Five session. Five sessions and zero progress.
The blonde leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and watched her green haired patient trash about in his restraints in yet another wave of hysterical laughter. He was on a roll again. She sighed. She tried everything.
She was so excited during the first weeks of getting back to his case. It turned out that in her elation she clearly overestimated Joker's own enthusiasm for the therapy.
"The Clown Prince of Crime" welcomed her back with a million dollar smile. He said he was happy to see her. Overjoyed, to be exact. He showered her with compliments and somewhere between his low whispers and prolonged stares from underneath his lashes, he apologised profoundly for his "lack of tact and generally awful behaviour" the first time they met. He assured her he just was in a foul mood, but that he did not mean to take it out on her.
"I hope you don't hold a grudge for long, Dr Quinzel. It would be a shame if you were to pout all the time. You look so beautiful when you smile, really. It makes my day."
She guessed the seductive mannerism was his strategy to make amends with her.
Pity he thought she was that dumb as to fall for it.
Despite her better judgement, though, Harleen Quinzel allowed herself for that one, delightful afternoon to believe that she had had some sort of an effect on that man. That he now fully intended to cooperate and actively engage in the treatment he so desperately needed. So she brought down the Hare's Psychopathy checklist she was so thrilled to use for the first time in her career. She willingly trapped herself in her office for a week to bite through stacks of clinical studies on the treatment of manic depressive disorder. She even dedicated an entire Tuesday morning to visiting a pharmaceutical company to personally research the latest trends in anti-psychotics. And despite disgruntled murmurs from some of her colleagues, she asked at the asylum's lab if she could bring her infamous patient for an MRI to see how he responded to emotional ques on screen. That would almost be like a field trip to the Joker, she was sure of that.
But as so far was always her case at the Arkham Asylum, she was terribly wrong.
When she eagerly announced her plans, her patient just stared at her for two minutes straight before dramatically blowing the checklist papers away from the table. She didn't dare to ask him about the MRI scans after that.
And so, it was Joker who constructed the pattern their sessions always followed: she would come down to his shabby cell every week and hope that this one would be better. And just like every week, she would end up sitting in the cold chair in silence. She would watch him as he talked about everything and nothing at all, recounting for her the utterly mundane events from his rigid day schedule at the asylum. She watched him as he shuffled his bare feet on the concrete floor, rolling his bloodshot eyes at the mention of the food standard at the facility. She resisted the urge to tell him he had special deliveries in the first place and that the real food at Arkham was much worse. He probably knew that anyway.
Sometimes, he would stare right back at her in silence, tracing her face with keen eyes. It was a strange sensation, but she got used to it after a while. That was the only thing one could do about Joker, she supposed. To get used to him. Because there was no way he was going to change for anybody. She came to that conclusion fairly quickly too….
BANG!
The sudden crash sent the young doctor jumping out of her chair.
"What are you doing?" she cried with her heart in her throat.
A low chuckle was all the response she got.
"You need to loosen up, doctor. Or perhaps don't. You already seem to be a little too comfortable here. Am I that boring that you can't help zoning out every other minute?"
He purred but she caught the flash of irritation in his pale eyes. The baby blues were very deceptive.
She exhaled deeply, pushing a few strands of hair behind her ear.
"Not at all, Mr Joker. It's just that since you refuse to participate in anything I prepare for the session, it leaves me with a lot to think about. Specifically, what is it that I am doing wrong again?" the blonde replied with a frown.
"Oh, don't be so harsh on yourself, doctor. I don't like seeing you upset."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Will you fill out this test for me then?"
The sickly pale man in front of her gave a disinterested scoff before he leant back in his seat, looking around himself with a content smile as if they were discussing weather on a sunny terrace in the old town. With a sigh, she rested her tired face in her hands, staring at the patient in silent fury.
Why did he always insist on making everything so difficult?
Why did she want him in the first place?
She had to be insane. No one in their right mind would do this to themselves willingly.
"I thought you wanted me to treat you," she complained, unable to keep the sulkiness away from her tone.
As per usual, he just snickered at her displeasure. "No, that's what you wanted to do. I, well I just wanted to have fun. Unfortunately, it turns out you're not all that, Doctor Quin-zel."
Within seconds, her palms were balled into little fists. She hated when he pronounced her name with that lilt. But even more, she hated being called boring after all her efforts to keep him entertained.
"And what do you mean by that exactly, Mr Joker?" the young doctor pressed through clenched teeth.
He leaned in then, giving her that rictus grin she came to know so well it haunted her every night in her sleep. Even the view on the shimmering reflection of the moon on pitch black waters of the Gotham Channel she could see from her bedroom lost its charm to her. All those silvery waves ever reminded her of now were the glints of metal that danced in her vision whenever he opened his mouth.
"Oh. I think you know what I mean, doctor. You are such a goody two shoes. Little Miss Perfect trying to straighten up big baddies with a nice word and an angelic smile. Tell me, can you even relate to the guys around here with your self-righteousness? I've heard mutual understanding is the basis of every good therapy." He was mocking her again, jabbing at her slowly decreasing self-confidence.
The doctor took a deep breath to steady herself. The right decision would be to ignore his remark and return to the main problem: his lack of cooperation. That would be the smart thing to do, whispered the quite, reasonable voice in her head. The thing a professional psychiatrist would do… She glanced at the Joker's victorious grin and her frown deepened. Hell no. She was not giving him this one.
His pale eyes followed her every movement as she leaned across the marked table with a determined scowl marring her attractive face: "I believe you would be very surprised about how bad I can be."
…And she overdid it. She knew it the second those words left her mouth. It sounded like a line out of a bad porn movie and the low chuckle that escaped his painted lips only confirmed her horror. Feeling embarrassed to the bone, the blonde doctor slumped back into her seat looking anywhere but Joker's tattooed form.
"Oh, Quinzel," he snickered as he supported his chest against the table between them.
She blushed more than she ever thought it was possible. This was worse than bad.
"Alright. I'm in! Prove it."
She blinked. "What?"
"I said prove it. When you want to play the game, doctor, you gotta be ready to go all in so to speak. So, show me what you've got."
She straightened up in her chair in a sudden rush of panic. "I don't need to prove anything to you. In fact, I don't have to discuss anything you want. You refuse to talk about things I want to talk about, so I will do the same." She licked her quivering lips and gave her patient the best glare she could muster under her shameful circumstances.
Joker merely rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, Harleen!"
"Quinzel. It's Doctor Quinzel!"
"Don't pester me with the formalities now. You cannot go back on such a promise! And boy, was it a good one…"
"I made no-"
"But you did! In that once sentence, you were asking for this. So. Show me what a total wild card you are," he purred, raising his non-existent eyebrows.
The blonde stared at the clownish mob boss in horror. There goes staying in control of the session again…
She squeezed her eyes shut before turning to face the grinning man with a defeated sigh. "Fine. I did not say I am a wild card or whatever you thought I meant. But I am not some naïve fool with a golden heart you obviously mistake me for." She watched in anguish as he mockingly pouted his red stained lips.
"The neighbourhood I come from, as you of course know," she continued with a glare, "is not a nice one at all. Hardly a place that would showcase the good side of human nature. One had to stoop low sometimes to get what was needed. You had to be tough and…" the blonde noticed his broad shoulders were shaking and realized he was holding in his laughter.
"Oh you-!" she cried in anger as he couldn't contain it anymore, trying to blink away the tears of laughter from his gleaming eyes. "Doctor Quinzel, this has to be the funniest thing you've ever said. Do you consider yourself a street gal then? Oh, my apologies: a street girl with an MD?"
"No! I didn't say that! God, you are impossible to hold a conversation with!" She was fuming by then.
"Alright alright, I am sorry. Continue, please."
"I won't," she announced with arms crossed.
"Come on, doctor. This is by far the best session we had together. Don't ruin it."
She was about to end it early when she was hit by a sudden inspiration: "I will tell you one thing about me you wouldn't expect if you promise to tell me something about yourself in return." The young doctor was smiling contently. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist such an offer. Accordingly, Joker rolled his tongue around in his mouth, clearly irritated.
At last, he leaned in in his restraints and groaned in deliberation: "Why the hell not? Go on, girl." She almost let out a joyful squeal. Clasping her hands in front of her chest, she beamed at her muttering patient in delight. She won this round. And it felt fantastic.
"Alright. So, as I was saying, growing up there, surrounded by the people and that environment - it just wasn't the easiest. My parents, well my parents tried their best and worked around the clock but it wasn't nearly enough. I mean, we could afford all we needed but as a child, it was hard coming to terms with not having all the trinkets some of my classmates had. But I was willing to do my bit as soon as I could." She glanced carefully at Joker who appeared to be hanging on her every word, his calculating eyes suddenly alight with curiosity.
She had him just where she wanted.
Smiling, she continued with even more eagerness: "As a teenager, I took up this job at a run-down car repair place where the gas was cheaper than anywhere else in Gotham. The owner, let's call him Mr Brown, was a mean old prick but he paid me well to wash the cars and count the money at the end of each day. He didn't trust the boys to do that, you see: they were there just to fix up the engines. So one day, me and Mr Brown are sitting there in that cabin stinking of motor oils and gasoline, checking the cash when suddenly, I feel his grubby hands running up and down my thigh, muttering… things in my ear. Naturally, I didn't wait for him to act on them. So, I took the crow bar lying nearby and I hit him across the face," she concluded almost breathlessly.
The look on Joker's face was utterly priceless.
Slowly, he shook his head in disbelief. "No," he said gaping at her with his mouth slightly ajar, "no, I don't think you did that."
"But I did! And then I pocketed the money from that day and left him there on the floor cursing with a split eyebrow. I mean, I know I shouldn't have done it. But he was a terrible man and I guess it was a fair compensation for that disgusting proposal…" Her voice faltered. After saying it out loud, she suddenly wasn't sure if her actions were really that justifiable…
Oh god, Harleen thought with dread slowly spreading through her form as she met Joker's scheming gaze. She should had kept her mouth shut.
Silence engulfed them until he let out a wild cackle: "Damn it doctor, you really did, didn't you? Ha!"He threw his head back in a roaring laughter, his entire body shaking as if he was in a spasm. "Ah, you're good, doc. Really. I sure did not expect that. Tell me, what did you do with all the cash? Do you get this defensive at every guy that chats you up in a club?" he asked observing her with unfeigned interest in his cold eyes.
She just shook her head, picking up her notepad and a pencil. Time to divert attention.
"Your turn, Mr Joker. We had a deal."
Joker sighed. "There she goes again, killing all the fun." He winked at her playfully, hoping she'd continue. But when the blonde just stared back in expectation, his grin faded as he realized with a grunt that he had no choice but to stick to their bargain.
Shuffling in the seat, Joker announced in a mock whisper: "Believe it or not, doctor, I too have a penchant for crow bars."
She felt her blood run cold. There was something about the way he smiled at her so deviously that set her on edge. It was a promise. A promise that she would not like what she was about to hear. And when he bore his cruel, prickling eyes into hers, she could had almost seen all the unspoken horrors play out for her in his icy blue orbs.
Digging her nails into the note pad, the doctor gulped: "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nodded slowly with a grin, never releasing her from his gaze. "You remember that one time with the kid, huh? That little Robin B-man kept around? Birdie didn't know when to stop chirping, so J had to put a stop to it. One could say I ruffled up his feathers real good. He sure wasn't able to fly after that."
Emotionless. His attitude towards the whole thing was so cold it scared her more than anything she heard about that event. Of course she remembered the "Robin case". The rumoured murder of the boy-sidekick was something of an urban legend, but everyone in Gotham knew there was more truth to it than anyone dared to admit out loud. They couldn't find him for weeks, all that was left in the abandoned plant was his battered suit. Harleen saw the coverage from that day. The GCPD cars, the police sirens. The stunned, pale faces of the officers. It was as if the boy disappeared from earth.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to erase the images that flooded her brain.
They said it was Batman who found the body. Apparently, the head was butchered up so bad even the vigilante wasn't able to identify the victim for sure. All that was certain was that two days later, Joker was brought to Arkham Asylum again.
Joker that was not laughing his face off for once, because he had no teeth left to show.
The blonde lowered her gaze to his mouth. The silver capped set could not twinkle more mockingly in that moment. It was her reminder that what she just heard was all true.
The doctor took in a shaky breath. She was completely terrified to ask but she had to know…
"Is that how you did it then? You killed him with a crow bar?"
"Oh, I did. It was fun, too! As you would know, doll face, a crow bar has a very nice swoosh to it," he imitated the sound, letting out a bark of laughter.
Sick. He was so sick.
Harleen could feel her throat constrict. She had this terrible urge to hear more, yet at the same time, she was disgusted. "How many?" she croaked finally.
He raised an eyebrow, yet she was sure he knew what she meant.
"How many blows did it take?" she pressed in a mere whisper.
"Oh….many. There were many. You really get into it, you know. You work up a pace and you just go with it after that. I can tell you though that by the end of it, Robin sure regretted ever wanting to work for the Bat," he gave her a wicked grin before continuing: "I mean, you have to admit that man's health plan sucks."
She stared at him wide eyed, unable to move.
"Oh god." she moaned: "oh my god….,"
She wanted to say something to him, but her voice failed her.
So they just kept staring at each other, lost in their own thoughts. His of wails of pain and splatters of grey matter across a mudded concrete, hers of horror of what would had happened had she raised her hand and crushed the tool into Mr Brown's head a couple more times.
…
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ZeldaK
