"So, how was Crane?" asked Dr. Baker. He and Harleen were sitting in the hospital canteen, while Harleen was trying to figure out what exactly she was eating. The sign had said beef casserole, but the meat didn't look like beef to her.
"Oh…he's…uh…fine," she stammered, picking at her lunch.
"It tastes better than it looks, I promise," said Dr. Baker, nodding at her plate encouragingly.
Harleen nodded, taking a bite. "Yeah, not bad," she agreed.
"Get used to it – it's pretty much all they serve," replied Dr. Baker. "I bring my lunch from home. You might wanna try it, in future."
She nodded again. "So Crane's fine, is he?" asked Dr. Baker, grinning. "Think we should release him?"
"Not that fine," replied Harleen. "But he was very nice to me."
"Really?" asked Dr. Baker, surprised. "He must have a soft spot for a pretty young girl. Probably why he became a professor. Pervert."
"Was he ever convicted of any kinda inappropriate relationship with a student?" asked Harleen.
"No. But just because he was never convicted doesn't mean he didn't do it," retorted Dr. Baker.
"You don't think that's a little judgmental?" asked Harleen.
He shrugged. "I'm a psychiatrist. It's my job to make judgements. And all my experiences with Crane lead me to believe he's some kinda deviant. I wouldn't put affairs with students past him."
"He…uh…told me that you had got in a fight with the Joker," said Harleen, slowly.
"Not a fight, exactly," said Dr. Baker. "He attacked me and I hit back in self-defense."
"Why did he attack you?" asked Harleen. "What was his provocation?"
Dr. Baker shrugged. "Does a raving nutjob like that need provocation?"
"So you were just sitting there dong nothing and he attacked you?" asked Harleen.
He shrugged again. "I probably asked him a question he didn't like. I don't remember."
"Is there some record of the incident somewhere that I could look at?" asked Harleen.
"Why are you so interested in it?" he asked.
"I'm interested in…the Joker," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
She shrugged. "He's an unsolved mystery. I think that's interesting."
"What's the mystery?" asked Dr. Baker. "He's an evil, sadistic psychopath who gets off on hurting other people using sick jokes."
"You think his motivation is some kinda sublimated sexual gratification?" asked Harleen, quietly. If that were true, why hadn't he hurt her?
"Well, you've read your Freud," said Dr. Baker. "The sexual impulse and how we sublimate it is the primary factor in everyone's personality. Crane's obviously a sadist who gets off on fear. The Joker's the same – a sadist who gets off on sick humor. I don't see a mystery there."
Harleen shrugged again. "Well, I…think there's maybe more to him than that."
"If there is, you won't be able to find it," retorted Dr. Baker. "No offense to you, Harley – I'm sure you're a great psychiatrist. But the Joker's a compulsive liar. He's never told any doctor here a true word about himself. He doesn't take his therapy seriously. He just plays games and jokes around. If there is anything more to him than that, I don't think he's gonna share it with anyone else."
Harleen played with her food. "A few nights ago, I was…attacked walking home by…some thugs working for the Joker. They stole my purse and were gonna…assault me, but the Joker suddenly appeared and told them to let me go. And then he gave me my purse back. I can't see a joke or game in those actions. Why didn't he hurt me, or kill me, or something if that's what he enjoys doing? But he talked to me like…a normal guy. And then he left me. It was so weird."
"Maybe he thought there was some joke in him saving a girl," replied Dr. Baker. "Y'know, in being a hero for once. It's the last thing anyone would expect of him."
Harleen nodded. "Maybe," she agreed.
"That must have been awful though – are you ok?" he asked, in genuine concern.
"Oh…yeah. It was awful at the time, but…I'm over it now," she said.
"Why wasn't somebody with you to walk you home?" he asked. "Your boyfriend or someone?"
"Oh, I don't…uh…have a boyfriend," stammered Harleen. "I just moved here, y'see, and I don't really know anyone."
He nodded. "Well, next time you need a lift, call me," he said, pulling out a notepad and scribbling a number down for her. "It doesn't matter what time of the day or night. I'd rather not risk your safety again."
"Oh…wow, that's very sweet, Dr. Baker," she said, sincerely. "But you really don't have to…"
"It's Tim," he said. "And I insist. I'd feel just awful if anything happened to you. I mean, what are the chances the Joker would save you again?"
"What about Batman?" she asked.
He laughed. "Well, you shouldn't depend on him. There are millions of people in this city - he can't save all of them."
"Crane thinks Batman's a lunatic just like them," said Harleen.
"Oh, he's definitely insane," agreed Dr. Baker. "But there's no reason why you can't admire a lunatic. Just don't depend on them, or trust them. Their whole perception of reality is completely distorted. They probably don't even know what's real or not, and they probably can't tell fact from fiction."
"Yeah. Crane told me not to trust you," said Harleen, grinning. "I guess it's pretty usual for patients not to like their psychiatrists, huh?"
"Well, he seems quite taken with you," said Dr. Baker, smiling at her. "And he's not the only one here."
He took her hand. "I hope you don't think this is too forward of me, but do you wanna have dinner together sometime?"
"Oh…" stammered Harleen. She had never been asked on a date before, and was too stunned to respond. Her brain was telling her to play it cool, but she was too excited to listen to it. "Oh…yeah, yeah, I really would, that'd be really fun, I mean…uh…yeah, thank you…yeah, sure, great."
"Great," he said, smiling. "I know a nice place downtown…"
They suddenly heard a commotion from outside, and a guard burst into the canteen. "It's Batman! He's got the Joker!" he exclaimed.
Everyone rushed out into the lobby of the asylum, where the doors were thrown open to reveal a tall, dark man dressed in a bat costume and cape. Kneeling next to him, handcuffed and bruised, was the man who had saved Harleen a few nights ago. A man who, although bleeding heavily from his wounds, still had a big smile on his white face. The Joker.
As Batman dragged him to his feet, he raised his head, looking around and smiling at the assembled staff. His gaze lingered on Harleen for a second, but then focused on Dr. Bartholomew. "Just a single room, please, Doc – he ain't staying!" he chuckled, nodding at Batman "I'd also like to order room service, and a wake-up call for…"
"Guards, take him to his cell," interrupted Dr. Bartholomew, as the guards raced forward to take him off Batman's hands. They dragged him off down the corridor, and the crowd parted to make way for him. As they passed Harleen, Joker suddenly knocked against her.
"Pardon me, toots," he said, smiling at her, and discreetly dropping a folded slip of paper at her feet.
"Why don't you look where you're going, you sick freak?" snapped Dr. Baker, stepping protectively in front of her. "Just get him outta here!"
Joker smiled up at him, his lips tight over his teeth, almost in a snarl. "I'll see you later, Timmy," he murmured. "Dr. Quinzel," he said, nodding at Harleen.
Harleen had quickly picked up the piece of paper and was about to read it, when another voice said, "Dr. Quinzel!"
It was Dr. Bartholomew. "May I see you for a moment in my office, please?" he asked.
Harleen nodded. "I'll…uh…call you later, Tim," she said to Dr. Baker. She followed Dr. Bartholomew into his office, shutting the door.
"Well, the Joker's back – you can start on him first thing tomorrow," said Dr. Bartholomew, sitting down.
Harleen stared at him. "Er…sorry?"
"You did want a challenge, didn't you?" he asked. "To prove that you're better than all the rest of us? So now that the Joker's back, I want you to start treating him. The others doctors have tried, and haven't got anywhere. None of them want to waste their time anymore. But you don't have a choice. So good luck with your new patient. If he gives you anything but lies and deception, I'll give you my job as head of this facility."
Harleen folded her arms across her chest. "May I have that promise in writing, sir?" she demanded.
He laughed. "Why not?" he asked, scribbling it down. "It's a moot point. The Joker won't cooperate. He's a monster."
Harleen didn't say another word, taking the paper from him and leaving the room. She pocketed it, and then unfolded the paper from the Joker. It was short and simple:
Time to return that little favor, Doc. – J.