Author's note: Well guys I'm not really sure where this chapter came from and far warning it is a little dark at the end; I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I feel like it does help to establish some valuable character details. The Joker and Harleen just seem to have some pretty big walls built around them and I want to break those down first. Trust me, this story's really going to start picking up pace in the next few chapters. I've got some really good stuff planned and I hope you all stick around to see how it plays out. :) thanks for all the support, and enjoy!
Harleen found herself less interested in the vast majority of her patients than ever before. They were all exceedingly low profile, and Harleen, who had never been bothered by it before, found herself tremendously exasperated by their lack of response to the trivial conversations she tried to engage them in, and though she felt feverish guilt for even thinking such a thing she had to admit that she found them to be more like brain-dead vegetables than actual mentally ill individuals.
To be fair, it was not only her patients that seemed to be treading on her typically well checked patience: no, now even her colleagues, who she had scantily put up with during her small time at Arkham, were utterly and horrendously unbearable. As a result, of her newly found irritation for the majority of humankind in general, Harleen had begun avoiding almost any activity where she wasn't working, often preferring to stay alone in her barren office space. She found it a great place to think, and plain her sessions, that were quickly becoming the best part of her insufferable days.
She was under no illusion that her annoyance had not taken root during their limited sessions together. For she knew it had everything to do with certain a green haired, smiling devil, though she simply refused out of stubbornness to acknowledge what the subtext of this admission meant. And that was how she found herself twisting the truth on her first psychological evaluation. She wasn't completely sure where along the lines her answers began sounding like a well script act, but she had from the start, been aware that she wasn't being completely truthful with her responses. Though she reasoned that the matter wasn't entirely her own fault, for instance any trained physician knew what kind of answers were fitting. 'Leland only said I had to take these psych evaluations...she never said I had to be honest during them.' Harleen had convinced herself, though not entirely able to conjure up any justification for why she had to lie in the first place.
The assessment went by quicker than it probably should have, but she was grateful to be out from under the microscope, deciding to use it as the perfect excuse to arrive early to their session room. She relaxed instantly when she observed that his clueless guards had not even managed to make their obnoxious appearance.
The paperwork for letting the Joker have his first session without the straitjacket was still in the process of being signed and approved by Doctor Leland so Harleen decided she would wait, at least until the end of today's session, to reveal anything to him. She spent her short lived moment of solitude scanning over the uncomplicated questions Doctor Leland had insisted she stick to for their sessions. Harleen knew it was a pitiful attempt to hamper any chance for confrontation between the herself and the green-haired madman. 'And to hamper his rehabilitation.' Harleen sighed, sometimes it felt like the Doctors at Arkham purposefully tried to keep the patients sick, some disgusting ploy to keep their pockets full. Shaking her head, she went back to inspect her notes, something she'd done for probably the hundredth time that day alone. At two o'clock exactly Harleen was startled by her notes by a loud bang outside of the metal door, accompany promptly by the cold, sharp laugh that could only belong to one man: the Joker.
"You're gonna regret that Clown!" A low-pitched voice hollered, and there was another thundering boom, followed up by the same laughter as before.
"Hurry up, Ben." Another voice hissed. "We gotta get him into the room before Doctor Q comes."
"Shut up, would ya'? This freak needs to be taught a lesson, besides Quinzel's always late anyway." He challenged and there was a cryptic gurgling sound that followed.
"Dammit Ben! At least don't go for the face. Trust me when I say we wouldn't want Doctor Q to find..." He was abruptly cut off by Harleen yanking the heavy door open.
"Wouldn't want me to find out what?!" She demanded, in a voice that even startled herself.
Both the guards stood, staring wide-eyed at the petite Doctor, before both launching into various descriptions that didn't tell Harleen much of anything, however, before she could tell them both to 'shut up' a voice like stone cut through. "Uh oh boys… looks like you've made Harley girl mad." Promptly, breaking into disjointed laughter, that was distorted by the dark liquid that pushed its way from his mouth.
Harleen saw fire and spoke in a savage tone. "Get the hell out of here before I report you both. You'd be fired for this." She said as she knelt down to lift the Joker's freshly bruised head off the ivory colored floor. There was a slight indent on the metal door that she had previously exited out of and it didn't take a genius to surmise just what had occurred.
The guards hesitated, and Harleen was astounded that the smaller one found the courage somewhere deep in his pathetic frame to say: "We can't leave our post Doctor Quinzel… he can't be trusted."
"That's almost funny, coming from the likes of you." She snarled and the guards throw up their hands before receding down the stark white hallway. She had almost forgotten the presence of a certain patient of her's until his playful voice broke through her all consuming rage. "Irony really is the way to my heart kitten." And the corners of his dark lips lifted into a grin.
Harleen rolled her dazzling eyes. "I didn't know you even had one of those." And that made him giggle.
"You get me Harls." He sighed, examining her flawless face through swollen eyes.
"Yeah, yeah." She said, brushing away his attempt at flattery. "Now let's get you up."
Harleen was surprised by how little help he had needed in standing, in fact she had felt rather useless blindly grasping at his straitjacket in some vain mission to get him back on his feet. He had easily rolled off the ground, his lithe body not struggling in the slightest. Silently, they sat in their adjacent chairs and Harleen broke the ethereal silence that had gathered in the small session room.
"So, why'd they do this to you." Her eyes roamed freely over his face, and the Joker drank up her attentions, thinking that her accent was music to his ears.
"Nothing worth mentioning." He stated, and Harleen sensed that that was as far as she would get with the conversation.
The Joker still felt the rampage anger that flowed through his veins when he allowed his mind to recollect exactly what had sent him spiralling, and ultimately, shoving the guard face first into the steely door. "But maybe you can do me a favor sweets?" And her cobalt eyes snapped to his olive gaze. She nodded her head dramatically, and he growled. "Stay away from little old Benny boy." She didn't dare probe him further, fearing the possibility of having his anger boomeranged back at her.
"Alright." She agreed quickly, and he purred like an animal tilting his head to the left. His gaze was too much and Harleen began to squirm. "I just can't believe they did this to you." She throw out, changing the subject slightly, while inspecting his face from across the table.
"Please, Doc, this...this is nothing. I've tried putting rabbits in hats that have had more fight in them."He said with a smile tugging at his crimson lips, waiting for Harleen to react to his quip.
She smiled gently before an angry haze descended over her face."They should have known better, they signed an oath. The things they deserve..." She trailed off, surprised at how dark her thoughts had turned.
"Come here." He murmured after a short silence, and Harleen found herself powerless to disobey. Once she was close enough, without the table separating them she hesitantly paced her dainty hands against the bruises that were surfacing on his cheeks and below his left eye." The Joker let out a tense bout of laughter and purred "why Doctor Quinzel… you just may be more insane than me."
"I wouldn't bet on it." She giggled gently as her hands continued to trace patterns onto his face.
Eventually, Harleen returned to her metal seat, though she found herself missing the feeling of his soft flesh against her hands.
The Joker, was equally disappointed, and had to repress the ravenous groan that threatened to escape his crimson lips.
"So Mr. J, is there anything in particular you would like to discuss today?" And Harleen watched as the gears shifted in his brilliant mind: as he turned from the amiable man he had been seconds ago, to the devil wearing a clown's mask.
"How about this?" He drawled in a voice that left Harleen shivering for more. "One teeny little secret of mine for one of yours." His legs shook under the table clearly excited about their new game.
"These sessions are for you, not me Mr. J." She challenged.
"Come on, Doctor, humor me." His smile widened, always one to laugh at his own expense. His eyes were cold and Harleen could barely see him anymore.
Yet she still allowed for her current internal battle to devour her. Obviously, he was still playing her, still trying to manipulate her, and she knew she should put an end to it. 'Just say no and call it a day Harleen.' She thought, but one look at his purple and blue face and her mind was singing a different tune. Maybe it was simply because she wanted to show him that he could trust her, or a concrete act to prove that not everyone was out to hurt someone else, or maybe it was simply because she was tired of wearing a mask around everyone: completely, sick to the core of keeping it all inside.
"I'd cross out my heart and hope to die if I only had one. Come on beautiful...pretty, pretty please?"
"Fine. But none of this leaves this room."
The Joker purred. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, Harley." He giggles, clearly enjoying the role reversal. "Scout's honor." He corrected, when she did not seem satisfied with his first response. 'How bad could her past possibly be?'
Harleen rolled her eyes, and he felt the move turn his insides red hot.
"Ladies first." He growled.
For a moment she considers lying, but she was sure he would see right through her. He didn't miss anything. And suddenly she found herself spilling the truth of a secret she never would have told anyone. "My step father, he…" She trailed off for a moment, not sure if she can even finish what she intended to say. Then she's telling him it all.
When she finishes, Harleen feels disconnected from her own story, like she was merely a witness to the younger half of her life. Like maybe she dreamt it all up, in one terrible nightmare, but she knows that isn't the case because every time she was underneath another man she felt it: the sickening terror, the paralyzing helplessness of it all. And whenever the act was finished she would spend hours upon hours scrubbing until her skin bleed, all in some feeble attempt to remove the wickedness that had been done to her body years ago.
The shame seeps onto her face, and she can't possibly fathom looking at him, fears the pity she'll find in his green orbs.
"You know Harls." He begins, and his voice practically begs for her to look at him, and she feels his leg gently nudge against her own from under the table. When she does venture a glance at him, her blue eyes assault his face, feverently searching for the sympathy in his lush eyes, but she finds none. And he speaks coarsely "I think you and I might just be cut from the same cloth."
Harleen shivers. Trying to decide whether she should feel frightened by the comparison or not.
They sit in silence for a long while, both absorbed in their own thoughts. The Joker, for his part, was for the first time in his life stuck. He felt as if there were a hand clenched around his insides, tightening its grip maddeningly whenever he got closer to Doctor Quinzel, and his first instinct was to destroy it, and her. But there was another part of him that understood. Knew that there was nothing that could heal the wound in his dear little Doctor, that she was stuck with it for life. And he could leave her to suffer with it, but something held him back. He wanted Harley to be free of the constraints Harleen had built around her. He knew that the only true way of escape was to become someone else entirely, and the silly, silly little girl before him had no idea how to do just that: she was too busy filling her miserable existence with distractions that would never last. So, he decide, he would let Harley out, whether Harleen liked it or not.
Author's note: Phewww…well that wasn't exactly what I had planned but hope you guys liked it nonetheless. Please don't let Harley's little admission turn you off of the story. It's relevant to the plot I promise, and the limited amount of detail I gave during this chapter is going to be as far as the description goes. Anyhow, every bit of support helps so don't be afraid to favorite, follow, or review the story!
Update: Hey guys, so it looks like I'm already practically done with chapter 7, so it should be up tomorrow...however, I could probably be convinced to post it sooner if you guys really want to read it ;)