Would you die for me?
Yes.
That's too easy.. Would you live for me?
... Yes.
I always knew that violence was a thing that burned deep inside my DNA. Something was always.. Off inside me. I never knew what it was, I never really tried to figure out what it was, either. My father was a convicted criminal and you know what they say about the apple, right? Doesn't fall far from the tree, or something like that. I always had a fascination when it came to violence. I loved to watch documentaries about serial killers and read police reports and listen to the goriest of details about deaths to those of whom were.. Even close to me.. But I had just brushed it off as something that came from my love for the human brain and wanting to know how it worked, why the people who were often behind these heinous acts were the way that they were, most didn't care for the consequences, most didn't have the capability to care, some did. Some said that they were forced to do it by god, others said they were forced by the devil, but the interesting part was that I was positive neither God nor Devil existed outside the perception of who we are, as, we all see something bad about ourselves and something good about ourselves, which we, as people, carve into our descriptions as God and Devil. When these people who were claiming to be acting on one of their command, they were really just acting on that side of their brain's command, but they don't believe that, you know? That's the interesting part. The hallucinations and emotions and raw belief that these people had that pushed them to commit these crimes, it was always just so.. So interesting to me. Which is why I was so infatuated with... Him. The infamous, JOKER.
There was just.. Something that was so interesting about him. The way they showed him on the TV, in the newspapers, portraying him as this crazy man who had no problem with slaughtering anyone and everyone. Which, I'm sure he is, sure he was, but it wasn't just how the media portrayed him, it was how he portrayed himself. There were times during news reports where they'd been covering a murder or a disaster and the clown would just.. SHOW UP! Out of no where! And then on came that host like persona and the charisma practically bled through the TV.. How could someone who was so charismatic be such an anti-people person? Or rather, it wasn't that he seemed to be anti-people, more so that people didn't like him. He seemed to like any and everyone unless you did something he didn't like. It was very easy, to do something he didn't like.
So this is why I was beyond excited when I got hired at Arkham. Of course, nervousness was still something that was settled inside my stomach, naturally though. Arkham was home of Gotham's most twisted minds. Not one person in there was sane, some said the doctors themselves were also well.. Not all there. I couldn't blame them, working among the insane, the twisted and cruel, well. It did things to a persons psyche. But of course, I was itching to take on the challenge. My parents begged me to decline the offer, 'It's not safe, Harleen.' 'You'll get hurt, Harleen.' Was the usual excuses that they offered up to me on silver platters during each phone call and every visit since I've accepted to work there. I care deeply for my parents, honestly I do, and I really do appreciated their worry and concern but.. If I hadn't taken that job.. If I never worked at Arkham... I would never have the slightest chance of meeting Joker. I needed to meet that man.
My first day of work was like no other. I got a tour about the place, even got a sneak peek at the Jokers cell! There was something thrilling about standing right next to the room that the criminal, the murderer, was confined in. I felt a rush in my veins and I had never felt that before. Goosebumps prickled my skin and I so badly wanted to go in there. I so badly wanted to see him, witness his persona in person and live to tell the tale, hear that chilling yet.. Captivating laugh that so many quaked at the sound of. He, was a truly terrifying man, and every part of me begged to be up close and personal with him.
So obviously I didn't complain when I was put under the care of his therapist. Doctor Emily Smith. Emily was a kind women, but she seemed tortured. She seemed so.. Tortured. Like she'd been going through so much that she just couldn't find it in her to actually properly communicate with people. She let me sit in, in on some of her low risk patients, ones with little things who weren't known for lots of violence against staff. Unlike Joker. I just couldn't wait until I was to the point where I could see him. Luckily for me, Doctor Smith was feeling surprisingly generous, or maybe it was risky, and actually offered to let me sit in on one of his sessions. She said it shouldn't be too bad, this was a shorter session as she had to take an early leave. Something about a sister giving birth or a wedding or something that I wasn't really keen on caring about with the question she'd just popped. The session would only be half an hour.
I was so excited. The rest of the day ticked down to the finale, the entire day I could imagine entering the room to that deathly laugh and to see him fighting a guard or something, hear him torturing Emily was one thing that constantly crossed my mind. Sometimes, I had to pause what I was doing to remind myself- that was something that I didn't wish to see. That was something that I hoped I'd never get to see.
Odds are I was going to see it anyway.
Finally the time came, I scurried into the room, a step behind my mentor and took a seat. Anxiously I sat at the metal table, tapping my pen against the notepad I held in my hands until the doors opened, and in they brought the clown prince himself.. The Joker.. Infamous.. Deadly.. Criminal...
But he didn't look criminal to me at all. He just looked like he was lacking in the sleep department. Which, from what Emily had told me about him before, wouldn't be.. Uncommon. They led in this small man, his hair was messy and growing out brown. I always knew that was hair dye, no way was it his real hair. It was all over the place, something you didn't see when he was in the media. His eyes looked.. Dark.. Annoyed, it was obvious that he didn't want to be there, obvious in the way he dragged his feet and glared at the chair. He was wrapped up in a straight jacket, no doubt that was uncomfortable. I could only imagine how much the feeling of suffocation was prominent in one of those, unable to move.. You probably felt like you couldn't breathe. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I suppose that's when it finally truly hit me, I was sitting across from a man who had murdered and tortured countless people and had.. Bit some guards throat out once. This did not look like a man capable of biting a throat out, though. Perhaps it was the new medication they were trying him on. Adderal, I believe. It seemed they switched medications every month or so, because something would happen and he'd eventually act out, so they'd switch. I could understand that, he probably was sick of it though, and likely thought he was here to get another med prescription.
I wouldn't blame him.
As he sat, I found myself with the time to glance over his features. Joker was nothing like the Joker that I had witnessed on TV.. Nothing at all like the Joker I witnessed in the media. This once was raw and ragged, quiet. His jaw was so sharp, you could likely cut yourself on it, he'd probably pride himself in that if he had been in a better state. Assuming of course from his file. He had gorgeous eyes too, not that I got much of a look at them, considering he mostly focused on the table, his head lolling and swaying side to side while he brushed off and ignored everything and everyone.
This wasn't quite what I was expecting. It seemed, that it was not what Smith expected either, as she seemed more dismayed the more he didn't acknowledge the new presence, the lack of jokes which one would assume he'd be full of, and the lack of general communication. She'd question him about the medication, next.
"Tell me, how have you been finding your new medications? Any side effects? Negative ones, I mean."
This was the first time Joker spoke in twenty minutes. His voice was gruff, harsh and whispered. So quiet that I had to stop writing completely to even listen to what he had to say. It was.. Well he sounded like someone who hadn't drank anything in weeks.
"Can't sleep," He responded simply.
And that was the last of what Joker had to say. We sat there then, in silence for another then minutes. Without saying anything, Smith had exited the room. And that left us there alone, with the exception of the orderlies. I was suppose to be leaving as well, and I had been, right by the door when I heard a crash from behind. Turning my head, I pushed up my glasses slightly and surveyed the situation. Joker's chair seemed to have toppled over in his attempt to push it out and get up without the use of his hands. Poor fella laid there on the floor. He actually just laid there. Didn't bother trying to get up while the stupid orderlies laughed around him. How disgusting, I thought, that they'd let him just suffer like that. So, telling Smith I'd be only a second, I scurried quickly over to his side, and carefully helped him back up onto his feet.
That was the first time I saw it. I saw that.. The smile. The smille... I saw it. The guy tilted his pretty head back in the process as I helped him stand, his electric eyes, suddenly more alive, suddenly more.. Interested. They stared directly into my eyes and his lips began to curl back, showing off that amazing smile of his. It was small at first before it engulfed what seemed to be his entire face. I stood there, hands on what, I assumed to be his biceps judging by their placement in the uh.. Straight jacket. I was so close to the clown prince.. I was so.. close..
I was not afraid.
"Whhhhhhhhhhhy thaaankkk ya... Doccctoooorrrr..." He dragged out each word, long and low as his head did that little swaying motion again. I opened my mouth, but I couldn't find it in me to actually respond to his words, so I simply smiled. That seemed to be good enough for him as he turned, and carefully shuffled out of the room with the two guards at his side.
The next week, Smith told me that I was to sit in on every session from then on, at the time, I didn't know why.. The night before therapy was haunted with his laughter. Not the laughter that I had witnessed first person, but the laughter from the news reports, the videos. That infectious, creepy, laughter bounced across my brain and I wasn't even dreaming of him. In fact, I was dreaming about going to the beach, a nice sunny day, perfect temperature, and the sand beneath my feet.. But every time I would close my eyes to try to relax and tan.. That laughter... And then when I opened my eyes...
All I saw was his face.
