This is a one-shot but a companion piece to my story "Harleen Quinzell Gets Her Man." Are you tired of a victimized Harley Quinn? Me, too! I'm having fun re-writing her as a psychotic hypersexual go-getter obsessed with the Joker and completely consensual in her relational choices. And, she's still a great therapist! I love my empowered Harley and hope you do, too. The Joker is based on the Batman animated series; Harley and Poison Ivy are a mix of the animated series, Harley's comic series, and my own imagination; Catwoman is loosely based on the New 52, and the rest of the villains are from the 60's tv series if you want to imagine their voices. Enjoy!
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The sterile therapy room suddenly fell silent as they wheeled the Joker in, shackled to a wheelchair. The other villains sitting in the circle looked at each other in startled surprise. As the guards ambled over to watch the door, the Penguin leaned forward.
"I didn't think you got group therapy, Joker," he quacked out.
"I have an in with my therapist," the Joker quipped with a deranged cackle. Catwoman hissed.
"You shouldn't be abusing women," she snarled.
"It's not abuse when it's consensual," the Joker purred back at her.
"Consensual, my ass!" Catwoman retorted.
"You'll see," the Joker snickered. "Here she comes now."
The therapy room door clanged open and the click of high heels on concrete preceded the arrival of one Dr. Harleen Quinzell, barely three months certified as a psychologist yet somehow employed at Arkham Asylum and the Joker's primary therapist.
"Good afternoon!" she chirped brightly. "I'm so excited to begin our first therapy group!" She sat down next to the Joker with a warm smile for him. "Thank you, guards," she called. "Please wait outside until the session is over."
There was an amused murmur from the group of prisoners. The guards always stayed in the room for group even with the less dangerous criminals. There was no way they'd leave the room with this particular mix even if the Joker hadn't been in it. The new psychologist was a naive twit to not only not know the rules but to risk her life.
The guards looked uncomfortable. "Ma'am, we know Dr. Arkham cleared it, but we think you'd be much safer if we stayed here." The formerly sweet Dr. Quinzell suddenly got a hard edge to her voice.
"You will wait outside. It is impossible to conduct proper therapy without the trust of your patients and their private thoughts and feelin's are not fodder for your amusement." The guard who spoke smiled patronizingly.
"Ma'am, you're new here, and I don't think you understand the risks -" Harley cut him off. "As you yourself said ... Jonathan," she stressed as she read his name tag, "Dr. Arkham cleared it." She gave him a cold stare when he hesitated. "We're on the clock and you're wastin' our time."
The guard soured and yanked the door open. "Your funeral," he muttered as they filed out. "Bitch," he added, not quite underneath his breath.
"Oh, Jon-a-than..." the Joker called sweetly before he pulled the door closed.
"What do you want, Clown?" he snapped.
"Better call your mother and tell her that it's going to be your funeral." The Joker smiled and then laughed uproariously as Jonathan swore at him and slammed the door shut, not quickly enough to hide the nervous fear that had crossed his face at the Joker's threat.
"Aw, thank you, Mistah J!" Harley cooed. "You're always so protective of me!"
"Of course, Harleykins," the Joker said grandly. Harley peeked at the door window. The guards' backs were turned, purely out of spite since they should have been watching, so Harley threw her arms around the Joker's neck and gave him a kiss.
Quack, quack, quack, the Penguin chuckled. Harley took her seat again and beamed at the group. "Hello, friends. I am Dr. Harleen Quinzell, but you feel free to call me Harley. Before we begin, I must disclose for ethical reasons that me and Mistah J are in a romantic relationship." Catwoman raised her eyebrow and met Poison Ivy's amused eye while the Riddler made a whooping laugh and the Penguin quackled some more. Mr. Freeze clasped his hands.
"Der ist nothing like true love," he declared. "It warms the coldest of souls."
"Isn't it against the rules to date your patients?" Catwoman asked with folded arms. Harley slammed her clipboard into her lap.
"I HATE rules!" she snapped. Catwoman dropped her jaw a bit and glanced at the Joker who was beaming proudly. Harley noticed his approval and smiled and relaxed. "However," she continued, "I took this job specifically for the purpose of meetin' Mistah J because I've always known in my heart that we were meant for each other. So it's not like I was givin' him therapy and abusin' his trust. Isn't that right, Puddin'?"
"That's right, Harleykins," the Joker affirmed. "We have a completely - " he smirked at Catwoman "- consensual relationship."
"Oh, give me a break," Poison Ivy said, rolling her eyes. "You're now the poster child for healthy romance and we're all supposed to sit here and let your girlfriend try to cure us of our criminal ways? You're even crazier than you used to be, Jokes."
"No, no, NO!" Harley cried ecstatically. "My goal is not to cure you but to help society accept you the way you are so you can live freely doin' what you love!"
"It'll never happen," the Penguin quacked. "As long as the Bat is roaming the streets, the good people of Gotham will always want to see us in Arkham. We are his opposites, you see; his very existence makes us the enemy."
"Yes, what we need to do is solve the riddle of killing the Batman," the Riddler agreed.
"I disagree," Harley said firmly. "Batman is the key to the riddle! He's a vigilante and that's why people love him. So all we gotta do is make people see you all as vigilantes too instead of villains."
Ivy looked slightly intrigued. "How would you propose doing that?"
"Easy!" Harley exclaimed. "Targets!"
"I do believe the lady's onto something!" the Riddler mused. "Targets, targets ... ah!" He burst into a peal of his whooping laughter. "Joker, your woman is a GENIUS!" He sprawled backwards whooping with glee.
"Do explain for the rest of us, if you please," said Mr. Freeze in a chilly huff.
"It's not what you do, it's who you do!" Harley announced cheerfully.
"Go on ..." said Catwoman.
"Well, you see," Harley explained, "what if Mistah J was only to kill and torture pedophiles? It's not like anybody would be mad at him then. They'd all actually secretly kinda like him and be glad he was doin' what he loves to do on people who deserve it."
"Hoo hoo hoo HA ha!" The Riddler whooped again. "It would be the crime of the century! Something not even Batman could prosecute!" He dissolved into laughter again.
"Yes, yes," the Penguin mused as he sucked on his empty cigarette holder. "Tell me then, Dr. Quinzell, what would an old bird like me find to do that the public would look kindly on?"
Harley spread her hands wide. "Unions are under attack and pensions are being dissolved. But you, Mistah Penguin, you love dirty politics! Why, you could be a public crusader for unions but secretly be payin' off politicians to help out the blue-collar workers who are gettin' their lives destroyed!"
"I like it, I like it," the Penguin said. "But dirty politics requires dirtier money, young lady. Now where would I be getting that from?"
"From Catwoman, of course!" crowed Harley. "And she would only be stealin' from real dastardly people." Catwoman actually smiled.
"Well, there's no shortage of those among the rich and powerful, but secretly funding the Penguin won't restore my reputation." Poison Ivy spoke up.
"What if you also stole more heroic things? Say, endangered animals being smuggled in the illegal exotic pet industry. Everyone loves an animal lover." Catwoman lit up and practically purred with delight. She clapped her hands.
"I would LOVE to steal poor abused animals back to a protected life!" Ivy nodded.
"I think you're onto something here, Harley."
"My Harley is a treasure," the Joker said proudly. "Soon the Bat himself won't be able to touch us without becoming a villain." He laughed uproariously. Harley reached out to hold his hand and smiled.
"Let the Villains to Vigilantes brainstorming session begin!" she exclaimed. The rest of the 50-minute therapy session was abuzz with an excited energy as the soon-to-be-former villains plotted their public perception makeover.
Later that evening as she checked her email, Harley fell over giggling when she read that prison guard Jonathan Waters had been found dead in a back stairwell when he failed to clock out. It was suspected that he had a heart attack and Arkham would be offering free blood pressure and cholesterol screenings next week for all employees.
Harley marked the date of the funeral on her calendar; she would be sure to pick up an extra memorial card for Mistah J to add to his collection. That task done, she turned down the volume on Antiques Roadshow, grabbed her diary and a pen, fluffed up her pillow, and began to write.
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Thanks for reading! This is a one-shot but for more stories with the same zany cast of villains in my same AU, check out "Harleen Quinzell, Grief Counselor." All my other Harleen Quinzell stories are set in the same AU, too, so please read and review!