A/N UPDATE: It's been long overdue that some of the first few chapters of this story need some serious touching up and editing to flow with the rest of the story. Nothing dramatic will be changed, but I have expanded them. Oh and I've taken out some incredibly embarrassing lines and mistakes (like how Shirley was originally a blonde!). Thank you to my readers, reviewers and beta Night Monkey. Jazz
A/N: I'll tell you now, my character is not a Harley Quinn. She's got more self-respect then that. Not sure whether I'll keep this a one-shot or make it a story. More information available on my profile with links. Read and review. Jazzie
"Dr. Gibbs?" Dr. Gretchen Westler asked in her accented voice, though still managing to sound monotone.
"Yes! – Ah yes, I am here." Shirley jumped up with a flash of excitement, but reminded herself to not look too eager. Especially not like an annoying woman. Mentally, she couldn't stop grinning. Adorned upon her was a white coat. Call it cliché, but wearing this white coat was like the polish on her freshly completed degree.
Vibrant, fresh and extremely intelligent was how Shirley's father had always described her. Her friends would have agreed, if she's had any friends. Being who she was, Shirley had found friends only had a certain number of benefits. Remaining neutral in her social interactions was what she'd aspired to in her life. Cold and removed, however, was how her mother described her. None of those things mattered at that precise moment. Today was an extremely important day, pivotal even. It was her first day of her job. The first day of her prosperous career.
Dr. Westler frowned at the new, young doctor. The woman was plump and short with blonde, messy curls falling all over the place. Her hair would need to be in a more controlled state. It wasn't for looks, but rather for safety. Westler guessed that the new doctor would be pretty if she took care of her appearance.
"Dr. Gibbs, before you continue I would ask that you fix hair. It is quite unsuitable," Dr. Westler coldly stated, turning back to her papers. Shirley was hurt but knew she had to ignore it. Nervously she reached in to her handbag and found a black elastic band. Tying her hair up, she looked back to Dr. Westler. The doctor abruptly handed her a slim black folder, loose pieces of paper, and a pin, her nametag. It was the cherry for her coat. "Now Dr. Gibbs you will be working with another new doctor, quite young like yourself." Dr. Westler held back from also saying inexperienced. The younger doctors always had this annoying gleam in them that usually ended up distracting them in their duties.
"Oh really?" Shirley masked her slight anger and hurt at the prospect of working with another doctor. Especially a new one like herself. Shirley wasn't too proud to say the attention being spread over the both of them annoyed her.
"Yes, really. Dr. Harleen Quinnzel." Shirley mentally groaned. She knew Dr. Quinnzel. Rather than study, Harleen or 'Harley' as she had preferred, had used other means to get her degree. Ones that set in an instant dislike. Shirley really didn't think she had the mental capability to handle the criminally insane. But she had been wrong before. Walking through long and sometimes pointless hallways and through a courtyard, they came to the front of the Intensive Treatment where Quinnzel met them.
"Oh Dr. Westler, is this the other doc'? We know each other fine! Same classes, right Shirls?" Harley spoke in her high voice, some words seeming to pinch Shirley's eardrums. Not to mention Shirls.
"Yeah, funny thing eh?" Shirley smiled insincerely back, missed by Harley but not Dr. Westler. As soon as they were out of Dr. Wester's company, she'd let her cold mannerism slide back in to place. They walked the hallways, Dr. Westler telling them what they were going to be doing for the next few months and some evacuation procedures. Those would be gone over in greater detail in a separate introduction later in the week. Coming to another section of the Intensive Treatment, Dr. Westler got ready to leave.
"Now, this is a rare occurrence, so relish it," Dr. Westler said. Both young doctors eagerly awaited their orders. "Dr. Quinnzel, you showed some interest in the Joker, did you not?"
"Oh Dr. Westler, yes I sure did!" Harley chirped back. Shirley couldn't believe it, it sounded almost like she was getting the most infamous and notorious patient.
"He is waiting down in one of the secure interview rooms. Guard Ronald will take you there." Dr. Westler fulfilled Harley's obvious dreams as she was jumping up and down but quickly contained herself. Without a word, Dr. Westler walked away with Shirley barely having a moment to catch up. Shirley was beginning to feel impatient and her high of the prospect of her new job was wearing off.
"Dr. Westler, if I may ask-"
"Hold your horses Dr. Gibbs, we are nearly there." Dr. Westler cut in, knowing already what she was going to ask. Shirley bit her tongue and kept quiet. It seemed that they were leaving the intensive interview rooms. The rooms that they were passing now seemed to have less security but it was still Arkham, thus it was still heavily guarded. Finally coming to an abrupt stop, Dr. Westler turned to Shirley sharply, making Shirley take a step back. "Dr. Gibbs listen carefully to what I am about to tell you."
"Of cou-" Shirley began before Dr. Westler cut her off.
"I said listen." Dr. Westler paused before continuing, perhaps waiting for Shirley to say something, question her even. "Do not let jealously cloud your judgment or duties as a professional and please, spare me your defenses. You will start at the bottom of the high list of the criminally insane and work your way up." The words burnt Shirley's ego and her façade might have cracked if she had not heard Dr. Wester's last comment. She was surprised. Ignoring Quinzel's confusing descent to her new position, Shirley felt immensely flattered. The fresh wounds to her ego were healed and Shirley felt a new fire start in her chest. Arkham thought this much of her.
"It has been decided what you will be given patient #01567, Warren White," Dr. Westler said.
Shirley wracked her brain for a face, some visual recognition. He sounded familiar! Warren White, White, White….Great White Shark! Yes she knew of him. It was more a stroke of luck really, as her few readings of him had been an accident. Nonetheless the articles were an informative and intriguing enough to read. The man had pleaded insane and landed himself in Arkham. He had been quite sane upon his arrival but now he had festered in to what he had pleaded to be. Insane. Without another word, Shirley was left with her folder, the guard standing next to the door. Her patient. Smiling at the guard, Dickens, who rolled his eyes and looked away, she opened the door.
The most intriguing thing in the rare readings of Mr. White was his transformation. His appearance was something that she had always questioned, believing it to be more of a rumour. How wrong she was. If a shark were to turn in to a man, it would be the man in front of her. He really was missing a nose, many of his fingers, and his ears and his sharp teeth were there, something he had apparently done to himself. Shirley didn't know which scared her more, his discoloured and disfigured appearance or the way his eyes were following her.
He wasn't strapped down to the chair, which surprised Shirley. However, she pushed it from her mind. Maybe that was just another silly ideation. Opening her folder she ran her eyes over the summary of his file. Still he had not spoken a word, his eyes trained on to her. The corner of her mouth picked up for moment, and then dropped as she shut the folder. Taking her seat, pulling at her dress top to get comfortable, getting out her new, large notepad and pen, she looked up to Mr. White.
"Good morning, Mr. White," she greeted. He smirked, his sharp pointed smile becoming visible.
"Morning, doctor…" he greeted in return, with a charming and upbeat voice.
"Dr. Gibbs. I'm your new psychiatrist." She had nearly put her hand out to shake but stopped herself, scolding herself for something so stupid.
"New fish aren't you, Dr. Gibbs?" he said with a wide smile. Shirley jotted down a few notes and looked back up and smiled, hopefully not looking nervous.
"I will admit, I have not read your full file yet, only the overview. So our interview today will not be," Shirley nervously thought of a word to use, "- structured."
"Well don't mind me Dr. Gibbs, I'm still eager!" Mr. White smiled. His smile was off-putting; it was so jaunty and out-of-place. Not to mention, full of pointed teeth.
"Let's start off with your childhood." An awfully common thing to ask but Shirley knew of nowhere else to start. This interview probably wouldn't even prove to be that useful or beneficial.
"Like anybody else, I would say it was happy and innocent up to a point." Nothing there, he seemed to be honest. Still, she noted everything.
"What would you say about your adolescent years?" she asked, looking back up to Mr. White. She slightly shivered; his gaze was still on her. It was immensely uncomfortable.
"One lucky fish." He nearly laughed. Shirley kept eye contact and held her ground. Control, you have the control, she chanted in her head. She kept her eyes on his; looking anywhere else would show weakness, fear. Looking in his eyes and nowhere else showed that his appearance didn't affect her. She hoped that it was working.
"It would seem, as you say Mr. White, through your childhood and adolescent years you were happy and as you say, 'one lucky fish'. Am I correct?"
"Of course, darling, now you are going to start asking some real questions?" He didn't say it in an annoyed tone or maliciously, which in Shirley's opinion would have been easier; no he said it in a dominant tone, masked by his gleaming smile. It felt like she had been dismissed in a way.
"And Mr. White, what are some 'real questions'?" Shirley asked calmly, trying to gain the control.
"Why Dr. Gibbs, darling, that's cheating. Give it a shot, I promise I won't bite." With a smile like that, Shirley quickly thought of a question that might just gain her control in this interview.
"How has your disfiguration impacted you?" Straight to core! Maybe it was too soon, but White had already started this game. However he reacted to this question would aid her greatly in her diagnosis of him. He laughed, loud and deeply.
"How it's impacted me? It is me, I am it. Nice shot though!" He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. Shirley only looked for the tiniest part of a second but she saw it. Many of his fingers were gone, only the selected few remaining. Shirley groaned inwardly, nothing was getting to him. Looking to her watch she saw that the interview was coming to an end thankfully.
"Mr. White I think that's it for today. Dickens, you can take Mr. White back to his cell," Shirley said loudly, her last go at being in control. White smirked and leered at her as he was roughly pulled out of the room. Shirley let herself slide into the chair. All she could think of right now was, thank the heavens she didn't have Joker. She laughed softly in her mind at the thought of Quinnzel actually making any progress with him. Shirley would make progress, though. Once she broke White's outer shell, she'd get there.
For the remainder of the afternoon, all the way into the night, she studied what other doctors had written about him, interview tapes and the curious case of Dr. Anne Carver. The more she read, the more she realized that he wasn't as 'simple' as she had previously thought. It was obvious that she would essentially have to discard all notes before his 'transformation' as he was sane then. That left her with few notes and only one interview tape and that was with Dr. Westler. She looked up from the desk she had been using and couldn't help as smile stretched out across her face. Dr. Westler had known this, that's why she had gotten White.
Packing her things up and leaving Arkham for the day, she felt equipped for her next appointment with White. She had heard Quinn in the staffroom, boasting about her progress with Joker in their first session. Shirley wouldn't lie to herself. To some degree she still was jealous. It appeared that Harley already had many of the inmates, guards and doctors wrapped around her finger.
Asides from Aaron Cash. There was a reason that man was in charge of the guards and Shirley already liked him. He was smart and 'street smart' with the true grittiness of Arkham. Because she had eaten a late lunch with Cash, Shirley felt that she was fitting in to her new position smoothly. He had asked her about Great White, Warren. She hadn't lied, had said that White seemed to have enjoyed the interview a little too much. Cash had chuckled but warned her not to fall to his charm – he had added that it seemed Quinn was falling for Joker's already.
So leaving at the end of the day in her little old car, she planned out the next interview, to every little detail. White was smart and manipulative. Yes, if she got to him then she would get it – her career would be all that she wanted it to be.