The board voted 10 to 2. Harleen Quinzel was fit to reenter society as a civilian. Arkham regarded the tiny blonde as though she were a leper, half-heartedly shaking hands with Dr. Leland, whose expression bore the brilliance of personal and professional triumph. He and the oldest member of the board voted against Quinzel's release of course. No one else seemed capable of identifying her true character. A violent, merciless freak just as bad as the monster responsible for her creation. Now that thing was going to roam free…not in Gotham, but still alive and well and…with child. The idea brought bile to Jeremiah Arkham's throat. His mind turned to his daughter. How he adored his sweet Harriet. She had nightmares often; he'd read that intelligent children frequently have nightmares. He couldn't imagine his precious girl playing hopscotch with the progeny of the Joker anytime soon. God, how it sent him reeling. Practically out of breath. No. The board was his last hope for reason. They failed him. Regardless of his excellent presentation and argument. She was a repeater. The damage he'd done couldn't possibly be undone. Nevertheless, the board took pity on the pregnant fool. How...pathetic. Scholars and doctors and scientists alike could not rid themselves of unnecessary guilt and sympathy, just because of the petite terror's oversized abdomen. That belly wiped clean her record of past misdeeds. Murder, arson, theft, assault…simply washed away. Joan, too, had her own sway at the hearing. "Completely rehabilitated, my foot," he grumbled under his breath. All appeared hopelessly lost. As Dr. Arkham wandered back to his office, he stopped dead. He dug into his lab jacket and pulled out his cell phone. There was only one able to put a stop to this madness. It was his last resort, and that time had come, albeit reluctantly. It must end.
Harleen Quinzel was free from the ties that bound her to Arkham. They'd given her the name Penelope Walker. Her new residence was a modest dwelling on the third floor of an apartment complex on the South side of Bludhaven. Joan secured a job for Harleen as a sales consultant at a small women's boutique. Everything was falling perfectly into place.
Harleen waddled leisurely beside Joan, all of her belongings stuffed into a small duffel Joan provided. She reached into her fleece coat pocket, triple checking that she'd indeed slipped her ultrasound photographs there before their departure. Joan snuck at glance at her. The rosy apples of her cheeks shone with the essence of rebirth. The shattered facets of her dead eyes now exhibited a profound sense of purpose. The wild blonde hair was gradually retreating back to the length of her ears, leaving a natural chocolate brown in its place. Tiny clouds of breath swirled from her pink lips as she trudged along, finding each step increasingly difficult as she went. There she was; eight months into her pregnancy and getting herself out of the wretched system and into the world. A long and exhausting battle the two women, all these years later, surfaced the victors.
Harley scowled. Why the hell couldn't the stupid cab driver come up to the entrance? Didn't he know he was picking up a pregnant lady? Alas, she and Joanie were forced to walk down the hill to the gates where the driver promised to meet them. Moron, she snorted. Joan swung the bag over her shoulder and kept one arm wrapped around Harley's for support. They did not speak to one another. What more needed to be said, after all? How many times had they made this same walk together? Harley lost count. No doubt about it, this time felt different somehow. Harley fell short of working out what it was that made this walk so unique…so pivotal for the both of them. She opened her mouth to ask Joan what she thought, but she kept herself in check; she had no intention of ruining the tranquility of the moment.
The crunch of the gravel beneath her swelling tennis shoes pierced her ears and Harley could almost swear she smelled the unusual combination of gun smoke and cologne. She knew that scent somewhere…she shrugged, pausing in her step for only a second. Her nose was so acute to every little smell these days. Even food didn't taste the same to her anymore. She loved pickles…she hadn't been able to bring herself near a single dill since her pregnancy without turning green. So it didn't surprise her that faint smell she wouldn't have noticed before became so incredibly strong to her. All part of the process.
As the gates swung open with a resounding screech, Harley spotted the yellow checkered vehicle parked against the curb, gray smoke creeping out of the exhaust and blinding her for a second as the wind took a swift turn in their direction. Harley sidled down the hill with Joan cautiously, each step agony. I need to sit NOW! Harley thought frantically. As Joan tucked the bag into the back seat and handed the driver money and directions, Harley eased herself onto the worn leather, wrapping her coat closer around her and settling her hands protectively atop her belly. She rolled down the window, smiling with relief at Joan, who spoke first.
"Well, you did it," she gave a half-smile to Harley who blushed.
"Nah, it was all you, Joanie. I just ate the asylum out of house and home…not easy to do considering how foul the cuisine is," she waved a hand and winked. Joan laughed, crossing her arms against the chilly April breeze. In a moment of awkward distraction, Joan raised her eyes to the sky. Gray and dismal. It didn't exactly reflect how she felt. Rain was not far off and if she didn't hurry, she'd be stuck climbing back up that hill in it.
"Listen, if you need anything at all—"
"You'll be the first. I swear it," Harley finished softly, squeezing Joan's hand. The older woman nodded.
"Take care, Har—Penelope," she chuckled, patting the cab's roof and watching the car speed off, Harley settling back into her seat and sighing heavily.
It was as close to her own child going off to take on the world as Joan would ever get. She hoped for the best for all of her patients, but none deserved it more than Harleen Quinzel. The rain finally made its grand appearance in a torrential downpour, but Joan didn't really seem to mind. Harleen was in good hands now…her own.