Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Hey, thanks for the reviews. Glad somebody likes it, and hopefully a few more people will stumble across it. (crosses fingers) Sorry, this one is so short. The next one should be longer.
The night was cold, but that was alright. Cold never bothered him. What bothered him was this cage, the one he spent all day in like a rat in a maze. Trapped with no way out.
At least he hadn't seen one before, but now things could change. Now he had Harley. If only he could convince her that he wasn't the real monster in this town... if she would listen and somehow be swayed... maybe she would see that he didn't belong here... dammit!
He was starting to sound like one of those schemers with their little plans. Better to lead her and everything else into chaos, and then leave it to fall into place. He'd be pleased with the outcome; he always was.
And, besides, she had such a pretty mind to unravel. So full of ignorance and self-importance. Soon she wouldn't lift a finger without his permission, he'd have her grovelling at his feet. It was happening already. They'd just met and already he could feel her slipping under his influence. She was sucked under by her ridiculous belief that no one is beyond help. That belief fuels her; it makes her good at what she does, but like every belief, it's centered around a lie.
No one could help him, and soon no one would be able to help her. She would be his... his little harlequin.
The loveliness of it all made him giddy. She was perfect for destruction, just susceptible enough to take him in with arms wide open, but stubborn enough to stay until the end. Once she committed, she wouldn't leave him. Harleen Quinzel would become his Harley Quinn; he could see it.
Peals of laughter rose like waves crashing down the halls of the asylum. The guard, who had been dozing in his chair, woke with a start. He followed the sound to its source, flashlight in hand, and peered in at the nut locked away inside.
The flashlight illuminated his face oddly. Lank hair hung down, hiding his dark, hollow eyes. Only the scars on his mouth were visible as he laughed madly.
"Can it, clown."
Obedient for once, the Joker looked up at the man,
"Why so serious? I hear laughing's good for you."
Harley was up late that night. Paperwork lay strewn across her bed. A long-term patient of hers was going to be released the next morning and she had some last-minute files to fill out. Strangely enough, there was a small feeling of emptiness lodged in her heart. Harley had grown rather fond of the old woman, and she would be sad to see her go.
David had said that this was her problem; she let people get too close. She should never grow attached to a patient; it would only bring pain when they relapsed or were released. Still, she couldn't help it. These people all had stories, each of them tragic, and she knew their pain all too well.
It had been her own mother that had started her career in psychology, or rather, it had been her mother's disease. Every doctor had given up on her, one by one, and she had slipped away. After her mother's death, Harley had vowed never to give up on anyone. Not even the Joker could be beyond saving. Her mother sure as hell hadn't been.
But maybe David was right. He had been a doctor for longer than her; his warning deserved some form of recognition. Maybe this man was dangerous. It may be best for her to keep her distance until she knew what exactly was wrong with Mr. J.
She'd rather be safe than sorry.