"Holly, um, Miss McDermott?"
A nurse wheels by a patient, a questioning look on her face. "All right, move him to level 4, they'll take care of him there. Yah, Doctor?" her distinct Brooklyn accent sounds a little out of place in the Seattle hospital.
She looks up from her clipboard into the face of a rather young man, rather attractive looking. He's looking inquisitively at her as though he doesn't quite believe who she is. She wonders if he's dead, and she is so mad 'cause she is still foolish enough to be in love with him. She looks at him oddly as though that isn't quite her name, before checking her clipboard once more.
"Dr. Quinzell?"
She looks up in shock. No wonder he's looking at her like that. He's expecting someone older, someone who looks like they have a twisted mind. He doesn't expect her. And she knows that for just the briefest of seconds, he's forgetting that she's a killer.
"He's not gone and blown himself away already, has he?" She surprises herself with her even tone. "Not that I'd care," she added, knowing she was just lying to herself.
Lying doesn't become you Harliquin. His voice, his smile, leering at her. Damn. Why did he always have to haunt her. Damn that man. Damn him. Even though she was still hopelessly in love with him.
"You treated him…"
The puzzle pieces are falling into place. The Doctor's stuck, he needs her to break him. Problem is, she can't – or maybe it's that she won't or maybe it's because – oh God, he's looking at her like the Joker's some kind of pervert, gosh, doesn't he know how old he is? Probably nobody knows. Probably nobody knows he likes two kinds of pudding on his birthday…
"I don't know about that," she says, wondering if being someone's lover is considered treatment…probably not by traditional psychological standards.
"Look, I'm sorry to barge in your life like this…"
"Yah think?" Not that she minds. She's been waiting for some kind of incentive to return. Not that he would ever call her back. He didn't possess those kinds of feelings. He did, after all, almost threaten to kill her if she returned.
"But I need your help."
Jacks' laughter was the first thing that crossed her mind. He'd think this was hilarious. She threw up her hands. "It's in the file. What did you expect to learn from a killer?" The doctor was taken aback. "Oh yes, doctor. He drove me crazy with love. And he got some out of the deal." She turns away, a little ashamed of herself.
"Do you still love him?"
She doesn't expect a young guy to be so unfortunately perceptive. She spins to face him. "Once he hooks you, it doesn't mean you can't swim again, but you're still hooked." Noticing the awkward situation, she motioned him to join her in the laundry closet. "Did he tell you where to find me?"
"More or less.'
She nodded her heart accelerating. That meant he'd known where she was. And he hadn't come after her. "And?"
"I think you're perceptive about him."
Not really Doctor, I just know the game. But without rules, what's the use of playing? "You got his first joke, didn't you?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Something he did or said made perfect cognitive sense. Or you realized something about him you didn't think he knew."
"Sort of." He appears shifty, not wanting to admit his guilt in furthering the cause of madness.
"His obsession with cards?" She didn't use her own example, it was far too complex. What if the ferries were rigged to blow their own ship. And Bats. He knows who he is, but he won't tell...
"No, the ferry thing."
"Ten years ago." She blinks as though it's an old story she's overlooked.
"Yeah. He didn't prove people believed in good. It was a win-win situation. He just proved they were stupid. It's a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don't situation."
She looked up. "I hope you didn't tell him…" She cut herself off when she saw the guilty look on the doctor's face. Interns!
"Why's that?" In training they're taught it'll break the ice. The Joker's a different tale altogether.
"Basic rule of the Joker, you don't tell him that you get his jokes, EVER. That means he likes you enough to lure you."
"They say he likes me.." the intern was a little creeped out by her words.
Oh, come on. He doesn't even like guys. He isn't in that sense. But it could have all just been an act for her benefit, she wonders. "It means he likes you well enough that you're smart enough to get his jokes. And now he'll start playing games. You'll start making reports like he wants you to, probably not because he's threatened your life and scared the hell out of you, but because he really is crazy."
She knew it didn't make a lot of cognitive sense, but that was the point. The Joker didn't make sense.
"Harleen…"
"It's Holly, now doctor."
"Sorry. Just please can you come back? He'd probably love to see you."
"Too much," she mutters, thinking of the old days, light fondness in her voice.
"You didn't answer my question Doctor."
"Not really a doctor anymore."
"Do you still love him?"
She pauses. "I don't know." She said slowly, after all he'd been, after all he was, she wasn't sure. "He wasn't the best relationship. Besides, I don't think he could love anyone else."
"But what about you?"
"I still love him, yeah, ashamedly. But yeah. For some reason I can't…"Then she realizes he hasn't gotten the point she's been trying to make. "But like I say, he can't love anyone else."
"I suppose that's true."
By the Empress, these interns were dense. She shook her head. "You don't understand."
"What?"
"He did love. Something happened. It haunts him, even though he thought it'd burn all away. Even though he's forgotten."
"You're saying he doesn't remember feelings?"
"He does and he doesn't. It's the only way he survives without just dying. He wouldn't survive if the person he was finds out what he's become. Believe me, I tried."
"You tried? The reports…"
"After we left Arkham. I'll never do that again." She shuddered, remembering the after-effects.
"What happened?"
"I'd rather not…"
"Please, just help me…" the doctor was pleading. Wanting to help the Joker would just drive him deeper. But she could be wrong. Maybe he was a better person.
'Fine, I'll tell you. Just if I find out you told Jacks, I'll kill you." And she meant it. The pet name however caught the doctor's ear.
"Jacks?"
"Mhm. And Mista J and Puddin'."
"Puddin'?"
"You didn't know?" He's a doctor, and Jacks hadn't told him how much he liked pudding. Just Jell-O in a cup, homemade, didn't matter the flavor. On his birthday especially. Something else must've happened over the last four years.
"You're avoiding the subject."
"I put him on a cocktail: anti-anxiety, a rather light sedative, and an anti-depressant. He didn't like taking them, but he had to keep going on his next plan." She chooses to eliminate his deathly loathing - which she catagorized as a suppressed fear - of needles. Even though he probably got shots every day, he hated them. They'd just use it to torture him further. They already knew he hated casserole.
"Sounds normal."
"Well, he goes and blows this place up, an' comes back to Headquarters and that night, for no reason, he just starts crying, blubbering-like." She couldn't believe she was saying this. It felt like betrayal.
"He regrets?" It was a little much for the doctor to picture what he thought of as a monster crying.
"No! He's – like I told you – haunted. You could say he's a tortured soul. And it wasn't because he actually felt it, it was an after-effect, I just wanted you to know about the cocktails with him, that's all. 'Cause next morning, he finds out and one of his henchmen musta said somethin' cuz e flies into a rage, an' kills him. That's how I got this." She shows him the almost untraceable scar that runs down her cheek. "Accept that he can't be cured. He can't live with it."
"With what?"
It felt like if she told, she would have betrayed complete trust. Nobody else knew, and the doctor would end up asking. It wasn't like she didn't think about that he could kill her for saying so, but she didn't think that he would tell her secrets. Maybe he would, but probably not if it meant protecting her. She doesn't tell him the occasions that Jacks acted like he was seeing someone else in replacement of her face. She doesn't tell him about playing the part of the stranger she didn't know.
"If he wants to tell you, what it is, he will. Just know this: he does have feelings. He just doesn't remember what they are like."
"Come back."
"I'm wanted."
"I'd think he'd want to see you. You were - -" She doesn't like the thought of the young man knowing what they were.
"He could've gotten from me from anyone he wanted. By force or otherwise." And sadly, she knew it was true.
"He said you wouldn't be easy to come back. Said something about double…"
Double war. She smiles faintly, thinking of his protective – no, possessive – ness. "He does know me. Almost too well."
"He did say you'd come back, but it wouldn't be easy. Please, can you do it for him? Even though even he doesn't know it, I think he needs you."
