Mad Love Redux
By GirlX2
The Joker makes plans, when he needs them.
A/N Inspired by the Batman TAS episode "Mad Love."
0o0o0o0
She'd seen the pictures of him with his makeup on: everyone had, he'd been on the news for months, but seeing him without it was somehow a bigger shock. He looked naked, somehow. Scars puckered the pale flesh. The eyes were no less devastating, however. Joker had already taken several other doctors, either maimed them, or driven them to maim themselves. No fatalities, thank God.
They'd watched him carefully, kept him drugged almost to unconsciousness most of the day. When he was awake, he was strapped down. One hour was allowed for exercise in a barren room. He was tied loosely when he was let in, and tranked when he was taken out. There were no loopholes: they'd tied him in tighter and tighter as the months passed, learning his tricks.
And now, when finally the doctors thought they were able to handle him, Dr. Harleen Quinzel was allowed her study.
He was strapped to a rigid chair. A long table separated them. A guard was positioned on the other side of the two-way glass, ready to step in if Joker so much as blinked wrong.
"Hiya Doc."
The voice was far gentler than she'd expected.
"Hello Mr. Doe." They still hadn't identified him, and to keep from feeding his psychosis they were not allowed to call him Joker.
The man shook his head, letting his greenish-gold hair flop comically. "No matter how many times I tell you people, you can't get it right. It's Joker."
"I can call you John, if you'd prefer."
"JO-KER. It's not hard."
"It's not your name."
The man sighed in apparent defeat. "Fine. How about Mr. J then? You can tell your bosses it's for John and not Joker."
"It would be…Mr. J." She made a note on the clipboard. Usually by this point 'Mr. J' would be laughing at his doctor and trying to tear out of his bonds. A definite improvement.
He grinned for a moment, the scars stretching grotesquely. "Thanks Doc."
"It's doctor Quinzel."
He stared at her curiously. "Is it?"
This was a definite deviant from the norm. Joker always asked questions of his doctors, but they were never gentle. They were probing, viscous questions about families, births, deaths, guilt. What was he playing at?
"It is. Dr. Harleen Quinzel."
"Harleen Quinzel. A name only a mother could love." He leaned forward as much as his bonds could allow. "They sent in a pretty young thing to try and figure me out, heh?"
"If you say so." She kept her voice cool. She was long used to patients leering at her, lusting for her, but all that had in the past had a history of sexual desire. Joker had never exhibited the slightest sexual interest in any of Arkham Asylum's employees, male or female.
It very possibly was a step forwards.
"Well, where do you want to begin? My troubled childhood? My tangles with Bats? Or how about these?" He indicated his scars, grinning all the while. "I've told it all."
"Yes, and differently each time." Harleen replied. "We won't be able to help you until we know what needshelping, Mr. J."
"I don't need helping."
"Fine, then. We'll just sit here for an hour in silence." She leaned back, a cool smile on her face. Other doctors before her had used this tactic and, so far, it had always worked.
Joker frowned. "Ah, doc, c'mon. No talking, no laughs."
"That's right."
"Okay. You want me to talk, I'll talk."
"Go ahead."
He grinned again. It seemed to be his default expression. "My Dad gave me these lovely scars. How's that grab you?"
"It's riveting." She made a note on the pad, trying not to look excited. Of all the stories Joker had told the doctors, they'd never involved his father specifically. The mother yes, but never his father. It was likely another lie, but still interesting. "How did he do it?"
"Took a broken light bulb from my nightlight and krrrrrek!" The smile was gone now. "He said to act like a man I had to put away childish jokes. The last laugh was on my old man though: my Mom took him out for that. Herself too."
She'd stopped writing now. Joker had never done this before. He was always laughing, smiling, or rageful. He was never…well, serious.
"What happened after that?"
Joker shrugged as best he could. "Cops, foster homes, more beatings: it's nothing you can't see on lifetime any day of the week."
"I see."
The smile was back now, smaller than before. "I suppose I should have thanked the old man. Without his guidance, I wouldn't be the beloved, charismatic individual I am today!"
She failed to hold in the snort of laughter. Joker nodded in approval.
"The doc doeshave a sense of humor!"
"So it would seem." She brushed the humor away quickly. If anyone caught her laughing with the Joker she'd be sent to evaluation. That couldn't happen, not this early in the sessions: she may have the beginnings of a break through at her fingertips. "Go on."
He grinned now, closer to her face than he should have been. "Can't tell you all my secrets, doc. Not now anyway."
"And…later?"
"We'll see." He snapped back to a ridgid sitting position as a guard entered. "Look's like my time is up."
The guard whacked his skull, eliciting laughs from the man. Blood trickled down his face.
"There's no need to do that, he was behaving!" Harleen jumped up, face flushing.
"There's always a need." The man grunted. "He don't feel it anyway."
Joker shot her one parting look as the guard wheeled him past. "Come see me anytime, Harley."
0o0o0o0
Joker smiled to himself as Harley edged past his cell, keycard in one hand, gun in the other. Three months was all it had taken to win her over: a new record. The childhood ploy had worked well. He was glad he had saved if for just the right girl. And, who knew? It might even have been true.
Joker didn't like long term plans: he didn't have the commitment for them, but with so little to do in Arkham it had been easy to stick with it. Playing the victim had been even a little fun…challenging. It had been so long since he'd had a real challenge. Now, it was paying off. Soon, his world could revert to chaos, the way it was supposed to be.
Only, what to do with Harley Quinn? She was in love with him, that much was clear. She was useful to have around, for whatever urge struck him, homicidal or sexual. She'd already been good for the latter: the former had just been demonstrated on several guards outside his cell.
He'd keep her around as long as he kept anyone around; until he got bored with them.
And who knew? Harley was a girl of many surprises. She just might last.
0o0o0o0
Fin