Sorry there was a delay again!
Bad news guys; the next chapter won't be out for a few weeks. My poor little granny had a tumble and has fractured and dislocated her shoulder which means I have to look after her for a while and make sure she's ok. Don't worry though, it's in progress and will be up when I have time to write and finish it. Granny comes first, sorry to say.
Anyway, bad news aside, I had spent a few days wondering if I should scrap the beginning of this and start again. I decided against it.
During the week I was discussing this with my good friend Yvette (frequent reviewer – hi Yvette!) at lunch during school and I told her a few possible outcomes and ideas I have for what's to come. Definitely I have decided on who will be appearing and who won't; a few cameos here and there are in the works as well as some other things that I didn't mention to her. :D
Thanks to all of you who reviewed, it always puts a smile on my face.
The Laughing Clown
03.
It's been twenty minutes since she has had the dubious pleasure of meeting her patient; in that time, she has realized that this man is not quite a man. This is a monster in human form. This is intelligence and genius and anarchy all in the one living breathing body and he is speaking to her now, grinning like a Cheshire Cat she once saw in a computer game. It's utterly terrifying and Harley is completely fascinated.
"Let me tell you a story."
She sits very prim and proper, taking notes like a good little doctor. She hopes her face doesn't give away that on the inside her eyes are wide and how she can't believe the diversity, the difference and the absolute similarity there is.
She is only half aware of how dangerous that really is. There is a hole that she has dug once before, and her subconscious tells her not to start digging another right beside it. Not this time. Not when she hasn't even finished digging the first.
"It's a short story, Doc." His voice is like sin and is dripping with malicious humor at her and at something else entirely. "See, I died once. For a little while; went over to the other side and ev-ery-th-ing. And see, when I got there, I woke up in Hell."
Harley listens, her pen temporarily stopped. "Really now." She can tell by the glint in his eyes that her voice has shaken.
"Oh, yes really." He's mocking her; it's so painfully obvious that it snaps back to reality and deep inside Harley feels anger. Who is this make up wearing wannabe to mock her? He licks her his lips, glancing behind her to the door, then back at her. "So I'm in Hell, all very confused. You know how that is? One minute you're pressing a detonator, the next a SWAT team has you surrounded, firing at you? No?" he licks his lips, looking mildly disappointed. "You should sometime, good for the uh, the soul." He cackles little at his own joke. "So I wake up and there's two.. lov-ely specimens of the female species. This tiny little blond and a beauti-ful little number with turquoise hair. Next thing I know, I'm drafted into a war."
She scribbles furiously, glancing up. "And?"
"You know who we were fighting?" he asks, voice low.
Harley sighs, feeling worn out all of a sudden (and she could never let this man know why, could she?). "God?" she asks, voice showing signs of exasperation.
"Mmm, exactly. And you know why? Fascist he was, all fire and control. He's dead now." He finishes his voice softer.
"That was quite a story." Harley says, placing her hands flat against her thighs. "Quite the imagination. Do you find imagination a valuable tool?"
"Mmm, doesn't everyone?" he asks, head tilting back, eyelids drooping.
"Some are lacking, don't you think?"
He closes his eyes completely, clicking his tongue. "Most people are lacking." There's a hint of irritation in his voice. "I have a firm belief that people just don't know how to let go. Have some fun." He opens his eyes and lowers his head to meet her eyes again. "You know how to have fun, right Doc?"
There's a quiet click as the plastic door opens and one of Harley's escorts announces that time is up. The Joker is looking at her for an answer; Harley just smiles and stands. She turns and walks towards the door, smiling at the orderly positioned there and stops for a second. "Fun is a matter of perspective, isn't it?" she asks, not turning around. An inhuman giggle is her only response.
Arkham is waiting for her outside her office and beside him – Harley can barely hold back a laugh – beside him is Commissioner Gordon minus about twenty years to her own. Doctor Arkham has such an eager expression on his aged face that is in total contrast to the worn frown that rests on Gordon's. Arkham is the first to speak, his voice hopeful. "It went well?"
Harley walks by them and opens her office door, holding it open as a signal for them to enter. "As well as expected." She says as they walk in. "He likes to talk. Enthusiastically so."
Gordon nods, taking a seat in front of her desk. "Any conclusions?"
Sitting down behind her desk, Harley shoots him a look and raises an eyebrow. "Other than that what is already obvious?" she asks, shaking her head at his expression. "It was our first session, what were you expecting?"
Arkham looks at Gordon nervously. "Forgive my rudeness; Dr. Quinzel, this is Commissioner Gordon."
Harley smiles a cold smile of politeness. "Of course he is. Who hasn't heard of Commissioner Gordon?" The way his eyes narrow, Harley knows right away he doesn't like the way she says it.
"With all that's been said of you Doctor Quinzel, I had expected-"
"Miracles?" she cuts in, eyes narrowing, smile in place, straining to maintain it. "I am a Doctor, Commissioner, not God." She stops herself short from snapping. "Rome was not built in a day, perhaps if you ask again in a few more weeks I might be able to tell you something substansional other than that he appreciates his own humor and has little regard for human life." She forces her smile to be more pleasant and Gordon relaxes, slumping back into the chair.
"Sorry Doctor, it's just been chaos lately." He sighs, rubbing a temple.
"It seems everyone has a case of chaos these days." Harley muses, glancing at Arkham. "I heard some of the nurses saying someone calling themselves the Riddler is giving you quite a hard time." She says, sorting out her paperwork.
Gordon – James "Jim" Gordon – nods, looking grim. "At first we thought we had a copycat on our hands. Just another lunatic who looked at the Joker as a hero; the name was enough to make us think so. But then we realized it was too organized; Riddles left around like it's some kind of game."
Aw Edward, Harley thinks with a little mental smile, just startin' out! "Quite the enigma, hm?" she asks, glancing up with a secret sort of smile, knowing they were unaware of the clue she had just given them. "The thing about enigmas, Commissioner, sometimes they are quite blatantly obvious."
"You got any advice then?" he asks, the bags under his eyes evident.
Harley taps her chin. "Obviously it's a lead up; he's luring you to something bigger. He wants you to solve his riddles, correct? Perhaps he enjoys the challenge of trying to outsmart you or to watch you squirm. It seems clear that he is at least making sure you're smart enough for whatever he has planned." Harley places her papers down and gives a very small sly smirk. "Then again, perhaps he is just toying with you for good sport."
Gordon does not look very well when she says this, in fact Harley thinks he looks like he might be sick. "This city can't handle another onslaught from a man who thinks destruction is good sport."
"Perhaps the Batman can help you." Harley offers, flicking a piece of her hair over her shoulder. "That is, if he can avoid your men long enough to get the job done."
The torn expression that Gordon has on his face, like he just remembered something gruesome, makes Harley want to look into what happened when Batman took the fall for Two-Face, and why. "Forgive me Commissioner, have I said something to offend you?" she asks gently, softening her expression.
Gordon shakes his head and rises to his feet. "No, Dr. Quinzel. You've just said the truth. I have to get back to work, good luck with your," he pauses, eyes hardening. "Good luck." He finishes, turning to nod down at Dr. Arkham and then making his way out of Harley's office.
Jeremiah Arkham looks at Gordon's back as he leaves, then turns to face Harley, a look of seriousness on his face. "Everything went well, didn't it? He wasn't, well, difficult?"
Harley raises an eyebrow her expression quite clear. "Of course he was difficult. He told me a story of how he died; it's too be expected, I dare say it may take a great length of time before I learn anything definitive from him."
The old doctor nods wearily, standing. "I trust you know what you're doing," he says, rubbing his temple, "good day, Dr. Quinzel."
Harley gets lost only three times on her way home. "Definitely gettin' the hang of this now." She grins as speeds towards her apartment. "Vroom Vroom!" she cackles, turning the corner onto her street then slamming the breaks down. Some habits, albeit illegal ones, die hard.
Humming to herself as she walks up the buildings stairs to her apartment, her mind wanders to her wardrobe and which outfit she is going to wear on her… thing with Bruce Wayne tonight. "Not a date," she says to herself as she opens her door, "so nothin' too fancy. Don't wanna look like a floozy neither though." She mutters, kicking the door shut. "Decisions, decisions." She grumbles, stalking into her bedroom.
It takes her twenty minutes to decide on an appropriate outfit. A little red dress that she had bought for a disguise on one of his plans that hadn't come to life. She had kept it around because she liked the way she looked in it. It takes her an hour just to do her make-up; as a somewhat relatively infamous criminal on her own world, Harley had become a professional at applying her white make up, therefore foundation is never an issue. As she sits in front of her mirror, however, she wishes that she still had her college days make up application know it all. She finally settles on something which she supposes looks like smokey-eyes, a blusher that she guesses isn't too light or too dark and red lipstick that she finds and doesn't know it's origins ("Maybe it's Holly's…"). She pulls on her red dress carefully and then her black heels and an oversized black scarf as a shawl; she's pulled her hair up into something that resembles a small beehive and the front of her hair is pulled loosely to the side. "Hey, I don't look half bad." She compliments herself, catching a glimpse in the mirror.
She grabs her black bag she had used to take to work, not bothering about its simplicity. It goes with her ensemble and already contains everything she needs like her purse and keys (living with him for all the time she had really makes her appreciate the value of necessity and simplicity… as well as theatrics).
She hears a car horn at eight exactly and finds herself peering out of her window down at the street below. Bruce is getting out of his car, and looking up, giving a little wave doing a sort of pointing gesture and rabbit ears- "Oh, he's comin' up." Harley realizes, nodding to Bruce and giving a big grin, pulling away to leave her room and open her front door.
Smoothing down her dress, Harley tries to remember the last time she went out to dinner with anyone; it was with Holly just as they had moved into their apartment in Gotham and they were celebrating living together, normalcy and not having to put up with Superheroes for as long as they could. "Gee, that lasted long." Harley mutters darkly, opening her door at the first knock. "Hi." She greets, instantly smiling. She glances at her living room, and coughs, looking Bruce in the eye. "I'd invite you in, but for the sake of your health I think its best I don't." she half jokes, slipping back into Harleen Quinzel.
Bruce chuckles, offering her an understanding smile. "I understand; new places, they're always in disarray when you just move in."
"Hmm," Harley agrees, walking out of the apartment and shutting the door, "that is definitely the truth." They walk down the stairs quietly and at the bottom, Bruce holds the door open for her. "A gentleman." She smirks, walking by him.
"You expected anything less?" he smirks, walking behind her towards his car.
Harley turns, leaning against it, to smirk at him. "Maybe more pick up lines."
Bruce walks around to the other side, taking his keys out to unlock the car. "Really?" he asks as Harley turns to face him. He opens the door on his side and Harley does the same. "The night's only just begun, though. I might have a few ready by the second course." He jokes as they both slip into the car.
Harley finds herself laughing despite herself as they start to drive off. "Oh, I'm sure you do, Bruce."
