A/N: David Rubenstein is based on the likeness of actor Michael Weston.
This chapter ties into the story "Sometimes Salvation."
Harleen sipped her coffee as she leaned against the passenger side door of Judith's car. The sun was beginning to rise and the fiery light shone off the façade of the Amusement Mile boardwalk storefront. Beside her, Judith buried her hands deep within her pockets and her breath came like smoke in the cold air.
"So, do you mind telling me why we're here instead of getting you ready for the big show?" Judith asked bitterly.
"There are only eighteen like it in North America." Harleen replied and took another sip from the plastic lidded paper cup. "One of the few places left where you can actually grab the proverbial 'brass ring.'"
"And it's closed at six-thirty in the morning." Judith grumbled.
"Do you have anywhere else to be?" Harleen asked and set her cup on the roof of the car before making her way to the Robert and William Carousel.
She leaned close to the glass and covered the sides of her face with her hands to get a better look inside. The floor and ceiling of the carousel house were made of brightly polished wood. The ornate animals were lined up in rows in their endless parade. In the back corner she saw the large clown face target with an open grinning mouth.
She was certain that Joker had been here. She wondered if it was a favorite place from his childhood where 'little Joker' as he'd called himself had actually had fun. A fond memory of his past, one of the few he hadn't drowned in the pool of things to be half-remembered or forgotten.
"Harley, it's freaking cold! Let's get back and eat something already." Judith called.
"Alright," Harley sighed and returned to the car which Judith had already started.
Harley slid into her seat and buckled her seatbelt. Judith put the car into drive and the two women heard a soft thud and looked toward the back to see Harleen's coffee spilling down the rear window as the cup hit the pavement behind them.
"Shit!" Judith grumbled and Harleen chuckled as they returned to her apartment building.
Joker sat in the chair of a therapy room with his head bent and his hands bound in his lap. Behind him he heard the whispering of scissors as the orderly worked. Days ago Harley had likened him to the 'Wild Man of Borneo' and her voice had stuck in his head like a broken record. It was the last time he'd seen her.
Jack Napier had once sat in a courtroom while lawyers debated whether or not to allow Joe Chill to be released into the wilds of Gotham after a fourteen year stint in Blackgate Penitentiary. He'd doodled in a notebook while the reporters around him actively revised their accounts of the parole hearing. Having had enough of the drama enacted before him, he'd left the courtroom for the cool winter air outside to take his place for his part in the play.
What had made the most impact on him had been the lackadaisical attitude of the Press covering the event. It had left him with a bad taste in his mouth and a promise that should he end up in court, it would be anything but boring.
That day Jack Napier had killed Joe Chill for his boss.
Coincidentally, that was also the day Bruce Wayne had disappeared. The only man besides himself who'd stood outside the courtroom with a gun in his hand. The man Jack had observed in an ill-fated confrontation with Carmine Falcone afterward.
He'd occasionally thought of Bruce Wayne over the years, had wondered what had happened to him. If Falcone had wanted him dead, he would have sent Jack to do the job. Instead Bruce Wayne had left the restaurant and vanished like an apparition only to reappear years later in the same fashion.
In that time Jack Napier had also vanished; died, transformed into the man he was today. And the Joker had taken notice of Bruce Wayne as he traveled incognito in the Narrows trailing Jack's old boss. Unfortunately for the both of them, Falcone had been taken out of the game by one Jonathan Crane.
The door opened and Joker looked up to see his lawyer enter carrying a black suit bag. Joker smirked as David Rubenstein laid the bag on the table and took a seat across from him, perplexed and wrinkling his brow. The young lawyer had drawn Joker in a bad round of Pro-Bono roulette and had struggled with his case for more than a year.
Joker had kept the man around because he amused him and had made promises of a financial windfall should he ever win his freedom. What hadn't amused Joker was the way Rubenstein interacted with Doctor Harley. The not too subtle Casanova had it for his doctor and judging from her reaction to him, he had made plenty of unsuccessful passes at her.
"You clean up good, at least." Rubenstein said as he studied Joker with his blue eyes. Joker chuckled and craned his neck to look at the orderly behind him.
"You about done there?" Joker grumbled and then looked at his hands and studied his clipped and clean fingernails.
Harley had inspired him with her words and actions of the past week. When he entered the courtroom today, everyone expected him to look hopelessly insane, perhaps even barking at the witness gallery. They were expecting the clown, wild-eyed and frothing at his scarred mouth. He was not about to give them that satisfaction.
Commissioner Gordon filled his cup from the break room pot which held fresh coffee tainted by the simmered ghosts of coffee past. He made his way to his office and planted himself in his chair setting down his cup and removing his glasses to rub his tired eyes. When he reopened them, he spied a bright green envelope placed directly in the center of his desk.
Commissioner Gordon
The words were printed neatly in black ink across the envelope which looked like it would hold a greeting card. Gordon felt fingers climbing up his spine and electricity at his fingertips as he gingerly touched the envelope.
"Not today." He said quietly.
He picked up the envelope and flipped it over and using a letter opener, carefully opened the sealed flap. It held a single piece of green cardstock matching the color of the envelope. He pulled the card free of its confines and read the black ink words.
Riddle Me This
What makes Gold Glitter in Air,
Smells as Almond Pink,
And makes the Violet Jester
Glow like a Ruddy Sky?
It was another death threat against the Joker. Unlike the rest, however, it had been hand delivered to his office sometime in either the night or early morning. He sighed heavily as his heartbeat sped up and picked up his telephone receiver.
Harleen fussed with her red blouse, tucking it inside her black pencil skirt and making sure it wasn't bunching anywhere. Judith sighed heavily from where she was seated on the bed.
"You look fine." She said annoyed and Harleen gave her a sharp look. Nothing about today was certain; the only thing she could control was her appearance.
For two days she had been cooped up at home as Doctor Arkham, the D.A. and Commissioner Gordon had decided that it would be safer for her to remain there once news of the hearing had been leaked early Monday morning along with her identity as the Joker's psychiatrist. The public at large knew about her and the Press had been calling her and everyone who'd ever met her trying to get information to broadcast.
The Police and District Attorney's office had managed to control information pertaining to the case that was not already public knowledge. But media outlets had sent reporters to Arkham, the Academy and anywhere else she was known to frequent to ask questions about her. It was a wonder that she had been able to escape for the brief time that morning to visit Amusement Mile.
Harleen began to fuss with her hair and with that Judith jumped from the bed and picked up a brush and attacked Harleen's blonde mane herself. She brushed it and gathered and twisted the fine strands into a bun which she secured in place with pins and hairspray. Harleen indulged herself in the moment and the memories of when her sister had played with her hair when they were children and then later in life for dances and weddings. She sniffed back tears and turned to meet Judith's blue gaze.
"I love you Judy." She said, smiling wan. Judith's face became sympathetic and she seemed to fight back tears of her own as she pulled Harleen into an embrace.
"Love ya too, little sis."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Detective Stevens grumbled, holding a photocopy of the message Gordon had received.
"I sent the letter to forensics, other than that it's a puzzle." Gordon took a drink of his coffee and glanced at the other gathered officers who were studying copies of their own.
"Where is Nashton, he'd have this figured out in ten seconds." Montoya sighed and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.
"He's watching Doctor Quinzel." Gordon replied. Stevens snorted as did two other male officers.
"I could watch that for the rest of my life." Someone chuckled.
"Poor guy, he really grabbed the shit detail." Hartlet said sarcastically. "Whoever he pissed off, I get next dibs."
Gordon cleared his throat and the officer made a sour face and looked back at the paper.
"It's a chemical." Montoya said tapping pen on paper. "Some sort of poison, one that has an almond smell."
"Guy tells us he's gonna poison the Joker and what he's going to use? What is the point of that?" Stevens asked.
"To see if we can stop him before he does." Gordon replied.
"And what antidote to use, chances are good that it is something that can be dispersed into a crowd and he's telling us to reduce collateral damage." Montoya chimed in.
"What is with these guys?" Roberts asked. "It's like whatever hole the Joker crawled out of, he left the damn gate open."
"Hey, this article says that there are two types of almonds. Sweet almonds grow on trees with white flowers and bitter almond trees have pink flowers." Jones said looking up from his computer.
"I got it, the Joker is allergic to bitter almonds and someone plans on throwing a handful of them into a crowd." Someone chimed in jokingly.
Gordon's head sunk to his chest and he shook it and sighed heavily.
Detective Nashton nodded as he listened to the caller on his cell phone and looked up as the door to Doctor Quinzel's apartment opened.
"Yeah, bitter almonds huh. What about gold?" He glimpsed Quinzel and her sister as they emerged and closed the door behind them. Judith Marley poked her sister and giggled while Harleen looked at him bashfully. He smiled at them.
"Well, I'll certainly let you know if I think of something. In the meantime I have a couple of lovely ladies to escort to the courthouse." He said and chuckled at the sarcastic response he received and closed his phone.
"Is something wrong?" Harleen Quinzel asked, frowning slightly.
"Not at all" he replied and walked the women down to the cruiser parked in the garage.
During the drive he spied Harleen through the rearview mirror and studied her lovely features. In short order the Joker would be out of her life leaving a vacancy he could fill quite easily.
Joker exited the SWAT van flanked by several officers, the irony not lost on him. He smirked as he passed trough the back doors of the courthouse and was lead to the tiny windowless conference room where they would wait.
Minutes ticked away and Joker sat calmly in his seat, breathing in the fresh air and smell of old books on the room's shelves. He placed his hands on his knees and watched absently as Rubenstein paced endlessly; mouthing silent words.
He studied the actions and expressions of those around him, acutely aware of his surroundings. He had the uncanny ability to take in and process each and every detail in his environment. If he was driven to madness as they said he was, it was because of the over stimulation caused by this ability. How could someone's mind hold up when they were able to integrate everything?
A heavy knock sounded on the door and Joker watched as every head in the room swiveled toward it. He smiled and stood, casually straightening the sleeves of his suit jacket at his wrists.
"Come on boys, it's Showtime." He chuckled.
As usual only he seemed to be amused by this as he took in every reaction. He stood a bit straighter and held up his head as he walked, engaging those he passed with his gaze. They were all players in this game. Everyone had a role though this concept seemed to be lost on most. No one was unimportant. As disposable as people could be, each one served a purpose in the game. Joker just didn't like the rules to that game, and why did no one understand this?
Cheating was so much fun.
He was treated to the familiarity of the courtroom and all the familiar faces within. His eyes swept the witness gallery and paused briefly on those of Bruce Wayne. The man sat stoically beside the lovely Miss Catwoman. Joker smiled and winked at the 'happy' couple as surprised as he was to see the two of them together. Bruce Wayne frowned at him, darkness in his eyes. Selina Kyle gave him the finger.
As he reached the end of the long table he was meant to sit behind he spied a man in the back of the room who stared at him fully. Joker tilted his head and the man in the green suit raised his cane and tilted it toward him in response.
Then he found her. Blue eyes hidden behind black-rimmed glasses sitting demurely with her hands folded in her lap. She looked at him and then discretely lowered her head before stealing another glance at him. Dressed in red and black, the colors of Anarchy, he smiled at the memory of a dream he'd had. Something tugged at the back of his mind but he quickly dismissed it as he took his seat.
The judge entered and the curtain was raised.
Gordon along with a few of the detectives watched the courtroom proceedings from the CCTV feed. Doctor Quinzel was on the stand. The room was a flurry of activity as everyone worked on the riddle, trying to decipher the identity of the toxin. Detective Stevens was at the courthouse and Montoya spoke with him on the phone coordinating officers there.
The Joker had managed to infiltrate the courthouse and Police Department seemingly without effort, but he had the aid of the Gotham Mobs on his side. Now he was surrounded in a closed room with people who hated him, many of whom would happily kill him themselves. Determining which of them had sent the riddle was the hard part.
"Potassium cyanide," Detective Jones said beside him. Gordon nodded and then turned to the man frowning.
"Hmm, what?" Gordon asked taking a printout from the man.
"Potassium cyanide is our poison. It's used in gold mining and is highly soluble in water. In water it makes hydrogen cyanide which smells like bitter almonds, except few people can smell it. In acute poisoning the person dies pretty quickly through cardiac arrest. And first responders can be poisoned as well through CPR." Jones said looking gravely at the television. Gordon read the page and looked at the screen as well.
The Joker was drinking from a glass of water.
Harleen's gaze kept returning to Joker who smiled at her. She wondered at the change in his appearance. He'd cut, or rather had his hair cut short. The blonde curls were absent any remaining green color. He wore a dark grey suit and had made a tremendous effort to clean himself up. Without the scars on his face, no one would have recognized him as the Joker and she knew that was what he wanted.
Throw people off balance like the Tilt a Whirl in one of his papers. Have a few laughs. It was classic Joker.
While seated in the gallery she'd heard gasps around her as he was led into the courtroom.
"Is that the Joker?" A woman's voice had said in disbelief.
She was sure he had gotten a kick out of it. Gone was the wild man of Borneo. She supposed his pride would not allow himself to be led into court looking like a common criminal or raving lunatic.
"And in your professional opinion, is the Joker sane?" Assistant District Attorney Anthony Hall asked leaning close to her and blocking her view of Joker.
"Joker suffers from severe mental illness." She said and behind Hall she saw Joker sit back in his seat and roll his eyes. He reached for his glass and finished drinking its contents before indicating to his lawyer that it should be refilled.
"Does he recognize that his actions were wrong?" Hall said trying to maintain his composure. Behind him Joker laughed.
"Joker not only recognizes that his actions were criminal, he also had a sense of pride in them." Harleen replied. Gasps and angry murmurs filled the room.
"He's proud of what he did?" Anthony Hall repeated.
"Yes" Harleen nodded. "He was legally sane at the time of his crimes. But I have to emphasize that he suffers severe mental illness and would like to impress upon the court that he should remain under psychiatric care."
"Your witness" Anthony Hall smirked at David Rubenstein as the younger man stood and buttoned his suit jacket. Harleen looked at Joker who seemed to be flushed and was fiddling with his tie.
"Doctor Quinzel, how long have you been treating the Joker?" David asked fixing a hard look on her. She clasped her hands in her lap and took a breath remembering the last time she'd seen this little weasel he'd tried to slip his hand beneath her skirt.
"Seven months." She replied.
"And in that time have all of your interactions with my client been, professional?" He asked. He frowned at him and saw Joker staring at his back in the same way.
"Of course, as with all of my patients" she replied. It didn't matter what she said, whispers swept across the room at his question alone. A pretty doctor and a crazed madman, surely only romance could ensue.
"Have you ever had interactions with your other patients in your personal life?" David asked. Harley felt a tightening in her chest. She looked at Joker and saw he had loosened his tie and was drinking from his glass once more.
"No, all of my patients reside in Arkham Asylum." She replied. Someone chuckled in the gallery.
"How about before they took up residence in Arkham Asylum?" David asked sharply. Harleen pursed her lips.
"No." She replied growing agitated; the tightening pulling into a knot.
"How about the Joker?" He asked. Harleen shook her head.
"Doctor Quinzel, we need a verbal response." David prodded.
"No. I had no personal interactions with Joker prior to his incarceration." She snapped. Joker was looking between her and David curiously. He was bent slightly forward and rubbing his left arm as best he could.
"Tell me about your whereabouts on the day my client bombed Gotham General Hospital." David said; a gleam in his eyes. Harleen felt dizzy.
"I was on staff at Gotham General." She said. She shook her head. "I know what you're getting at, why dance around it, David."
"Objection, he's leading the witness" Hall called out standing and looking at them worriedly. Harleen looked from him to Joker whose full attention was on her.
"Objection denied." The Judge said sounding very interested.
"Were you one of the hostages taken by the Joker from Gotham General Hospital?" David asked smugly.
"I was." She replied. She looked at Joker who stared back in disbelief. He really hadn't remembered her.
"What happened during your captivity?" He asked.
"I don't see what this has to do with…" Anthony Hall started.
"Your honor, this bears on witness credibility." David stated.
"The witness will answer the question." The Judge replied.
"The Joker broke two of my fingers." She replied and looked at Joker who stood slightly, doubled over. "Your honor, there's something wrong with…" she said standing.
"Doctor Quinzel, you will remain seated." The Judge ordered.
Joker collapsed on the floor. Harleen shoved open the door of the witness stand and rushed toward the defense's table, flanked by officers, one of whom grabbed her.
"No!" She cried trying to pull away. An officer crouched beside Joker and touched his throat.
"He's not breathing." He said. Harleen pulled free and was at Joker's side. She felt his neck for a pulse and laid her ear to his lips.
"We need paramedics in here, now!" She cried.
The room erupted in startled cries and shouting. Harleen was surrounded by uniformed officers and a very surprised defense attorney. Officers began clearing people from the courtroom. Harleen tilted Joker's head back and pinched his nose closed with her fingers and breathed into his mouth.
She administered two breaths and drew back, touching his neck again, the taste of bitter almonds filling her mouth. His pulse was erratic. She placed her mouth over his once again and breathed.
She breathed into his mouth over and over again, the bitter taste thick in her own. She felt dizzy and swept her hand across her forehead before closing her mouth over his again.
She sat up when the paramedics appeared and someone helped her to her feet. Spots swam in her vision and she grabbed the end of the table for balance. The ground shifted beneath her and she fell hard on the floor and lost consciousness.