Well, she was back. Ready to face another day at Arkham Asylum. Harleen
Quinzel walked into the staff meeting looking more confident than she felt.
That huge patient caseload was still weighing on her shoulders.
"First order of business," her new boss, Kenzy, said, "we lost a patient last night. Suicide. Quinzel, he was one of yours. Looks like you're down to two now."
Harleen was too shocked to react. She felt responsible. Hadn't she been constantly complaining about how it was too much work for her? And now one of her patients was dead before she'd even had the time to look at their file. She didn't even know their name.
-
Sigh. Another day, another doctor. Pamela Isley waited in her cell, thinking about the new doctor she'd meet today. She was so sick of doctors. There were all blithering idiots that did nothing but stroke their male egos. And none of them understood her. 'Especially that last one,' she thought to herself, 'always bringing in vases of some bright cheery flower during sessions. The nerve of that man!! Murdering poor innocent flowers!!! Then he had to always rub it in my face.'
She was not even a little sorry that she almost killed him during their last session. Unfortunately, she hadn't killed him, and now she'd been reassigned to a new doctor. Well, she was going to give this new person as hard a time as she gave everyone else. No one understood her. She just wanted to help out poor, defenseless plants. Was that so bad?
-
'Thank goodness.' Harleen thought, 'no meeting with the Joker today. I just have to handle Poison Ivy. Great. I heard she tried to kill her last psychologist.'
Yet again, Dr. Quinzel was having a bad day. One of her patients had died. Her kitchen lamp had started dripping water because her upstairs neighbors were washing the floors. Some of the older, and considerably less attractive men working here had decided today was the day they would all individually hit on her. Now, with all of these problems weighing her down, she had to meet with her patient to try and ease someone else's troubles. 'Best of luck,' she wished herself silently.
"Miss Pamela Isley? How are you feeling today?"
"Actually, it's 'doctor,' and I get the impression that I feel no better than you do. You look like you could use therapy more than me," she stated.
"Maybe, but it's my job to help you. I'm sorry I'm so bogged down right now. I haven't even had time to unclutter my new apartment, let alone my mind," Harleen said.
"You're new to Gotham?"
"Oh no, I lived here when I was younger. But I've been gone for a long time."
"That's a shame, Gotham is such an interesting place. Tell me, were you living out in the country? As nice as Gotham is, I really prefer the wide open spaces. . ."
Dr. Quinzel smiled. "I can imagine. Nope, no rural country home, just another big city. Gotham doesn't have much in the way of advanced education facilities, so I went to live with some relatives while I was working on earning degrees."
"Well, if you're somewhat new in town, maybe I should show you around the next time I'm out of here."
"Is that really how it is? Arkham is just a brief stopover before you leave to add to your wrapsheet?" Harleen asked.
"Well, it's like this, we all know we're a bunch of crazies. We're menaces, without morals and boundaries, and all of that. We go out for a little fun every now and then. I mostly concern myself with the welfare of plants. Then the inevitable happens. We get caught by Batman and sent back here. Arkham is a place to lay low, recuperate, relax a little. But it's hard to forget that you're here against your will. So we tend to leave a lot," Pamela explained.
"Don't you ever think about getting better? Being able to live in Gotham, outside of Arkham, without Batman hunting you down?"
"Sure, we all want that, but not the same way all you doctors do. For most of us, 'reform' just isn't in our vocabularies. I'd hate having to sit idly by and watch so many rare species of plants pass on into extinction without being able to do anything about it. I did that already. At least being an extemist gets some results."
"Hmm. . ." Harleen had never considered that before. Suddenly she realized how very off-topic this discussion was. "I'm sorry! This is so unprofessional of me!"
"It wasn't so bad having someone to talk to. I think your time is almost up, though," she informed the young doctor.
"Wow, you're right. They give such short sessions. . . "
"They don't want doctors having too much exposure with the extremists."
"Well, until next time, Dr. Isley," she said, smiling.
"Until next time, Dr. Quinzel."
Just as Harleen started to leave, Pamela called out, "Oh, and doctor, try to hang on around here. We loose staff pretty often, I'd hate to see you go. It's so rare to find someone so, compassionate within these walls."
Harleen was feeling better already.
-
"First order of business," her new boss, Kenzy, said, "we lost a patient last night. Suicide. Quinzel, he was one of yours. Looks like you're down to two now."
Harleen was too shocked to react. She felt responsible. Hadn't she been constantly complaining about how it was too much work for her? And now one of her patients was dead before she'd even had the time to look at their file. She didn't even know their name.
-
Sigh. Another day, another doctor. Pamela Isley waited in her cell, thinking about the new doctor she'd meet today. She was so sick of doctors. There were all blithering idiots that did nothing but stroke their male egos. And none of them understood her. 'Especially that last one,' she thought to herself, 'always bringing in vases of some bright cheery flower during sessions. The nerve of that man!! Murdering poor innocent flowers!!! Then he had to always rub it in my face.'
She was not even a little sorry that she almost killed him during their last session. Unfortunately, she hadn't killed him, and now she'd been reassigned to a new doctor. Well, she was going to give this new person as hard a time as she gave everyone else. No one understood her. She just wanted to help out poor, defenseless plants. Was that so bad?
-
'Thank goodness.' Harleen thought, 'no meeting with the Joker today. I just have to handle Poison Ivy. Great. I heard she tried to kill her last psychologist.'
Yet again, Dr. Quinzel was having a bad day. One of her patients had died. Her kitchen lamp had started dripping water because her upstairs neighbors were washing the floors. Some of the older, and considerably less attractive men working here had decided today was the day they would all individually hit on her. Now, with all of these problems weighing her down, she had to meet with her patient to try and ease someone else's troubles. 'Best of luck,' she wished herself silently.
"Miss Pamela Isley? How are you feeling today?"
"Actually, it's 'doctor,' and I get the impression that I feel no better than you do. You look like you could use therapy more than me," she stated.
"Maybe, but it's my job to help you. I'm sorry I'm so bogged down right now. I haven't even had time to unclutter my new apartment, let alone my mind," Harleen said.
"You're new to Gotham?"
"Oh no, I lived here when I was younger. But I've been gone for a long time."
"That's a shame, Gotham is such an interesting place. Tell me, were you living out in the country? As nice as Gotham is, I really prefer the wide open spaces. . ."
Dr. Quinzel smiled. "I can imagine. Nope, no rural country home, just another big city. Gotham doesn't have much in the way of advanced education facilities, so I went to live with some relatives while I was working on earning degrees."
"Well, if you're somewhat new in town, maybe I should show you around the next time I'm out of here."
"Is that really how it is? Arkham is just a brief stopover before you leave to add to your wrapsheet?" Harleen asked.
"Well, it's like this, we all know we're a bunch of crazies. We're menaces, without morals and boundaries, and all of that. We go out for a little fun every now and then. I mostly concern myself with the welfare of plants. Then the inevitable happens. We get caught by Batman and sent back here. Arkham is a place to lay low, recuperate, relax a little. But it's hard to forget that you're here against your will. So we tend to leave a lot," Pamela explained.
"Don't you ever think about getting better? Being able to live in Gotham, outside of Arkham, without Batman hunting you down?"
"Sure, we all want that, but not the same way all you doctors do. For most of us, 'reform' just isn't in our vocabularies. I'd hate having to sit idly by and watch so many rare species of plants pass on into extinction without being able to do anything about it. I did that already. At least being an extemist gets some results."
"Hmm. . ." Harleen had never considered that before. Suddenly she realized how very off-topic this discussion was. "I'm sorry! This is so unprofessional of me!"
"It wasn't so bad having someone to talk to. I think your time is almost up, though," she informed the young doctor.
"Wow, you're right. They give such short sessions. . . "
"They don't want doctors having too much exposure with the extremists."
"Well, until next time, Dr. Isley," she said, smiling.
"Until next time, Dr. Quinzel."
Just as Harleen started to leave, Pamela called out, "Oh, and doctor, try to hang on around here. We loose staff pretty often, I'd hate to see you go. It's so rare to find someone so, compassionate within these walls."
Harleen was feeling better already.
-