Harleen sat in the back row of seats of the darkened lecture hall. She scribbled a few notes as the speaker talked and glanced at the slides. The subject matter was interesting and the more the man spoke, the better she understood the papers she'd read the previous evening.
After her last session with the Joker, Harleen decided to better educate herself on the subject of chaos. He had shamed her, made her feel stupid, inferior. He had brought her to tears and then laughed at her.
He'd been excited during the encounter. He was livelier than usual and couldn't seem to sit still in his chair, tapping out irregular rhythms on the table with his fingertips. He relished tearing her down. The glint in his eyes and malicious grin had been too much for her to bear.
Once he'd been led from the room, she'd hurled her clipboard across it, the wooden plate smashing against the wall and clattering to the floor while the papers fell about in disarray.
And then he'd started laughing. She had closed her eyes as more tears fell as if she could shut out that sound, his voice and the sadistic glee in it.
She had left work early that afternoon and gone home to lick her wounds. A long soak in the bathtub and half a bottle of wine later and she was sitting up against her headboard, scanning through articles on the internet.
Apparently there was a large community of so-called anarchists online and each one had his or her own manifesto. They all decried the morals of society and the laws of their oppressive governments.
"The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules." He'd said leaning in toward her. "And it's those rules which keep you in your boring little vanilla existence, all safe and sound in your reality. You make me sick"
More of the same came with each click of the mouse. Then she found the Joker's fan club, a niche of people who took the Joker's crimes and words as gospel. 'An Agent of Chaos', a prophet in a purple coat. She sighed and closed the browser and glanced up at the Joker's mind on her wall.
Those people had no idea who they were emulating. She didn't really know, and she'd spent more time with him than anyone else.
She opened a new browser and logged into the Gotham University LitServ. She began searching the academic archives for legitimate sources of information on the subject.
The people on this browser weren't crazy. They weren't trading homemade bomb recipes and quoting song lyrics from goth and metal bands. Or singing praises of people like the Joker.
Chaos theory had more applications than she had imagined. She keyed in on articles studying chaos in psychology and cross referenced them with the Joker's phraseology.
What came up was a series of six articles by the same man. A University of Chicago graduate student named Jack Napier.
She read through each one and felt a chill run through her which became excitement. She unknowingly grinned as she printed copies of each article. She opened another browser and logged into a travel site and booked a ticket.
The following morning, Harleen was on a flight to Chicago. She hadn't slept but felt energized nonetheless. Either this Jack Napier knew the Joker personally or knew enough about him for her to get some more solids leads. Once she knew who he really was, then she would have some leverage and finally be able to make some progress with him.
Harleen reached the office of Professor Leon Edwards just after noon. His secretary Beth, a short frumpy woman with gray hairs and a suspicious look on her face, received her.
"I don't have you down as having an appointment with Professor Edwards, Miss Quinzel." She said eying Harleen.
Harleen ran her fingers through her loose blonde hair and adjusted her black framed-glasses and fixed a pleasant smile on her lips.
"It's Doctor Quinzel," she replied, "and I don't have an appointment. I just came in from Gotham this morning and it is important that I speak with Professor Edwards right away."
"Is there some sort of mathematical emergency of which I am unaware?" Beth snapped. Harleen frowned slightly and realized that it wasn't just professors at Gotham University who had hag secretaries. In every case, they all regarded Harleen in the same manner, as if their judgmental squints could see the heart of a harlot within her.
"No, it's not a world crisis," Harleen smiled feeling her teeth clench slightly. "If Professor Edwards is unavailable, could I speak with one of his students?" Harleen glanced at her notepad. "Mr. Jack Napier?"
Beth seemed to sink back in her chair at the mention of the name. She blinked several times and looked a little frazzled. She glanced at her computer screen and clicked on her mouse.
"Professor Edwards has a class until two o'clock in room 201 of Kersten Hall. You may be able to speak with him afterward." Beth clipped and then picked up the phone and dialed a number. "If you'd excuse me, Doctor Quinzel, I have work to do."
"Thank you." Harleen smiled and exited the office.
A brisk walk and a cup of coffee later and there she was, sitting in the lecture hall listening to Professor Edwards as he taught.
Beth's behavior at the mention of Jack Napier's name had stricken Harleen as suspicious. The sudden about-face and urgency to get Harleen out of the room piqued her curiosity.
She had decided to meet with Jack Napier's advisor before seeking him out herself. She didn't want to spook the man, as having a psychiatrist fly in from the coast just to talk to him might very well do.
As she'd read over the articles again on the plane, she'd wondered what Jack would be like. Would he be the shy academic type, or the reclusive genius, or just an average guy with some amazing theories about life and the universe? And how was he associated with the Joker, or was he at all?
She just hoped that he wouldn't treat her like an imbecile, like the Joker had.
Class let out a short time later and Harleen waded through the retreating crowd of students toward their teacher. She stood quietly and adjusted her brown thigh-length jacket as she waited for the students to ask their questions.
Professor Edwards was a balding man in his sixties. He was fit for his age and seemed a man of good humor, with a nice smile and wrinkles which told of a life of happiness. He was a man in his element, one who loved what he did.
He spied her and she smiled as she approached him.
"Professor Edwards? Hello, I am Doctor Harleen Quinzel." She said extending her free hand, as the other held her briefcase. He lifted his brows and his hazy green eyes took her in as they shook hands. Harleen didn't react to this as she knew her looks were one of her strong suits.
Her looks, her flirty behavior, her sometimes juvenile sense of humor all helped but her mind was her 'secret weapon'. No one who looked at her expected her to be smart. They just regarded her as an airy bubblehead with a nice body and an easy way about her.
"Hello Doctor Quinzel." He said in a pleasant voice with a little laugh. "How may I help you?"
"Well, your secretary told me you were busy, but I thought I might ask you a few questions." She said.
"I may not be as busy as Mrs. Wright might think." He said and chuckled. "Ask me whatever you like, uh, is it Harleen?"
"Yes," she nodded, "but call me Harley, everyone else does."
Harleen began the trek back to Professor Edwards' office through the fall winds of Chicago. Unlike Gotham, the wind here was much fiercer and she pulled her jacket tightly around her. She asked a few questions about the lecture as she followed Edwards and he happily answered in a way she understood without being condescending.
They passed Beth Wright, who eyed Harleen again as Edwards asked her to get them coffee, on the way to his office where she sat across from him at a small table by the window.
"You never said where you were from, Harley." Edwards said as he accepted his cup of coffee from his secretary. Harleen took hers and smiled wistfully.
"I'm from Gotham. I just came here this morning," she sighed beginning to feel nervous and a little silly. She took another drink of her coffee and set it on the table before leveling her gaze with his.
"I am a psychiatrist and I work at Arkham Asylum," she said cutting to the chase. He raised his brows and nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes, chaos theory does have some practical applications in psychiatry, particularly when dealing with epilepsy and…" he said.
"Schizophrenia" Harleen finished for him. She wrung her fingers and it did not go unnoticed by Edwards.
"I'm here because I read some articles by one of your graduate students and I wanted to interview him. However, I thought I should approach you first so I didn't…" she began but couldn't find the words.
"Scare him off?" Edwards replied smiling. Harleen nodded. Edwards nodded and looked down at his cup and slowly rotated it.
"I know who you're here to see." He said quietly, his voice changing slightly, almost mournful. He blinked a few times and stood, crossing the room to his desk from which he retrieved an accordion file.
He returned and set the file on the table before removing the elastic closure. He then returned his gaze to Harleen who stared back pensively.
"Who told you to come here and talk to Jack?" He asked, keeping his hand on the file.
"No one" Harleen replied, drawing a breath. "I have a patient who is, he has an obsession with chaos. I did some research into the things he said and it led me to Mr. Napier's articles. Can't I talk to him?" She asked knitting her brows.
Edwards opened the file and glanced in while thumbing through some documents. He retrieved a piece of paper and met Harleen's gaze.
"You already have." He replied as he slid the paper in front of her.
It was a photograph. Harleen pulled it closer with her fingertips before picking it up. Her breath caught in her chest. She felt dizzy as she looked at the image of a young man standing before a chalkboard. His face was set in determination as he was about to write something on the board but was frozen in time. To his left, just at the edge of the picture, an object was taped to the chalkboard.
It was a Joker card.
A/N: Thank you all for reading and continuing to follow this story! I'm happy you enjoy it.