Darlin', darlin'
Doesn't have a problem
Lyin' to herself
'Cause her liquor's top shelf
It's alarming, honestly
How charming she can be
Fooling everyone
Telling 'em she's having fun
Carmen / Lana Del Rey
"What about this one?" I sighed, holding up a black dress- shimmer embedded into the fabric in a way it gleamed almost like a bit of obsidian. "You can be a black cat? Or try for a Breakfast at Tiffany's thing?" I said, tired of shopping already- only wanting to go home- to sleep.
"No way, I can't wear black, it gives me dark circles, I don't see how you pull off dark colors so well."
"Pale," I said simply, pointing back at my face.
"And I'm not?" she snorted.
"No, You're sunkissed. Putting you in black makes you look like it's a funeral. It's the only way to put any depth back into my face. See you're only looking at one shade in your skin, when it comes to how you present yourself publicly, your undertones matter just as much, if not more." I put the Black dress back down, moving to examine a dark blue number nearby. "I have a theory that that is part of what made the Joker so ubiquitously feared in Gotham, you know? A kind of unconscious Uncanny Valley effect stemming from the paint. Something about our minds sensing that there is something inherently inhuman about the Parlor. Though, then, that theory is widely accepted by Coulrophobics everywhere, so it's not exactly revolutionary, is it?" I laughed lightly.
"Ugh, I do not want to talk about that. I have enough nightmares about that. That just reminds me that you willingly allow yourself to be locked in a room with him several days a week."
I rolled my eyes and snorted. "Pam, come on. It's my Job. You treating it like something I should be losing sleep over won't make me perform any better."
"You should be losing sleep over it," Pam muttered, shuffling the garments in front of her. I elected to ignore her statement. "This is fine. I'll be a witch or something," She lifted a green velvet-looking number that had an abstract form of lacing on the ribs.
I shrugged, it was enough for me. "What about me?"
"I found it." Jervis slid back into his living room, pushing the rack away from me and shoving a garment bag into my hands, "I will hear no objections."
I looked up at him with a questioning expression, as I slid the zipper down, to reveal a two-piece set made out of distressed red leather, with hand-stitched detailing in black leather. The set consisted of a bustier, with a classic neckline, and a long pair of black leather pants, with diamond-shaped cutouts flowing down the outside of one leg.
"Absolutely not."
"Harley-"
"No." My voice sounded too harsh, and I knew it, but I was hungover, and being faced yet again with the fact that my opinion of the things I do, the things I wear, and the things I want are the least important metrics to measure by. Because once again, I was faced with something I wanted. Something harmless, something that would do nothing of meaning in the world other than make me happy, and I still couldn't have it.
"Okay, Harley." I looked up at this, meeting his eyes, only to see a sad whisper of understanding that made my vision go red.
Do not pity me. I thought as I turned back to the rack, shuffling through his unused designs again. "Jesus Jervis, Have you been sampling your supply? There is no way you complete all of these sober. I swear every time we come here your apartment is even more overrun."
Jervis snorted, turning to his kitchen. "You know I don't touch the stuff- Bad habit if you're making it. Speaking of, how soon do you need your re-up?"
"Weed could be anytime, I've been low, but if you've got anything special for Halloween I won't say no." She said with an evil grin, and I chuckled shaking my head.
"Ugh, Halloween is gonna end with me dragging your high ass back to my apartment to sleep it off again, isn't it?"
Pam laughed before answering. "Oh please, I wasn't that bad last year."
"You were worse," Jervis said with a smile, returning with cookies and drinks for everyone on a small tray. "You tried to sleep with me at one point."
"Is there any way I could convince you not to sell her anything on Halloween?" I grinned.
"I could be persuaded."
Her finger shot out to point at me, trying desperately to keep her expression serious, but her giggles leaked into her words. "You… better not."
Finally, my fingers found a gown, longer, to just below my knees, but still cute, and it was in shades of white and gold. "This one is great. I can be an angel or something. Let's go get something to eat, my treat." I sighed.
"I don't know why you go, you never have any fun with the costumes." Pam sighed.
"I like the party." I shrugged. "People go crazy on Halloween."
I found myself in this position more often than not. Smoking alone on my balcony. The wind is viciously cold tonight, but I don't mind, the shivers actually seeping through the layers of styrofoam that had kept me isolated today. It felt good to feel, even if the feeling wasn't good.
The city was one long shadow tonight, decorated with a million stars of light pollution tonight, and I was aching for it. Jervis's sad eyes come back to me from earlier today. The pity within them. I'm getting sloppy with him.
I took a long drink from the rock glass in my hand, narrowing my eyes as I looked out over my Balcony.
It's not like I didn't know I couldn't keep it up forever. I knew I had limits. I knew that eventually, I would break if I didn't get out. I knew that the cigarettes and the drinking were killing me, and I knew I should be monitoring it. But this was a triage situation. I am bleeding on the battlefield, and I need pain relief.
Suddenly, the image of The Joker sawing through bone as I bite a Leather belt in a Civil War tent, and I giggle, taking another drink.
Just a little longer. I told myself, but the phrase's effectiveness had been steadily dropping since I had begun using it when I started work at Gotham General. I was going to be someone. Every moment counts. Pam of course had been worried, at first, but almost everyone in my life warmed up quite well to the Harleen persona. To the Socialite Psychiatrist on the come-up. The soon-to-be brightest star across the sky of Gotham. Beautiful in a mature and refined way that reeked of the sophistication that for so long my father had hated- and remembering the way he used to say it- the rage in him as he looked at them, my own guilt is stronger than ever. I may maintain the same political views as ever, but how quickly upon achieving the approval of the Gothams elite did I begin to dress the part?
"People like that?" he pointed at the TV screen with one hand, showing the wavering image of Thomas Wayne, as his other worked the brush through my long matter hair, "They think they know everything because they got answers to questions that we don't. They don't understand, that when you live here, there are special questions to answer that they never even had to ask."
My mother was lying on the couch facedown, as my father did my hair, and I wondered if that was why my dad left me with her when he was gone.
Because my special questions were with her.
I took a breath, finished the gin, and turned back inside, hoping to get any kind of sleep tonight.
"You seem chipper, I thought you were sick yesterday?" Joker's eyebrow lifted. "Or were you playing Hooky to get away from me, Doc?" His smirk was slick, and gross, and left a slimy film on my teeth as I looked at him.
"Yep. Honestly, I'm considering quitting, you're a handful." I said, studying my notes, before glancing up with a smile.
Joker didn't seem to have taken me seriously, rolling his eyes, and snorting. "Yeah, and go back to what? Treating your favorite firebug with flammable familial fates?"
I paused, head tilting, as Joker seemed to realize that he may have let the cat out of the bad- his eyes widening only slightly, before falling into a half-lidded self-satisfied grin. "Oops."
Fuck. I leaned forward, resting my forehead on my hand. He has read my files. Thank god I haven't updated Joker's File yet- or at all, it seems. - Unless I go to Jerimiah- Which is a bad idea because even if they resecured the files, we had no idea he had access until after he told us… So, involving outside forces, and following the standard procedure would be costly, time-consuming, and useless. Why bother? A small amount of dread filled my gut as I decided, but I knew it was the right decision. Looking back up at the clown, I remembered his spiel during a previous session, alluding to my father's execution. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he realized, that I had realized, that it wasn't just my patients he had stolen files on.
"How did you even get out of your cell.." My voice was low, nearly inaudible as I massaged my temples.
"I didn't." I looked up at him sternly. "Oh, come on, Harley, I may be a proponent of doing things yourself, but that doesn't extend to printer duty. I think someone else can handle that."
"Don't call me that." I ignored his blatant attempt to use technicalities.
"Why? That's what your friends call you."
"We aren't friends."
"I want us to be."
"I know."
He pushed out his scarred lower lip in an exaggerated pout, tongue flicking to wet the aforementioned scar before he did. I laughed lightly, shaking my head.
"Mr. J, I am a much better Doctor than I am friend."
He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "Your loss."
I wanted to ignore the invitation, but rolled my eyes, "How's that?"
"Being my friend comes with certain benefits," He leaned forward again, wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively.
I kept my face entirely neutral. "Pass."
Joker's loud and sudden cackles made me jump in my seat, but I smiled back at him as he laughed.
"God, Doc, you are funny." His shackled hands came up, wiping tears from his eyes. "I haven't laughed that hard in a while." He shook his head. "Aren't you afraid of me at all?"
I rolled my eyes, prompting another laugh. "Of course, I am… cautious. The same way someone would be while handling a venomous snake, or a particularly aggressive dog. But that doesn't mean I will act like a shrinking violet just because you said some not-nice words."
"But I could kill you, you know?" He seemed to be genuinely asking, eyes curious.
Something about the surety in his eyes was deeply offensive to me. As though he had gone through every possibility in the case of us fighting, and there is no scenario where I win.
I wanted to challenge him. To quirk an eyebrow to him. To give any indication that I wasn't weak. Unfortunately, I had a part to play. The Socialite Psychiatrist is not violent. She is a Damsel. She is a lady. Shame and humiliation weighed heavily on my mind, my father's disappointment raging in my ears.
"I know that," I spoke thickly through the bile collecting in my mouth at the act. "But it doesn't change how I feel."
I looked up at him, surprised to see his lips twitching into a small smile, though his eyes were unreadable. He didn't seem to be interested in answering, So I moved on.
"Would you like to discuss your-"
"It's almost Halloween, isn't it?"
"Uh- I." I was confused as to why he was asking, but I answered anyway. "Yes, Halloween is only a couple of weeks away. Do you like Halloween, Mr. J?"
"Almost as much as Christmas."
"Hm. I wouldn't have taken you for someone who enjoys the Holidays." I said. "Can you tell me a little bit more about that?"
"I mean, it's a great bit, right? Some fourteen-year-old girl has a baby and now I put a tree in my house. Strange. Though you're Jewish, Maybe Hannakah was better?"
I snorted. "No one in my family practiced. We sometimes had Christmas parties. I remember that my dad used to make the egg nog, and he always added too much whiskey." I laughed softly. "I try to make it every year but I can't get it right. I even have the same recipe." I shook my head with a laugh. "Sorry, I don't mean to talk so much about myself." I laughed.
"I don't mind," Joker offered, with a smirk, but seemed genuine despite this. "I mean, then it's just like we're having a conversation, rather than you interviewing me?"
I watched him for just a moment before nodding. "Yes, I can see how that would be the case. And since you already seem to have a file on me-"
"Seemed only fair since you have one on me-
"And you've decided to be more cooperative… We can continue these sessions with a more informal tone." I finished without acknowledging his statement.
He watched me with a smile before extending his still-shackled hand.
"Wanna shake on it?"
AN: please comment/review, I think is broken, and I am unable to see if anyone is even reading this haha.
