A Fairly Honorable Defeat

10. Untitled

Harley bent over the sink in her hotel room washing the blonde hair dye out—it had been a snap decision on the way home from the courthouse—she'd asked the police officer who was driving her to please stop at a drug store so she could pick something up. She was tired of her mousy hair with just the ends still the platinum colour she'd loved so much. Being depressed and doped up on valium made it difficult for her to care about what her hair looked like.

In the background the news woman on television was talking about the Joker case—how the death penalty had been ruled out but the defense were pushing for the insanity plea, which was incredibly likely considering every psychiatrist who'd spoken with him had labeled him a psychopath and a danger to himself, society and others—and even jail was perhaps too much of a public environment. Essentially, he needed a straight jacket and a solitary padded cell to keep out of trouble.

"That's likely—" Harley mumbled under her breath as she started drying her hair with the complimentary hotel hair dryer. She noticed it was attached to the wall to discourage people from stealing it, and she remembered their small collection of complimentary hotel and motel hair dryers which he'd ripped out of the walls and brought home—there had a been a little stash of them in the bathroom. It amused him greatly to bring one back every time he stayed somewhere—or simply did a job in one. Some men brought home a post card from their travels—he brought home hair dryers.

Harley found herself smiling but quickly shook it off.

She fluffed her newly platinum blonde hair out and examined herself from all angles. A sudden surge of confidence made another wide smile spread across her face—without her sad mousy hair her blue eyes popped, her skin appeared soft and creamy rather than splotchy beige and her posture was just a tiny bit straighter.

Ladylike Light Blonde, that was what the package called the hair colour—amusing—she knew who else it would amuse.

Harley groaned, and prayed to god staring at the back of his green head for the next week wouldn't make her mind even more muddled than it already was.

Gordon picked her up to take her to the courthouse and he commented on her hair looking very nice with a kind smile—which Harley took to mean that maybe he noticed Ladylike Light Blonde had an effect on her confidence too. They didn't speak much during the car ride until he attempted to broach the subject of her testimony the day before.

"So—there's no record of you ever pressing charges for assault, Dr. Quinzel."

She glanced over at him warily and tucked a strand of bouncy platinum hair behind her ear. "No, there wouldn't have been much point. He may as well be invisible when he doesn't want to get caught or noticed. And I didn't know his name."

Gordon mulled this over, "That's incredible—that you never knew his name."

Harley shrugged, feeling awkward discussing the subject with Gordon. It was like talking about sex with your Father. "It didn't seem to matter at the time."

A long silence fell between them before Gordon spoke again. "There was an inquest into the murders of several staff members while you were in Gotham City Hospital for your—injuries," he pressed, glancing at her as they stopped at a light. "It was him, wasn't it."

It wasn't a question and Harley sighed, "Yes, of course. I told the police I was being stalked but I didn't know by whom—and that he had been the one who murdered them—there was a nurse dying on the floor next to my bed—it was horrible. I'm a doctor and I couldn't do anything to help her because I was strapped down in a bed." She sighed again, "Anyway they moved me to a hospital up in Providence because I was sure he'd check every hospital in and around Gotham to find me."

Gordon nodded resolutely. "And he never found you."

"He somehow found an article I wrote for the Harvard Medical Journal about psychosomatic functions and sent that— letter there. It scared me to death—I was sure he would find me. Then I was offered a job at Yale so I took it. He seemed to loose interest after that because I didn't hear from him again—up until, of course—that video the press showed."

"It's funny," Gordon said, "The way his brain works—its solitary—it's like he doesn't have any desire for company, everyone is expendable to him. But not you. You're the only one who he seems to generally—" Gordon searched for the right word and Harley got the impression this wasn't just friendly conversation, he was trying to get information out of her. "Want around," he said at last. "But obviously as a deranged obsession."

Harley laughed. "That's only because he doesn't know how else to keep me with him. So he resorts to fear tactics like he does with everything else. He does the same thing with Batman. Obsess manically then attempt to trap the object of his obsession using fear and manipulation. But it was different with me."

Gordon frowned, "You aren't saying you think he cares about you, are you? Because Dr. Quinzel, I've spent time with him. He's not capable of anything other than destruction. He'd tell you that himself."

"Of course he would, he's a complete narcissist," Harley scoffed. Normally she hated talking about him or thinking about him, but because Gordon seemed so curious and so naïve she found herself speaking comfortably. "I'm not a fool—he is a text book psychopath. Incapable of compassion and wanting only what he wants in the moment he wants it. I wouldn't say he loves me. But I know he cared about me at one point. It's just a question of when it became so twisted." She coughed. "For both of us."

Gordon was silent, secretly thinking she had been deceived by his lies like everyone else. But then she continued, looking out the window with a small smile. "I used to tell him I loved him, back when things were good—those first two years he wouldn't say it back but he would say 'I'm very fond of you Harlequin.' It was his way of saying something. He would look me in the eye when he said it—in a soft genuine voice."

"You'll have to forgive me, but I have trouble picturing that," Gordon pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose—his mouth was drawn into a skeptical line.

"It was before the scars," she explained casually

"Dear God," Gordon sighed, trying to force himself to be civil about the Joker. It was clear Harley didn't harbor an large amount of ill will towards him as she remembered him. Only as he presently existed—as the Joker. "It's unfortunate mental illness had to take over such a – whatever you two had. Before he became the Joker." He choked out, feeling slightly sick at the prospect of saying anything remotely kind about the murdering psychopath.

"Yes," she agreed dimly.

They reached the courthouse and went through all the standard security procedures and Harley was led to a spot in the middle of the room next to a few other witnesses. She watched Iris Goldman pace and shuffle papers up in the front looking just as much of a piranha as she usually did. Harley wondered where he was—there was no sign of his dirty blonde curls—no, she checked her self—now it was greasy green strands.

At last, surrounded by more police officers than could have been in anyway necessary, they led him in to the front. As if magnetized to her, the Joker glanced around and spotted her instantly. He took in her newly died blonde hair and the fact that she'd slapped on a little make up and didn't look too much like the depressing hag she had the day before.

It peaked his interest and he offered her an air kiss despite his entourage of burly guards.

Harley found herself pretending to grab the air kiss he'd sent her way and kissing her palm. Then she stopped dead when he grinned at her crookedly and for those few moments when the air kiss floated between them she was reminded of the man she loved and it absolutely crushed her heart. She wished to God she was anywhere but Gotham in that moment, but as she was required to be at the trial she settled for glaring at him darkly to his amusement.

Everything she did was always for his amusement.

X

Note: hope that wasn't toooo boring.