Disclaimer: I don't own Suicide Squad or the song Space Oddity
A/N: Ye Gods! We've already got 1 review, 4 favorites, 6 follows... this is popular. I'd better point out that this is based only on the movie and nothing else. Hopefully that doesn't bother people. Also, I'm very worried about writing the Joker correctly. I don't know much about him and I've only seen the movie once. And I know I said in the first chapter that he'd be associated with 1970s glam rock. David Bowie's Space Oddity just fit the scene...
Dr. Quinzel's first session with the Joker was fascinating.
Guards escorted Dr. Quinzel to a special office that day. The place was cold, scantily furnished, and gray. A place that, like Dorothy's tin friend, seemed incapable of emotion. It made Dr. Quinzel feel like an inmate. The smooth metal of those two chairs and the desk that separated them made things seem even more intimidating.
Quietly, she sat down. Those two guards still stood at the door. Their serious faces gave Dr. Quinzel the impression that she too was being kept captive. She began to stare out the only window. This being winter, she could see snow drifting slowly. The pretty sight calmed her slightly. It also distracted her from the sound of the door creaking open.
A sudden laugh startled her and caused her to fall out of her chair. There he stood – flanked by two more guards.
The Joker wore the usual uniform of those considered more dangerous than the other mental patients. Straitjackets made a person look somewhat frightening but Dr. Quinzel was already used to such a sight. Though his teeth – which were made of metal, like the Phantom's in Phantom of the Paradise – scared her. As did his very pale skin and the dark tattoos that looked stark against it. Though oddest of all was the green hair. As far as Dr. Quinzel had known, inmates weren't allowed any sort of chemical thing like hair dye. Maybe that was only the self-harming patients that needed to follow that rule. That stuff could be dangerous.
"Ground control to Dr. Quinzel. Ground Control to Dr. Quinzel… take your protein pills and put your helmet on. Ground control to Dr. Quinzel," he sang cheerfully. "It's going to be a bumpy ride, I think. Ground control to Dr. Quinzel. You're better off than David Bowie's Major Tom, I should hope. He was lost in space by the end of the song. Like the television show, yes? 'Lost in Space'! Ha! My little joke."
Through this song and short speech his expression stayed mostly the same. He looked sort of tired, though also cheerful. Though he clearly wasn't actually happy – just trying to be happy for some reason. Well, they all called him the Joker. Perhaps he tried to live up to this by laughing and smiling at everything…
"Why do you sing that song?" Dr. Quinzel asked.
"Because it fits. And I like songs. But I don't like Doctors… usually."
"Why don't you like doctors?"
"They call me things. I don't like being called things."
Dr. Quinzel raised an eyebrow. "They insult you?"
He narrowed his eyes. "I call it insulting. They say I lack empathy and that I display signs of schizophrenia. That's a lie! I've never heard funny voices or anything. Though I like movies very much. In a movie anything can happen."
"If your life was a movie what would you want to happen?"
He smiled. "Something awfully Romantic involving flowers and rowboats and duets sung on balconies."
"You're lying."
"I'm joking. There's a difference. I like joking, I don't like lying."
"What do you mean?"
"Lying is what you do to stay out of trouble. When your girlfriend figures out you stole a sweater of hers – which I never did, since I don't have a girlfriend – and you tell her the dog ate it you're lying. But, saying you ate the sweater is joking. She knows you didn't eat it because that would be silly."
That was probably the strangest explanation of such thing that Dr. Quinzel had ever heard. Though it made sense.
Then came the more serious questions. Questions about how he'd been feeling lately. Each of these questions had a joke answer and a real one. At the end of this she decided that he didn't need any med changes. Though, secretly, she only decided this because changing a notoriously troublesome patient's meds soon after meeting them didn't seem the best idea. Anyway, he seemed 'sane' enough. Though being sane and being a safe person to be around were different. Sane, to Dr. Quinzel, meant you didn't have any mental disorders. Being a nasty person wasn't a disorder – it was just unpleasant.
Eventually he was escorted out of the room. The guards seemed suspiciously nervous around him.
Only after he left did she realize she'd been sitting on the floor the whole time. Though she didn't care that her skirt was all crumpled. What mattered was that this Joker person was very strange. Dr. Quinzel felt as if she needed to figure him out. Why did he love to joke? Why did he have freaky teeth? Why did he sing David Bowie songs?
Like Pandora, she was terribly curious about something that she shouldn't have been worrying about. Just talk to the Joker twice a week and decide what meds are best for him. All this about wanting to understand him was silly – Dr. Quinzel knew this – but she couldn't help it.
Curiosity killed the cat, as the saying goes. But what could it do to the psychiatrist?
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