Everyone's mad here.
Chapter Two.
Down With The Sickness.
At his words a few of the patients seemed to fall into position, one guarding the quivering orderlies, another stalking the room, checking for any hide-and-go-seekers. Others didn't seem to care what was happening, as long as they were outside of supervision. There was a pretty obvious pattern—the Joker's goonies were the ones who'd been cheeking their meds, clear enough to follow some semblance of a plan. The others were just along for the ride.
Ever heard the phrase 'organised chaos'?
"You could always see this as a welcome party, Doctor." The Joker's accent was thick, hard to place. His syllables overdrawn, his 's's sibilant. I'd never heard anyone sound like that in my life, and that was coming from someone with pretty weird inflection herself.
"I mean, I'd love to pretend this little tete-a-tete was initiated in your honour, but then dear old Doctor A doesn't let me in on his interviews. Did you interview, Doctor Quinzel? Or did he hire you on the strength of your…obvious skill." He cocked his head, teeth bared. He began circling me, his eyes roving over my body. Good thing the blood in my body was pumping my racing heartbeat, otherwise I'd be rocking a hell of a blush. He wasn't checking me out. It was more like sizing me up, seeing if I was worthy of his attention. I wondered if this was what lobsters felt like when someone picked them out for puddin'.
I'd always gotten the 'clown' thing, that was obvious. The 'prince' part was getting clearer. He wasn't a trickster, in it for squirting flowers and whoopee cushions. This guy was legit. I wasn't sure if I should run or kiss his ring as he stopped before me. That line from A Knight's Tale popped into my head at the expression on his face. He weighed me. He measured me. And he found me…wanting.
Is this what an out-of-body experience feels like?
You're a therapist, Harls. You should probably know that.
"Wakey, wakey, Doctor." He waved a hand in front of my face, a muscle twitching in his pale jaw. Crap, he'd asked me a question.
Careful, Harleen. Calm and subdue. Psychologist Harleen had her clipboard, taking detailed notes.
Secret Harleen wet herself laughing at that one. Yeah, right, Harls. And while you're at it, there's an unfriendly cobra at Gotham Zoo. Wanna try taming that?
"Well, I'm not sure, Mr… Joker. I'm guessing Doctor Arkham spoke to my tutors when I applied."
He raised an eyebrow, steepling his fingers. God dammit. Letting that slip was a mistake. The Joker had taken me for a full-fledged therapist, not a recently-qualified grad completing her very first practical placement.
"Well, well, well, Doctor Quinzel—or should that be Harleen, or perhaps even… itty bitty baby Harley." The way he growled my name made me shiver. "Harley-doll on her very first day as a shiny pink shrink. I bet Daddy and Mommy Quinzel are so proud." He pressed a hand to his heart in a mock show of emotion.
I grimaced before I could stop myself. I've never been great at hiding my feelings—I was working on it.
He grinned. "Oooh, there's a therapy session waiting to happen." He wagged a finger at me. "Maybe we should switch places, Harley-doll. They got some real nice ways of making you talk." He scowled at the memory.
The air was still ringing. Why is no one answering the alarm?
"That would be because they're all already here, Harley. Well," he glanced around, pursing his lips, "The underlings. Looks like the rest of the whitecoats are off duty. Shame."
For a second I wondered if his madness was so acute he could pick thoughts out of my head.
Duh, Harleen. You said it out loud.
"Uh, boss?" A patient with serious five o'clock shadow and a skull tattoo decorating his face piped up, scratching the back of his skull. One impression: Grunt worker. I inwardly applauded him for having the balls to speak up.
A few other patients-slash-inmates were watching us expectantly, unsure what to do now.
The Joker snarled. "Yes?" he snapped.
"The alarm's been goin' off a while now, I mean, don't you think we oughta—"
"Larry, Larry, Larry." The Joker tutted as he turned slowly on his heel. "Don't I think we ought to what?"
Larry's face went white. Whatever expression was on the Joker's face I was glad I couldn't see it. I got the feeling if he had a gun, Larry would be gone-zo.
"Nothin'."
The Joker stared at him a moment longer before turning back to me.
"As I was saying, terrible staffing." He kicked a table shard in the direction of an orderly, who squealed. "They really oughta put an ad out for some of those candy strippers."
"You mean candystripers." Dazed, I spoke without thinking.
He slapped me so fast I didn't see it coming. My head snapped to the side. Something warm and wet dripped from my lip down onto my chin.
A female orderly gasped, a brunette with a pretty face marked by a hell of a scar that ran from her temple to the corner of her lip. A big guy with red hair was guarding her, alternating between tensing his muscles and twitching. He growled in her direction, tick jerking his chin, and she cowered, wetting herself. The liquid trickled across the floor. The red-haired patient whooped the trademark laugh of a Joker henchman before leaning down to dip his fingers in the puddle.
The Joker gripped my chin, jerking my face back toward his.
Craves attention, Psychologist Harleen chimed in.
No shit, Doc. Secret Harleen scoffed.
His pupils flared. "Excuse my manners, Doctor Quinzel. Now, me, I don't personally see the appeal," he carried on discussing strippers like nothing had happened, flicking imaginary lint from his fingers. "Where's the fun in a gal who's paid to please, I ask you—but the boys, they like what they like, and the first rule of well, ruling, is to keep your loyal subjects... satisfied."
Well, he was being honest about one thing—far as I knew, the Joker had never even looked sideways at a woman. I mean, the guy practically wrote the book on convictions, but I charge you to find a single sexual assault.
"Let me guess, today's satisfaction is brought to you by a stroll outside Arkham?" Secret Harleen jumped out of my mouth before I could stop her. What was wrong with me today?
He hooted. "This one's got spunk."
His hand gripped my neck like a vice, slamming me back against the wall. Pain exploded across the back of my skull. A few patients giggled maniacally. His face was inches from mine.
"Motherfucker," I breathed, dazed. "Ow." Tears filled my eyes.
He squeezed, his hot breath brushing my cheek as he leaned in. "Y'know, you don't talk much like the other shrinks who've shrunk here, Harley. That is one dirty mouth." His stained lips were a flat line, pale blue eyes narrowed.
And now I was blushing. Blushing.
Don't you ever curse, Harleen. Cursing is for prostitutes and drug addicts. My Daddy's voice echoed in my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Is that a blush? Is the itty-bitty baby therapist scared?" The Joker took on a whiny tone, mocking my voice. He pouted, batting his eyelids.
"I'd have to be pretty dumb not to be. I mean, we didn't exactly cover this in Psych 101, y'know?" On the outside I was all, be cool, Harls, but yeah, when your voice shakes and your hands are all sweaty it kinda gives the game away. "I'm not really sure what my game plan is here." Well, I'd thrown professionalism out of the window already. In for a penny and all that.
I wanted to tell him to screw himself, but a) I'd already had my head bashed into a wall, and b) I was supposed to be a therapist.
Obviously not a very good therapist.
I was breathing fast, my head was throbbing and I could feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.
For a moment, he studied me. His face was unreadable as he dragged a slow, cold finger down my cheek. I shivered. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut. His eyes narrowed as I stuck my chin out a little stronger.
Underneath the mocking, he was calculating. Where did I fit in to his plan, his piece de resistance? The music, the timing. I was the spanner in his mind-factory.
And then, he smiled. My heart dropped a beat.
"The only game plan that matters here is mine, babydoll. You and me are gonna take a little walk. But first."
He took a black strip from his pocket, fastening it around my neck. It felt cold. Alive.
"A gift from the Batman. Premium-grade shock collar. No mean feat getting this sucker off. Good old Doctor A has the button right there in his pocket. Too bad he's gone night-night."
The Joker's eyes slid sideways to the Doctor lying prone on the floor, his lip curling.
Knowledge of the Doctor must've fallen out of my ear when the Joker smacked my skull against concrete because I'd forgotten he was even here. Fear tightened my stomach.
"Will you—are you gonna kill him?"
"Lucky for you, as Larry so graciously reminded me, we're on a tight schedule." His narrowed eyes flicked to Larry. Larry looked like he wished the ground would swallow him.
"Although..." the Joker sauntered over to the Doctor, then stamped down hard on Doctor A's leg with an audible crack. He grinned. "Waste not, want not."
I looked on in horror as Doctor A shot awake, fighting for air like a drowning man. He balked at the sight of his leg, leaning to the side and vomiting.
I feel ya, Doc.
"Wakey wakey, Doctor." The Joker leaned down so they were on a level. "So good of you to join us."
Doctor A fumbled in his pocket. Before I could shout out, fire rocked me to my core, singeing my nerves, sending shockwaves through my brain. I collapsed, my hands splayed on the cold floor, a thin trail of drool and blood dripping from my lip.
"My God, Harleen, I'm sorry—"
There was a dull thud, a sharp intake of breath. "That's what you get for being trigger happy, Jerry. Told you that buzzer would come back to bite you. Lucky for you, as I was telling our newest Doc over there—and thank you for that, by the way, any more of old Joan would simply bore me to tears—we've got a schedule to keep and time's a-ticking. Be seeing you real soon, Doctor A."
He straightened. "C'mon, Harley." He held a pale hand out.
I blinked. Did he really think I'd voluntarily jump up after him? He was crazy.
His face darkened. The shadows under his cheekbones seemed to elongate. "Don't make me count to three."
On shaking legs, I pushed off from the wall. It was hard to remember how to walk in heels as I closed the distance between us. My stomach twisted and pulled with the desire to turn and run. I was going against every single itty bitty molecule of my body, and it made me feel…strange.
"That's a good girl." His words were mocking, but his eyes flashed dangerously. He gripped my wrist.
"You don't need to take her with you, no one will stop you—" Doctor A pleaded, trying desperately to stand and failing.
"Well, I have to take someone. Are you volunteering, Jerry?" the Joker turned his piercing eyes on Doctor A.
The Doctor's pale, sweating face gleamed under the fluorescents, but he said nothing. I looked away.
Not such a nice guy after all, huh, Doc.
"That's what I thought." The Joker cocked his head for a second, as though he was listening for something. Suddenly, the alarm cut out, leaving my ears ringing.
Then, the lights.
Once we were plunged into darkness, the screaming started.
I was yanked forward, no choice but to follow. My heel stuck in something squishy and I almost blew right there.
We passed through some doors. The wails faded as they swung shut.
I didn't know who else was following. Had no idea where we were going. There was only a cold, strong hand pulling me forward through the dark. Brief spots of green and red emergency light lit up the bright emerald hair of the Clown Prince of Crime as he dragged me through Arkham.
Only one question burned in the darkness.
"Are you going to kill me?" My voice was trembled. I didn't have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about it.
He stopped abruptly. I smacked into him, backpedalling quickly when he turned.
He advanced on me, backing me up against the wall, a pale hand splayed on either side of my head. He leaned in far too close.
"I'm not gonna kill ya, Harley."
His smile stretched in the dark.
"I'm just gonna hurt ya really, really bad."
Electricity tore through me before I blacked out.
AN: Seriously inspired by this. Also, can't believe I've got reviews already! I was a bit uncertain about this Chapter but a review from xxxshadesofRed got me off my ass and editing. Probably gonna tweak the first Chapter a little here and there because I'm an unsatisfied perfectionist. Also, I've read some seriously amazing fics on here—shout out to Therapy by PuddinFreakyStyle, that shit cray. I also concur with their feels that too many Harley x Joker origin fics start with insta-love. I'm trying to paint a more realistic picture. I think.
P.S. Feel free to see the Chapter titles as soundtracks. That is sort of the idea.
** Tweaked this Chapter now, too. Hopefully the next will be finished soon. Also, I'm getting traffic, but not as many reviews—not sure if that means this is bad or not? Might end up taking it down to re-edit as a whole. Hmmm.