Harleen sat in the interview room as she waited for her patient to arrive. She glanced at her watch and tapped her right foot that was snug in her tall green high heel. The Joker's file sat open in front of her and she stared at her notes that were scribbled onto a small, yellow sheet of paper.

She sighed as she took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Before she had traversed to her appointment, Dr. Leland had stopped her to give her The Joker's physical results.

"Here are his test readings," Dr. Leland said as she handed her a file. "They're quite impressive. However, Dr. Arkham would like for you to fill out this questionnaire with him today. He said they never got around to doing it at his physical."

Harleen opened the file and looked at the questionnaire. "Joan...these are pretty personal..."

"As his doctor, Harleen, you need to be able to ask personal questions. Your sessions are for this purpose. These are just a few health questions that we need to bring to the Board for statistical studies." She quickly glanced down at Harleen's stiletto shoes and said, "How did your first session go, by the way?"

Harleen had shrugged and replied, "We're just getting started, Joan, but I will say this: he admitted to me that he's a user. I think his coke addiction may explain some of his erratic behavior."

"Interesting," Dr. Leland stated, raising an eyebrow. "So...how are you addressing this besides prescribing meds?"

Harleen's eyes grew wide. "Dr. Arkham told you -"

"Dr. Quinzel. I'm here to assist you should you need any advice. Are you sure that the baclofen will help? It's only going to treat his ticks and not his addiction."

"I'm quite aware of that...Doctor Leland," Harleen said through gritted teeth. "You're forgetting that I also have a PhD in Psychiatry and Psychological Studies. If you think that I'm going to allow Dr. Arkham to have you tail my every move -"

Dr. Leland held up a calm hand. "Harleen, please. I insisted. I volunteered my help...not Jeremiah." Harleen sighed and gripped her faux leather valise tightly at her left side as her colleague continued, "As I was saying, the baclofen will not treat the withdrawals he will have, and if he's been using for a while...well, who knows how he'll be. He may be worse."

"Uh huh," Harleen sneered as she put a hand to her hip. "I can see that you and Jerry have been talking about this very deeply."

"When Dr. Arkham told me that you were assigned such a homicidal sociopath as The Joker..."

"You're already putting labels on him?" Harleen suddenly fired back. "He's my patient, Joan. I'll diagnose him!"

Dr. Leland cleared her throat as she pursed her lips and straightened her lab coat. "You'd better give us a diagnosis soon, then, Dr. Quinzel. Otherwise, Jeremiah will have to reassign you again."

"Not this time, Joan," Harleen told her. "I'll make sure of it."

As Harleen thought of their recent conversation, she was flicking the tip of her pen onto the table with fervent taps as she stared at the yellow hue of her notepad.

How dare Dr. Leland give her such an order! And what was she trying to prove by checking in on her? She had barely started with a new patient and Dr. Arkham was supposedly threatening to reassign her already.

She sighed again. "He's had it out for me ever since I took Dr. Crane's place. But hey...it isn't my fault Crane turned out to be a psychopath." Harleen suddenly grinned smugly. "He was Jerry's favorite, after all. Now he's behind glass. Smooth one, Doc."

The door creaked open as she giggled to herself and before she knew it, The Joker had been placed in the chair across from her and Bobby had already closed the door behind them. She raised her eyes as she stopped her chuckling, putting on her glasses again and straightening his file in front of him.

He cocked his head amusedly, asking, "What's so funny, Doc?"

Harleen grinned at him. "Nothing really..." She cleared her throat and cautiously leaned forward. "So...how was your date with Dr. Maier?"

The Joker sniffed. "Dr. Maier? Hmm...Oh! You mean the Nazi with the iron toothpick?" He paused to snicker. "I no longer have broken teeth." He opened his mouth wide and leaned his head back to give his doctor a glance at the gap between his right back teeth. "I didn't get a prize for being a good boy, though."

"Aw," Harleen said, jokingly. "You poor thing. Well, I have something for you, but...promise me you won't treat it like candy." She reached into her lab coat pocket and placed the small, orange pill bottle in front of him. "I told you that we had meds for your tick. It's a very small dosage."

The Joker's grin slowly left his face as he stared at the bottle. "So...will this cure my so-called addiction?"

"Not at all," his doctor replied. "But it will help control your muscle spasms while you're sobering up. I'm afraid Dr. Arkham doesn't allow rehabilitation drugs of that kind to be prescribed. You'll have to...if I may put it bluntly...sweat that part out of you."

"I have to quit 'cold turkey?'" he asked simply.

"Basically..."

He sighed and raised his cuffed hands to run his fingers through his hair. He picked up the pill bottle and shook it gingerly, creasing his brow as he read over the label. "Do I need to keep this under my pillow or something?"

Harleen shook her head. "The nurse will begin administering them to you tomorrow morning, but how about you try one out?" She put her valise into her lap and opened it. A water bottle was extracted from it and she opened it and placed it in front of him. "How about it, Mr. Joker? Let's give it a chance."

"What if it ends up not working?" he raised his brow before he took a well-needed sip of cold water.

Harleen smirked. "Then we can gradually taper you off the meds, but I think it'll help immensely. Trust me..."

The Joker raised his eyes and looked at his doctor. No one had asked him to trust them before, and now this petite woman in white was willing to give something as noble as her trust to him, a man who had destroyed lives in his path of chaos.

He sighed as he tried to open the bottle. He grunted as he set it back down. "Child-proof?" he grinned.

Harleen returned his smile and opened the bottle. "I'm sure those cuffs don't help either." She fished out a small, round tablet and, holding it in the palm of her hand, extended her arm out toward him for him to take his first dosage.

The Joker stared at the small hand in his view and quickly examined her perfectly trim nails. They weren't too long, but they were neatly filed. He could tell however that she manicured herself as her fingertips looked dry and her cuticles were in need of treatment.

He smirked at the meekness of her hygiene and gently took the pill.

Harleen's foot shuffled under the table as she felt his fingertip trail along the skin of her palm. His nails were slightly long and she could tell that his daily showers still hadn't reached all of the dirt that was still underneath them.

Was it dirt...or was it blood?

The Joker popped the tablet into his mouth and raised his bottle of water to her. "Cheers..." he took a swig and water dribbled down his chin as he took deep gulps. He set the bottle back onto the table and wiped the droplets from his face. He sat quietly as he looked at Harleen. "I don't feel anything."

Harleen giggled. "It may take a few hours to kick in, but you'll feel it." She readied her pen as she took out another file from her valise. "So...would you like to know how your physical exam went?"

"Sure..." he muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

She shuffled through the papers in front of her. "Well, I must say...you've impressed our doctors."

He grinned. "Oh, really? Why's that?"

"They're baffled at how...healthy you are. Your blood test results were perfect, especially your cholesterol and glucose levels. I'm amazed myself, to be honest; I never thought you could be perfectly healthy with your lifestyle."

"And just...what kind of lifestyle...is that?" The Joker asked quietly.

"For starters, you have no permanent home, and no routine that people generally have when it comes to their health, like three meals a day. I'm sure, however, you get plenty of exercise with all the running around the city that you do." She placed a strand of blond hair that had fallen out of her tight bun behind her ear and leaned forward over her notes. "I'm curious...when do you eat?"

The Joker sighed as he continued to lean back in his chair. "I eat when I can, Doc. I have some pretty close ties with owners of a few Family restaurants. You ever heard of Antonio's?"

Harleen nodded. "Yes, I have...that's in a pretty bad part of town."

"You wouldn't care if you had his manicotti..." he quipped.

"So, I take it you know Antonio."

"Yep. And he knows me...and what I can do if he tries to go behind my back."

"Behind your back?"

He leaned forward and traced a groove on the table. "He knows that if he continues to allow me in his restaurant...then he's safe." He looked up at her inquisitive eyes.

Harleen smirked. "You mean...he pays you...for protection?"

"Sort of..."

"Then you're no better than the Mob that you've been ripping off all this time," she boldly stated.

The Joker lifted his head and sat up straight in his chair. "I'm nothing like the Mob. You should know that from everything I've done."

"You get paid for protecting a humble restaurant owner..."

"Humble?" The Joker chuckle. "It's clear you haven't met him, Doc. You wouldn't call him that if you knew the things he's done...the things he did in his restaurant...things that could shut him down and liquidate what little income he gets from that place..."

"You blackmail him...and he pays you...sounds like a Mob operation to me."

The Joker groaned as he shuffled in his chair. "He pays me in food...I don't care about money."

"Obviously...seeing as how you burned it..." Harleen pointed out with a smirk.

He folded his hands on the table as a small smile crept onto his face. He licked his bottom lip before taking another gulp of water.

She does have a cute little grin, The Joker thought to himself.

Harleen cleared her throat again and nervously took out the questionnaire that Dr. Leland had given her. "Now...there is one more...exam...I have to give you..."

"Oh yeah? I didn't know I was going to be quizzed my first week."

She clicked her pen. "It's just a few more medical questions...if I get too personal...please, tell me."

He leaned back in his chair and caressed the palm of his left hand as he muttered, "I've got nothing to hide, Doc..."

Harleen adjusted her glasses. "Name?"

The Joker laughed and shook his head. "Why would you ask me that, Doc...when you already know my name?"

She quickly jotted down his public moniker and continued, "I guess that was a moot point. Next. Uh...age?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Now it's getting interesting. How old do you think I am?"

"Mr. Joker, we only have an hour and a half for our sessions. Please try to answer some of these."

"Come on. Guess. It doesn't matter to me anyway."

She paused to give him a serious look and was annoyed when all she got in reply was a mischievous glitter in his eyes.

Is that how it's gonna be? Harleen asked herself. Okay, Mr. Joker...

She jotted down a number and read the next question. "Number three -"

"What did you write?" he interrupted.

She looked and shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

He cocked his head. "Doc? I'm interested...to hear what you think..."

Harleen smirked. "I just put an age range." She looked down at her paper as her smile grew bigger. "Age 35-45..." she muttered.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed with a chuckle. "Gimme some credit, here."

She giggled. "Okay, okay...uhh...we'll say 28...better?"

The Joker's smile faded as he tried to find a retort to her joke. Instead, he sighed, "Next..."

Harleen smiled to herself as she read, "Number three..." She paused again and looked at him. "Like I said, Mr. Joker. These are very personal, so please -"

"Next..." he repeated as he closed his eyes.

She bit her lip and read, "How many...sexual partners...have you had in the past 2 years?"

The question made him sit straight up in his chair and a big smile etched onto his face. "Correction: now it's getting interesting. Haha!"

"It's stupid, I know..."

He creased his brow. "What? Sex?"

Harleen shook her head. "No, no. These questionnaires. They're just for stupid statistics...we all had to fill this out."

The Joker sighed. "Even you?"

She raised her wide eyes and her lips parted in surprise. She sighed. "Yes...and it was rather embarrassing. Thankfully, the staff's results were anonymous..."

"Three..." The Joker murmured.

"What?" Harleen asked, blinking absently.

"Three partners...wait..." he paused to think. "No, no...two...the second one I paid two visits to..."

Harleen stared at him blankly and she felt a small lump in her throat, and her stomach suddenly became unsettled. She took a sharp breath and wrote down his answer. "Okay...um..." She bit her bottom lip again, but The Joker's voice interrupted her.

"Do I have to go into detail?"

"No," she said abruptly. "It's okay...these are basically one-word answers..."

The Joker noticed her uneasiness and he scratched his neck as he said, "I will if you want me to..." When she didn't respond but just sat quietly in her chair looking at her notes, he continued, "They were both prostitutes...the second one...well, I was a repeat customer...I really liked her; she was fun...until I found out that...her pimp wasn't too fond of the fact that I...tried to leave my mark on her..."

Harleen's eyes raised to look at him and she found him once again tracing his finger along the table. "She was one of those girls that...didn't mind being slapped around during sex," he resumed, licking his lips between pauses. "One night, I take out my little knife and...suggest we play a different game. Of course, she agreed. I was paying her and sharing my blow, after all. So, I tie her to the bed...take off her clothes...and I start to trace her thighs with my blade..."

His doctor gripped her clipboard tightly as she listened. "Her moaning was very nice...and I could tell she was enjoying it...until I cut a small line into her hip. Then, she screamed...don't get me wrong. I loved the way she screamed, but at the same time, it annoyed me to no end because...with every cut I gave her...her screams got louder and louder."

Harleen held her breath as she stared at him, hardly believing at how much he was opening up to her, but even more so that he was revealing how he was torturing this poor girl.

"When her pimp finally showed up...from all her screaming...he saw the pool of blood she was lying in...she was writhing around on the bed and before I knew it, he had a gun to my head." He paused and smirked at her. "But I was quicker. With a flick of my wrist...his neck was open...and I left."

Harleen finally exhaled and asked quietly, "You...you left her there...tied up and bleeding? What happened to her?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Who cares? She was a prostitute."

"She was a human being."

"Who got paid for sex," was his rebuttal. He saw her bewildered expression and snickered, "Don't worry...I left the money on the bedside table."

"Were you under the influence when you did this?" she asked him as she took notes in the margin of his questionnaire.

"Under the influence?" he asked darkly.

"Yes. Were you high on coke?"

The Joker suddenly leaned forward, making his doctor move her chair back from the table. "I don't have to be high to do things like that, Doc! You knew that already, yet you asked that stupid question. Everyone here knows that, high or not, I'm capable of doing things that 'normal' people aren't able to do, I mean...isn't that why you're...'examining' me, Doc?"

They stared at one another, his dark eyes burning into her bright blues as his fingertips gripped the table top. His lip was beginning to curl in a vicious sneer as he gazed at her, but she kept her temperament and took off her glasses. She set them in front of her and set her papers beside them as she leaned forward. She carefully put her hands on the edge of the table and replied, "That's interesting that you ask that, Mr. Joker...because I was just about to ask you...why do you think you do...the things you do? Just where in that oversized ego is the rationality of what you do?"

The Joker turned his head away from her, but kept his eyes to her, giving her a threatening sideways glance as she continued, "You go to all the trouble to steal money...then you burn it...you rip off the Mob...yet you go to their restaurants and protect them...what is your motive? Do you have a schedule, Mr. Joker? Because while it appears that you just do violent things on a whim...it seems to me...that you have a plan...a schedule...a customary way of doing things..."

"I am far from customary, little girl..." he told her with a growl.

Harleen smirked, amused at the fact that this was the first time he had given her an indirect threat, even it was a small one. "But you need plans, right? No one blows up a hospital just because they feel like it all of a sudden. You had to have planned that, getting blueprints of the hospital, making the bomb, picking a perfect spot to plant it..." She paused and saw how impatient he was getting, but she decided to leave him with, "Like I said earlier...you're no different from the Mobsters you rip off..."

The Joker suddenly grabbed her wrist and squeezed as she gasped in surprise. He stayed in his seat as he tried to express his anger to his doctor, but he suddenly felt dizzy. Instead, he glared at her as she kept a calm expression, his grip growing tighter around her wrist and her bright eyes shining at him.

Where did she get off speaking to him like that? What kind of shrink was she and what was she trying to prove?

Statistics, my ass, The Joker told himself. She's deliberately trying to provoke me and if that's what she wants, she'll get it!

The lump in Harleen's throat returned as his sweaty palm stayed wrapped around her arm. She glanced at the muscles in his forearm, but then they darted away when he suddenly released her. He looked up at her with tired eyes and said quietly, "I think...the meds are..."

Harleen put her freed wrist in her lap and rubbed it. "Drowsiness is a side effect."

The Joker licked his bottom lip and scratched his head. "Well, let's get these...questions...over with, then."

"You know what?" She crumpled the questionnaire into a tight, wrinkled ball and threw it onto the floor. "Don't worry about it."

He slowly grinned at her as his eyes began to droop. "I guess I didn't pass the quiz."

Harleen couldn't help but smile. "It's okay...you still get a prize." She reached into her lab coat pocket again and pulled out a purple lollipop. "We promise not to poke you with any more needles or hooks."

He laughed softly as she placed it in front of him. He picked it up as she called out, "Bobby."

The orderly came into the room as she motioned toward The Joker. "Please take him to his cell. He feels a bit drowsy."

"Yes, ma'am, Doctor," Bobby complied.

He helped The Joker to his feet and led him out of the room. "Until next time, Doc," he called to her as the door shut behind them. She smiled as she bent to pick up her valise and picked up the wrinkled paper she had dropped.

When Harleen got back to her office, she smoothed out the paper and quickly added her notes to her notepad. She couldn't believe how much he had told her...and it was only their second session.

"Maybe you should slow it down, Harl," she told herself out loud. "You don't want to oppress him enough to make him shut down...if that were even possible..."

She opened her drawer to take out a highlighter when she spied her letter opener. She stared at the sharp tip of the blade and thought about the many cuts The Joker had left on the poor prostitute in his story. Harleen could only imagine the immense pain, but she also couldn't help but wonder what became of her. Did she bleed to death? Was she found and untied and her wounds treated? How could he just leave her there? And still pay for his visit?!

Harleen shook her head at his logic. 'She's a prostitute,' he had said, without a care in the world. She wasn't a human to him, but a thing...a disposable object that wouldn't be missed.

Still...he had a point. She wasn't living a decent life to begin with, so what difference would one less prostitute make in this city?

She shook her head to snap her out of her sudden cynical reasoning. She slammed her desk drawer shut and began to type her notes into her computer.