"Alright, I think calling for a meeting is in order."
Harleen Quinzel was a doctor of psychology, and thus was very aware of the fact that feeding into a delusion was one of the most dangerous and unhealthy things one could do. Reinforcing a delusional belief was at best irresponsible and at worst deadly. Sometimes, of course, there were exceptions. Some people used delusions as a way to hide from past traumas, and trying to drag them out of them was simply forcing them to relive the trauma all over again. Some people were simply too old and far gone mentally that trying to bring them back to reality was a waste of time and effort, as they were very likely to slip into the delusion again by the next day.
Harleen knew that her own delusions, those fractured parts of her mentality, were a direct result of trauma. Joker's attempt at kidnapping her had deeply terrified her and had rattled something loose inside of her, causing parts of herself to fragment from the whole. And, like plants which had been cut from the main body, when planted in the ground, they would begin to grow anew and bloom again. Such was what had happened to her.
To not feel so alone and vulnerable, she had made these others out of parts of herself, as if she was surrounded by helpful friends rather than going up against the world on her own. A trick of the mind, a sleight of hand as easily as palming a coin. These voices and thoughts of reason were still her, at the end of the day, and yet they operated separately, in ways even Harleen herself could not imagine.
The healthiest thing, of course, would be to simply get rid of them. To seek a therapist and explain the situation and be coaxed into distancing herself from this idea, from the fantasy that these were separate entities. To come to terms with herself and her trauma, and to let those defenses that had been erected afterwards come back down.
But, well, she was never the best at making great decisions. Harleen also knew, somewhere in her, that the trauma had already happened and her path in life had changed, and trying to get rid of these three stooges in her head would ultimately be a waste of time and effort. They were here to stay, and this was how she was coping with what had happened to her. And honestly, since she had taken on this crime fighting persona, she herself was keeping the incident alive, since her near kidnapping from Joker and rescue by Batman had caused her to want to do this in the first place. By keeping this up, by keeping the Harlequin alive, she was not letting the trauma die.
As long as the trauma was alive, the personalities stayed.
Sure, what about? the "mischievous" part of her asked, always the first one to turn up. She reminded Harleen of a woman sitting upside down on a couch, head inches from the floor while eating a bag of chips.
You mean to figure out what to do with us, the "doctor" part of herself, as Harleen liked to call it, piped up. The one was usually the one who was the most active and aware of what was going on in the real world, probably because Harleen used her logic and brains on a daily basis to analyze and deal with her problems so it got the most "use," as it were. So she was often the one who knew what was going on in Harleen's train of thought.
"Right-o," Harleen said, sprinkling cheese onto the breakfast quesadilla she was making. Chorizo, eggs, a few strips of last night's steak, and a stupid amount of cheese that she could only justify to herself because with how she was parkouring around Gotham now (yes she took those lessons at last) and fighting criminals on a half regular basis she would burn the fat off in no time.
She didn't expect the dark part of her to show up at this meeting. That one never came when summoned, she only appeared when she felt like it. She was watching somewhere, Harleen knew, but commenting and interacting with her daily life was either beyond or beneath her. She didn't exactly know what was her trigger for calling her, but Harleen knew that she tended to come out during times of stress or trial. It wasn't consistent, though.
What, you want to get rid of us? Ain't gonna happen, sugar! Was the giggling reply that came from that, which Harleen tolerated as she meticulously scraped a spatula under the tortilla to make sure that it was not sticking to the pan.
"I wasn't intending to," she replied evenly, her movements automatic and her mind only half on what she was doing, while the rest was focused inward. It was hard to picture them all in her mind, and honestly she didn't think she needed to. The only thing that did was give them more substance, and while she couldn't bring them back into the fold of her mind, the last thing she needed to do was encourage the breakup and fragmentation and give them some sort of appearance to go along with their "voices."
Besides, since they were her, they would look like her anyway. "Doctor" was like herself at work, "Mischief" was her in the Harley Quinn role, and the third was some darker part, something that was more concept than voice, something dark and truthful that fueled her inner strength as much as it nurtured that part of her that at times ignored conscience and good sense. She was as dangerous to have around as she was absolutely necessary. "Doctor" was no real fighter and "Mischief" was too brainless to keep them out of trouble when shit hit the fan.
Hey!
I heard that.
"Yeah, and stuff it," Harleen murmured, folding the tortilla in half, making the quesadilla a half circle and then promptly flipping it over. The crusted, beautiful golden brown side that greeted her made her stomach surge in hunger and she had to control herself from taking the half finished product out of the pan right this second and eating it.
So why are we here again? Unless we're here to just eat breakfast together, which means you eating by yourself!
Before Harleen could do more than roll her eyes, the "Doctor" spoke up.
You're on the verge of a multiple personality disorder, she explained, because of course she would know. It was this part of her brain that led Harleen to this conclusion after all. The more you repress us and keep us locked in your mind, the more we will come boiling out. We need to be channeled and funneled into a better purpose and position in your life, so things will go back to normal. As it is, things are so chaotic and disorganized and crazy that we will go off the rail eventually.
Ohh I like that!
Of course she did. Harleen winced, knwing the cold and methodical dissection of the issue was indeed the heart of the problem, and hearing it all spread out was just uncomfortable. But still, it was a good place to start. "Exactly," she said with a sigh, pouring her coffee. "The more you guys are held back, the wore you'll become. I've already had several moment where I accidently blurted something out from you guys in public. Something needs to give, and you guys need to be given direction and thought."
How about given cookies? Those are better! Mischief giggled, and Harleen ignored her. Giving her attention was the last thing she needed.
"But first, one of the best things to do, before we can decide to do with you, is to find out what you are." With that she scraped up her quesadilla, both sides finally toasted to her liking, and carried the plate and coffee to the living room, where the TV was playing the weather with the volume low.
Boring shrink stuff.
Necessary analyzing, corrected the "Doctor", sounding pleased. You can't know how to move forward if you don't know where you are.
"Precisely," Harleen said with a sigh. The coffee and quesadilla were too hot to touch at the moment, so while she let them cool she brought her mind to think. "You," she said, referring to the "Doctor" and while she didn't give any names out loud she knew that they would know who she was thinking about. That was really weird. "Not to say that you've always been here, but you're older than her." She mentally thought about the "Mischief" personality as she said this. "You are me, or who I was, rather. But you're also my professionalism. I hear you most when I'm at work, and I sound like you when I'm talking to patients. You are vital for your knowledge—if I'm ever trying to recall a fact, or make some sort of connection, or rationalize something, I come to you. You are the most stable, the most rational, and the moral center. The super ego, to sum it up."
She does have a super big ego, tell you what.
"And you don't like being the center of attention," Harleen murmured, cutting into her food.
Correct on all counts, the "Doctor" said, sounding pleased. A little pretentious, given that it wasn't like Harleen was brainless or anything like that, but she ignored it. Now there remains the problem of a name, since my source and purpose are out of the way. A name will make me different, and distinct, so the lines in your mind will not=blur when you are at work and think like me.
"I'll call you Beverly," Harleen said with absolutely zero hesitation, something so quick that it left the other parts of her psyche puzzled. Even the silly mischief voice was stunned momentarily.
Wha… Star Trek? Beverly asked, momentarily confused, but since she was on the surface of her thoughts she could read the thread much more quickly.
Ha! She should be called Spock instead! Because she's such a stick in the mud!
"I thought about that first," Harleen said with a shrug. "But Spock's is a male name, and you aren't entirely Spock. Spock is more cold and afraid to let his emotions out, you aren't."
Hmph, Beverly said. The more Harleen thought about the name, the more she liked it. And she liked Star Trek, too, so that was a plus. I never said I did not like it. It is mostly puzzling.
Oh oh ME NEXT! Who am I?! The0mischief yelled, now suddenly finding this to be a fun activity and wanting in on it. I know! Name me Q!
"While on the same plane of nonsensical behavior, the last thing you are is Q," Harleen said with a shrug, taking a bite of the quesadilla and oh lord that was good, holy crap. "You are the newcomer, you didn't exist until Joker tried his little stunt with escape and kidnap. The youngest and therefore the most volatile. You run on emotion and pure thoughtless desire, the id to Beverly's super ego. You're a living embodiment of the trauma, and thus your crazed, pure instinct approach to thing is not only a way to cope and dissociate from having to think too hard about the evets that created you, it's also a way to be like the Joker."
Because that was a crux of the issue, the hard truth that she did not like admitting to herself, but needed to be admitted. "I carry a streak of obsessive behavior in myself, one that needs tempering or it gets us in trouble. Before, I was obsessed with the Joker, almost past reason. I wanted so hard to fix him and understand him that I stood in danger of becoming him. That's why he managed to create you in a sense: because I could understand him, I could think like him, and thus here you are. You always get me in trouble, but there is strength in you, but also a complete lack of fear. That's why you are vital when I step into the Harley Quinn role, I couldn't do half the crazy shit I do when I'm fighting criminals if I didn't have you around."
Tell me something I don't know! I'm queen of the show! Heehee! I can rhyme like Riddler too!
"That's why you are Harlequin," Quinzel said. She sipped her coffee, feeling smug and praising herself for an analysis well done. Harlequin was giddy, too excited to say any of her usual babbling, and the silence was welcome for once. "You're too much like Harley Quinn to separate you from her entirely, but I can't go around calling you by her name. She is me, but you are her muse."
Oh a Muse! I like that! That was a good one!
"And that just leaves…" Harleen trailed off, halfway through with her quesadilla, as she thought about her. That one. The one who spoke rarely, and who held truth like a torch, driving away cobwebs of self doubt and guilt, but tainted with her own dark desires that dripped with madness.
You mean me.
Every time she spoke, Harleen felt a twinge in her gut. That part of her rose from some buried animal level of instinct that went even deeper than Harlequin with her brainless emotional desires that were gone as quickly as they came. This one spoke in the mindless twitch of fight or flight, in both the mad, blank state of pure rage and in the paralyzing, consuming wave of terror. She also spoke with the wisdom of the world, the one that was uncolored by logic or emotions, and yet she was mad, frenzied, something bubbling and churning and enticing that stepped from the shadows with a allure that was tempting as it was frightening. She did not speak of petty selfish wants like Harlequin, or wrap her actions in the should be's of Beverly. Instead there was the simple, all consuming desire that stretched her thin, threatening to snap the world in half:
I need.
Harleen held back another shiver, while the voice in her head spoke again.
You were going to categorize me too. There was something in her voice that dripped with amusement, something that made Harleen feel almost embarrassed and wanting to blush her way through it, though that was silly, and this was just a part of her as Beverly and Harlequin were.
Wrong. The voice said. It was more sensation and emotion tan true words being spoken, like the others, but she could hear it in her gut all the same. I existed long before they did. When you were born, I was born
That made her stop and pause for a second, thinking and them realizing she had gotten this one's personality much better than it really was. That weird not answer had to make her brain run faster though, trying frantically to understand what she meant, but then something clicked into place in her mind.
"Inner strength, that's who you are," she said, breathing the words out as if she didn't entirely believe, but in the absence of every other explanation…. "You aren't out much, because I don't need you to raise your head, and you know the value of sitting and waiting. You come when I need strength to stand up and keep fighting, and the power of madness drives you. You are a last resort, and the past times I heard you and tapped into your strength, it caused us to win. So, you are my Ace."
Good. The voice said, before simply vanishing.
Harleen sat there for a long moment, blessedly quiet as they basked in the new discoveries. The other voices had even been driven way by Ace, though that wasn't unusual or hard to do. Not that she minded at all being able to listen to her own thoughts for once and actually missed the bizarre conversations inside of her own head.
She went back to her breakfast, glad that such song and dance was out of the way, and then moved on to more important issues of the day:
Her dinner date with Bruce Wayne.
When evening came, Harleen chose for herself a long red dress quite a striking shade of crimson, and black shoes which looked like liquid ink as they reflected hundreds of points of light. She was almost giddy as she applied her makeup, humming to herself even and dabbed on some power in the mirror, and smirked at the paint and homemade black lipstick that she used for her crime fighting. This was an entirely different costume, and who she was going to see was more pleasant than any criminal or psychopath.
She didn't think anyone would bother her, but it was Bruce Wayne she was seeing here. He was a gentleman, and he was thorough, in a way that was both frightening and shocking at the same time.
Just ten minutes before they were about to go, someone knocked on her door, and a frantic rush to appease made her come face to face with who was on the other side. An old man, by the looks of it, the same one she saw on the balcony of the charity party, except he managed to find her again.
"Doctor Quinzel," he said as he helped her into her coat. "You look excellent, today."
"Why thank you, Doctor… " It occurred to her then that she didn't even know this man's name.
"I am no doctor, just an assistant for Master Wayne," the man said pleasantly, smiling. "You may call me Alfred."
Thirty minutes later she and Bruce Wayne were walking through the doors of one of Gotham's best seafood restaurants, and she was hanging (well, a little more dignified than that but still) off his arm and she knew people were gawking at her, may wondering who she was.
Isn't this amazing?! Harlequin was squealing, practically over the moon at what was going on. His arms are so strong, so firm! Umph, I can be in here all day! And look at him, so serious and Alma, it makes someone shiver inside at the idea of what's going through that man's head!
Not at dirty as you are being, Beverly said calmly, even though her usual sarcasm wasn't so cutting anymore, and looking at who was having her in his arm made that part of her that wasn't touched by logic shivering too. He is very handsome, though.
Bruce hadn't said anything to all the attention, so Harleen was sure that he had been through it all before. If anything they both would immediately make tabloid headlines tomorrow, based on the current speed they produced.
"I will say that this is a professional occurrence only," Bruce said, waving his hand very mildly in dismissal as she brought it up. "To discuss more funding for Arkham and the needs of the patients, on that level."
" Smart move," Harleen said with a smile up at him. "So this is a pleasure date, then?" She asked, unable to help herself (she couldn't even blame Harlequin for that one) and she bit her check to stop herself from backpedaling and apologizing.
Bruce Wayne turned hoe incredibly piercing gray eyes on her, and smiled. "I don't mix business and pleasure," he said in a voice that almost literally made her knees go numb and have her melting right then and there ."So…pleasure"
God. God damn this man, life was o UNFAIR. She could scream from the frustration, but at the same time he was so incredibly good that she didn't know what to do. No wonder women jumped in his bed all the time, he knew how to talk to one despite being a hermit who hit of in the wood.
They were shown to their table, a, secluded little spot upstairs, and she at down with a smile and soon the oysters arrived as an appetizer, and she saw Bruce giving her a little knowing smirk. She tried one.
Ah! Clever, this is where he got them from, and he brought us to the source to impress! Beverly said, and now even she sounded dreamy as she experienced the incredible taste of it all over again.
"So, everything has been going for you? " Bruce asked, the icebreaker that might have them get wrapped up in this discussion for half an hour.
Nonetheless, Harleen smiled. "Quite well, actually," she said, thinking about her crime fighting, but also knowing that she barely know this person and telling Bruce Wayne how she was being a vigilante like Batman was not a good deal. "And yours?" she looked to his eyes, noticing the circles under them. "Looks like you need better sleep, certainly."
"Most adults do not get enough sleep in their lives anyway," Bruce said with a smirk. "And I have a lot of activities to attend to at night, even with my corporation, so I sometimes don't get time for myself." He smiled dryly, and Harleen tried her very best not to shiver like a schoolgirl at that.
She smiled at him. "Well, you at least have Batman to keep you company, " she said lightly, not intending it to be a serious comment at all, something for the both of them to joke about, but the man looked very sour instead.
He smiled! That's it, he definitely wants us!
"It's not as common as you think," Wayne said, shaking his head. He usually—no, never mind, I'll never explain it properly. "He is a very lonely man, and… ah, I'm sorry that Batman tends to come up every time we talk to one another."
Harleen laughed a little, trying not to appear too drunk but a little tipsy would be acceptable for her dignity. "He's a very fascinating, as I'm sure you know. All of Gotham is under his protective shadow."
"You think so?" Wayne said, crossing his fingers and resting his chin on them. "What do you think of him, if I can ask?"
"Hmm," she said, cutting into the lobster she had ordered. "He's very pure hearted and determined," she said, trying to carefully step around the fact that she had met him before. That conversation would be weird as hell. "But also very vulnerable at times. Oh, and very handsome, his arms and chest are absolutely enormous."
"Enormous?" Wane repeated, and Quinzel flushed again.
"It's…special, don't worry about it," she replied with a little giggle, and he just shrugged most of it off, though he still watched her a little at times as if he knew what she was talking about.
Ah, poor Wayne. He'd have to get used to it, then.
He can join! Harlequin squeaked, still obsessed with the idea that had just randomly appeared in her mind some days ago. Imagine, both him and Batman just on both sides! Wouldn't this be amazing?! Who do you think is the better kisser?
Or just have Batman, still, Beverly privately thought. Even she, the cold and reasonable one, was absolutely fascinated by the idea of Batman's strong grip bending her over a desk and just mercilessly pounding her. That would be so incredibly hot.
She needed to get her brain out of the gutter, before Bruce noticed something. Noticed even more than he was supposed to.
"What do you think of the newest vigilante?" she asked not quite blurting it out, but definitely trying to distract herself from inappropriate thoughts while a billionaire was sitting across the table from her. "The papers haven't given any info yet, but I hear some thing from the patients recently, after they are brought in."
"The woman?" Bruce asked, lifting his eyes to meet hers. There was something odd in them that she couldn't quite place, but Bruce Wayne was a hard man to read when he wanted to be. She thought that something was… troubling him, but she couldn't pinpoint what. "I don't know much about her either, but I'm worried that she's going to hurt herself. Hunting these kinds of people down is extremely dangerous."
Harleen could have practically squealed at that, though she reined herself in.
He cares! Harlequin squealed again.
He doesn't even know that's us, he doesn't mean it personally, Beverly piped up, the cold shower of reality as usual.
But, regardless, it was a very pleasant and sweet thing to hear, and Harleen basked in it all throughout the rest of the dinner.
When she stuffed with some of the tastiest food she had in her life with a bill that would have made her sick to think about if she had to pay for it herself, they left. His hand was on her back, which sent gooseflesh prickling everywhere on her body, and because the warmth of his hand went through her thin dress, she could feel everything. It was probably one of the most distracting and incredible feelings a woman could ever experience.
"You'll take a cab," Bruce Wayne said with an amused smile as he glanced towards the front door—and they headed out to the back, through the staff area. "That way you can avoid the crowds and paparazzi that have flocked there."
He cares!
Ignoring Harlequin, Harleen flashed him a smile. "Thank you," she said. "I hate being the center of attention."
"I remember," Wayne replied, and that was enough to make any woman giddy. "Make it home safely will you?"
He smiled still as he said that, his tone light, but there was a weight in his eyes that caught her and held her as he said it, and abruptly she felt her breath stop and her heart quicken. Even time seemed to stop, frozen in a moment of decision—and it was one of those decisions, wasn't it?
Kiss him kiss him kiss him—Harlequin was barking frantically, nearly rattling the bars of her cage distantly.
Hormones, spiking because of sexual attraction, Beverly muttered, but not even she seemed to be in much of a mood for spouting off knowledge while Bruce Wayne was literally inches away from being kissed by her.
Harleen was tempted, wanting, but she also knew that—he hadn't made any moves, and it would be just forcing herself on him and she already did that with Batman—
Which was GREAT—
And, she smiled and moved away, even if it was almost painful to do so.
"I will," she promised, and her voice was sincere. "Thank you."
Only when the cab was driving away, and his eyes were finally out of sight, did she smack her forehead.
Why were all of the men in her life so ridiculously attractive and unreachable? It just wasn't fair.