Firstly I would like to thank Tori Quinn for those two beautiful comments. I'm not sure if I'll include those deleted scenes since they happened way after Arkham Asylum. But if the build-up on this one keeps up, I might promise another JokerxHarley fic with the deleted scenes leading up to the chemical bath scene.
Secondly, if there are any requests from anyone on what they want Joker and Harley to talk about in a session, then leave it in a review and I'll make it for ya. ^_^
Now, let's carry on!
3. Give Me a 3-Syllable Nickname
Within a week's worth of 15-30 minute-long (depending what they talked about) sessions, it would be safe to establish that a certain repertoire had bee formed between the doctor and her patient.
This pleased the higher admins of the asylum, because it would mean that they had a shot at 'redeeming' (as Harleen had put it when she reported her first week's observation) the Joker. And if such a man could be redeemed then they might be able to do the same for the others locked up within the confines of Arkham.
When she had given her assessment, Harleen was asked what type of discussions she engaged the Joker in that made him so willing to continue.
"You might not believe it...But he seems to enjoy talking about values." She had said.
She had expected the reaction thrown her way at this. Of course. Who would believe that the Joker, Clown Prince of Crime, would want to sit down with an everyday-average psychiatrist and talk about values? No one, said the admins, and Harleen thought that, too.
But the Joker surprised her on their 4th session. Where the Joker himself had suggested that they talk about the value of trust.
Imagine the thousands of thoughts that raced through the young doctor when her patient said, in an almost giddy positive tune: "Why don't we talk about trust, doctor Harley?"
Originally, her observation of him regarding values was somewhat of a guess. Given the fact that they had inconsistent topics on their first to the third day. But she knew that she had to be prepared for whatever kind of tactic he would throw at her. That's how she's managed thus far, right?
"Why would you want to talk about trust today?" She asked, wondering what reason he had behind it this time. Because he's always had reasons, she's learned. To everything he says and does, even in the limited motions he has.
"I was reminded something." He started, going right to the point. "It was, something that I had my henchmen do in one of Gotham's city banks a few years back."
Another thing's she's learned is that he was quite the nostalgic man. He always seemed to be looking back at something that he had done in the past, something either menial or important-whatever definition of important was to him- and he would connect it to their conversation.
"Were you robbing this bank?" Harleen asked.
"Heist, doc.. The right word is heist. Robbing is when you hold a small gun on a local shop owner, acting tough and taking petty cash from the register without firing a bullet. A heist is where you seize a a fancy bank whose building costed more than the money it holds, and you take everyone present, hostage."
The young doctor takes a small mental second to note that being able to compare two similar acts of crime and pointing out the differences would mean having experienced them both. Knowing the Joker, he probably has.
"And I'm gonna assume you hostaged everyone with... Machine guns?" She questioned.
The Joker inclined his head. "Sub, I think. I wasn't really there, so I wouldn't know.. But here's the thing.. The guys that I hired for that job were new. They didn't know each other and they've never worked together before.."
"You see, the problem with having guys like these is that they're always and only looking out for themselves." He began to explain. "It's that animal instinct we have, where we unconsciously see ourselves as inferior opposed to everything else. This brings fear, fear then drives irrationality, irrationality induces panic, and panic in turn forces you to seize the opportunity of eliminating anyone you think is a threat."
Understanding where he was coming from, Harleen said his next line. "And everyone is a threat.
The Joker grinned slowly, nodding and pleased. "Exactly... And if I had henchmen with these exact instincts, I thought: 'How about give them a trust exercise?'"
He then goes on into a lengthy explanation on how he arranged them to do the heist, and very specifically, ordered each one privately, to cut off the rest from the share. And of course, by cut off, this basically meant shooting each other down after their job was finished.
"Only one of them was left.. And when he handed me the money, I shot him, too."
Harleen gave a small sigh and once again, as he starts dazing, she remains quiet. When she knows that its okay to speak again, she asks: "Did you wanted them to kill each other?"
Almost instantly, the Joker's face was in a twisted snarl of denial. "No! Of course, not. No, I was trying to do them a favor. It was a test of trust. To see if, even just one of them would defy my order and trust the other to not put a bullet through their head."
He's not going to admit that he still would've shot them himself, even if they had passed the test, just for good measure. Because he had enough henchmen that were irritable to deal with as it is. He didn't need double-crossers in his lane.
"So you're saying trust is overrated?" Harleen asked.
The Joker blinked slowly, like how an onlooker of a newly exploded nuke does when the first shockwave disperses. "I'm saying there is no trust. Most of the time, the only thing we trust is ourselves after we bury a bullet in the middle man's head."
The way he spoke these words had stronger semblance of feeling other than his usual mirth and horrific silence. It almost sounded like he was talking out of hate, a feeling which Harleen has found a bit impossible to apply with him.
She already knew he was ruthless on top of being psychotic and that he had an intellectual mastery that he chose to limit in his vocabulary because he's spent it more on his murderous schemes for (what he deems as) fun in terms of process and exhibiting, and are at the same time, actually significant in terms of teaching lessons that only he knew the syllabus of. Specifically to a bat-masked vigilante.
A silence formed between the two. The patient had said what he wanted to say, and the doctor had no idea how to respond. Mostly out of fear for saying the wrong thing in the most wrong way. Because another thing she's learned about him is that he hates it when people think they're right.
He considers it rudeness beyond reason. Because in all honesty, he seemed to know mire about everything than anyone, and in absolute irony, he is the one that appears wrong, only because society had classified him as physically and psychologically unstable.
Harleen just about goes through every possible question, answer, explanation (whichever was proper to use) and finally lands on one thing she knew would be right to say.
"Can you consider me someone you trust?"
The Joker blinked and shifted in his seat as he fixated his attention back to the psychiatrist. Clearly the question caught him by surprise. It showed-even if it was brief-in his eyes. Whatever other feeling his face couldn't manipulate to show, his eyes would instead.
"Well of course I do." He said finally. "I gave you my trust the moment I started calling you 'Harley'"
Harleen is reluctant to accept this admission. It was a stretch to say that the Joker trusted someone like her. For all she knew, he was still probably toying around with her mind. And she needed to remind herself this everyday so that she wouldn't have problems telling the difference with him.
"You say that now, but do you mean it? Are you sure you're not just saying that just so I have a harder time to think you're lying to me?" She asked.
The Joker chuckled. "It's not like a have a choice in the matter here.." He looked down to his restraints, gesturing the simple fact of his inability to do anything about his situation. "And besides... You're here to help, right? That's what you said yourself when we first met."
Now it is Harleen who chuckles. It's fake, but only she knows that. She hoped at least.
"You say that like it was a memorable day for you." She said.
"Of course... But not for me.. It was memorable for you."
Harleen squinted. "How's that?"
The Joker bobbed his head and made a soundless 'ah' with his mouth. He slowly leaned forward, making the fibers of his jacket stretch against the table and said in a voice that made Harleen's skin crawl: "You met me, didn't you?"
It was nearly impossible to not laugh at this, but Harleen keeps it in by smiling. "So that's good for me?" She inquired.
"Why wouldn't it be? You got yourself a real speciman at your diaposal. And basing on the previous sessions we've had these past days, I'd say you've done a lot more than you would've ever hoped yourself."
The young doctor sighed now, complete with her shoulders slightly slumping down. It was getting harder to tell the differences between her patient's words. However she wasn't sure either if this was even the reason why she felt frustrated. "I wouldn't know about that." She said.
The Joker does another 'ah' now, and this time it has sound.
"That's your problem. You whine too much." He said bluntly.
"Excuse me?! I don't whine. What are you even say-"
"There! See?" He cut her off quickly. "You're doing it right now."
"Whenever you're at the peak of your ability to comprehend the situation, you break yourself down and stop your instincts before your can get close to the end line. And out of what? Irrationality? That's the lowest form of cowardice. It's a shame to have, especially for someone like you...isn't it, Harley?"
This was unbelievable. Within a few seconds of voicing out her very thoughts, in his voice, Harleen felt her mind clouded. Why was he always capable of saying such things? It was one thing to give a speech about life of crime, but to read her, figure out her own mundane life-and be right for God's sake-was something else entirely.
The Joker looks like he's waiting for her to answer, and she knows he is. She also knows that her stunned silence had passed the point of denying his claims, because they were true. But she can't bring herself to speak anything else either, because she knows it would be pointless, and she didn't want to prove him right anymore than she already has.
His doctor has suddenly become quiet, and he wonders for a moment if he had gone too far. He knows that there is no such thing for him as going too far. She needed to know her flaw, and how to accept it. Even if that meant breaking her down.
"Do you trust me, Harley?"
Both his tone and question alerted her shock and she met his stone-cold gaze that hid so many horrors that she still knew nothing of.
"I don't know." She answered truthfully.
"Do you trust yourself?" He asked now.
Her eyes shook slightly and her answer this time is more sure than truth. "No."
"That's why I trust you." He said now, further shocking her. "If you have no trust in yourself, then that frees you from the risk of ever coming across people who have knives for you. You're detached, like me...trust doesn't apply to people like us."
A certain thought crossed Harleen's mind and it made her laugh thoughtlessly.
"What would you do if I decided to trust you?"
The Joker's eyes shone with unexpected interest. He was positive that she has considered everything that he just said to her (she was smart like that after all) before asking, and it endeared him that she would still even dare.
"You would do that? You're willing to put yourself through that kind of torture? Because, Harley dear, it's worst than this straitjacket." He admitted. Really. It was.
"I have my reasons, I'd like to keep my own for now. And maybe because I like it better when someone tells me how much I suck at my face, rather than sucking up so they don't have to tell me."
Her patient is considering this very thoroughly, and she wonders. After a moment of watching him not blink, the Joker comes to a conclusion and says: "Give me a nickname, then."
To this, Harleen herself takes a second too long to blink. "That's it? You want a nickname?" She wonders for a moment if she should point out that 'Joker' was already a kind-of nickname. But then she drops it immediately, because clearly it wasn't (it was a title) and she would just look stupid.
"A nickname is one of the best grounds on establishing trust. I chose to trust you and started calling you Harley. I think it would be fair if you could do the same for me."
His doctor gave an obnoxious laugh, probably wondering already what she just put herself into. But he knew she would honor the request. She wasn't like his shameless
henchmen who were six-feet under now.
"Okay.. Then.. Let me think." Harleen said, thinking of a name to call he patient by.
"Come to think if it... I don't think I've even called you anything ever since we started meeting. Not by 'Joker' not even a mister or anything.."
She paused herself then repeated her words in her head. When the thought became clear, Harleen came upon a moment of satisfaction. Leaning back comfortabley in her seat, she crossed her arms and kept a smile on.
"Mista J. I'm gonna call you Mista J."
He noticed the lack of the 'R' in the end, and he was almost proud that she had the sense to play it out like that in only a few seconds. She looks boisterously arrogant right now, and he can't blame her. He gave her what she wanted, while he also took a little something that he knows will do good for him in the future.
Perhaps if she kept this up, it'll be something that'll benefit them both. And the thought pleased Mista J to an incredible extent.