First one went so well... So let's get right on to the next one!
They were a bit too friendly real quick in the previous chapter, but then again that's how it happened in the original animated series.
So for now, let's go slow with some (kind of) poetry, analogies and critical thinking. Enjoy.
2. 'Round the Glock at 2 o' Clock
She allowed him to speak freely today. And by 'freely', it is in the sense that only the Joker is speaking, while Harleen was in the position of listening.
It was an idea that she hadn't thought of using. At least during the processes of their first psychiatric evaluations. In fact, it was meant as a last resort if the patient had proved to be uncooperative. But he did. Very agreeably, too, if Harleen had to admit.
Such a thing would be considered a phenomenon, especially given the fact that he was the Joker. This proves as well, that the young doctor had been right to believe that she was worthy to the task.
However, in regards to certain over-enthused, and quite unprofessional methods on her end, she feared that the Joker had only shown interest in their session in order to play around with her. And because this would be more than highly likely, Harleen had sought it best that her patient would be the one to discuss today, and she would only listen.
Only problem was, she was listening far too intimately.
The session started out by Harleen greeting him, and then he greeted her, and the next thing she knew, he started talking about his past experiences with a gun. Specifically the first one he used, which was a Glock.
"At the time when you first start to tear up the town...you can't get your hands on good equipment, being a newbie and all that.." He was saying with a rather detached attention.
"Why is that? Shouldn't someone of your caliber be able to get access on weaponry on a dime?" Harleen questioned.
The Joker gave her an odd look. "You can't get anything with just a dime, doctor Harley.."
Harleen had to bite the inside of her lips to keep herself from laughing at such an effortless joke. He noticed this and he grins. "And besides you give me too much credit. Every crook out there started out small.. Same goes for someone like me.."
His eyes went away, like they were remembering something-in the past, and he cuts himself off before he could say something that he shouldn't (yet). He stays like this for a few moments and then starts up again. "But I'm wandering from the subject.."
"You know what a Glock is, don't you, doc Harley?" He asked, leaning in eagerly.
The look in his eyes made her feel like it was a trick question, so she put up what she hoped was an intellectual face and said: "Of course... A Glock is a series of polymer-framed, short recoil-operated, locked-breech semi-automatic pistols. It uses a modified Browning cam-lock system adapted from the Hi-Power firearm's locking mechanism uses a linkless, vertically tilting barrel with a rectangular breech that locks into the ejection port cut-out in the slide."
"Wrong.."
The young doctor met the disapproving stare of her patient and he said: "That's not how you describe a Glock, or any gun for that matter.."
It then hits Harleen that she shouldn't have even bothered trying to appear knowledgeable about his world. It was probably just another trick to get her loose and drop her guard in their discussion again. So she sits back and patiently lets him explain.
"A Glock... Or rather, any gun... Can't be explained by anyone. Posing that you can, just proves how ignorant you are."
She knows he was speaking generally, but the way he talked and was staring her down made her believe that he was referring only to her. And it was insulting.
"No one can explain it, because you won't know until you're there."
Harleen tilted her head to the sight. "Until you're where?"
The Joker, in some mixed and unconscious attempt to copy his psychiatrist, craned his neck and glazes his eyes on the table. "In that small span of time between pulling the trigger and killing someone."
A spark of interest ignited inside the female doctor. This was it, he was about to open up. She made sure to keep her hand and pen ready to take note of everything about to be said by her patient.
"The first time you hold a gun, it feels heavy..." He began and when he knew that she was listening, he decided to continue.
"It feels heavy... Like uh... a 1000 ton rock.." He paused, checked to see if she was finding it hard to believe. She doesn't. "It may sound a bit superflous, but believe me, that's how heavy it feels. Will feel, if you ever have any plans on holding one yourself." He explained anyway.
Harleen took a moment to deny that in her head. There was no way she would ever hold a gun. She was a doctor, not a soldier. Or criminal.
"Now the problem, isn't the gun being heavy..." He shook his head, lowering his gaze below his side of the table, where only he can see his leg uncontrollably thumping. "It's how long you have to carry its load.
There was an awful numbing tingle forming in the palms of his hands, and he had to grip the cloth of his straitjacket with his nails to keep the discomfort and irritation from escaping his face. "Because the load stays there until you set it free.."
"Wh-what do you mean by setting the load free?" Harleen asked after a while in complete silence.
The Joker's eyes were still down, and the image he was seeing play before his eyes from a time long lost, was far too riveting to tear away from. "You see, you don't need smarts to know how to hold a gun. You just need to know that it's not just a gun you're holding."
It was about a minute and 27 seconds ago that Harleen noticed her still hand and empty paper, but all thoughts of writing, or whatever the hell it was she was supposed do with her pen and paper had been placed aside. She needed-no- wanted to know what he was saying.
"What else is the gun?" She asked, and she knew that he intentionally waited for her to ask. Because now, very slowly, he lifted his head back up, in the same motion he had in their previous session. And when he locked gazes with her, he gave the answer.
"A bird of prey, Harley. A gun is a bird of prey."
He was fascinated at the surprise that unfolded in her eyes and he knew that he couldn't deny her the explanation to his analogy.
"A gun is a bird, that once you own, you are entitled to the responsibility of carrying it with you, until you set it free. It is heavy because it's afraid and fragile, clueless of its intended purpose. If you hold it too tight, you crush it in your hands, and it dies there, leaving only the regret of not being released on time. If you hold it too loose, it'll fly away, and it'll go to the closest unsuspecting person to embed itself with."
The Joker straightened himself, and further leaned forward so Harleen could hear him loud and clear.
"It's your responsibility to cradle that bird in your hands, until it's time to set it free... And once you do... Only then, will the load ever get lighter."
Harleen saw him freeze from animation and for the longest second she'd ever had to bear, he blinked in resonance to a loud bang in the distance that only he could hear, accompanied by a face that his mind had long forgotten and never really knew.
He felt his hands relax in the jacket and he unsteadily breathed through the nose in that customary intoxication that always consumed him every time he said bye bye to a bird.
"How long did it took for the load in your hands to get lighter?"
Her voice had reached him the first time, but he pretended that it hadn't because he knew it was a question worthy of her to ask twice.
"How long did it took for the load in your hands to get lighter?" She repeated, curious and only curious now. And he gave her the only answer he knew she would find as honest amongst the lies and deceit that he clouded himself with.
"I lost count."
They fall into a sullen silence, letting the words echo for as many times as it could. The Joker looks up somewhere behind Harleen and he breaks the silence by saying: "Our session's over, doctor Harley."
When she understands what he means, Harleen looked over her shoulder to the clock over-hanging the doorway. It read 2 o' clock. "Ah yes.." She practically squeaked, gathering her pen and (empty) papers.
She stood up and made for the door, and without looking back, said: "Good work today.. I'll see you tomorrow." And she was gone, hoping to be freed from the sudden, unknown constriction that had dawned on her.
The Joker was no longer able to hear those last words of hers. His thoughts were on that distant memory that he couldn't remember. The numbing in his hands were long gone, but they felt heavier than they ever were, and it pained to not know why.
As he tried to distract himself with the image of his golden, customized handguns, that he knew are being kept safe by his trusted right-hand man, only one thought crossed his mind.
"I miss that old Glock."
WUZZZIINGG! Some analogy sharing-thought right there.. Wuuyyz
A Glock is exactly how Harleen had described it. Thank the dearest Wikipedia for that.
The analogy which Joker uses to describe a gun as a bird, is actually from the Asian movie 'So Close.' I only added the bird of prey bit to make it sound fancier. Hehe.
Hope you enjoyed this! Btw thanks for the review in the last one.