inability to do anything destructive to distract himself only drove him mad with rage and disturbed him even further.

He wouldn't call what he went through depression. He certainly didn't feel suicidal over her absence, but he did miss her and usually wished that he hadn't killed her. He wished that the situation had been different and that he hadn't been forced into killing her. But she made him do it.

Since her death he had been having these weird dreams where she comes back from the dead and they go on magnificent crime sprees together. She would tell him that she had changed and was ready to take her rightful place at his side and be his queen. Then they would destroy the city. He loved and hated those dreams at the same time.

He loved the dreams because it was fun to think about what Lacy would have been like if she had chosen to become a criminal like him. She was definitely smart enough. She was the second smartest person he had ever known—the smartest being himself of course. If she could have gotten over her high and mighty morality that she insisted on clinging to, she would have been an unstoppable force and a powerful ally.

But he also hated the dreams because it was stupid and pathetic to still be thinking about her this much. She was gone and he had to accept that. There was no point dwelling on the past of what could have been. He had to focus on the here and now. At least that's what he told himself everyday.

When he finally had come to terms with Lacy's death, he spent a few more weeks coming up with plans to execute once he got out of Arkham. Considering how easy it had been to get out of Arkham before, he didn't anticipate any problems getting out a second time. But when he realized he was ready to break out, he found that it was going to be much more difficult this time—if not impossible.

He was going to need to enlist the help of someone on the other side of his cell in order to escape. Finding someone to help him wasn't easy and took him a long time. But then, about eight months ago, she came into his life.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel, or Harley Quinn as he liked to call her. She was sent to him by the administrators of Arkham to be his psychiatrist and try to figure him out. But what they didn't realize is that he figured her out first. He used her school-girl crush on him to turn her into his puppet.

He heard the swish of the electric sliding door in the hallway and wondered who was coming to see him. He watched impatiently and when he heard the soft clicking of heels on the tile floor, he grinned because he knew exactly who those heels belonged to.

"Hello Harley Quinn." He said politely, walking up to the glass wall.

She checked to make sure that no one else was around. "Hello Mr. J." She giggled.

"Are you here for another therapy session?" He asked.

"No. I'm here to check up on you but I only have a few minutes." She nodded, looking up at the surveillance camera in the corner watching their every move. Luckily they weren't recording the audio or else she would be in a whole lot of trouble. "How do you feel today?"

"I'd feel a lot better if I was already out of here." He answered honestly as he kicked around imaginary dust with his foot.

"I know puddin', but it won't be too much longer. I promise." She assured him. "I have everything all set up for tomorrow night."

"Really?" That made him look back up at her. "Tomorrow night?"

"Yep." She nodded proudly. "I did everything you told me to and it's all set up with your guys."

"Good." He smiled.

"Are you proud of me?" She asked, hoping that he was. She had done it all for him, all so that they could leave here together and she could finally be with the man she loved.

"Huh?" He asked, barely hearing what she had asked. He was too busy plotting what he would do to announce to the city that he was back. He wanted it to be something big that would bring the fear back to people.

"I asked if you were proud of me." She repeated, hoping he would answer this time.

"Oh sure, of course I am." He nodded.

A huge smile broke out on her face and she couldn't contain her giggle. "Now we can be together just like you said!"

"Yeah. It will be great." His enthusiasm didn't match hers, but luckily for him she failed to notice that.

"We can find a nice place to live. I'd say we could live in my apartment but it's not big enough for two people. I've always wanted to live in the rich part of the city but I don't really care where we live as long as we're together…."

"Harley, would you mind doing me a small favor and shutting up?" He asked, giving her a small smile. "I'm trying to plan what my first act as a free man will be."

"Oh." She said quietly. "Sorry. I don't want to interrupt your brainstorming."

"That's ok." He shrugged. He loved the fact that she was totally in his control. She was the complete opposite of Lacy and for that he was grateful. Whereas Lacy was a brunette, Harley was a blonde. Lacy was more in love with who he used to be, and Harley was in love with who he was now. Lacy was the past and Harley was the present—possibly the future too. He hadn't decided what he would do to her once he got out of here. He was tempted to keep her around. She was a nice contrast to Lacy.

"Damn it!" He cursed loudly when he realized that he was thinking about Lacy again. It seemed like no matter what he did she always popped back into his head, making him think about her. It wasn't fair and he wished he could just forget about her. She was dead, case closed.

"What's wrong?" She asked, worried about him.

"Nothing." He shook it off and began to pace around his cell. "It's nothing."

"Ok." She replied, not sure she believed him. Something was bothering him. Maybe she could get him to open up to her more after he escaped from here. She glanced at her watch. "Oh, I have somewhere I need to be soon. I'll see you tomorrow though, ok?"

"Ok." He nodded, not looking up at her as he continued to pace.

"Love you." She told him.

"Yeah, right back at you." He mumbled, rolling his eyes as he did so. Most of the time he didn't mind Harley's company. But there were times when she grated on his nerves and he just wanted to strangle the life out of her.

She was always so cheerful and perky. It was maddening sometimes just how cheerful she could be. But she was also hopelessly devoted to him and willing to do anything he asked of her. It was a new experience for him, having a woman willing to serve him in any way he saw fit. It was a nice change from his past relationship with Lacy.

He remembered the first time he met Harley. It only took a few moments for him to realize that he could turn her into anything he wanted. And while it took a few more months than he initially planned, he eventually broke her down and rebuilt her to be everything that Lacy could never be—everything that he wanted Lacy to be.

He cringed at the fact that he had yet again thought about Lacy. Damn woman. If she wasn't already dead he would kill her for making him think about her so much.