Chapter 4 – Impressions of a moment.
The alarm went off and Harley jumped, wincing as pain rushed through her side and up her cramped hand.
She tried to shift awkwardly on the small couch, regretting her decision not to have slept on the floor. She'd spent the night in her office again, grabbing a blanket and pillow from the supply closet down the hall and fallen asleep reading over Joker's file again.
Rolling her arm slowly, she hissed in pain, she'd fallen asleep in an awkward position and now, her whole arm felt like someone had been crushing it.
"Nice start Harley." she chided to herself before placing her feet on the ground.
The file slipped onto the ground and it took her a minute to collect her bearings, picking it up with her good arm.
There were several pages worth, what little history they had about him, all his previous arrests and crimes, notes on all the treatments and drugs he'd been given. The list was also several pages long and she was amazed they hadn't accidentally killed him with an overdose of something.
Maybe they'd tried. She thought darkly.
There where a few pages with doctors notes, her many predecessors had similar thoughts on him, though their information was sketchy at best.
Most of the notes were the doctors own thoughts and not actual conditions, which she found strange.
The only official diagnosis was that he was a sociopath, which she'd disregarded.
The term was thrown around too much, sociopath, psychopath.
They both derived from anti-social disorders and that was the strange thing, was the Joker actually anti social or was he, something else?
True he murdered, he enjoyed inflicting pain on others but there was more to it. He reveled in the attention, when he didn't get it, he forced the focus back on himself.
Harley flipped to the last few pages, they were all photographs of him, his mug shot, random photos the doctors had managed to acquired, newspaper clippings, his picture in all his glory.
She'd rearranged them to make a sort of time line, when he was younger, when he first showed up in the public eye, still unknown but able to bring Gotham crashing down onto its knees.
Alone, no men, discarding help like it was disposable cups.
A sharp intellect that she could respect, he planned and then let go of the plans to possibility.
More fascinating, he used others plans against them, picked them apart and rearranged them to his own will.
She remembered the saying, that genius and madness walked a very thin line.
No one had managed to do a traditional IQ test on him, he gave them nothing and that alone was telling.
Back then and now, he kept his mind to himself.
Would she be able to unlock that mind? Would he share at least a fraction of it with her? Was she kidding herself?
He lacked morality, that was dangerous but didn't make him crazy, her idea of crazy was very different than most of the doctors here.
She flipped to another picture, of him after the massive breakout of Blackgate and Arkham after Bane. He'd changed a little, still in his glory but, more focused.
She pinned that as the moment that he set a goal for himself, he'd been upstaged in a way that his old methods could no longer contest with, he couldn't just exist in the wind, he had to, build something.
"His empire starts here." She mused to herself as she touches the picture.
In her own mind, she thought that moment was the decisive moment, when he chose to take the ashes of what was left and build something grander, a temple dedicated to his art, to chaos.
Batman was gone after all, no one to stop him.
Every picture showed his evolution, without the bat, he had time to create the network of crime he possessed. She watched almost like a running movie as his transformation took place, right in front of her eyes.
He discarded the purple jacket, though she was sure he still had it somewhere. He traded it in for something bigger, the clothes he wore, which she'd had the opportunity yesterday to take a look at, from his last arrest, were the best quality, tailor made.
His jewelry flashy, something to catch your attention.
Still the performer, just updating his show.
Some said he'd sold out but she saw it for what it was, an upgrade of stadium.
Like magicians who work little shows or street corners and finally get their break, playing a sold out show in Las Vegas.
He played the part with all the perks, she could imagine him becoming accustomed to the new, rich life style.
Then the last pictures, of after the bat returning, the fire in his eyes, this new upgraded version of him against the dark knight and how it only played into his chaos.
Goodbye Las Vegas, hello packed stadium performances, with world wide TV airings.
Gotham was their stage, her colleagues disagreed but she truly thought that Joker would never actually kill batman. They were, connected in some strange way.
The hero and the villain.
"It's like a really warped opera." she mused, getting up from the couch, the file still in her hands.
Her arm had finally stopped hurting and as she rose, she heard several bones popping.
Harley kept a change of clothes in the bottom drawer of her desk, along with a set of pj's and necessities, toothbrush, hair brush, shower products.
One of her resident friends made the joke that she might as well live here.
Some days, she did. Staying overnight and then not leaving until late the next afternoon.
If someone walked in, they'd be surprised to find her in a pair of cotton pink shorts and a blue over sized t-shirt, her hair braided into pigtails.
Setting the file aside, she arched her back, raising her hands over her head and letting her muscles relax.
There was no one downstairs, her office was above the filing room, no one would mind if she relaxed before getting ready.
Her appointment with the Joker wasn't until 9 am, it was 6;38 now, plenty of time to shower, get something out of the vending machine and take one final look at her plan.
As laughable and insane as it was.
Ignoring him was the best course of action, it would rile him up, a performer like him, he needed attention and if she risked it, if she played the part of the disinterested therapist who'd been punished with his file, he'd give her a reaction.
"You're out of your mind Harls." she chided to herself and sighed. Crouching down and easily doing a few forward rolls in a row.
It was incredibly dangerous, angering him on purpose but the only real reaction she'd get from him was rage, anything else would be a performance, faked.
His mask hid him too well, she'd have to make sure hers was just as thick.
Letting herself fall flat on her back she grabbed one of her legs and let it fall above her head, her toes touching the ground.
She'd have to be sure to be as limber as possible today, there was every chance this could go bad, very, very quickly.
She'd chosen her clothes for today very carefully.
A looser button up shirt with a tank top underneath, so that if needed it could easily be removed, a skirt that was of proper length but she could shove out of the way just as easily. Even her underwear was planned out, nothing provocative, they were the kind that resembled shorts, easier to maneuver herself in. Cartwheels and flips were harder to do in lace.
She was going to wear her hair out of the way, a neat professional twist, her glasses, though she really didn't need them today and of course, heels.
Sounded stupid, especially with all the walking she was going to have to do to get up to the rogue gallery but she felt it was a good trade off.
Heel could be a weapon, she had no doubt that the straight jacket wouldn't hold him if he really got angry and she'd seen patients loose control easily, their strength connected to their rage.
Guards or no guards, she was going to have to defend herself with the thought that no one was coming to help her.
That was exactly what the security firm told her the previous day.
Six hours of paperwork, tutorials, background checks, interrogations of her past.
Her father in particular.
Having to explain the situation.
That he'd been a con man, that yes, he'd gone to Blackgate, then after his release he'd been struck down by a drunk driver.
She lied, she told them she didn't stay in contact with anyone from that world, she knew no one would mention her name if they went prying. It wasn't a lie when she said that she knew no one associated with joker, not even his lowest henchman.
She told them she was too young to even remember the name of the driver and held no resentment against him. Again, another lie.
They'd gone as far back as possible, invading her past to ensure that she was not a security risk.
Explanations of how the codes were changed, the exact way the chip worked in her new security ID card, finger printing, eye scanning. Even a DNA test.
Yet that hadn't been the strangest part.
They, took x-rays, of her body and her teeth. A hair sample, then, a blood test which obviously couldn't be for DNA, since they'd already taken a sample.
"You'd be amazed what can be done now, with, them." the lab tech had explained.
Them, meta humans.
All those tests were to ensure that she was who she said she was, that she had no powers, that she was still, one of them and not a 'freak', crude as the word might be.
He wasn't a meta human but they assumed he knew them, assumed he made deals with the more criminally inclined ones.
Her knowledge of meta humans was limited, she was trying to learn more about them but the problem came with pulling truth from exaggerated fiction.
They were afraid of shape shifters.
She supposed she could understand but by the time she was done, she was exhausted. Feeling like she was being scrutinized, judged.
A laundry list of do's and don'ts, she already had half of them crossed off as things she would have to ignore and do whether they were allowed or not.
Procedure, understanding that she would know the names of all three analysts, have their contact information and that by signing the agreements, she was stating that she would under no circumstances give that information out.
A waver, freeing both the security firm and Arkham from any liability if she got hurt due to the Joker.
Before she'd left, the head agent looked at her seriously and asked her if she had a will or not. When she'd told him she didn't, he encouraged her to have one prepared.
Harley moved her other leg to match her right one, so both feet were on the floor, her body contorted into a strange circle shape before relaxing and pushing herself up off the ground, doing a perfect handstand.
She had one other problem.
With her plan of action, she wouldn't be able to talk to him, ask him what he was comfortable being called. After all, Joker wasn't exactly the prettiest of names.
Mr Joker seemed too formal, patient 'insert number here' felt, cold.
"Hello Mr Joker, I'm Dr Harleen Quinzel." She sighed and tried again. "Hello Mr Joker, I'm Dr Quinzel."
How did you say hello to a man you were planning to ignore?
The whole point was to give him as little interaction as possible. Introducing herself would go against the plan. Sure she could make the greeting sound as robotic as she'd heard other doctors do, she wanted the introduction to mean something, for however long he was here, which could be the rest of his life by the looks of it, they needed to have an, amicable working relationship.
Pretending to be that disinterested would end up working against her than for her.
"Hello Mr Joker, I'm Harley Quinzel." she said, letting her legs fall back to the ground and instantly let them slide into a split, inwardly wincing at the feel of the carpet burning her legs.
"Hello Mr, J. I'm Harley." that felt, better, she liked it. Mr J, it was respecting his status but giving it a more casual feel.
"Hello Mr J, I'm Dr Harley Quinzel." She liked it. "Hello Mr J, I'm Harley Quinn."
She smiled and shook her head, he'd probably laugh at that one, a few people had caught the reference in the past. Harley Quinzel, Harley Quinn.
The name she'd used for herself since she was much, much younger.
"I'm a performer too Mr J." she said as she finished stretching. "Lets see what kind of act we can make."
She flipped through the file once more, checking to see his current drug program. Thankfully they'd gotten him off the harder drugs, her predecessor had seen fit to put him on several anti psychotics that had apparently made him little more than a vegetable, she shook her head in disgust. The problem became when his body started to resist the drugs, which had occurred. They hadn't ever done proper blood work on him, he was a victim of a chemical change, you'd have thought they'd do more extensive tests to see how deep the effects went.
Was it just superficial, or was it, deeper? Had the fall, changed his DNA?
He was also on several different treatments, ECT, which she found pointless, he wasn't depressed, he wasn't emotionally unstable, someone had laughed at her when she'd mentioned that. Was it Daniel? She couldn't remember, the shock therapy would only serve to piss him off and potentially fry what memories he did have of his past. The white room, a barbaric torture room she thought, a room that was completely void of anything but white, like this place wasn't depressing enough. It acted as a sensory deprivation area. Forced the brain to panic, no color, nothing to focus on but white.
The theory was, a patient who lived in a state of panic could perhaps, find some focus and clarity.
She had those two treatments on a list of things to remove from his treatment.
Harley was starting to think no one wanted to help him, only contain him, only domesticate him. She shook her head, remembering something she'd read once. The spotted hyena, the most popularly known of the hyena family was considered unable to be domesticated.
She smiled at the idea, he was a hyena.
Unattainable, impossible to subdue, so how did you get around that?
You, learned how his world worked, which was exactly what she wanted.
It took her an hour to be ready.
Every time she turned the water off, she turned it back on, scrubbing harder at her skin, she was nervous. This was different to any other patient she'd had so far. No sit in, she'd be alone, with one of Gotham's criminal elite.
Not just elite, royal.
Of all the other criminals and their various styles and roles, none held the title of Prince, he did. The clown prince of crime, the prince of Gotham city.
That wasn't just a self inserted title either, he'd earned that name.
Harley looked at herself in the mirror, if anyone looked at her, they wouldn't think much. Book worm maybe, frump girl. Good, let them think that, let him think that.
Though he's already seen you before. She thought, that worked for her advantage though.
She could wear contacts but the look was lost without the glasses.
She was hungry for this, ready for it, everything she'd worked for, everything Daniel had tried to steal was held together by this moment, if she could even survive one session with him, make it to the second where she could truly introduce herself to him. It would validate her work to herself and leave everyone else in the dust.
"Hope you're ready Mr J, here we go." she whispered, grabbing the file, a pen and her security badge.
The security started on the first floor of the front building.
"Key card Dr Quinzel." The guard asked, letting her swipe it, the chip reading off her security clearance.
"Thank you Dr, you were informed if it's after hours or an emergency, that you have to go through floor three?"
"Yes."
"Harley, going up early?" Dr Stevens called from behind her. "Without me?"
She smiled back at her boss and took back her badge.
"I figured the security would take up my time, didn't want to be held up."
"Well, you won't have to worry about all that today, just get this floor done and I'll take you the rest of the way, you can go through the bells and whistles next time."
"You're taking me up?" she arched an eyebrow.
"Of course, did you think I was just going to throw you to the wolves?"
He motioned for her to continue with the check point.
Her finger print scanned, her eyes feeling irritated with the light they used to check her irises.
Asked to give her full name, her ID number, her voice matched. The guard nodded and Dr Stevens started walking her to the elevator at the very end of the building. Guards positioned every few feet.
"Call up, let Jimmy know we're coming." He called.
"Jimmy?" she asked as they walked.
"Morning shift guard leader, one of the more expensive toys we got him. The lead wolf I was hoping not to throw you to."
She smiled at that, Stevens told her that Joker liked to call the chief of staff his, 'parent' "I'm sure you've gone through all the security papers you were given yesterday."
"Yes, the whole thing." She grimaced, it had been a very long list.
"Good, I'm sorry but the gallery is a completely different world. Sometimes I think we cater to their madness too much, for gods sake, level one is level five and level one is level five."
"I don't think we're catering, I think we're..." she didn't finish the sentence.
He dismissed it and cleared his throat.
"I know you've probably gotten tired of hearing this but I'd like to go over a few do's and don'ts."
She inwardly cringed.
"Okay."
They walked, Harley wondered if the Joker was up there waiting for her or if she was of no importance at all.
Joker was, excited.
He'd given the guards no problems, the orderlies had no clue what to do with him, when he just did what Jimmy asked him to do.
Showered, singing purposefully off key to unnerve them, laughing when Christopher yelled that he knew he could sing better than that and to stop insulting Italian opera.
He could almost hear the others upstairs, calling in whispers. "Fresh meat."
His new doctor, in their eyes, the new victim to his cruelty but they had no idea.
He ate, earning him a raised eyebrow from Jimmy who asked him what he was planning to do with the young blonde.
Joker just laughed at him.
She'd sat there, eating her sandwich and finishing her drink, watching the game between himself and the guard. Watching him win his extra time.
It wasn't hard, it was like throwing a grenade, you had to know where the target was to get the best explosion.
When he'd turned around to see if she was still there, he was disappointed to see her walking away. Her garbage in hand, she did not look back towards him.
When the call came in on Jimmy's radio, Joker grinned. Time was up, time to meet the pretty little doctor., the key to his freedom.
Jimmy and Christopher left him with Shane and Brian, two more of the guards.
They were smart, never using last names.
They led him to room six, the most boring room, a two way mirror where doctors and guards could watch and listen to the sessions. It was the largest of the rooms, no intimacy, no privacy.
Shane and Brian would stay in the room, she'd be predictably safe.
He's in the jacket, like he'd kill her on the first session, please, he was far more tasteful than that.
He popped his neck as he waited, he was keeping count, how long it took Jimmy to leave, how long it took him to come back with the woman.
Time ticked away, soon enough he was bored, going through his rehearsed stories, what he believed would get her sympathy.
For her, he'd considered, things that would appeal to a younger therapist, a younger mind.
He'd even considered, giving her pieces of the truth.
No, no need to do that.
Finally after an eternity of entertaining his mind, he felt the vibration of the guard's boots, this room was built so he couldn't hear them outside talking, it didn't stop him from feeling the vibrations of movement.
Then, a new note, one not heard or felt up here, ever.
Sharp, very sharp, something clicking over and over again on the hard floor.
Rhythmic and in time.
Click, click.
Click, click.
Then, nothing, just the sound of Jimmy's vibrations as he talks, muffled but not completely silenced.
The door finally opens and Jimmy looks directly at him. one hand is behind him, keeping the doctor from coming in.
"Joker, your doc is here, play nice." he teases and he moves his hand away, letting her come inside.
His eyes are focused on her and only her. She looks different than she did two days ago. Her hair is up in a twist, glasses, a button down shirt under her lab coat and a skirt that goes all the way down to her knees.
The only thing that could be considered interesting are her shoes, she's wearing, heels.
Not little ones either, quite a few inches high.
She sits down across from him, glances at the guards as Jimmy steps out, closing the door behind him. She seems, unfazed by it all.
"Morning." Her voice is light, airy, sounds a little west coast.
She opens her folder and starts writing, doesn't say anything, doesn't even acknowledge his silence.
Nothing, she gives him nothing.
Is that even his folder? It's in a binder, not the old cardboard one.
Wait, was she doing... catch up work?
She glances in his direction only twice, her expression, bored.
He felt his blood start to bubble, this little girl... didn't want to be here, she was being made to be here. She was assigned his case as a punishment? Oh he'd make a punishment for her, how dare she ignore him.
Time ticked on.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
Their time was slipping away and at one point, when she had her head down, he was tempted to say something. To ask her something demented, something to make her jump but he didn't.
He was watching her hand.
She was, writing feverishly, her hand moving in a strange manor, as if, she was drawing but that wasn't what it looked like. She was writing, her hand went from left to right, he saw that but something wasn't right.
He was mad, feeling his arms wriggle against the restraints, his fingers itching to wrap around that pretty little neck, make her squirm, hear her cry out until she couldn't anymore.
Finally, she put the pen down and looked up at him. Her blue eyes, yes they were most definitely blue had a spark of something in them.
She looked down at her watch and then once again, looked back at him.
She sighed, almost dramatically.
"Well, our session is up." she said with a genuine hint of disappointment. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. I'll see you on Monday, same time."
She paused for a second, tilting her head a little, as if checking that he was listening.
"If there isn't anything you need, I'll see you later."
She rose and glanced at the guards, Joker never took his eyes off her. There was a subtle twitch in her face, she was, hiding an emotion.
What was she doing? What the hell was this little girl about?
She looked ready to leave but paused, opening the folder back up and tearing out the page she'd been writing in, laying it faced down on the table.
She waits for him, like he's going to say something and when he doesn't, she nods her farewell and leaves the room.
Brian moves forward and picks up the paper, glancing at it with an expression of rare surprise and then, amusement.
He turns and looks at Joker before turning the paper for him to see, snickering at whatever it was.
It's a drawing, lines, shapes and black and white sections. An abstract design with no real purpose in it.
A drawing of chaos, only one thing stands out as defined.
In the center of this design, is a woman on her hands like she was doing a cartwheel.
The whole time he's looking at the picture, he notices the very subtle message in the lines, a message only for him, secret, wonderfully devious and the anger subsided and gave way to thrill.
Oh, check doctor Quinzel, check.
Hello Mr J
My name is Harley
I'll be your doctor until your next escape.
I hope we can have a pleasant working environment until then and that I'm at least able to help you work through some of your issues.
At the very bottom, was a signature and he let his whole body fall back, his head falling all the way.
HQ
He laughed, hard and loud.
Oh, he liked her, he liked her a lot.
He was going to have so much fun with this Harlequin girl who dared to poke the dragon.
"So, you like her huh?" Shane asked with a hint of concern.
"Oh, she's a treat."
He bared his silver teeth.
"Poor girl." Brian shook his head.
Poor girl, indeed.
A/N Ah Monday, looks like all the writers have decided to post today, make the beginning of the week less unbearable. Sorry it took me an extra day, had to do a complete rewrite, hopefully you guys enjoy. If you read chaos, you've read Harley's POV of this scene, I hope you enjoyed. I know I'm taking a different approach to Harley but I am going by something Margot Robbie said about Harley Quinn, she's strong, she's smart and she's kick ass. I find it hard to imagine Harley being this timid little mouse who is easily intimidated by any man, even Joker who will become her soul mate. I also want to correct something, I know in chaos, I wrote that it's over the weekend that she plans this, I forgot that in the last chapter so if you guys don't mind doing the mental adjustment and sorry!
I don't know how far I'll go with this story, definitely going to go as deep as I can, I want to really expand past Arkham, through Harley's recovery and later, development as a criminal.
I'm actually terrified of a few scenes, for one, I'm scared to death of touching the chemical vat scene. It's such a beautiful moment, I know some people criticism the moment but to me it's the true beginning of their love story. She sacrifices herself and he realizes he can't be without her. How can I touch that and do it proper justice? Eh, sorry, my own concerns. But hopefully you guys will continue to read on.
As always, I love your comments, your reviews and Please, keep em coming. They are the fuel for this writer. Anyway, till next time guys. Adios and enjoy this roller coaster.
