I'd spent six weeks desperately clawing my way back to the Joker but, as my pulse quickened with each step I took towards him, I realised I hadn't considered how I'd feel being in his presence again. I'd planned out what I wanted to say, how I could approach him, and new tactics to get even the slightest bit of information. Standard psychiatrist stuff. I'd just overlooked how I would actually feel seeing him again; how he stole all the air from the room, how my palms became damp with apprehension, how nausea engulfed my body. Viewing the Joker from the safety of a monitor had made me complacent .
His cell's front wall was clear glass, reducing our patients to animals on show with nowhere for them to hide. The rest of the cell was grey and plain. The only notable thing was a rusted metal bed bolted to the floor. There was no hiding in the shadows here. Even if he hadn't been in the ugly bright orange suit the Joker would have stood out amongst his dismal surroundings. I don't think it mattered what surroundings he was in, even without that iconic makeup, the Joker demanded attention.
He was standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed in an unsettling casual way considering what had allegedly just happened. I tried not to notice the red smears on the floor but the image of a nurse bleeding out couldn't be shaken from my mind. I noticed his hair had faded even further at the roots, dark brown was slowly creeping down his hair. He looked thinner, his face plaid and drawn. My sense of concern was viciously fighting with apprehension at finally having the Joker's attention. It was so bizarre to have a barrier between us for once. In theory I should feel much safer, and yet I felt more vulnerable than ever. I just couldn't understand why I felt so on edge, so nervous.
"Why Harleeeyyyy… long time no see" He literally licked his lips when he saw me in front of him, drawing out my name in a way that sent shivers through me.
Shivers Harley, really?
I prayed that he couldn't see the way my body involuntarily responded to his greeting. I had come to terms with my unhealthy fascination with the Joker, but it was entirely cerebral. I was only obsessed with his unique mind, absolutely nothing else.
Of course that's it Harley.
"I heard you've been keeping yourself busy while I was gone" I replied sarcastically, which earned me a smile from the Joker. I didn't like the way a small bubble of glee built in my chest at the smallest sign that he approved of my new spine.
"Harley Harley Harley someone's got a little more….fight in them"
"I have no idea what you're talking about Joker, I'm the same as always." I tried to keep my tone assertive, "You'll be pleased to hear that I'm officially your primary psychiatrist".
"Kingston finally realised he was ahhhh outmatched then?"
"He seems to have understood it might be better if I was in charge of your case. I've actually been sent to make sure you've calmed down" I took out the syringe some wide eyed orderly had shoved into my hand before scurrying off.
I don't really know why I showed him it, but it was clearly an idiotic move. There was a sudden flash of light in those dark eyes of his, and his eternal grin grew more sinister as it stretched slowly across his face. Ever so carefully he moved towards the front of the cell, each step deliberately dramatic to inspire dread.
"You still thinking about fixing me Doc? Want to…dull me…keep me nice and compliant?"
He was so close to me now that the glass that separated us was irrelevant. I felt as though I could almost reach out and touch him, see if those jagged scars on his face felt as rough as they looked. Then my brain realised that if I could reach out and touch him, if that feeble barrier disappeared, that meant he could touch me back. Something told me I was more likely to have his hands grasp around my throat than anything else. I should be grateful there was some sort of barrier between the two of us. I had to physically stop myself reaching out to touch the glass just to reassure myself it was still there. God how silly would that look?
"Not in the slightest. I already told you before that I don't think you're crazy, there's no need to "fix" you. You're unstable in many ways, undoubtable violent, but mentally you're more together than any of the doctors here."
"So all the ehhh killing doesn't scare ya then?" There was no hint of his clownish persona now, he was completely serious. No doubt how he treated me would depend on my answer so I decided the only choice was to be completely honest and hope it was enough.
"Don't get me wrong, I may not think you're 'crazy' like everyone else here but that does not mean I agree with your methods. I suppose…the way I see it is there's nothing wrong with your mind. You're not killing because of some mental disorder, past trauma, or wrong meds. You present the signs of different disorders, countless in fact but I get that feeling that's deliberate. You enjoy the mystique, the…allure it gives you. Either way it doesn't change the fact you are a criminal. You've killed god knows how many people and if you are moved to Blackgate… I'd support the decision."
It was hard to say it out loud, to openly disagree with the Joker because I'd seen what happened to the people that did. I'd also seen what had happened to people who tried to deceive him.
"Poor little Harlequin, we've got a lot of work to do on you." He muttered so quietly I almost didn't hear.
Harlequin? He's given me a nickname...he's made me a clown like him?
I should have been disgusted. I should have been petrified. I should have walked away from the Joker and got on a plane to anywhere but Gotham. This nickname was a sign of him forming an unhealthy and lethal attachment to me, so why did I feel flattered?
Harley you need to wake the fuck up! It's a ploy. He wants you to let your guard down before discarding you. You can't be anything more than a toy to help with the monotony.
"Why did you reject all those other psychiatrists? Why pick me?" I asked genuinely curious. I could hear Peter's furious shouting in my ear at my naivety but whether I was a disposable toy or…something more, I wanted to know why.
"You're not like these civilised people, you aren't little innocent Harleen", He screwed his scared mouth in an almost comically sour way as he spat out my name "you don't swallow their bland world view. Your….receptive to seeing things as they reallllly are."
"You keep saying this Joker but I'll never see the world the way you do. You may be able to persuade your 'henchmen', but I am not some vulnerable lost soul looking for something to follow"
"Harley you're already at my ahhh level."
I seriously thought about what he said and I couldn't deny he was right. At least a little. Since I first met him I'd started to see people in a different light and seeing myself in a different light. I thought about how our last session had both terrified and enlightened me. The Joker's philosophy of chaos made a certain sort of sense. It was fair at least. His anarchy stood in stark, defiant contrast to the contradictions and hypocrisy of Gotham. I'd certainly begun to ridicule authority like Kingston, govern myself by my personal morals and not those of society.
The general masses were clueless to how unjust the world truly was. Of course there would be some who felt sympathetic to those less fortunate, like the Wayne's. But look at how their son turned out, a narcissist through and through. It didn't matter if there were still a few good souls in Gotham, the majority were more than content to support a corrupt system that allowed them to maintain their superiority. Even those on the bottom of Gotham's vicious food chain barely put up a struggle, happy to accept their harsh reality as fate.
The Joker's chaos was fair. It was an equaliser. His ghastly appearance reminded Gotham of the sinister elements they wished to forget, he was confronting them with the painful truth they all wanted to pretend didn't exist. By turning the established status quo on its head he forced everyone to confront their own true nature, their selfish desires and cowardly impulses. I may not be inspired to partake in homicide but I'm sure there was a shocking amount of people out there who couldn't wait for the opportunity. I'd started to understand why he might want to expose those hypocrites, in the same way I'd so naturally begun to expose Kingston to the whole Asylum.
"Harrllleeyyyy" Again the Joker drew out my name shattering my reflection. I realised with a blush that I'd been silently staring at him for the past five minutes.
"Killing people isn't right." I wanted to sound more confident but it came across as a whining mutter. Predictably, the Joker threw his head back in manic glee.
"Listen doll, it's a tough world out there. You think for a second anyone of your errrr lovely colleges wouldn't kill you for the right price. Those 'sane' people would eat each other alive, you just have to give them the right…motivation."
"That doesn't mean I would"
"Really Harley? Aren't we past lying to each other, I'm disappointed. I'm curious exactly how you errrr….convinced Kingston to admit defeat?"
"Joker, you know the reason I'm here isn't to debate ethics. Kingston's decision was entirely his own, he does not need to listen to the opinion of a resident who's been at the asylum for less than a year. If we really are past lying to each other, you know it was you attacking the nurse that forced his hand".
"Ahhh the nurse?" He sucked at his teeth creating a squelching noise that made me cringe.
"Who else would it be?" I replied with a roll of my eyes, trying to regain the casual atmosphere rather than getting into another serious debate.
"A man in my ahhh profession tends to lose track of his victims. Past and future. They all sorta bleennddd together".
With that sinister remark his predatory gaze crawled along my skin. I'm sure an outsider would have assumed the way he looked my body up and down with lust, but I knew that was impossible for a man like the Joker. Again, my mind drifted to what he could do to me if he wasn't confined. I heard the Joker rarely used guns, preferring to be intimately close to his victims. I could picture it perfectly in my head. The ice cold knife held against my throat, the heat of his breath against my skin as he laughed, feeling the knife's bite as he casually ripped through my vulnerable flesh. My last blurry moment in this life would be a cruel mocking grin smiling down at my broken corpse without a care.
"Well Joker, I take it you did want me to be your psychiatrist? If you do want to see me, Kingston is practically jumping with joy at reinstating me but you'll have to restrain your…violent impulses. If you'll stop biting into the nurses then I'll see you for our first new session in a few days" For once I was confident in what I was saying. There was no voice waver of fear, it was a perfectly natural response.
It's clear he wasn't really listening to what I was saying at all. He didn't seem to even hear my request at all, simply muttering to himself so low I couldn't make sense of anything he said, despite being so close to him. I picked up the odd word but they didn't seem to string together at all.
You know this is the calm before the storm Harley?