"You don't think this is a little on the nose?" asked Jack, smiling at Harleen at their next session together. "We're going to play an actual game of chess?"
"Why not? Scared you'll lose?" asked Harleen. "I thought you liked games. Here, I'll even let you be white and go first," she said, turning the board so that the white pieces faced him.
"No, ladies first," he said, turning it back. "I can't help but feel if either of us is the black sheep here, it's me."
"Are you proud of that?" asked Harleen.
"You know, I am, a little," said Jack, smiling. "It takes a certain skill to be as bad as I am."
"I always wonder how people like you reconcile yourselves," said Harleen, moving her pawn forward. "There are people who do bad things but think they're doing them for a good cause, or what they perceive to be right. But you're bad and you know it. And you just don't seem to care. Do you think of yourself as a villain?"
"Now you're just being melodramatic, Doc," said Jack, moving his pawn forward to match hers. "There are no heroes and villains in real life, everyone knows that. Of course I don't think of myself as a villain, anymore than you think of yourself as a hero just for living a decent life. People are just people. The choices I've made have been the right ones for me at the time – I don't regret anything I've done. I think that's really all you can say for your own life, looking back."
"Do you think about the people you hurt at all?" asked Harleen. "Their potential lives wasted, their families' pain at their suffering and absence?"
"No, not really," he said. "Must be that lack of empathy, huh? Anyway, they probably would have made the same decisions I made at the time too."
"You think all people surrender to their worst instincts?" asked Harleen, moving another pawn.
"Not all," he replied, countering hers. "Just most. You probably haven't ever done that, for instance. Have you?"
"What did I say about questions?" asked Harleen, moving her knight over. "But of course I have, once or twice. We all have. To err is human."
"That's right," said Jack, nodding. "So why beat yourself up about being human?" he asked, taking her pawn with his bishop.
"Is this what you wanted to be when you were little?" asked Harleen. "A criminal? Don't you think little Jack Napier would be pretty disappointed in the guy you've turned into today?"
"Probably," agreed Jack. "But kids are dumb. They don't understand how the world works yet."
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" asked Harleen, taking his pawn with her knight.
"Honest?" he asked, looking up at her.
"I hope you're answering all my questions honestly," she retorted. "Or what's the point?"
Jack grinned. "I wanted to be a clown," he said.
"Well, that explains a lot," said Harleen. "No ambition even as a child – just wanting to slack off and have fun all day."
"Partially," agreed Jack, nodding. "And partially because I liked making people laugh. My first girlfriend only agreed to go out with me because I made her laugh."
"Tell me about her," said Harleen.
"Don't remember much now," said Jack. "It was a long time ago. But I do remember she had a great pair of tits…"
"I meant tell me about her as a person," interrupted Harleen. "Why would I care about her physical appearance?"
"Why would you care about her as a person?" he asked. "I can assure you, aside from her physical appearance, she made absolutely no impression on me."
"I'm technically the one who decides that, you know," said Harleen. "I don't ask these questions for no reason."
"And you're hoping to blame my descent into darkness on heartbreak from a young age, is that it?" chuckled Jack. "Or maybe you just want to hear about what I like in a woman."
"You were closer on the first one," retorted Harleen. "But I certainly wouldn't blame any woman for your descent. I would blame her for being stupid enough to go out with you in the first place, but I guess she was probably young and naïve, and you probably weren't a fully fledged criminal then."
"No," agreed Jack. "Probably wouldn't have needed to make her laugh to get her to go out with me if I was – dames do love a bad boy. Why do you think that is?"
"I think it's because a lot of them mistake toughness for strength," said Harleen. "And confuse danger with excitement."
"Oh, but danger is a thrill all to itself," replied Jack. "You mean to tell me you haven't experienced that particular brand of excitement? It's completely unique, trust me."
"I already answered one question of yours, and that's all I'm doing today," retorted Harleen, moving her rook. "Check," she added.
"Fine," sighed Jack, moving his king out of check. "I was going to ask if you remembered your first boyfriend. You know, they say you never forget your first, but I think that's a load of crap. What if it just wasn't particularly memorable? For dames especially – a lotta young guys have no idea what they're doing, and you probably don't wanna remember something fairly unpleasant and uncomfortable. I remember I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Learned now, though," he added with a grin. "And the dames tell me I've learned pretty good."
"You know, the last thing I want you to talk about is your sex life," snapped Harleen.
"Why? I thought all shrinks loved talking about that," he chuckled. "You think the sexual drive is the reason for everything."
"Freud does – I don't," retorted Harleen. "I think feeling loved is a big motivation for most people, but that doesn't necessarily mean sex. You can be loved by friends and family, for instance."
"And that's good enough for you, is it?" asked Jack. "When you get angry, your accent slips back into a Brooklyn twang, so I'm betting that's where your family is from. For someone who seems to think that all psychological problems can be solved by meaningful emotional connections, you're pretty far away from the people who are important to you."
"Well, I got my career to think about," replied Harleen.
"You mean you couldn't be a low-paid intern in Brooklyn?" asked Jack. "I find that hard to believe. You might even be able to get away from the intern gig there, unless you're some sort of masochist who enjoys working for peanuts."
"Well, people who actually have jobs know that you probably shouldn't leave one, however badly paid, until you have another one to go to," retorted Harleen. "Money makes the world go round, I don't have to tell you that."
"No, you don't," agreed Jack. "So you haven't been able to find another job, huh?"
"I didn't say that," snapped Harleen.
"You implied it," he replied, smiling. "If the job market's that bad, you should throw in the towel and join me in a life of crime. What's the world coming to when even a highly qualified shrink can't find a decent paying gig?"
"It's becoming a world that needs more highly qualified shrinks, because it's going crazy," replied Harleen.
"I agree," said Jack, moving his knight into position. "And that's the second question of mine you've answered. Check," he added with a grin.
Harleen glared at him. "And have those questions helped you discover anything about me?" she asked, moving her king out of danger.
"Absolutely," he said, nodding. "I've learned how your mind works, and your outlook on life. You're not an optimist – you think the world's going to hell in a hand-basket. If you were a realist, like me, you'd stop fighting that and just join in."
"You actually think you're a realist?" demanded Harleen. "A man who denies the very existence of his own reality?"
"I don't deny that at all – if the world's a madhouse, the sanest people in it are mad," replied Jack. "What you call denying reality, I call facing the truth – that life is meaningless, that nothing matters, not laws or values or morals or anything else you hold so dear. Now there's two ways to respond to that. One, you become all brooding and depressed because nothing matters. Or two, you become completely free and happy, because nothing matters. You can do whatever you want, anything that you enjoy, with no regard for anything else like laws or rules or feelings."
"And when laws come to get you and lock you up in a mental asylum?" asked Harleen. "You must not be so happy about that. See, that's reality – it's not something you can just disregard without expecting to be punished."
"Well, who says I don't enjoy being punished?" asked Jack with a grin. "Depends on who's giving it, of course. But I definitely enjoy being punished by you."
"Good," retorted Harleen, moving her knight again. "Because that's checkmate."
Jack stared from her to the board, clearly stunned. "I'd say you'd just got spanked, wouldn't you?" asked Harleen, leaning back and smiling. "That's what happens when you don't focus on the game at hand because you're trying to play other ones. And now you see that those of us who play by the rules of the game are the ones who win it, don't you?"
Jack's shocked face twisted back into his usual, unconcerned smile. "Nice work," he said, reaching out a hand to tip his king over onto the board, conceding defeat. Then he suddenly seized the piece and flung it angrily into the corner of the room.
"Oh, very mature," said Harleen, sighing and standing up as she heard glass shatter. "I never pegged you for a sore loser, Mr. Napier. You think you'd be used to losing by now. Oh good, you broke the security camera lens," she muttered, as she headed over to pick up the piece. "That's just what we need, to pay a lotta money to have it replaced. Don't you know we're broke? Dr. Leland's going to want to take it out of my salary, which is limited enough as it is, and wait until I tell her that it only broke because somebody's a big baby who can't take being beaten at chess."
"Hey, I'm a lunatic," said Jack, shrugging. "Gotta be irrational sometimes – she should be used to patients lashing out with violence and stuff getting broken."
"Somehow I don't think she'll be as ready to forgive irrational violence in you," retorted Harleen.
"Why not? You said yourself you think I'm denying reality – that makes me just as crazy as anyone else," he retorted. "And I can't even win a simple game of chess, so my mind must be going locked up in here."
"Oh yeah, it's your fault you can't win, not mine for being better than you," said Harleen. "But of course you have a problem admitting anyone's better than you – I diagnosed egomania when I first met you."
"Why? Because I winked at a pretty girl?" he asked.
"Because you automatically disregarded my authority as a doctor and treated me like some lesser woman who only exists for you to flirt with," retorted Harleen.
"Boy, you sure know how to read stuff into a wink," he retorted. "Yeah, I thought you were cute – take it as a compliment. A guy can think a gal is pretty and respect her, you know. The two things ain't mutually exclusive – in fact, if you love someone, you love everything about them including their body and mind."
"The guy with no empathy is telling me about love," said Harleen, rolling her eyes. "That's rich. Anyway, you don't love me."
"I thought I was supposed to be the one talking about my feelings," replied Jack. "You're not meant to deny them, are you? You're meant to accept them, and help me find productive outlets for them."
"Which I will try to, but I need you to be truthful about your feelings with me," said Harleen. "And saying you love me is a lie, and I need you to admit that."
"I didn't say I loved you," he replied.
"You implied it," she retorted. "And I need you to say that you don't love me."
"I won't say that," he retorted.
"You need to be honest with me…" she began.
"I am," he interrupted. "And I won't say that."
Harleen stared at him, surprised to see what she thought was sincerity on his face for once. She felt herself flushing again as her heart began to beat faster, and she was struggling to think of a reply when the door opened.
"Harleen, the camera went dead," said Dr. Leland, rushing into the room. "Are you all right?"
"I'm…fine, Joan," stammered Harleen. She held up the chess piece. "I made the mistake of not letting my patient win at chess, and he threw his king at the camera and broke it."
Dr. Leland drew in a deep breath. "Great," she said, forcing a smile. "That's gonna cost a bundle. Thank you, Mr. Napier," she said, turning to him.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Leland, it's completely my fault for losing my temper," he said. "If I had any money, I'd be happy to pay for a new one…"
"And then I have to get the tech guys in to install it, and they're always booked for weeks," muttered Dr. Leland, ignoring him. "Guards, take him back to his cell, please," she said, calling them into the room. "I'm not comfortable with these sessions continuing with a broken camera – legally we have to monitor everything so we don't get sued."
"We could continue in another room…" began Harleen.
"They're all in use," replied Dr. Leland. "I guess we can try and share them in the future, but that's going to make things like patient confidentiality difficult…"
"I'd be happy to waive my right to be recorded and just continue sessions with Dr. Quinzel in here," spoke up Jack.
Dr. Leland turned to him. "We record these for your protection, Mr. Napier," she said. "So the doctors can't take advantage of you…"
"Oh, I doubt Dr. Quinzel's the type to do that," chuckled Jack. "Anyway, I'm happy to sign something to say I won't sue, if that's what you're worried about."
"Ideally the recordings protect both the patient and the doctor," said Dr. Leland. "If the doctor finds themselves in a dangerous situation involving a violent and unstable lunatic, for instance, help can be there immediately."
"Mr. Napier's not a violent and unstable lunatic – he's just a sore loser," retorted Harleen. "I feel safe enough without the camera. There's always the alarm right by my chair, after all. And I'm not afraid of him."
Dr. Leland nodded slowly. "Well, let's end the session today and let me think it over. I don't like it, but there's a lot of things I don't like about our current situation here at Arkham. Sometimes we just have to live with them," she sighed, beckoning the guard over. He hauled Jack to his feet and dragged him from the room, with Harleen staring after him.
He was back to his usual smug and knowing smile, but she couldn't forget the look she had seen earlier, a look she had never seen on his face before, one of complete sincerity. It could be another game of his, of course, but judging from his chess skills today, she could beat him at his games. And she didn't think he was playing this time.