Note; songs used to write this chapter. K's choice: virgin state of mind for the music itself and some of the lyrics. Alison Krauss: It doesn't matter
Chapter 10 - Sanity
Freedom.
Such a thing so few people in the world could appreciate, so few had it in them to be grateful for it but he wasn't one of those people.
It was so close he could taste it, the sound of explosions making every single nerve in his body tingle with anticipation, for the hunt, the kill, the release.
His release.
Soon,, he told himself, they were here, his imprisonment int his god forsaken place they called an asylum was minutes away from ending. Freedom.
He was impatient for it, they were late, taking too long to get the damn doors open. It was a computer system and they had the codes, they knew the analysts to threaten, why did it take them so long? Still another part could wait.
Patience, his greatest feat and greatest weakness.
There were moments worth waiting for, moments that you couldn't stand to hold back from and this moment, this particular moment was both things buried in an explosion that had been months in the making, since his entry here.
Since day one.
Funny then that his thoughts were focused on the red book in his hands.
A cheap second hand book with raised writing on the cover, the title worn away a long time ago.
He stared at the cover with interest, with eager predatory awareness of what was to come.
A simple harlequin novel she'd found him, her own personal joke.
The plot was boring, predictable, the characters dull and just as predictable but she hadn't handed this to him for the entertainment value. No, this, was her secret.
Freedom so close and yet he couldn't leave yet.
He owed her a debt and he was not a man who left debts unpaid.
He leaned his head back against the wall, utterly relishing the knowledge that after he stepped foot out of this cell, he wasn't ever going back in it.
He planned to destroy this little box, to erase it from existence.
He'd have Frost get all his stuff out, no need to destroy his trinkets. After all, the books were loans and he'd hate for the good doctor to think he didn't value her services, or her time.
This little book though, was coming with him, everything inside of it too.
He grinned, had she gone home?
It had been almost two hours since her surprise visit to his cell. His blood still pumping fire to have been so close to her, the damn glass between them.
He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to see her limits, see how far he could push her. Test, experiment to see if what he believed was the truth or if it was just a drug induced fantasy.
She'd been good to him, from day one, a rare gem inside a hellhole.
He hadn't lied when he told her that he lived for the moments with her, inside this place. She was a moment of reprieve, a flicker of light in the darkness.
She was intelligent, witty, had an uncanny ability to tell the cheesiest joke and somehow make it sound utterly amusing. Unpredictable, he never knew who he was going to get.
Dr Quinzel or Harley?
He owed her a thanks, he would give that to her soon.
If she'd gone home, he'd have his men bring her back, he wasn't leaving until he paid up, business was not something you left unattended like that and besides she was planning to leave tomorrow. Central city, probably only a weekend trip but still.
He wasn't waiting around here till Monday to catch her, he wasn't going to sacrifice that much time.
He'd send her on her way with a special, thank you note.
She deserved that much didn't she?
He'd discovered that she was more than just the sexy blonde all the men wanted to rut, there was power in her, a force of will he'd rarely encountered.
A volcano waiting to erupt.
Beautiful and violent.
His sort of girl.
The kind of girl you bring home to meet your mother.
He was going to do this and flush her out of his system, months of seeing her so consistently had made her stick to him but he'd learned through experience that once he'd completed his task, he got over it quickly.
Once he left, he wouldn't look back and besides she might have will but he was the unstoppable force. She never had a chance.
Three things rested in that book.
Two pieces of paper, two drawings that were incredibly different, the first and the last. The audacity of the first, to greet him through hidden messages and in such a way and the last.
The last one intrigued him the most.
He'd gotten to her, he'd gotten to her very, very bad.
I love you, goodbye.
Such simple words covered in chaos, covered in darker lines, this was not her as a whole like the first, this was something else. Unmasked, darker, wilder.
He didn't care that she'd fallen, it had been part of his plan after all. Love was useless, love was something too easily manipulated. Put value into a single person and that person became your vulnerability.
He'd become hers and all her strength, all her will meant nothing because of it.
He'd reduced her from a strong career driven woman to a crushing school girl and he honestly hadn't put that much effort into it.
Yet, she'd managed to get under his skin.
Not love, just fascination.
She was, unique to say the least.
Part of him, the part that felt jealousy over her, possession, want, desire, lust. That part of him wanted to take her with him, remake her mind and keep her. Coaxing his brain into the idea, stating she was intelligent, pretty. He could use those things.
He could imagine some of his associates drooling over that body, becoming melted fools at the sound of her laughter. Imagining in their heads what her lips tasted like, what her body felt like in their hands. What sounds she'd make if you learned how to play with her.
He wouldn't take her with him of course.
He didn't' need her, his want was only the result of this place.
Once he got out, he'd remember that she wasn't so bright, that she'd let herself fall like this and that though she was pretty, she wasn't THAT beautiful. Only the most beautiful woman here, that wasn't exactly something to brag about.
She could move to Central city after he had his fun, after he rewarded her for her contribution to his release and they could deal with the monster he was preparing to awaken.
She'd find her own way and one day, he'd open the papers and find a big splashing picture of her, Central city's latest criminal, not a meta-human. They had quite a few of those on the west coast but she'd be famous enough and she'd have him to thank for it.
Another of his out in the world causing some chaos.
She'd have to learn on her own, he couldn't be expected to do everything for her but all of that violence, wild hunger, hidden secrets was just aching to come out.
J flipped to the last page where her little secret lay.
She hadn't even known she'd left these in there, you could tell by the way the pages creased around them, how the book held them stuck in place.
She'd simply forgotten she'd put them in here, all her little slips of paper went into the middle of the book, never the front and never the back.
If she'd had dirty pictures of herself in here, they wouldn't have excited him as much as the ones he pulled out that day.
Because even though a naked woman was pleasing, it wasn't as enthralling as the girl in shorts, high heels, a t-shirt and pigtails side saddling her bike and laughing wildly as she held up the keys.
He realized that the night when she'd come in from her date was a shadow of who she was, each picture, some summer trip from her collage days revealing the truth.
Beautiful, impulsive, violent.
The last picture, the most fascinating, it was of her in a fight.
Someone had deemed it worth a picture.
He was glad.
A man twice her size, twice her weight and she had him pinned on the ground, a baseball bat in her hands. The very twisted sight was being greeted by laughter, drunken, unabashed murderous thrill.
There was no proof that she'd killed the man, probably not. Probably just hit him once and let him off with a warning but the picture showed the possibilities.
Chaos existed inside of her by nature, it would come out one day.
He would help it, he would bring this girl out of its cocoon and unleash her on the world.
Like he'd said, he owed her a debt.
"Do you want a bite?" She sat across from him, her sandwich in hand, offering him a bite. Smiling almost friendly, her eyes daring him, saying. 'You know you want a taste.'
Compared to the food they served him, her sandwich looked like ambrosia. A cup of steaming coffee in a cup, how she'd gotten all of that by Jimmy's men, he could only speculate.
"Come on, I don't mind, it's from the deli."
She let him eat the whole thing, taking only two bites herself and let him drink her coffee.
Not caring that he might get out of his restraints and use it against her. She used a lot of sugar, wasn't just a coffee either. Espresso.
He might have been annoyed at her if she'd not treated it so, delicately. Not acting like she was feeding him, more like she was sharing her lunch like a school child would with their friends.
That hadn't been the only time, it became a ritual in their sessions, as many as she could get away with, which were most of them. As long as it was Jimmy's team on call, if it was some of the others, well they were harder to sway with such rule breaking but she'd bring him things to eat. Full meals hidden as her own.
Maybe they had been hers, he wasn't sure.
His favorite moment though, his favorite time was after their single, intimate encounter. When she'd brought something that required a higher level of connection, his realization that he'd gotten to her. That her walls were breaking away and that the thing that hadn't happened, really had.
"I made it at home." she said with a sweet, almost innocent smile that said so much more. I made it at home and I made it for you.
Cake, such a simple thing, cake and a cup of pudding.
He'd inwardly resisted the offer, this was different, if she fed him with a spoon then she was taking control from him, it was no longer a sharing thing which was tolerable. She'd never brought food that required silverware before.
Plastic it might be but still, a weapon could easily be made of it but she'd offered, like she always did and when he hadn't spoken she'd shrugged and started eating while they talked.
It was fresh, cut strawberries inside the filling, the cream fluffy and smelled tempting, clever girl, tempting him as punishment, knowing it irritated him that she'd have to feed it to him. Knowing he wouldn't be able to resist it after a few of her own bites.
She'd made it, entertaining, almost sensual. He wondered if the guards were looking in from the window, who cared, he didn't. An audience was most definitely a plus and what an act they made.
When he'd relented, when he'd agreed, she came over like she always did and sat on the table's edge, careful, always that and sliced down with her plastic little spoon and took half a bite of cake, then offered him the other half.
It was the kind of act a lover would do.
Maybe in some ways that's what this game had turned into, lovers without touch, silently playing to a secret, shared game that had rules only they could know.
He enjoyed the game, watching her fight herself, knowing he was fighting it off himself. It was, difficult to keep things professional, especially when his goal was to seduce her, to gain her undivided attention as to gain her help, guarantee his escape.
He'd done it, he'd gotten her help and as soon as his men got this door open, he was out.
He was gone.
She'd fed him, sneaking things into the drink, supplements, things to compensate for what his diet was lacking. He remembered that little note in the book when she'd handed it back to him for the first time, telling him she was sure if he gave it a second read, he'd find it more entertaining.
A small scrap of paper that was written in her hand.
I can't help you eat every day but I can do something.
Then another scrap of paper, one with shakier hands, emotional, angry, trembling hands wrote that note.
No more treatments.
He quirked his head at the memory of that.
His guards had told him, laughing at the thing they'd witnessed.
Dr Quinzel storming into her boss's office, fire blazing, determined and unbreakable. Declaring that she would not under any circumstance allow her patient to be subjected to barbaric, backwards treatments that were only doing more damage than good. That his situation didn't warrant torture, that since she'd been handed the case, she wasn't going to share with an idiot Dr who didn't know the difference between A and Z.
He wished he'd seen that, what he had witnessed and he wasn't sure if she knew it, was an exchange that she'd made with one of the orderlies on his floor.
There was a blind spot where the camera's didn't catch you and she'd used it to her advantage.
He'd watched curiously, out of the corner of his cell, watched her bat her eyelashes at the young nearly hypnotized man, pulling an envelope of money out of her pocket and handing it to him. Tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear like a teenager who was trying to get a date with the quarterback.
He hadn't known what she was playing at then, hadn't realized what lengths he'd reeled her in. To do what she'd done, well only this act of utter betrayal to her job outdid it.
His eyes darkened at the thought of it.
Where was Frost already, he was getting moody sitting here waiting for them to open a god damn door.
Routine.
That's what it was supposed to be, just routine but well in a place like this, nothing was routine after all.
He knew how the procedure worked, how it was supposed to work but immediately knew that it wasn't going to go that way.
It never did.
Their treatment for him was different than the machine's intention.
If it had been done to someone else he might have even approved of the assault, the obvious disregard for everything a doctor was supposed to be, what they were supposed to represent.
But it was him, it was his brain they were testing, reducing to less and less for their own means.
Probably thinking that if they fried his brain enough times, they'd finally be rid of his chaos.
Idiots.
He never remembered the initial effects, never remembered what occurred but after about a week, he would. Always and he had names, he had a nice little list of names of people he'd be visiting when he got out of here.
Their arrogance was unfounded, they hadn't earned the right to be cocky. He had, he'd earned his right to believe what he said, he earned the right to brag.
Not today though, a Saturday, of course.
Not his guards, not the ex military ones who didn't play games, not even the second shift who were almost as good.
The weekend ones who would rather be anywhere else but here, the ones who hated being there because of him. Who happily obeyed the doctors who ordered them around.
This was not Harley's doing.
Her weekend off, she'd told him, on Friday morning, their last session. After she'd let him eat most of her pizza, from a place in Gotham he himself enjoyed.
She was going to see her nephew, his birthday, a rare occurrence she said since her brother didn't' have custody of either of his children.
A slip on her end, giving him personal information like that, easily used as blackmail but she'd smiled at him and promised that they'd have an extra session next week.
Bribery.
Smart girl.
But not now, a different doctor. One she hates, one who hates her.
One he can't stand.
Arrogant little boy who has it in for him, he won't tell him why. Maybe he killed someone on the outside, maybe he took someone away from the little boy and he was getting even for it.
Hard to say, not that it mattered. He was up there on the list.
Strapped to that table, Harley had promised no more treatments and if she'd been here, they wouldn't have dared. They were afraid of her, he couldn't help it, he laughed.
They were scared of her, everything about her, her hair, her eyes, her stunning looks, her cleverness.
They were scared of what she was and he just laughed as they prepared him for the procedure.
He could feel the numbing tang of the local, the relaxant. He still laughed, though it's harder to focus his thoughts.
The little boy must realize that he's started building a resistance to the drugs, how many times had they done this? Too many, his body reacting in defense despite their attempts.
He would feel this more intensely, he could already imagine it, so long without it, months, his brain was already frying.
It's supposed to be quick, thirty seconds, no more than a minute but he counted the ticking in his head as the pain intensified, more than a minute.
Then relief, no more pain but he's still aware, hadn't gone yet, he hadn't faded into unconsciousness just yet.
That's what the doctor wants, to keep going until he's unconscious and then they'll drag him to his cell, letting him sleep it off for the whole weekend.
They want him to forget, to forget everything but he won't.
Again, the seconds tick and again, more than sixty seconds. The room's charged now, his eyes unable to focus completely on just one spot.
Idiot boy, because of what he is, because of who he is, there is a moment of perfect clarity, where his senses are sharpest. His hearing acute, his eyes seeing into the layers of color, light, shape, sense of smell catching everything, touch, oh his skin tingles in discomfort as he feels the rough fabric and the cold table.
Again relief and the boy is talking to the guard.
"Two more goes, then he should be alright." he actually has the indecency to sound professional, like he's doing him a favor.
"Dr Quinzel's been spoiling you Joker, she's not conventional, doesn't appreciate traditional methods or understands that some patients, can't be helped any other way. It's for your own good."
The laugh returns, harder, crazier and he loves the sound of his own laugh, echoed in his head, in his ears.
Spoiled?
Well, maybe but he acts like that's such a bad thing.
It kept her off the list, off the kill. She should be honored, this little boy didn't get it, that Harley, that she'd understood that the way to stay alive was to play the game.
They went another round and the pain started to grow to another level and he stopped counting after two minutes.
Two more rounds? Oh no, it was going to have to be more than that, he wasn't going to give them what they wanted so easily.
The exquisite moment of clarity, where all his senses erupted into overdrive caught something, a sound, a smell.
Familiar, wanted.
Not heels, boots but still a sharp click-click to them, but that wasn't the sound, it was a voice.
Her voice and she was furious.
The door crashed open and everyone turned to look, even he does.
Black jeans, hugging her like a second skin, boots, tucked underneath them. A jacket meant for riding on the road, padded in such a way that it would protect her if she fell off the bike, stripped off in a fury as she stalked in, right towards them, right for her adversary. A green tank top revealed under the jacket, matching necklace around her throat. Only a little darker than his hair color, it looks good on her.
She's done something to her hair, curled it maybe, at least given it some bounce, it's loose and hangs down to her mid back, beautiful, silken and his fingers crave to wrap around the curls.
He thought he'd seen her mad, apparently she had a completely new level of fury.
She said nothing, not a word as she made it to the little boy.
He had a very good angle of the altercation.
Her fist, his face, once, twice, three times and when the guards tried to intervene he watched in HD clarity as she glared at them and snarled an order. Demanding that they leave or she'd report them for abusing a patient.
They did and she grabbed the doctor by the shirt and slammed him into the wall.
"You ever try this again and your license will be the smallest thing you stand to loose."
"It was approved." he yelled, grabbing his face. He was bleeding, bright crimson blood was trickling from his nose.
"Bull, I know it wasn't." she growled and shoved him away. "We'll see what Dr Stevens has to say about this on Monday, until then, I suggest you pray I don't decide to take care of this myself."
"You threatening me bitch?"
"No, a threat is something you don't intend to carry out." she came up to him and threw another punch into his chest, hard, fast, vicious. "I have every intention of keeping this, I swear to you, I swear that I'll make sure you don't ever find another job again, ever. Not even a back door street doctor will hire you to scrub his test tubes, ya understand me?"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it Harley." He coughed, his voice full of venom.
"Dr Quinzel, you don't get to call me Harley." She spat out and J watched in amusement as she kicked him for good measure.
Then as quickly as the rage had come, it was gone. Her posture straightened, she smoothed out her top and rolled her shoulders.
"Get cleaned up, tell the guards that I'm in charge now, that I'll let them take MY patient back to his cell when I'm sure he's alright."
The boy muttered something, something insulting.
"Ghetto bitch."
She was fast, grabbing him around the throat.
"What you call me?" she demanded, her accent very much alive. "I'm being, generous right now. You get that? I suggest you be a little more grateful of that, walk away now. Pretend this never happened, that you were never this stupid and we'll call it. Because you thinking it will end well for you, well lets just put it this way, we'll find out how good your book smarts are to mine."
She let him go and backed away, letting the doctor clean himself up before scurrying out.
"Coward." she breathed then turned to him, her rage and agitation turned into concern.
She ran to his side and undid his restraints. Again, fearless of the danger that caused between them.
"Mr J? Can you hear me?" she whispered, running a hand over his forehead, across his tattoo. "I'm here."
There was a gentle soothing tone to her words, she meant them, she was there, she had come for him.
He had a headache, it would be a little bit before he lost the moment, before his mind shut down and he fell asleep. Then he'd forget, for days if he was lucky, for a week if it was normal but maybe longer if he wasn't so lucky.
It was a gamble.
Her hands were hot against his skin, he reached a hand up and touched her arm. Feeling the shock that passed to her but she didn't even flinch when it happened.
The door finally opened, he turned to see Frost standing there with a bag.
"What took so long Johnny boy?" he hissed menacingly, rising from the cot and walking towards his second.
"Guards." He said simply.
Joker pulled off the thing they called a shirt and flexed before he stepped out of the cell. Relishing the first seconds of freedom.
"Welcome back boss." Frost said, holding out the bag. "Figured you'd want some clothes."
"You figured right Johnny, now I have some unfinished business. Tell me you could manage some security."
"We own it, no one gets in or out without our say."
He laughed, that deep thick laugh that promised so many things.
"Good, now, two questions and I expect an answer for both. Was there a Harley motorcycle outside?"
"Yes."
"Have you found the doctor who came to visit you?"
"No."
"Well, see that doesn't' make me happy Johnny boy, that doesn't make me happy at all."
"We can find her boss, she on the list?"
"Oh no, no, no, no. she's not on the list, she's special. I owe her a special gift."
If Frost wondered why the Dr had earned the special treatment, he didn't ask, he knew better. J watched as Frost spoke into his com and relayed his orders.
Find Dr Quinzel.
"Johnny, let them know I want her untouched, unharmed and breathing."
"Sure thing boss."
It was time, he flexed his muscles again and took a deep breath. Working his jaw in anticipation.
He felt the rush of the hunt, so many possibilities.
She could still be here, knowing he'd come for her, always knowing she was going to find herself in his hands, her life on the edge of that cliff. Or she'd run, left the bike to distract the search and she'd make him find her.
Either way, he was anxious to start this.
"Where are you Harley Quinn? Daddy's coming for you." He sang under his breath as he started to walk towards the treatment rooms.
Wherever she was, she'd end up back here.
He had a masterpiece to create.
A/N Oh yay, I love you guys. I was so surprised to find so many reviews for the last chapter. I had a fangirl moment and was jumping around which is quite embarrassing, especially when your kid is looking at you like your nuts.
Anyway, I am keeping quite a few scenes cut short for a reason. I am going to do an origin story. A complete thing and of course I don't' want to do full reveals of scenes when I could base entire chapters to them. I'm actually working on chapter one for it right now, though I'm not sure how to start it so bear with me on that one. If you have any suggestion please feel free to PM me.
Anyway, love you all, love the reviews. Love to all who follow and favorite, you mean everything to me and I do this for you guys. Come back and enjoy more crazy next time. See ya!