Heyyyyooo... I have no explanation for making this one. Guess I was just in the mood for it heheh.
I have been thinking about what kind of talks Harley and Joker had during their therapy sessions and... I landed on here.
Supposedly I was going to make a Gorillaz collection of one shots. But I don't have any good ideas for it.. All the same, I dedicate this to vinnie2757 who has inspired me to be a better writer. (Seriously guys she is an awesome writer. Read her works.) Enjoy.
1. First Time's a Charm
This was insane. In all forms of logic in the universe, rational and irrational, this was by far, absolute insanity. But to the wandering thoughts of a Dr. Harleen Quinzel, slowly walking through one of the corridors of Arkham Asylum, it was befitting the current situation at hand.
She hadn't thought that a psychiatrist of her (in-)experience would be assigned to what could only be Gotham's most dangerous criminal. All of her would-be colleagues kept nit-picking her that she was too young and naive for the job.
Yet here she was now, walking the halls that housed Gotham's most dangerous. They should bow down to her for accepting the offer, heck even being solely chosen amongst a myriad of others.
"Doctor."
Harleen looked up to the four guards who had escorted her. She'd been too lost in thought that she forgot they were there. "We're here, ma'am." The big guy in lead said, gesturing to the door in front of them.
There were glass windows on the door but the guards were blocking the way so she couldn't see her soon-to-be patient. Harleen adjusted the folder in her hands and gave a steely look on the guards. "Thank you gentlemen, I'll take it from here."
Moving away so she could pass through, the guards went to their places by the door for the doctor's disposal in case anything happened.
Harleen only hesitated by the door for one second, before she turned the knob and flew the door open.
It's like entering a football stadium once she's inside the 'questioning room'. Stark white walls and floors that seemed too blind to withstand. The young psychiatrist manages to get her vision under control, and when it does, something more, vibrant fills her view.
She's seen and heard about him in the news, read about him in the papers, even had gossip talks with some local policemen that found themselves in the psychiatric side of a case. Her mentors had always told her that one can never be prepared for their most crucial patient. And they were right.
And now, Harleen Quinzel's was about to be Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime. The Joker.
Harleen slowly made her way to the table where her patient sat, head-down seemingly lonesome. From what she saw on TV, he mostly wear fancy suits in purple shades. Seeing him in the white patients' custom attire, and with a straitjacket to boot, he looked like the lesser version of himself.
Still, even in his dull clothes, the bright, neon green of his hair still stood out in high contrast. And as Harleen moved her chair away, she could see that his skin was as pale as his clothes, and yet they held a different color altogether, just because it was him.
"Good morning..." She said to formally start the session.
There was no response from him as she sat down, and so she brought up the folder on the table. "I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel... From today on I will be the psychiatrist assigned to you." She said in complete greeting. Still, her patient did not move.
Seeing as he wasn't going to respond any time soon, she decided to begin with the questions. "So..." Harleen started, opening up the Joker's folder. "Some reputation you have, huh?"
The doctor made sure to keep half her attention to the patient while the other half skimmed on documents that she had already memorized. She wanted to recite all his charged crimes out loud, but she deemed it quite unprofessional, and downright rude to do such a thing.
Especially given her patient's background. The man was already locked away in an asylum. Rubbing in his face for the very reason why would be a cheap shot to his pride (and Harleen knows he has that just like everyone else does). No. This man, her patient, the Joker, he deserved to be respected. Even if it was only on the terms as either a mental patient, or criminal.
"Look, I understand if you're not gonna want to talk to me. You have no reason to, and I'm sure it would be pointless trying to give you one. But I know that I can help you... I can treat you.. I can help you be better again-"
She's interrupted by a small sound. It's similar to a choke, and she sees that her patient is now shaking, from what she could only assume, was by trying to hold in his laughter. His struggle lasts for a good 5 seconds, and Harleen, though already having mentally prepared herself for it, was driven to confusion.
"Is that how you see this, doctor?"
My God, she thought. She had never heard a voice like that before. It almost sounded like he was growling and whispering at the same time. The striking paleness and half-hidden mirth from his apathetic face shook Harleen in places she didn't quite like.
"If that's how you see what's goin' on right he-yah, than you're probably more inexperienced for this job than you thought." He said, smile fading through the sentence.
His sudden statements had caught her off guard that she couldn't help asking: "Why do you say that? You don't know me, we've only gotten 3 minutes into the session."
The fact that she brought up their meeting only amused him more, and this time his smile stayed as he said: "I don't need a session to know you. I had your whole background the moment I saw your pretty face through those doors."
For reasons unknown, Harleen found her confusion slowly converting into curiosity. Trying to ignore that her patient had just (kinda) complimented her, Harleen adjusted her posture and clasped her hands together as she played along with her patient. "All right, what's my background then?"
The Joker's smile went away and he was deadly serious again. "Warm home, nice family.. Did good in school, parents were real proud of you.. Then I'm gonna guess tragedy strikes... Most likely Daddy? Pretty girls are always Daddy's little girls... And this breaks Mommy, right? And you spend the rest of you childhood hoping you'll find a way to help people in the way you couldn't help her.."
Her face must've given away something, because he spent a long while looking at her with blank, glazed eyes and a grin-less face. It felt to Harleen as if he was seeing something that she couldn't, and it made her feel vulnerable.
"And now here you are.. Fresh out of M.D. psycho school, thinking you finally got your big break because you're sitting in a room with someone who's spent long years in the streets with an uneven ratio of people to bullets...Am I right so far, doctor?"
It was unexpected, she'll admit. So unexpected that he probably had proof from her eyes after listening. But she had been warned. She had been warned before-hand that the Joker would try to play with her. Toy with her mind.
Undoubtedly, he was good. Amazing prowess, and he said very few. Still, Harleen was warned, and although she knew that her patient had more experience in the field of dangerous eloquence, it didn't mean that she couldn't counter with the same thing.
"Maybe.." She said when she composed herself. "Maybe you're right... But maybe you're wrong." She adjusted her glasses and she could see that the Joker hadn't expected her to shoot back. And that he was clearly impressed.
"Maybe I didn't come from a warm home and nice family... Maybe, I grew up to be a hostile adolescent, disobeying my parents at every chance I could. Maybe I grew up hating them until I decided I didn't need them anymore. That one night I took a knife and did something really bad."
She hadn't noticed that while she spoke, in an unusually low and raspy voice, that she had stood up from her seat and had leaned across the table. It was a questionable position to find herself in. And by God, if the guards outside could see her, they would think the worst. But it didn't seem wrong to her.
In fact.. It actually felt.. kind of nice.
"Maybe I'm a convicted patient here, like you, who killed a poor, helpless doctor, and took her place here with you, because I'm an obsessed fan."
Only Harleen had moved while she gave her speech. Yet, the longer she looked at their close proximity, the closer the Joker had gotten. A moment of silence passes, and then suddenly the Joker snaps.
A maddening grin breaks the apathy into his face and he proceeds to belt out in mad laughter, guttural, psychotic and contagious.
Harleen immediately plopped back down to her seat, breaking into tears while she tried to catch her breath between uncontrolled laughs. The Joker still has a mad grin plastered to his face, still silently chuckling, looking at her in glazed mirth and intoxicated excitement.
"That's it!" He said, ecstatic. "Better than the prim proprietress that walked in here earlier."
The psychologist's laughter has died out, and now she could feel her insides growing cold with anxiety despite herself. How reckless of me!, she thought in self-horror. The Joker seemed to caught on this and he said: "There's no need to be embarrassed."
She looked up at him, and anxiety was mixing into curiosity again.
"You just did a full on reverse-psychology with your first mental patient. Not everyone would care to do that, or even do so effectively." He was saying, looking as if he wanted to move his hands up the table, but couldn't, given his restraints. Harleen almost felt sorry for him.
The young doctor adjusted her glasses again, feeling something uncomfortably warm seep under the folds of her clothes. "You're not a mental patient.." She said without thinking. The Joker looked at her, somehow dubious.
"And why do you say that?"
"Mental patients have delusions and psychological conditions. You're just a guy who loves to kill people and laughs while doing it." She cracked and she was laughing again.
Her laugh triggered the Joker's own more than her joke did..but he didn't want to ruin their humor by telling her that. Instead, he asked: "What did you say your name was again, hun?"
She contained her laughter again and he wanted nothing more but to make her stop doing that. Her finger came up to the side of her face as she combed a strand of golden hair over her ear. He almost didn't hear her answer because of it.
"I'm Harleen. Harleen Quinzel.."
The Joker slightly lifted his head back, letting the name sink in. "Harleen.." He repeated, comprehending what it sounded like coming from him. "What an extraordinary name!" He exclaimed, and the blush that came on her face was as obvious as the bleach white of his flesh. And all the sudden, a thought crossed his mind.
"Do your friends call you 'Harley Quinn'?" He asked, dying and hoping to know if he would be the first to ask. He sees her face slightly fall though, so it was an uncomfortable yes.
"I.. Ugh.. I don't really have many friends.." She said, forlorn and almost ashamed.
Although he had expected to hear such a thing after seeing her expression, it was nearly impossible to contain his joy. "Well.. Harley..."
Just the sound of her new nickname told her all too well that she will be seeing more and more of this man. And that she was going to desperately want to hear him repeat that name for millions and millions of times.
"Now you do..." He grinned, because if this was how fun it was to have sessions with a psychiatrist, and more specifically, a psychiatrist like his, then he supposes that it wasn't that bad getting locked up in Arkham after all.
First chapter done! And this took me nearly 5 hours!
Man I have to say, the Joker is absolutely hard to keep in character.. I sure do hope I did him justice.. If anyone has any points they would like me to change about him or Harley, I'm open to suggestions.
Anyhoos expect more from this series.. Thanks for reading!
