Harleen was exhausted. She felt it in her bones stretched out the kinks in her shoulders from sitting too long. Removing the reading glasses and rubbing her eyes, she looked through a narrow window with a poor fern bush on the windowsill. The sky was already dark, but the clock read only five o'clock. Nightfall comes early in the winter. Harleen shuddered from the draft in her box-sized room. The building was too old and had not been renovated in a long time due to a lack of funds. It was visible in the faulty heating system and the flickering lights in the unused wings. Her space was more akin to a closet with a table and high shelves than a proper office, but it was hers, and that was an accomplishment in itself. Harleen decided to abandon the pile of papers and head down to the cafeteria, muttering about the never-ending paperwork. The job was dull, filled with more paperwork than the significant meetings with the patients, but she never complained. As an intern slash recently graduated psychiatrist, she still had a lot to learn from her older and experienced colleagues. After getting a patient herself, it still felt like an incredible opportunity to prove her worth. Even if the case was just a former drug addict who couldn't tell the difference between reality and fiction. The woman was her subject, and she swore to herself to help the poor soul, even if it meant prescribing the right doses of medicine rather than discussing problems.
She walked down the cold corridor in the administrative section of the building, where security was less strict, nodding to a few staff members and a janitor. Not pausing for a friendly conversation, deciding a cup of coffee was more important than a chat. Stopping by the elevators Harleen waited for the creaky thing to go up, but as always, it was as slow as a turtle. After a few minutes, she got in and pressed the button to go to the first floor, where the cafeteria was situated. Glancing at the spotty mirror, Harleen tidied escaped hair strands from her tightly rolled bun and refreshed the lip gloss with a small tube of makeup from her pocket. The white doctor's coat she was so proud of and the dark shadows under her eyes in the harsh lightning made her skin look pasty. Harleen furrowed her nose at her sickly appearance. She couldn't help but be dissatisfied. Her face appeared exhausted and dry. Vanity was her vice. Harleen carefully concealed and restrained her beauty while working, not wanting to appear as the dumb blonde girl everyone assumed she was. Some men looked at her seeing nothing more than a pair of tits and legs. It was demeaning, especially since she had worked so hard at Gotham University to obtain a psychiatric degree.
She sat in the cafeteria's corner, away from the people. Nursing a cup of sludge coffee, suppressing an urge to yawn by focusing on the TV mounted on the wall. Harleen couldn't sleep. The nightmares still haunted her. It had been months. The brutal assault on the streets. Disjointed memories popped up in the most vulnerable hours. Harleen had no idea why, or who had rescued her, but waking up in a run-down motel room with a mafia member was not her concept of a good evening. The only clue she had was a Joker card, and it sent dread through her stomach. Harleen heard about the madman terrorizing the city while she was still a student at the university. Nobody knew who the man was or where he came from. The anarchy and chaos he caused paralyzed the city for weeks until Batman arrived and the so-called Joker was apprehended. Or so they thought, as no prison could hold him for long. It took half a year, and soon the Joker was back on the streets, wreaking havoc wherever he went. As if that wasn't enough, he also served as an inspiration to other criminals. They just popped around like weeds growing in the fields. Every other day, Batman would round them up, bringing villains into justice's hands. Some of them landed in Arkham. They housed the most notorious felons such as Dr. Jonathan Crane, now known as Scarecrow, deep in basement levels. Jervis Tetch, alias the Mad Hatter. Julian Gregory Day, the Calendar Man serial killer, just to name a few. She was never allowed into high-level security areas, but someday Harleen hoped it could be achieved. It was her dream to work on such important cases, but for the time being, she was stuck doing mundane paperwork and wishing for something better.
Not that she could daydream, always feeling tired and sleep-deprived. After that unlucky evening, it took her a few days just to gather the courage to get out of bed. Yet, weeks have passed and nothing happened. She even filled out the paperwork in the police station regarding the mugging, lying through her teeth about the situation. It was good that she looked like roadkill at the time because it made it easier to explain what occurred, even if it was half-truths. There was no other option because her wallet, which contained all of her important documents, was missing. To get replacements, a police report had to be submitted. After some time with no incidents, the fear slowly subsided. She could walk in the streets again, not cowed by the imaginary bogeyman in the dark corner. On the other hand, she did not want to feel this helpless ever again. Harleen decided to take self-defense classes, and with the gymnastic training from school, it went off without a hitch. Classes also helped with the unexpected adrenaline surges she experienced in crowds. She could swear sometimes someone was observing her, but with no evidence found, Harleen wrote it off as an over-sensitive imagination and post-traumatic stress.
Sipping the dark, bitter liquid, Harleen felt like an almost functioning member of society. Focusing on her surroundings, she followed the news report that was silently playing in the background.
It was a shaky phone video of a black tank-like vehicle pursuing a purple car through the streets. A massive collision and the explosion of said car. When a reporter announced that the Joker had been apprehended with the assistance of Batman. Following that, a clear video of a man cackling hysterically while being escorted to a heavily armored S.W.A.T van was shown. The conversations in the cafeteria became hushed as the people all around her fixated their eyes on the news report.
'This city has gone to shit…' an orderly sitting a few tables away from her complained to the guard opposite him. 'Who's going to pay for all the damage those menaces are causing in the streets? Let me tell you who... We are!' He hissed. 'Everybody praises Batman like some sort of saint for capturing these madmen, but what are the police for? Everybody has gone mental, man…. It's a dude in a costume, not an urban legend…'
She stopped listening and threw the unfinished coffee into the trash bin, feeling nauseous. The foreboding sense of dread caused her mind to spin in different directions. The Joker was apprehended, which meant he had to be detained somewhere until the Court decided what to do with him. Following the previous disastrous attempt to keep Joker locked up, some prisons refused to hold him out of sheer fright. It was a written fact in newspaper headlines after his first escape. Only two facilities in Gotham City met the security requirements for such high-profile criminals. Depending on the person's mental health, they were sent to Arkham Asylum or Blackgate Prison. Since the Joker remained an unknown individual, he was most likely to be sent to a penitentiary. Harleen hoped with all her might that he would not end up in her workplace. After another sleepless night, all her prayers were left unanswered. Early in the morning, every staff member of Arkham Asylum received a memo about the most notorious criminal will be transferred to their domain. They additionally included information on new security measures and increased safety protocols. She was nervous after arriving at work, especially while passing through the rigorous checkpoints set up overnight. All the personnel inside the building seemed on high alert, and the atmosphere was almost stifling. The probability of their meeting was virtually nonexistent, as Harleen could scarcely imagine the clearances required for that. Nonetheless, she kept her fingers crossed, not wanting to encounter this particular individual. Even if they met, by some error, there was a hope that Joker would not recognize the woman who owed him a huge favor. Especially one who looks like an unassuming and unremarkable doctor.
Harleen was going through the motions of filling out morning forms when she was greeted by her colleague, Dr. Leland. She was her mentor and supervisor, but Harley thought that serious and responsible brunette was almost a friend.
'Good afternoon, Harleen. I was just looking for you.' Joan greeted her and sat on a rickety guest chair by the table.
'Good day to you, as well. Are you working late again?' She smiled, sorting through the mess of papers on her desk.
'Yes, with all the new formalities being implemented today. What a long day, and we are still short-staffed.' She sighed, unbuttoning her white coat and folding it over her knees.
'So it's true? Are they bringing the Joker here?' Harleen fished for information, at the same time, dreading the answer.
'Yes, but it's all hush-hush. Nobody wants another escape to occur. Even I don't know when they're bringing him in.' Joan said, shaking her head.
'I suppose it's a requirement for such a high-profile criminal. I'm curious what the cops expect from this.' Harleen wondered, interested in office gossip.
'They want to identify him and assess his mental state in preparation for a trial, in case he pleads insanity.' Joan pointed out. 'That's all I've got. Whoever receives this case has the potential to make or break their career. What happens depends on the results we as psychiatrists can achieve.'
'Wow, I never thought about it that way. This will gain us media attention. Maybe Arkham will finally receive some new funding, too. The heating system here is crap.'
'Only time will tell if everything goes as planned. Anyway, that's not why I came here. I know I had you do the administrative work for the patients, but one of my doctors is on maternity leave. Perhaps you could cover for her in the clinic. It will be a good experience and a practical approach to people.' Joan said, scrutinizing her as if looking for confirmation that she was ready for the responsibility.
'It would be an honor. I'll do my best not to let you down.' Harleen clapped her hands in excitement. It was her longtime dream to help people in consultations rather than work on documentation and drug prescriptions.
'Don't get too excited. You will be in charge of two people. The rest will be divided among us. It also does not imply you will be free of filling in paperwork. There is still a lot of work to be done.' Dr. Leeland explained in a serious tone. It didn't matter to Harleen because she had finally gotten a chance to escape from her box office, if only for a little while.
'I promise to work hard,' she said with a smile.
'I hope you do because you have the potential to be a great doctor one day. Your work will begin the following week, and the patient's files will be delivered tomorrow. Also, don't forget your work e-mail. We should undergo some more changes here. If there are any issues, it is always a good idea to be informed. You see me more frequently now that I am observing your work. Good day to you, Harleen'. Joan nodded, said her goodbyes, and exited the office.
When the doors closed and Harleen could not hear the telltale sounds of high heels on the floor, she squealed and jumped around in joy like a little girl. After a minute of sheer joy, she tidied her appearance, trying to suppress the silly grin on her face. The junior doctor had been looking forward to this for a long time. Even if only two people were added to her workload, she would finally be qualified to give consultations. Harleen had to prepare. It will be necessary to obtain the patient's records, conduct research, and review their doctor's notes. It would be good to start as soon as possible, but the piles of documents awaited her, and she still had to make the rounds in the pharmacy. Also, she did not have the required documents, no matter how eager she was to sink her teeth into the new material. Yet, the news has brightened her day. It was hard not to be happy when your earnest work finally paid off.
Her day progressed at a leisurely pace. She was ready to grab lunch after filling out the new files and delivering the old ones to the clinic. The cafeteria was packed with people, from visiting family members to doctors and nurses on break. Even though Arkham Asylum primarily focused on housing criminally insane and long-term patients, as well as selected prisoners with unique health requirements, which were beyond a conventional prison's ability, it still worked as a medical facility. Every patient had to be physically healthy, and those needs extended beyond psychological practices. Trying to maintain the hospital's good public image and attract new funding, the current director, Jeremiah Arkham, opened a psychiatric clinic for Gotham City residents. It provided them with much-needed financial flexibility. As they say, desperate times demand desperate measures.
The cafeteria served decent food. Nobody wanted the staff to complain about more problems than they already had. Standing in line, Harleen examined various offerings on the buffet table. Deciding to go with pasta, salad, and tea, she served herself and put each thing on the tray, taking everything to the cashier to pay. There was no place to sit, so she brought her tray outside to the enclosed yard, where a few tables from the summer remained standing. It was getting chilly, but she enjoyed the crisp weather and the color of the leaves. The intimidating Victorian estate towered above her. She could never get used to the building's size and the menacing atmosphere it excluded with its frightening history and visage. The mansion stood three stories tall and had a few underground levels. It had spires and towers, gargoyles on all the downspouts, and high-set windows reflecting the setting sun. As the chilly wind rustled through the old, gnarly trees, Harleen shivered. She was aware of why this institution had such an awful reputation. However, because the university offered her free practice here, she stayed and later was hired for a job.
After putting dirty plates and a tray on the counter, Harleen went to her office, greeting the staff she met along the way. It was always good to create a friendly image with people, and she tried her best to appear as a hard-working and social individual. She tried to build her reputation from the ground up, from orderlies to security and janitors, to nurses and colleagues, and it worked reasonably well. After a year of being employed, she knew almost all the names of the people on her shift. Maybe she was an overachiever, but working towards being a respectable psychiatrist was her long-term plan.
When Harleen reached her office, the door was slightly ajar. She could have sworn she locked it before going for a break. Sighing about the old building, she entered and looked over her space. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so maybe the janitor came over to take away the trash. Harleen shook her head. Perhaps she forgot to lock the door. However, something new caught her eye when she sat to turn on the computer. It was a brightly colored card turned upside down on her table. Unease filled her stomach as a shiver ran down her spine. Harleen recognized the pattern on it. She turned it over with trembling hands and froze as the dancing Joker mocked her from the paper. The innocent playing card felt like a sign of doom. It was hard to forget about the debt owed. She had no idea how it connected her to the city's most criminal organization, but it was a warning that some debts had to be paid. Harleen was terrified of what they would ask of her. Especially now when the Joker would be incarcerated in her workplace. She felt safe in her anonymity and didn't consider the risk of meeting with the mafia, but it now seemed like a mistake. Someone tracked her down. Feeling the dread rising, she crumpled the card and stuffed it into the bottom of her purse. Swallowing the fear down, Harleen tried to relax. It could still mean nothing. Perhaps, she was overreacting. Nonetheless, the image lingered in her mind throughout the day, and all the shadows became more frightening. Maybe she was paranoid, but her future suddenly seemed uncertain.
Reviews and comments are appreciated :) Thanks :)