Good People

I do not own either of these characters or Arkham. I wish I did, but I don't.

"Do you understand why you're here?" It was Harley's first real therapy session with the Joker. She had already testified at his competency hearing, that she thought he might be schizophrenic and she was certain he was mentally ill. Dr. Stevens, the man who had taken over after Dr. Arkham had retired, had backed her up on that before he even talked to the Joker. That was typical Stevens – if he could delegate a task, he did it without hesitation.

"Yes." He looked different without make-up, but there was still something very, well, crazy, in his eyes. They were in an observation room, with guards on the other side should he start acting violent. There didn't seem to be much danger of that, considering he was in a straight jacket. And anyway, he seemed to get along with her all right.

"Tell me about that."

"I killed a lot of people, but the good doctors here have decided I'm too crazy for prison."

"How many people?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. Do you understand that that was wrong?"

"Right and wrong are irrelevant. But yes, under most morality systems, what I did was very, very bad."

"So you understand that but you did it anyway."

"Like I said, right and wrong are irrelevant."

"Why is that?"

"There's going to be chaos and evil in the world anyway, you might as well have a sense of humor about it."

"But wouldn't the world be better if everyone was good?" He laughed, but it wasn't his usual laugh. It was cold, sarcastic.

"Good people? Let me tell you about good people. Good men kiss their wives, kiss their little girls, and leave for 'work' and rape someone else's little girl or never come back at all. And good women, don't get me started on them. Good women go to PTA meetings and church and then beat their kids within an inch of their lives because they tracked mud on the carpet or make them sick so they can get attention. And the thing is, someone knows about it, or ought to know about it, but no one says anything, because they don't want to mess with the 'good people'."

"They're not good people then, they just put up a good show."

"Everyone just puts up a good show. No one is really good. You know, maybe they're not beating their kids or anything like that, but there's something they do, something that hurts someone else, and they still think they're good. Everyone thinks they're good. And the very, very few who don't aren't hurting other people, aren't hurting anyone because they're too busy getting their teeth kicked out by everyone else. And even then, I'll bet you good money they still hurt people - maybe on accident, maybe even when they think they're helping. I'm not any worse than anyone else, I just do what everyone else does behind closed doors, only I do it openly."

"That's extremely cynical, J."

"Healthy dose of cynicism never hurt anyone."

"So you don't think people can be good?"

"I didn't say that. People can be good - they're just not."

"What did you think about the results of your experiment?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The ferries? Don't tell me you don't remember."

"Oh, that."

"If no one is good, why didn't they blow each other up?"

"False hope someone was going to save them all."

"Someone did."

"Yeah, well, nobody's perfect. Next time, I'll use a time bomb."

"Do you think the results would have been different if they hadn't had, as you called it, false hope?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"No one is going to die for people they don't know. A kid sure, a wife maybe, a friend possibly, but not a stranger."

"Some people do. Pushing kids out of the way of oncoming cars, you've heard of that?"

"They don't think it through, they just act instinctively. If they actually realized pushing the kid would result in their death they wouldn't do it. Unless they were suicidal. You might get some suicidal martyr knowingly giving up their life for someone, but that's sort of selfish in and of itself if you think about it."

"Why are you sure?"

"I have history on my side. People try to justify it - they'll do it no matter what but they want to feel better about themselves so they try to come up with a reason other than saving their own __. Why do you think everyone, even the so-called 'good people' went along with the Nazis? If you object, you die, so start killing Jews and listen to the propaganda so you really will think they're subhuman and you won't even have to feel like a coward for doing it." She didn't know how to answer. She'd always agreed with him really. She had certainly failed to see very much goodness in humanity in the thirty-three years she'd been walking the Earth.

"My mother was one of the women you're talking about," she said softly. "One of the ones who puts up a good show. She was respected in Last Chance, a teacher, a member of the PTA. She really loved my sister, my dad, and me in public. She used to beat him with a coat hanger for smiling at other women."

"What did she do to you?"

"The cigarette burns," she answered. "And she broke my collarbone, both my arms, most of my fingers, an ankle, and a couple of ribs. My sister got off easy, she only had one arm and a nose broken. On separate occasions, of course, but ... No one said anything. The ER doctors believed that I really was just that clumsy. Dad left when I was seven, Lyddy was three. Never even called to ask how she treated us." Very few people knew that. Most people, upon hearing it, would have been embarrassed and said they were sorry. The Joker didn't say anything, just looked at her as though something had been explained - and maybe with a little, tiny hint of pity. Or maybe that's what she was hoping to see in his face. "You know, one of the prisoners threw the detonator away," she said, going back on subject.

"Of course, I knew it would be the 'good people' who pushed the button. They had more to live for, and they could justify what they did by saying they were only getting rid of some scum on society's shoes. But you know, the joke really would have been on them - they had the detonator to their own bomb."

"What?"

"You'd be amazed what you can do with one little lie."