Chapter Three: The East Ward:

Slipping the syringe into her coat pocket, Harleen stepped out into the hallway and advanced toward the East Ward. The Ward was notorious for its high security patients, in most ways it was almost safer to tread in this ward than the others. Camera's above noted her slowly as she walked by, but they weren't the only eyes watching. The feeling of the other's behind their impenetrable doors made her skin crawl. Their cell windows were dark, but the name plates shone brightly.

Jones, Waylon

Tetch, Jervis

Wesker, Arnold

Zsasz, Victor

The last name made her heart race, causing her feet to escalate to a brisk walk. She had a session with him only once, that time she was accompanied by two attendants carrying weapons and Dr. Crane. Zsasz's eyes seemed blacker than coal, and as they stared into her she believed instantly that they could cut sharper than his infamous blade ever could. Unfortunately, those eyes weren't the half of it. The scars that were visible on his body looked unmistakably like tally marks, and it was safe to presume that they covered his entire body. The story among the other doctors was that each tally was a symbol for a person he had killed. In this situation, the only comfort Harleen had was that Mr. Zsasz wasn't the escapee.

Two of the other names beside Zsasz, Harleen had met before as well. Jervis Tetch was a neurological genius by many regards, but suffered from Paranoid Schizophrenia and Manic Depression. He was most commonly known around the hospital for his keen interest in Lewis Carroll, and was most referred to as "The Mad Hatter". Arnold Wesker was now an ex-mob boss, who had a severe case of Dissociative Identity Disorder. His prized companion and extension of his disorder was a ventriloquist doll, known to him lovingly as "Scarface".

The last name, Waylon Jones, was a complete mystery. No one of the staff Harleen had talked to seemed to know what he looked like, because he never left his room. It was rumored his was hideously deformed, some questioned if he was human at all.

Once she passed the cells, Harleen turned the corner but jumped back when she heard a loud bang. It sounded like a desk being knocked over, or a drawer being pulled out. Keeping her body close to the wall, she peered over cautiously. The sound seemed to be coming from the first office on the left, Dr. Blakloch's. She walked toward it slowly, her phone in hand, body still tight against the wall. Taking a glance through the open door, she immediately saw Rune Davis. He had indeed knocked over the desk and was searching franticly for something. Pulling at his hair, Harleen saw drops of blood trickling down his drenched nubby fingers and onto his scalp. He looked like he had scratched the nails off on a wall. But it was his eye's that startled her the most. In all of her years of practice with patients at school, and now her month of experience in Arkham she had never seen such terrified eyes. They were extremely dilated and bloodshot like they hadn't been closed for nights and under the eyes where almost grey in the contrast of his bleached white skin. As she took in the details of his face, he jerked up suddenly, those eyes connecting with hers. Then as soon as it registered in his mind, his lips curled down and his mouth opened into a blood curdling scream.

"No! No please no!!" Backing himself in a corner, he grabbed a desk leg that had broken off when he had tossed it.

"Rune, its Harleen…Dr. Quinzel. I talked to you a few hours ago remember?"

He shook his head violently, a white knuckled grip shaking the desk leg as he did so.

"What are you so afraid of Rune? There's nothing to be scared of here, once you're back in your room everything will be fine. I promise. Just put down that piece of wood and we'll get a cup of coffee, okay?" she tried her best to relax her shoulders as she spoke smoothly to him.

"No, no he's still here…the mask! The mask!" Rune began gnawing at his lip so hard it bled.

"What mask Rune?" Harleen moved closer, but slowly so not to frighten him more.

"Scarecrow…mask!" Moving a finger to a button on her phone, Harleen dialed Dr. Crane's number. Hopefully he would hear and understand. She couldn't risk talking on the phone with Rune in this condition.

"A Scarecrow?" Harleen watched him closely; she couldn't understand where this had come from. She had talked to him only hours ago, and he had seemed better than usual, it had been one of his good days. Then a horrible thought crossed her mind and froze her instantly.

"Dr. Quinzel!" The voice behind her made her jump, startling Rune, which caused him to hit the piece of wood across her face. Falling to the ground, she held her hand to her face. Warm liquid touched her hand instantly along with a cold stinging as her brain registered the pain. Before she could get up, Harleen was dragged away by one of the attendants as Dr. Crane and four more men entered the room. Disorientated, Harleen's vision twisted the world around her. But she could hear the piercing screaming of Rune clear as day.

"Rune!" She tried to get up but the attendant held her back down. The pain heightened as she yelled out, her cheek felt as though it was splitting open.

"They're taking care of him Dr. Quinzel." His voice was more controlling than comforting. Confined to the ground as the attendant placed stitching tape on her split cheek, she watched with renewed eyes. A needle went into Rune's neck as he thrashed against four men and instantly he was down. Once the final tape and bandage was in place, Harleen pushed the attendant gently aside and stood up, her legs nearly giving out.

"I want him in the medical ward. A new medication must have given him a bad reaction. I want it pumped out, if that can't be done make sure he's sedated until it comes out." Harleen ordered leaning against the doorframe as the attendants placed him on a stretcher, bound by a straight jacket.

"He's not going to live through the night Dr. Quinzel." Dr. Crane informed her formally, tossing away the used needle.

"He just had a bad reaction; he'll be fine with medical attention." Placing a hand on her cheek, she winced, and decided to speak slower.

"His brain is too far gone. The mind can only take so much, and as you well know the body can't live without the mind." He watched the men carry Rune out of the office, and then returned his eyes to Harleen as she spoke.

"I did this to him. I gave him that new medication. It was still in a trial status, but it was gaining such good results." Harleen was talking to herself now, rather than Dr. Crane. He surveyed her closely after she finished.

"You couldn't have known it wasn't your fault." Harleen couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. But he was right, it wasn't her fault intentionally. But directly, it was without a doubt her fault and that's what stung.

"I'm staying here." Harleen told him stiffly, trying to hold back the guilt burning in her throat.

"I'll be in my office. Can you have the medical staff alert me of any condition change?"

He nodded, turning off the lights to the office as he closed to door.

As she lay down on the couch in her office, Harleen looked up at the ceiling, then at the phone next to her side. Hours seemed to pass like minutes as her eyes grew heavy watching the clock. Hands moving involuntarily grabbed a pillow and hugged it under her uninjured cheek, letting her eyes finally close in an exhausted sleep.

The door opened silently a half hour later, revealing Dr. Crane. He watched Harleen sleep and contemplated, then took a blanket off an armchair and placed it over her gently. Making himself comfortable, he sat by her head and leaned his head back watching her shoulder's rise and fall gently.

"Is he alive?" Harleen's eyes were still closed, subconsciously nuzzling her head on the pillow.

"He had a seizure about an hour ago, he died not long after." Dr. Crane answered, his voice was soft but it lacked empathy. Her eyelids clenched together tight, as she took a long breath. Studying her closely, Dr. Crane observed the silence then spoke.

"You were his psychiatrist, you of course read his file, and you still mourn him?"

"Of course, I believe everyone has the ability and the right to become sane again. Physicians don't turn away patients because they're sick, neither should we." Harleen sat up slowly as she said this, focusing her eyes on his. A sharp pain let itself be known on her face after she spoke, reminding her of the injury she had obtained.

"You're good at your job Dr. Quinzel, I would never say otherwise. But your methods will destroy you in the end. No one can give to these people without just as much being taken away. It will drive you mad."

"Then I'll be mad. But I won't let Rune Davis' death be without purpose, I'm going to find what went wrong with that medication, and why it affected him the way it did."

Dr. Crane stiffened, looked down in thought for a few seconds, and then cast his eyes back up.

"If that's what your plan of action is I won't stop you. But I'm telling you now, you should let it be. There I've given my fair share of wisdom." With that he stood up and left towards the door. Hesitating for a second he turned back around.

"Your wound has reopened; you might want to get it checked." Harleen cursed as the door shut behind him, and placed a hand gingerly to her face. Cursing as she got up slowly, she walked out of the room and towards the medical ward, gaining more than a few stares as she did so.