Disclaimer: I don't own any of Batman, Joker, Quinn or the Commissioner or any of the fine characters in the Batman Universe. I really even don't own the characters I came up with. These named characters all belong to the DC Comics universe and their media group, except for the characters I came up with who have their own lives, if only in my head. I'm just borrowing them. I'll put them back. Honest.
Also, I mention alcohol, a lot. This is not a recommendation of or for alcohol; it is just an observation of the human condition. Kids under the legal age in your respective jurisdictions do not do this at home. Or in a friends home. Most certainly not in public.
CHAPTER 1
The woman sat primly in the armless chair facing three people behind the table. The room could have been any institutional room, in a school or office, but the bars on the window and the safety glass in that window told of another venue, of a higher-security venue.
The woman was approaching her middle years but still had a way to go, attractive with pleasant, almost elfin features and dark blonde hair. She was modestly groomed with little in the way of makeup on; foundation, a faint blush, a demure lipstick barely darker than her natural lip color. Were she to stand she would be seen to be of a smaller stature, well muscled and lithe in an athletic way. Her poise sitting bespoke an athletic background. Her hands were relaxed in her lap.
The three people behind the institutional table were two men and a woman, all in their later middle years. All were dour of expression, attentive to the woman before them. Each had similar files at hand. The woman spoke.
"Miss Quinn…" she began.
"Excuse me, please, Mrs. James," the younger woman being addressed interrupted. "I apologize, but I no longer go by 'Harley Quinn'. I have renounced my criminal past. Please call me by my birth name, Harleen Quinzel, or, if you please, Dr. Quinzel."
"Miss, Quinn, you are no longer a doctor."
"With respect, Mrs. James, while my felonious past has caused me to lose my license to practice medicine in this state, I do still retain my degree as a medical doctor and as such I do indeed still merit the honorific 'Doctor'. I also still retain my doctorate in Psychology and by that I also merit the honorific 'Doctor'. Please, ma'am, I'm trying to put Harley behind me…"
The man to the woman's left spoke up. "She has a point there, Claire. One way for her to work beyond her criminal past is to embrace the person she was before she turned to crime."
The woman nodded in approval. "Yes, I agree. My apologies… Dr. Quinzel."
The younger woman gave a small nod and a slight smile to the older woman. "Thank you, Ma'am."
Again, the older woman spoke. "This review board has completed your evaluation for parole. Would you hear our findings?"
A deep breath, then, "Yes, Ma'am, I would."
The older woman nodded, then continued, "After careful evaluation of your file the board finds that it would not be in the best interests of the state to grant you parole at this time. Do you understand what this means, Dr. Quinzel?"
The younger woman seemed to deflate in her chair. She hung her head slightly and said in a clear, firm voice "Yes, Ma'am, I do understand. The outcome is not unanticipated. I do thank you for your consideration." She raised her head to regard the review board before her.
The man on the woman's right, the younger of the two men if only slightly, then spoke up. "Actually, Dr. Quinzel, we are pleased you thought to stress your titles and education."
The younger woman tilted her head slightly. "Sir?" she asked in a slightly puzzled tone.
The woman at the table continued. "Yes. Well, as I said, we cannot in good conscience yet grant you parole. But, would you consider something a bit out of the ordinary? It would allow you to show your bona fides, it would allow the state to better adjudge your reformed character, and, quite frankly, it would help us here at Arkham Asylum."
Again, the young woman seemed perplexed. "Ma'am, I apologize, but I don't quite follow?"
The older woman continued. "In light of your background as a psychiatrist as well as a psychologist, we'd like to offer you an adjunct position here at Arkham Asylum. We have been in discussion with the state Board of Medical Examiners, and, while the discussion is still in progress the Board is not totally opposed to this idea of you working here. Of course your work would be done under the supervision of one or all of the other attending staff and you'd have no prescribing privileges – you'd effectively be an intern again. But, and this is a major point, you would working as a doctor, you'd be doing a service to the state and more importantly, to yourself."
"Resident" the younger woman said.
"I beg your pardon, Dr. Quinzel?" the older woman asked.
"I'd effectively be a resident, not an intern. A resident in the strictest term as I would still be an inmate here at Arkham, resident in Arkham."
The younger man barked a laugh. "Oh my, that does bring back memories. Yes, Dr. Quinzel, you would be a resident, which puts you one notch higher than an intern. You know we will work you ragged, don't you?" he continued.
"Yes, sir, but it would be work, work I've done, work I've been good at," the young woman answered levelly, "work I will be good at again."
The older man spoke up, all beaming smiles and jolly good fellow. "Excellent, Dr. Quinzel. Now that you've shed the influence of that dastardly beast Joker we have indeed seen improvement in you. We think you will do very well in this."
"Dastardly… Beast… Yes, Mr. Henry," the young woman said quietly. Yes, she thought to herself. Yes, Mr. Henry, dastardly beast indeed.
The older woman concluded, "Very well, Dr. Quinzel, if you have no further questions or comments for us, you are dismissed."
The young woman stood. She gave a small nod to the three behind the table. "Mrs. James, Dr. Reid, Mr. Henry… thank you for your kindness and consideration. And hope. Thank you most for the hope of a better future."
The young woman nodded to the trio again then turned to go to the door where she let herself out.
Closing the door, Harley Quinn smiled the first real smile she'd smiled since the death of Joker. Dastardly beast, indeed, Mr. J. she thought. Oh, she'd show them dastardly beast indeed, now wouldn't she?
A/N: No legitimate or reasonably sane organization would offer an inmate this kind of deal. But, then again, Arkham Asylum and reasonably sane don't belong together in the same sentence. Really, the whole idea is fraught with all sorts of medico-legal issues. But this is my story and I'm asking you to suspend disbelief. I mean, you're reading about a guy who dresses up as a bat, fer pitysake.