Disclaimer: I do not own Joker, Harley, or Jeremiah Arkham. I did not create them and sadly, I do not own them.
Harley was twirling her hair around her finger in Dr. Arkham's office, her eyes roaming the room aimlessly. Arkham himself has his eyes boring into her skull, hoping she would look him in the face. After a few minutes, he finally gives up on the obviously futile attempt and just spits it out.
"Well?" he asks her unceremoniously.
She stares at him blankly.
"Well what?" she retorts, clearly agitated. "I could be in the rec room now, but noooo." She giggles then deepens her voice, mocking the security guard that had brought her in earlier, "Dr. Arkham wants to see you in his office. Right this second, missy, no tricks!"
What have you gotten yourself into, Jeremiah? He thinks while massaging the bridge of his nose. He feels a tension headache coming on.
"Harleen—"
"Harley!" she interrupts. He sighs.
"Harley," he tries again, "This isn't a game. We need whatever personal information you have on the Joker. It's not only for the citizens of Gotham's safety, but it's for his as well."
"You're taking this all a little too seriously, doc."
He decides to try a different approach.
"Knowing a little about his past would help us cure him."
Harley's eyes darken.
"Well, first off, there's nothing wrong with him. Secondly, what planet are you residing on that makes you delusional enough to think I would give up any information about him? That is, if I actually knew anything about his past. What makes you think I do?"
This startles him. He clears his throat, pushing on.
"So," he suggests, "you are implying that you know nothing of the Joker's past?"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm telling you. I don't know anything about his past, and if I did I certainly wouldn't tell you about it." She smiles at him maliciously.
It was going to be a long day.
The Joker sits down, his feet shackled to the steel chair. The pale straitjacket seems dark in contrast to his pale face. He licks his lips.
"What can I do for you on this fiiine day, Doctor?" he asks, his voice a husky growl that still unnerves Dr. Arkham even though he's been his therapist for almost a month now.
"Well," Arkham starts, taking a seat opposite of the criminal, "I talked to Harleen this morning."
"Harleen?" The Joker asks, then lets out a thunderous cackle. "Ohhh, you mean little ole Harley. My little Harley Quinn."
Jeremiah clears his throat.
"Oopsie, forgot," his scars stretch as he smiles nastily, "we have to call her boring Harleen. Back to, uh, basics."
Dr. Arkham ignores the jab, moving on with the session.
"What exactly is Harleen to you?" he asks, approaching the subject with caution. The Joker's tongue flicks out again, touching the corner of his mouth.
"Why, Harleen?" he asks back, mocking Dr. Arkham. "Harleen was my doctor. My, what's the word... shrink."
Arkham rolls his eyes.
"I'm aware of that."
"Someone's getting defensive." the Joker raises his eyebrows. "Oh, but you assigned blonde-hair, blue-eyed Dr. Quinzel to my case didn't you?" He eyes Dr. Arkham, seeing if he responds to the statement. "Well, uh, sorry to break it to you, but Dr. Quinzel's long gone. She's not coming back, either. She'll tell you herself; alllll you have to do is ask."
Arkham stays quiet, his eyes burning.
"Ooh, you already asked her didn't you?"
"Yes," he snaps. "Yes, I did. She says that she loves you. What do you say to that?"
The Joker smiles cockily.
"I know."
"You know?!" Dr. Arkham nearly shrieks. "That's all you have to say? Is that all she is to you? A little sex toy for you to play with?"
"Wellll, way to be blunt about it. Why just assume that we're sleeping together?" He cocks an eyebrow.
Jeremiah looks at him skeptically.
"You're not?"
"Well," he licks his lips, "I never said that."
Dr. Arkham sighs, and the Joker's grin gets a little wider.
"Tired, doctor?" Arkham ignores the statement, just staring at him. "Let me make it a little easier on you. Harleen—Harleen was my doctor. Harleen is dead. Harley, however… Harley is mine. That's all there is to say."
"Let me get this straight," the doctor backtracks, "you are saying that Harleen and Harley are two different people?"
The Joker chuckles.
"You make it sound soooo simple. No, she's not two different people. Harleen and Harley are the same girl. She's only Harleen when she needs to be Harleen. Harley is who she really is." He smirks. "And as you know, she is aware of that now, thanks to me."
"She's nothing like you."
The Joker chortles, then raises an eyebrow.
"Mhmm?"
"She's only adopted your personality. You've smothered who she really is."
"No, no no no, I've accentuated who she really is. Had it ever occurred to you, Jeremiah, that the Harleen you knew was not her true personality?"
Arkham just stares.
"Harley is who she really is. You can try to change it. She might even fool you into thinking you have changed it. But in the end, she'll always come back. It's how I made her. Nothing you say or do will change that."
He watches as Dr. Arkham gets up abruptly to leave the room.
"But you already knew that, didn't' you?" He stares at the doctor, and his eyes give off the air of arrogance. "She's a harlequin. My HarleyQuinn."
Dr. Arkham walks out of the room, determined to do one thing; prove him wrong.
A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this one. It's my first story that the Joker is in it almost the entire time. It's pretty draining, I have to say. I definitely respect all of you who have the guts to write long fics with him in them. Basically, I think that the doctors at Arkham really want to help Harley get her life back together. I'm also pretty sure that Arkham would feel responsible for the whole situation that she's in. And I think that the Joker telling the doctor's that Harley is his and no one else's is the closest they will ever get to him saying he has feelings for her. I'm not sure if he was in character, so how about you tell me in a review?