"Well, I must say, Ms Quinzel, I am impressed.' Dr Leland, my current psychologist smiled, staring at me over her clipboard. I smiled back, genuinely, of course.
"Thanks, Doc. I'd like to think I got all the circus tricks out of my system by now." I sat on the stereotypical couch in Leland's office, with my arms relaxed by my sides.
"You've made astonishing progress in your time here." The Doc mused. It had been two years since I'd had my ass dumped back here in Arkham. When I was thrown out the window, Bats had picked me up and dropped me in for a scheduled appointment. Ever since then, I'd been the hot topic: The Clown Prince's Harlequin. A true head case up for grabs. It wasn't pleasant, seeing the way they fought over who got to examine me first, but I was thankful that Doctor Leland had won. We had known each other before, well, before he took over my mind. She had been my mentor, almost, when I was interning here. If I'd stayed longer, we may have even been friends. There was no chance of it now, but she had always been sincere, so she was my preferred head case specialist. She continued on. "You've managed to drop that ridiculous accent, lost the make up, and even seen the light on the Jo-"
"Don't!" I yelled. I gripped the sides of the couch, my knuckles turning white, before regaining my composure. "Excuse me." I sighed, "it's just that we've been through that issue, and I'd like to not revisit that again." I looked away. I wouldn't even let myself think the name, not that you could call it a name. A title, rather. A status. In my mind, He, was as good an alias as he was going to get.
The Doc looked startled, but sympathy flooded her face.
"Of course, Ms Quinzel. I understand." She leafed through her notes. "I do have good news though. At this rate, once you speak with a few of the other Doctor's here, you should be released in a month or so." She smiled happily at me, and I couldn't help but return it.
Leaving.
Freedom.
"That's amazing, Doc!" An old habit resurfaced, and I clapped my hands in delight before I could stop myself. Luckily, the Doc didn't seem to notice, and left it unchecked.
"I always knew you were sane, Ms Quinzel." She looked me dead in the eye. I stared right back. It had become my thing. When I first came in, all broken and bruised, I wouldn't look at anyone. I stayed silent in my cell, curled up in the corner. Even Red, or Poison Ivy as she preferred others to call her, couldn't get anything out of me. All I could do was stare at the vase and note sitting on the other side of the room. Until I snapped. I got up, wrapped my hand around the cool glass, and hurled it at the plexiglass between me and the viewing corridor. Alarms blared, and people rushed in. Two men grabbed my arms and led me back to my bed. I went happily, my face bright with a smile that hadn't been seen here in years. I had broken free. I'd won the struggle for my sanity.
"If you don't mind, Doc, I'd like to go back to my cell for a while. Slightly tired, you know?" I gave her a weary smile, and she nodded in response.
"I'll call your guards." She pushed a button on the side of her desk, and a buzzer rang shrill as the door opened. Two large men came and stood by my sides. I didn't need to be dragged anymore, I'd proven myself better than that.
Leland stood up and walked to the door and held it open. "Really, Harley," she smiled softly, using my first name, "I'm so proud." She stepped aside, and I walked passed her, all the while with a smile of my own on my face.
I was getting out.
2 months later
"I'm afraid we can't return any of your possessions that you came in with," sighed the Warden. Quincy Sharp had never been the brightest man, but he did his best. I couldn't help by laugh.
"I didn't expect you to, what with most of them being weapons banned in at lest 30 states." He gave me a queer look, before handing me a set of clean clothes. I looked at the jeans and t shirt. Nothing fancy, but it was gucci to a woman who'd been stuck in Arkham standard uniform for two and a half years. I grinned, and thanked him, before turning to change in the bathroom.
It was my last day in this asylum, for there was no other word for it, and I was itching to get outside again. It had been so long since I'd seen the sun without the breath of guards on my neck. I opened the door, and shrieked in surprise.
There, in the middle of the room, was the Dark Knight himself.
I stood my ground, meeting his hard eyes. I was sane. It had been proved. There was nothing he could do to keep me here. I swallowed, before mumbling a hurried "Long time no see." He looked at me for a while longer, before smirking for a fraction of a second.
"Good." His gravelly voice was loud in the small room, and he turned to face Sharp, who was sitting calmly at his desk. "She seems fine, a credit to your psychiatrists." Sharp nodded, and I glared at the Bats' ostentatious cape.
"I was always sane, Batman." I spoke defiantly, and he turned to face me again. I smiled sadly. "Certain people are just persuasive. Like politicians." Bats' face remained devoid of emotion, and I looked over at Sharp, who was scribbling in a notebook, probably just trying to look busy. When I looked back, there was no evidence of his presence left in the room. I sighed, and looked at the Warden expectantly. He got out of his chair, and walked to my side.
"Allow me to escort you out, Ms Quinzel." I smiled, and walked out through the door. We walked in silence past the staff rooms, to the front exit. It was a clear day outside, and I relished in the sunshine. i had always preferred rainy days, but when all you have is artificial lighting, you tend to miss a good conditioning UV ray.
We continued our way down to the docks, where there was a boat with more Arkham staff waiting. I turned to the Warden, and smiled once again. I had being doing that a lot lately, but who wouldn't with the taste of freedom on their tongue.
"Thank you." I said honestly, before walking on to the boat. I sat down on the side, out of the way, and the motor roared to life. As we left the island, I watched it shrink into the horizon. No longer would I be treated as though my touch was toxic. I would be among people, normal people, and no one would know of my past.
I was free.
I breathed in the smell of stale air once I reached my old apartment. The police had kept in vacant, examining everything for traces of him, but I had been allowed to return to it now that they had found nothing. They hadn't bothered to leave anything behind though. All of my furniture was there, but my personal items were gone. I walked over to the wardrobe beside my bed, which had been stripped of bedding. Only a few garments were left hanging, and even fewer in the drawers. My shoes were untouched. It wasn't much, but it was enough. I closed the door with a sigh, and walked into the small kitchenette. All of the glassware a crockery had been rearranged, proving that even they had been under scrutiny. I wasn't surprised. I wouldn't have trusted anything not to be a bomb. I stumbled back over to my bed, and collapsed on the bare mattress. It smelled different, had probably been tested billions of times for DNA samples, not that there would have been any apart from my own. He hadn't so much as set one foot inside my apartment, no matter how much I begged. Unless it was a slap to the face, or a yank in a general direction, there was no physical contact. I knew now that I was just a toy, but back then he had encompassed my world. He had been terrible, and yet beautiful. The way he spoke about things, the impulsive, almost childish way things had to go his way, it had swallowed me up. Now that I was chewed and spat back out again, I couldn't help but grin masochistically at my own misfortune.
"I was ripe for the picking." I growled into the crook of my arm. I heaved myself up and sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed. And then I saw it.
The small coffee table in front of the television set was bare from anything else. It was precisely in the middle, not even covered in dust, like everything else in the room was. A long stemmed, red rose in a green vase. A note was beside it.
I sate very still, not trusting my surroundings. That had not been in the room when I first came in. I looked towards my door, but it was closed. Not locked, though. I hadn't thought of it as I walked in. I started to shake. I knew there was no one in the room, I could always tell when he was around, and he could never stay silent for long. The mere thought of utter silence usually made him erupt in cruel laughter. But that was beside the point.
I slowly got off the bed, trying not to make a noise. Walking over to the table, I lifted up the note to see a fine, elegant scrawl in purple ink.
I knew you would find your way out.
Make sure you don't forget me, sweet.
I'll be waiting,
J
I dropped the card and watched it float silently to the floor. I started to shake, before I fell to the floor in a heap. I started to sob.
No.
No, no, no, no, NO.
Only one word managed to escape my lips that night.
"J-Joker..."
