Characters belong to DC comics
Italics=Harley's thoughts
She couldn't believe her eyes when she read the paper. Heck, even now when she was standing before the door he sat behind, she couldn't believe it.
But she had to.
It was weird. One day, she was just a small psychiatrist working at the infamous Arkham Asylum, wishing for nothing more but to speak with the clown himself, and the next, a paper with her name listed beside his granted her wish.
Oh, it was exciting of course. Terrifying, but exciting. Anything, ANYTHING could go wrong. Her life would be in immense danger the moment she stepped into that room. But that was what made it so exciting. The things she could uncover once she delved deep into his twisted, sociopathic mess of a mind… her heart hammered just at the thought. This was what she had wanted for so long, ever since she saw him first appear on tv, right before he shot the news helicopter down with a bazooka. And now it was within grasp. Just a few more seconds, and she would be facing the clown himself, only centimetres separating them.
"Doctor Harleen Quinzel," spoke a low male voice that belonged to one of her superiors. His name was William, from what Harleen could remember. "Y-yes?" Harleen's voice shook. She made a quick note in her head to control that before she entered the room.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" asked the man, his lips pursed into a thin line, looking as if he would rather be at home with a glass of wine. He probably thought she wasn't good enough.
I'll show him.
"Absolutely." Harleen said, this time much more clearer and calmer.
"I must warn you-"
"Don't bother. I've read up on him ever since he appeared on the news. I know what and what not to do." The man gave her a displeased look.
"Very well. There are guards outside the door and guards watching through the cameras. If anything goes wrong- well, you know what to do. Good luck." That was her cue to go.
Feeling even more anxious than before, Harleen took in a deep breath, and strode as confidently as she could towards the looming door. With her free, trembling hand, she gripped the door handle and paused. This was it. Her dream was about to become reality. A terrifying reality. Inhaling one more deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside the cold room. There was a thud as the door fell shut, and she was suddenly alone.
With him.
She instinctively held her clipboard defensively to her chest. She felt so… vulnerable. It was like every ounce of confidence was trying to drain out of her body.
And it did. The moment she looked at his slouching figure, the confidence had definitely bolted far, far away. Even though she could only see his matted green hair atop his drooped head, she felt as if she may have been looking into the eyes of the devil himself. If all her countless hours of study on him had taught her anything, it would be that he indeed was the devil.
"My name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel," she uttered, her voice surprisingly level and calm. "And I am your psychiatrist from now on." she took her place in the seat before him, and reluctantly placed the clipboard down. Her eyes fixated onto the paper. She refused to look at him for longer than she had too. She saw what had happened to the last psychiatrist who looked at him in a way he obviously did not approve of from the surveillance footage. The clown had broken out of his handcuffs and smashed the psychiatrist's head into the table repeatedly, screaming "Is there something on my face?! Does it scare you?!" for a good ten seconds, before the two guards who stood outside this very moment came bursting in and beat him to a bloody pulp. He had laughed the whole way through, blood spurting out of his mouth. The blood hadn't cleaned very well. Harleen could still see it now, especially the blood from the psychiatrist's smashed head… the psychiatrist that hadn't made the journey to the hospital… Unfortunately, the clown survived his beating. Sitting here now, Harleen wished he hadn't. If he had, she wouldn't have to look at him.
Don't think of that, Harleen.
"Heh…" he started to chuckle. His shoulders bobbed with every cackle, his chest rising and falling in sync. Harleen watched him lift his pointed, white face up from the corner of her blue eyes. Fear seeped into her heart instantly, and she hastily forced her gaze back down. "What?" Harleen made an effort to look like she was reading something important off the clipboard. She wasn't.
"Your name, sorta like harlequin, don'tcha think?"
"I guess it is." she lifted her gaze to his straightjacketed chest, and quickly averted it back down again to the clipboard. This time, she really did read something; 'Straightjacketed and ankles chained for safety precautions' No surprise there.
"It's a pretty name… Harleen, Harleen, Harleen…" the clown rolled the name on his tongue like it was some sort of succulent fruit. Harleen hated hearing her name uttered by such a horrible… being.
"It's Doctor Quinzel to you." Harleen snapped, and instantly regretted it. She couldn't help but cringe at the nightmarish sound of his laugh.
"Oh, Cupcake, you're funny!" he exclaimed in between heavy laughter and breathing, stomping his shackled feet as best he could on the hard floor. Harleen kept her gaze firmly fixed onto the paper before her. The less time she could look at him, or anywhere near his direction, the better.
"A doctor!" he howled, his shackles clattering. Harleen had never felt so terrified.
The laughter abruptly ceased. "What sort of doctor can't even look at their patient?" he snarled, the laughter most certainly gone.
And then his voice changed again. There was no laughter, no happiness, nothing. Monotone.
"Aren't I your friend, Harley? can't you look at your friend, Harley? I'm gonna call you Harley, alright?"
"It's Doctor-"
"IF YOU'RE A DOCTOR THEN ACT LIKE ONE!" he roared, his upper body shaking and arms thrashing within his jacket. "LOOK AT ME! That's what you're here for, isn't it? to see the clown prince of crime himself? whatdya want, an autograph? I'll happily give you one, if you LOOK. AT. ME."
Harleen hated herself. Was that really the reason why she was here? to just admire his horrifying glory? it would explain why she was so fascinated by him…
No Harleen, don't listen to him! He's playing mind games with you! and they're working!
She didn't listen to herself. Instead, she listened to him. Why? she didn't know. All she knew, was that she definitely got more than she bargained for.
Looking at his face may have been the biggest mistake she had ever made.
She saw his smile first. It was a smile that she thought she would be used to after seeing it dozens of times on tv… but she wasn't. His teeth were yellow and bared, and looked as if they were permanently stained with blood. His thin blood red lips were cracked and split, and pulled way too far up his pale white cheeks. He licked his teeth with his wet, pink tongue, satisfied. Harleen dared not move her eyes any higher. "Am I as terrifyingly beautiful as you thought I would be?"
"Worse." Harleen blurted out.
Another fit of insane laughter.
"I like you, you know that?" he said, calming down.
"I wish I didn't. Now, I need to-"
More laughter.
"Ha! I really like you! How is it that you don't have friends, Doc?" he barked insanely, cutting her off. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to ask the questions, not him!
…How does he know?
"How do you know I don't?" she asked, one eyebrow arched behind the glasses she wore in curiosity. She knew he was baiting her, but that didn't concern her now. What concerned her was how he was treating her like another insane patient. It wasn't comforting. How could he read her better than she could read him?!
"Well, pretty girls like you usually don't chat with murderers and sociopaths unless their lonely, do they?"
Oh, he was definitely playing with her. She knew she must be like a feast for him. However, that didn't stop her cheeks from turning a dark shade of red. Harleen could feel them heating up before they became too apparent. Why, why, why was she letting an insane homicidal sociopath make her heart get all fuzzy just because he called her 'pretty'?
Don't let him get to you, Harleen.
"I'm asking the questions here, alright?" she snapped, slightly dropping her head down to hide her rosy cheeks. Too late. He saw. And smiled.
"Harley, Harley, Harley, there's no need to get embarrassed!" said the clown, "I've never had many friends either - mostly because I've killed them all - and look at me! I'm Gotham's biggest, shining star!"
Harleen scribbled one word onto the paper; Narcissistic "And-" he paused when he realised she wasn't paying as much attention as he wanted her to. "Blondie," he called, his voice calm - no, soft. "Look at me."
It was as if the sudden change in his voice completely pulled down her defences. One second, she was hating the sound of his voice, the next, she was letting it control her.
She looked up to his face. Her stomach lurched in terror. His piercing, contracted pupil's bored into her's. She wanted to look away, she really did. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not look away from his threatening, murderous cold eyes. The eyes of the one and only Joker. It was like he was holding her stare prisoner.
"Good," he mumbled, and leaned forward over the table. Without realising it, Harleen did the same. His eyes were miraculously entrancing, despite how horrible they were. How many people had looked into those very eyes right before their throat was slit, or their body blown up, or their head smashed to nothing but blood? How many times had these eyes been someones final thing they saw?
"Now, Harley, you have no friends, got that?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"Well, you've got one now."
Harleen couldn't hide her smile, nor her deep, deep blush.
And just like that, she wasn't so scared of him anymore. In fact, she wanted more. Maybe even more of his compliments. But mainly, more of him. More of a… friend?
"I think we should begin now. Properly." said Harleen as she leant back into her chair, all of her fears easing away.
The Joker grinned mischievously.
"Oh, I agree."
He clicked the recorder on before she could.
This was only the beginning.
A/N just something I'm thinking of doing. It won't be too long, and will just show my sorta view of how the two met and how Harley fell for Joker and how she became Harley Quinn :3 Should I continue or not? I'm just trying to practice my writing :)