I've always found the relationship between Leland and Harley very interesting. She was something of a mother I felt, very protective and nurturing, yet also firm. I wondered what Joan might think of her former colleague and the stakes of this particular situation for her.
Chapter 8:
Joan secured Harleen's file safely beneath her arm as she strode to her patient's room. The asylum wasn't as rambunctious as it used to be. Things quieted down dramatically. Perhaps she only felt that way because she spent so much time in solitary confinement with Harleen. The nightmarish noises of the institution took years to tune out. At long last, the deadly cacophony of the mentally unstable no longer fazed her. She devoted her energy to the rehabilitation of Harleen Quinzel.
She didn't care how long it took, she would make things right. She owed it to Harleen.
Maybe it was guilt. She'd buried the idea long ago…or at least she convinced herself she had. She agreed to allow Harleen to interview the Joker. Joan watched in horror as Harleen slowly succumbed to the madman's designs, seduced by his nihilistic philosophy and wicked charm. His false flattery and sexual prowess. She could have put a stop to it all. She could have saved Harleen from seven years of that life. Why had she done it? It made no sense. The girl was barely out of school. What did she truly know about any of it at all? Degrees, references, internships, top marks...they'd all been incredibly impressed with Harleen's background.
So much promise. Lost to the selfish wishes of a beguiling sociopath.
She was so young, impressionable. Eager to prove herself. Smart, pretty, athletic: a catch for any young man lucky enough to know her. She had all the guards and orderlies drooling after her. Ignoring them, she'd bolted for the man on the inside of the cell. A man far more destructive than the poor child recognized. No doubt that was the attraction. The mystery. The fame. The danger.
It was so obvious now. Why had she failed to see it before?
She had. She knew very well what it would mean. But she'd insisted, I'll keep an eye on her. She might surprise us all where so many others failed.
She surprised us all right. Unfortunately...
Joan straightened her back and lifted her chin. It's in the past, she told herself firmly, leave it.
Everything would work out this time, she was certain. As she approached Harleen's room, Joan paused, leaning against the wall. She'd done all she could. Endured Arkham's reprimands and the nasty looks from colleagues. Even her husband asked her why on earth she was risking her job for this nutcase.
Because it's my fault…
Joan could feel the tears coming now. She didn't protest their arrival, shaking in hushed sobs. She'd allowed it to eat her up from the inside out. Every time, she fought to have Harleen returned to her to ensure her safety from that monster. Not Blackgate Prison, she'd insisted. Let me help her. She's a troubled young woman, but not beyond hope. And every time He never failed to persuade her back to his way of thinking. Into the life of a criminal. Harleen was no criminal. She would succeed. She would give Harleen her life back. Everything needed to make that happen was concealed inside the manila folder pressed tightly against Joan's heaving chest. As she choked out the last of her cries, Dr. Joan Leland composed herself, wiping the remains of her sadness from beneath her tired eyes, careful not to smear her eye make-up.
The clown cannot win this time.
