The Joker was all she could think about after that fateful morning. The way he met her eyes quickly - losing his insane laugh.!She needed to see him again no matter how much Dr. Leland forbade it.
Dr. Arkham didn't seem to have a problem with her request as she was wearing a very red very deep cut top today that was working in her favor. Paired with matching red lips and another tight black pencil skirt Dr. Arkham was having a good day indeed.
"She's only been here a few weeks, Jeremiah! Joker will eat her alive!"
Dr. Arkham brushed her off and turned back to Harleen who was smiling her brightest smile. "She's just curious, Joan. I remember your first weeks at the asylum. You couldn't wait to get your hands on the real crazies here. This will be a good experience for her. Joker has been heavily sedated since The Bat brought him in and we've got him in twenty-four hour lock down. He only takes the jacket off to shower with his orderlies. She'll be fine."
Dr. Leland signed in defeat - glancing at her coworker with a scowl.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, Harleen."
X
An hour later Harleen stood with her nose pressed nearly against the two-way window outside Jokers room. He wasn't like anything she had ever experienced before. His was the only room she had seen that was on constant surveillance - nearly fifteen armed guards on this floor alone along with him strapped into restraints and behind paned glass.
She stared at him through the dark glass - mesmerized by the man who sat slumped over in his chair - arms wrapped tightly around himself. He didn't laugh, didn't smile - just stared blankly at the floor. This wasn't the same man they had wheeled in weeks ago. This man was broken. As if he could read her thoughts he turned his head toward the window - squinting his eyes against the bright light. Although she was hidden from his view he found her gaze again - locking his eyes on hers.
"How?"
Dr. Leland shook her head, "He can't see you. He doesn't even know we're here. He's just playing us - hoping someone is on this side of the window watching him. He can't be trusted Harleen. You have to believe me on this. This man isn't insane. He's evil."
She made her colleague no comment and continued to stare at Joker from behind the glass. It didn't feel that way to her. It felt like a tortured soul was screaming out for her to help him. His eyes shone bright with the lamps on the opposite side of the window - crystal blue with glints of green dancing behind long black lashes. There was so much pain in those orbs of emerald and sapphire - so many stories to be told.
"May I speak with him?" She asked softly, turning to Dr. Leland with eyes pleading. The older doctor sighed and motioned for one of the orderlies to open the door. "He does better one on one, Dr. Quinzel. Don't turn your back to him and don't mention his appearance."
With that said Harleen stepped into Joker's room; stilettos tapping on linoleum as she made her way towards him carefully. His eyes found hers like they always seemed too as he watched her enter the room and take a empty chair across from him; finally smiling once she sat down his opposite.
"Are you an angel?" He asked suddenly, his voice low and dry and speaking straight to her heart. She shook her head no gently as she studied him. Despite his chalky skin, many tattoos and eccentric green hair he was attractive; lean but muscular under all those restraints.
"My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel." She whispered, mostly to herself as she let her eyes fall from his quickly. A person could get lost in those troubled hues. Joker made her no comment, sitting back carefully in his chair as she brushed away a strand of fallen blond hair. "Will you tell me your name? Mr..." Joker? That wasn't right. That wasn't who he was. Surely there was someone before The Joker took over.
He shook his head no, eyes going cold.
"Mistah J. Everyone has a name."
"Not me." He barked, glancing back at the window much like he had before. "My dad... he called me dip shit, asshole, fucker. That was his favorite. Come 'ere you little fucker. I don't recall a normal name ever being said."
"Never?"
"Never." He growled, his smile long gone at the thought of his bastard father. Everything in his head was garbled and twisted but he remembered his father. Nothing on this planet could ever help him forget.
"Well, I think I'll call you J. If that's alright with you?" She asked, throwing him her best grin. His sudden bad mood lifted slightly. "Oh, I like nicknames."
"Harleen Quinzel." The way her name rolled off his tongue sent a shiver down her spine and just like that his smile was back. "Harlequin. Like the jester!" He laughed suddenly, a quick sharp sound that startled her. "Do your friends ever call you Harley?"
"I don't have many friends." She assured truthfully which caused his smile to spread across his face. "Well, Harley. You do now."
Xx
