Harleen walked back, the ceiling lamps that hung high above made her shadow look as if it was jumping all around her. A date. She hadn't had a real date in a while. Coffee that led to one night stands or small relationships that fizzled out in weeks or months. It was hard to turn her psychology degree off. Within a few dates, a weekend together, and texting back and forth, she could observe and deduce most men's behavioral traits and from that, get an idea of their upbringing and familial relationships. This made it very easy to map out the type of person they were, what they are likely to do and what her life would be like with them.
There was no magic, no mystery. She was bored before the I-love-you's.
It's a date. Why was she focusing on that? Her emotions weren't making sense. He was a dangerous. He had done horrible, unforgivable atrocities. But... she felt herself being drawn to him, wanting to understand, to know. He had made her laugh. Or, well, she had made herself laugh with her response in her head.
She wanted to learn the how's and the why's about him. What was he keeping from everyone else? Why the clown? What made him want to become what he is today? And was it really his choice or a product of the external and internal destruction of his life that led him to cling to a perverted, a sick twisted version of childlike happiness?
Footsteps that were once loud and pronounced were now background noise. Muffled. Out of focus. Was she running? Looking down at her feet told her she wasn't. The sounds of chains rattling next her head snap to the left and her body tensed. A patient had gotten one arm out of his straight jacket. The confining jacket looked old, used; no longer white but now an off-putting dingy beige color. His gray patient uniform looked almost white against the browning, aging fabric and dark leather buckles holding him in.
He paced around his small cramped cell, limping as he hobbled in circles. It made the hairs on her body stand up. It was unnatural, the way he moved, grunting and looking around at the walls as if his eyes were following something she couldn't see. The expression on his face disturbed her. His brown and gray facial hair was overgrown but with missing chunks. The hair of his beard had been ripped out small patches. His blank eyes found her and his expression focused, morphing into anger. He was suddenly rushing toward her, banging his shoulder against his glass cell door and yelling incoherently as he hit the glass again and again. His blank eyes were void of anything but rage as he bashed his body against the door, trying to get out. Or get to her.
She hurried away. The man couldn't get through the security glass but she didn't want to be near him. Instinct to run away climbed up her legs making her want to flee but she walked as calmly and as quickly as her heels allowed. She could feel goosebumps everywhere now, her body was in a heightened alert state, it made her stomach tighten. She didn't want to be near any of the patients at the moment. Two guards walked past her toting their rifles with both hands, no doubt to investigate the disturbance the man was causing in his cell. She didn't turn around when she heard scuffling behind her. The guards may have wrestled the man to the ground.
She reached the elevator at the end of the hall, hitting the button with more force than was necessary. The thick metal lattice gate retracted back, and she stepped inside. The elevator was huge. Twenty by twenty feet, at least fifteen feet high. It was a reinforced metal cage, with a circuit panel that chose the floors and had a large red emergency lockdown button. Hung high in a corner was a tv monitor with Arkham Asylum's logo lit up on the screen. During the day, it normally played a recording of the Warden welcoming new patients and guests to Arkham Asylum. Only a low electrical hum could be heard from the screen, nearly lost in the groan of the elevator moving between floors.
The elevator continued to move upward but she hit the STOP button bringing it to a jerking halt as the metal brakes locked into place. Harleen slightly wavered where she stood for a moment, keeping her balance.
A moment.
That's what she needed right now. A moment. To think. To not think. To breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe when her lungs were working just fine? Why did she feel so small yet too big for the 15-person-capacity elevator? Harleen slid her glasses off, pinching the bridge of her nose and focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out. There was comfort in the simplest of actions. Something solid about a trivial thing.
She became a psychiatrist to do some good in the world. To help those who society would rather forget about. The unfortunates souls. Her eyes focused on a bolt melded into the steel metal flooring. Did she have what it took? Joker had said that he knew she had it in her. What was it? She put her glasses back on and stuck her hands in her coat pocket and her right hand folded against something hard.
Crap. She had forgotten about the voice recorder. She was supposed to take it to the Warden first thing.
By the time she had made it to the main hall out of the entrance, she could hear thunder. She looked up at the sky. There weren't any visual cloud formations, just a light gray smear of clouds that always covered the sky. She bee-lined for Arkham Mansion by walking through the grass. This it turned out was a mistake. Blades of recently cut grass and flecks of mud covered her heels as well as the lower half of her leg. The rain began to fall. She could feel the rain dampening her hair to her head and beginning to weigh down her clothes.
She wasn't looking forward to going straight to the Warden's office. What would he say about the session? Would he be satisfied enough to let her keep him as her patient? She hadn't taken down a single note.. she could always say she didn't want to be distracted and would review the recorder. Close enough.
As expected, Dr. Leland was waiting for her by the entrance of the Arkham Mansion. She had the usual air of superiority and impatience. Harleen smiled at Dr. Leland as she approached. Look professional, smile, courteous...
"Ah, Harleen, I see you tried to stay out of the rain, I too just had to rush in," Dr. Leland said, starting to walk with her. Apparently this was her ice breaker for asking Harleen about Joker.
"Yes. I think the rain won." Harleen did her best to appear friendly toward Dr. Leland but truth be told, she felt a little hostile toward the veteran doctor. She scoffed at Harleen's hopes and goals, belittled them behind her back. It was no wonder the patients didn't open up to the other doctors. They reached the doors of the Warden's office and before Harleen knocked, she turned to Dr. Leland, smiling more brightly.
"Thank you for your help, I'll let you know how the review went with Warden Sharp." The statement was spoken with friendliness, but it was also clear that Dr. Leland was not wanted. Dr. Leland looked a bit taken aback that the intern was casting her aside. Although she could have argued it, she didn't appear to find it worth the effort.
"Yes, well, I would very much like to hear about it. Good luck, Dr. Quinzel," She responded curtly and turned down the hallway. Harleen smiled a bit to herself. It was the first time in a long time she had really stood her ground, even for something so little as this. Before she knocked, Warden Sharp's 'Come in" was heard and she entered the large office. He must have heard their voices outside the door, or maybe someone notified him her session with Joker was over.
He was sitting at his desk, per usual. A white coffee mug with cold coffee long forgotten was on the far the side of the desk on a stack of papers, forms piled haphazardly here and there, but the center of his desk was cleared away, as if he dropped whatever he was doing and was ready to focus on this. Security screens buzzing around them were the only background noise. He gestured to a chair for Harleen to sit, which she did.
When neither spoke right away, she reached into the pocket of her white doctors' coat and set the recorder down in the center of the cleared away spot on his desk. Warden Sharp almost looked apprehensive at it, as if afraid of what it might relay. Giving a reassuring smile, she hit play and leaned back in her chair as it played.
Half an hour later the recorder 'clicked', indicating it was done. Warden Sharp stared at it for a moment then looked at Harleen, face wiped of any expression. Harleen's stomach was in knots from the tension. Although she enjoyed hearing Joker's voice and reliving the small insights he let her have, she kept her face calm the whole time. Showing only what the warden wanted to see was imperative. After a few more moments, she couldn't take it anymore.
"How do you think I did?" Probably not the best approach, but it got to the point. She bounced her leg nervously, hoping for a good answer.
Clearing his throat, he said "You laughed." His eyes showed he wasn't happy.
Aw, crap. "Yes, I did. But I needed to." She hoped he would believe her. If she told him that she actually found him funny, she may get a cell here too.
"Come again, Dr. Quinzel?" He now showed confusion on his face. And concern. He leaned forward resting his hands on his desk, folding them together.
"I wanted to show a bit of familiarity with him. I thought that if he felt he could get me to laugh, perhaps he would want to talk a bit. And he did." This was good, she was surprised she was pulling this off. "Perhaps using his persona he enjoys so much could have potential in getting more responses. Once we work past the usual gimmicks, maybe we can begin to delve into more intimate details. Perhaps even his true reasoning for his actions."
Sharp stared at her for a minute. No other emotional showed other than deep thought. She could tell because he kept squinting his eyes more and more.
"Yes, I will commend you on getting him to talk about a.. sensitive subject." When Harleen's brows furrowed a bit, he went on. "You see, you hit a sore spot for him right away. Most doctors that bring up the subject of Batman usually regret it. We tend to avoid that subject entirely. But, surprisingly, he expressed ideas with you. We can't assume he told the truth or if he lied. All we can know is that he spoke to you. For that reason alone, I will allow a second session. Let me know when you would like to schedule and I will speak to Officer Cash about it. But caution is vital. Can't have you losing focus on what's important." Harleen just stared. "Security," he provided. "Of course," she replied. Shouldn't it be patient care?
Harleen thought for a moment. If she wanted to keep momentum going and not risk Joker shutting down, she'd need to talk to him again, sooner.
"Actually, I'd like to have the session tomorrow," she said, slightly holding a breath.
Warden Sharp shook his head a bit. "No, I don't think that would be wise, Dr. Quinzel. Joker is a.. special kind of patient. To call him a patient is being gracious. He's a monster. One I don't believe we can cure, doctor. To send you in to his case head first would be foolhardy. Wouldn't want to give the wrong impression."
"And what impression does that give, Warden, other than I want to help him?" Harleen knew she was pushing the envelope by disagreeing with him. She was an intern, and could easily be fired.
"I beg your pardon?" The pompous tone returned. Had Warden Sharp been drinking his neglected coffee, he may have spit it out.
Uh oh. Abort! Abort! "Please trust me on this. I may have been a little afraid to speak to him, and I still am a bit, and I know I'm new but I feel this is the right thing to do."
Sharp let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. Harleen just sat there, biting the inside of her cheek hoping she could talk to Joker sooner rather than later.
"Alright.. alright. But -and let me be clear- if he shows any sign of trying to persuade you to loosen his restraints, tries to come within 3 feet of you, or makes any suggestion of you helping him escape, you must end the session and inform me immediately. Joker tends to win people over who give him too much trust. Always keep yourself distant."
Harleen smiled her biggest smile. She stood up and took his right hand in hers, shaking it. "Thank you so much, sir. I really appreciate it!"
"Yes, yes. Good day, Dr. Quinzel," Warden Sharp said, waving her off as she left his office.
Harleen exited the Arkham Mansion again. She didn't feel like going down to her office and since her session was over for the day, she had no other tasks to do but process paperwork. Being a psychiatrist to a patient meant you now had to 'approve' everything in their life with a signature. Knowing she would need caffeine for this, she headed back to the penitentiary wanting to get a soda from the cafeteria. The rain had stopped although the clouds still loomed. She wondered if the Gotham weather report read "partly sunny" ever. Once through the main doors she began the habit of swiping her card as she went.
The cafeteria was fairly empty. Only a handful of staff, a few patients. She noticed one of the patients was Pamela Isley sitting in the only sun rays in the room. Her female doctor seemed to be flirting with a male nurse at the moment at a different table. Once Harleen grabbed a soda and a chocolate pudding snack, she headed over to the table Pamela was sitting at. When she was nearly there, she noticed the restraint cuffs around her ankles to the chair.
"Mind if i sit near you, Dr. Isley?" Harleen didn't sit at the same table but the table next to it. Pamela Isley slowly sized her up through heavy lidded eyes.
Known as Poison Ivy, she just sat there, eying Harleen with suspicion and immediate distrust. "Why?" she slowly drawled at her. Her flaming red hair was down and lank. Pieces of tight red curls seemed to mane out around her head. With a good shampoo and conditioning, Harleen was certain her hair would be beautiful.
"Well, this is the only area that ever gets any light, and I enjoy sitting in the.. eh, sun when I can."
Ivy's eyes narrowed but she didn't blink. They were a lovely glass bottle green color with dark green rings around the iris and golden bursts around the pupils. While her face was very pretty, she still looked intimidating.
"I also figured you might want some company since your doctor seems to be.. preoccupied." Harleen glanced over at the said doctor, trying not to smirk They should be focused on the cares and feelings of the patients, not their own life, Harleen thought, she resisted rolling her eyes.
Ivy gave a superior, breathy huff . "Why interrupt her chances? That prude needs to lighten up." She looked from the try-hard doctor back to Harleen, continuing to size her up. "Whatever, I don't care what you do," she said with a bored air. Her movements and speech were slow, seductive, almost luxurious.
Smiling, Harleen pulled the chair out, plopping down happily. "Thank you!"
"Don't call me Doctor. I don't like being insulted."
Harleen looked up to se Ivy glaring out of the corners of her eyes. She looked less seductive now, her lips curling over her teeth slightly and she peered at Harleen with mounting dislike.
Harleen opened the pudding cup and dug her plastic spoon, getting a heaping gob to put in her mouth. Just before the first bite she said, "I wasn't insulting you. People have breaking points. It doesn't take away what you have accomplished," and she sighed in when she shoveled in the first glob of chocolate pudding.
Iy blinked. She continued to peer at her but her expression softened slightly, then morphed into a grimace when she looked down at the pudding cup.
"How can you eat that crap?" Ivy looked at her as if she were a mother scolding a teenager.
"I like sweets and it makes me feel better," Harleen shrugged. Not very doctorly to say but it was the truth. She bit her lip then, wondering if she should be discussing personal stuff like comfort food with a patient.. then again.. it's not as if she were giving away her address. And what was wrong with being friendly?
Ivy shook her head and turned her face toward the few rays of sun that came through the window. The leaves moving on Ivy's skin distracted Harleen's attention for a moment. The small vines, like veins, seemed to weave in and out of her skin, as if she really were a walking plant. The leaves moved with her fluid motions, looking as if they needed to reach the sun with all the might they could muster. As if sensing Harleen's stare, Ivy looked back at her.
"What are you gawking at?" Ivy demanded, words heavy with warning.
Harleen snapped her eyes up and blurted out, "Nothing! Well.. um, your leaves move. I just hadn't seen them up close."
Ivy smiled a bit to herself as she gazed down lovingly at her skin. "They are beautiful, aren't they?" She stroked a leaf on her forearm and the leaf responded by curling itself around her fingertip, as if it was hugging her. Harleen watched, fascinated.
"Yes." Harleen said. Not knowing what else to say.
Ivy looked at her with contempt. "Oh, sure. You probably have a neglected plant at home that you're waiting to throw away. That poor darling fighting desperately to live in this disgusting environment you meat sacks have built. Turning beauty into filth... You're all the same." The last part was laced with a venomous tone. Ivy crossed her arms and raised her head to the sunlight in an indifferent manner.
"Actually, I don't have any plants. I'm not home enough to have anything. And it doesn't help that I'm absentminded. So no plants, no cats, no fish. I figure if I know I'll forget, why bother. (Putting another spoonful of pudding in her mouth.) But I do enjoy looking at them. Flowers are very pretty. And seem to make a room cheerful, ya know? (Sip of soda) I wish they'd liven up this place with some flowers, but no one seems to care how it looks. They-"
Harleen stopped short when she realized 1) she was rambling 2) her new york accent had slipped through and 3) Ivy was watching her out of the corner of her eyes again.
"Sorry," she said, regaining composure, "I'll stop bothering you. You probably have enough doctors blabbing at you, huh?" She started to get up, slightly embarrassed, when Ivy turned toward her and spoke.
"You don't have to leave." Ivy's head turned toward the sun again but she kept her eyes on Harleen. "At least you have enough sense to know you're irresponsible."
"... thanks?" Harleen half asked/half said. Just as Harleen got up, Ivy's doctor came over just noticing Harleen was sitting there.
"Hello. I'm so sorry I didn't come over sooner, I was discussing scheduling with a coworker," the nameless doctor said.
"Yeah, I'll bet," muttered Ivy. Her doctor shot her a look then softened her features again, turning her attention back on Harleen.
"Anything wrong, Dr...?" she started.
"Quinzel. Dr. Quinzel. Nice to meet you. And no, nothing is wrong. Ms. Isley was nice enough to let me sit with her and try to soak up some Vitamin D for the day."
"Oh, well that was very kind of her. Dr. Quinzel? I heard you have the Joker as your new patient. Well, I wish you all the headache medicine in the world for that one. Unfortunately, Pamela's time is up. Come along, dear." The doctor motioned to two orderlies who came over quickly, waiting to assist. As they unshackled her, Harleen soon realized why they were eager. The orderlies would brush up against her leg or touch her arm, although it wasn't necessary. Nothing that could get them into trouble, but to Harleen, it was clear it was unnecessary, but Ivy didn't acknowledge it.
"Have a nice day, Dr. Isley," Harleen said cheerfully, as they escorted her away.
Ivy just looked back at her as if to say 'you're kidding, right?' making Harleen laugh under her breath. Ivy lips twitched into a condescending half smirk, which Harleen figured was the closest thing to a smile she gave. After Harleen finished her pudding cup and drank down the rest of her soda, she felt the sugar coursing through her and decided to take a walk. Seeing how she was already in the penitentiary, she figured why not around here?
She walked out of the cafeteria and turned right to go into Intensive Treatment. As she started down the main hallway, she swiped her badge as she went until she came to the 3D scanner. It was like a giant metal cylinder you had to stand in, the scanning waves were a pinkish tone that reminded her of a disco light. As if someone would want to party at an asylum, she thought half-heartily. She waited for the guard behind a glass window to activate the 3D scanner, which looked for prohibited items such as knives, guns, bombs, ect. After the scan was over, she continued toward the elevator and hit (2). She wasn't sure why she felt like going back down to the Maximum Security Wing, she just followed her feet. It was later in the afternoon and so the only lights here were the last of the sun's barely-there light coming through the high barred windows and the low hanging ceiling lights.
The lights always cast a light path on the floor down here. It always reminded her of a red carpet, only yellowish, going down to the "Super Criminal's" cells. Most staff walked along the light path, unless they had to remove a patient from their cell. It was as if one was supposed to stay in the light, as if the shadows were the buffer between the dark inmate cells and the light which felt secure. Like the shadows were a warning: Don't stray into the shadows.. it will lead to the cells.
Shaking the dark thought from her mind, she began to look around at the patient cells, most were full now. She had already passed the Mad Hatter's cell, poor Mr. Tetch was crying about a Jabberwocky coming to his cell. She wondered why no staff ever came to comfort him. Or how Pamela only received a few hours of sunlight a week, when clearly she needed more. It suddenly made her very mad. The more she thought about the needs of the patients from this so-called "Advanced Mental Health Facility," the more it seemed they didn't care about the patients at all. They were all trying to be recognized for treating or curing a patient. "You're all the same!" Poison Ivy had said. She had been right! The staff didn't care about the patients. It seemed only SHE cared for them. SHE wanted to help them. To understand them. It was infuriating! Her hands balled into fists as she continued to walk only now her walking turned into stomping down the hallway.
As she continued down the hallway, any loud chatter from the inmates surrounding her quieted to a dull murmur as they all watch her stalk down the hallway, clearly fuming. She only stopped when a familiar voice that was just a few feet from her pierced her thoughts.
"Ya know doc, I don't know whose head you're about to rip off...," Joker started from his dark cell.
She then realized that she was in the lighted path next to his cell. The only parts of him she could make out were his smile, eyes and his wiry arms crossed in front of his chest. He moved closer to the glass door of his cell and stood with both hands on the glass, arms stretched out and head down as if he wanted to push the door down with all his might.
"But...," he started again, head snapping up, a wicked grin looking like he wanted to rip something as well, "I hope I'm invited. HaheheheHaHa!"