AN: I own nothing. Eat the rich. Also some characters' mental health is deteriorating a bit in this. Be warned if this is a hard topic for you.
Pamela lay curled up in a fetal position on the cot. It had been hours since she was placed in this hole. The ceiling hadn't made a noise in quite a while. Not long ago she'd heard the footsteps of a guard making their way down the corridor, pausing only to slide away the plate on the doors, and look in on them briefly. She'd called out. She'd begged for help and freely informed them, she was covered in vomit and at risk of being murdered. The sliding metal had squeaked shut again and the footsteps abandoned her.
They didn't return, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that they would. No, no one cared. It was nothing to them whether she lived or died. Her agony was the entire point. The stillness too was agonizing. Ivy even missed the damned intercom - which usually was an annoyance, keeping her from napping or concentrating. It was so cold down here and she felt the lack of a blanket keenly. The cot was still floating through the darkness, twisting and bending with the flow of a current only existing in her mind. She longed to sleep but refused to the best of her ability. There was no doubt that moment she did, she might be at the mercy of the sadist next door. She thought of her friend. Of how she'd found her at Stonegate - covered in blood, albeit primarily someone else's. Was she lying discarded and bruised in a shower somewhere? Was she alone with no one to protect her? Or worse yet, was it too late?
Everything reeked. The scent of sick was everywhere. On the floor, on the cot, on her . Memories of cool nocturnal rains tormented her mind. Oh, sweet, fresh air! Ivy's eyelids were terribly heavy. No one could sleep in this filth under ordinary circumstances, but from sheer exhaustion she felt struggles becoming increasingly futile.
She waited. Seconds ticked by. Then came the muffled command to enter - or invitation depending on how you chose to see it. Joan turned the door handle as a buzz told her it had been unlocked. With an insincere smile she noted that the multitude of locked doors gnawed at you even if you held a key.
"Ah, Dr Leland! A pleasure of course, isn't it?" the other psychiatrist cheerily greeted her.
He was leaning against his desk, holding a file in his hand. Joan Leland mustered a smile and a polite nod as she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. She hadn't actually been here since Dr Johansen retired. Well, if you could call that retirement. Management certainly did. Some patients, they got to you. Those who made long careers at Arkham were strong. The place was much altered. It was neater, cleaner and very particularly arranged. Quite cozy, she noted. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a curious little water fountain installed in the corner, before settling on her colleague.
"Thank you for seeing me," she said. "And yes, it very much is, Dr Washington!"
She felt as if he'd arrived yesterday, when in fact it had been almost three years now. Since then he had become a much valued colleague. Willing - from day one, to take on difficult cases.
"My," she mumbled as she took in the space and strolled over to him.
"It is out of my own pocket of course," said Dr Washington, when he saw her looking at the decor. "But I find it makes a difference. I want my patients to feel at home. This should be… a sanctuary, if you will - and I'm sure you will."
Joan laughed.
"I did wonder if I was missing some trick to getting money out of management," she replied.
"Well, I'm certainly thrilled you noticed. Not all my visitors are as generous with praise," Dr Washington beamed as he placed the file back into a cabinet. "But we do what we can, don't we?"
"We do," Dr Leland nodded. "Speaking of which…"
"Ah, yes. You're here to discuss something, aren't you?"
Dr Washington walked around to his chair and expectantly clasped his hands. Joan remained where she was, not particularly fond of taking the only other chair in the room. She knew the chair would likely be much lower than his own. It was an old trick to psychologically impose authority. She did it herself.
"We have a situation on our hands," she explained. "Our two… Co-conspirators. That's the wrong word, but… You know what I mean. I worry for Harley. She tries so hard. She'd done so well in the program but the pressure is getting to her and I can't seem to get through to her. She only listens to me for his sake, you know. I wonder… Is it not worth a try to place them together? She's more than earned it and… I do really suspect she's improved permanently by being away from the Joker. Shouldn't that be encouraged?"
The other doctor watched her with an encouraging smile as she spoke. Then he sighed.
"It rather seems to me," he began, carefully placing each word in the empty space between them. "That you have a situation on your hands. That is, I can't speak to Miss Quinzel's case of course, but I can assure you, Jonathan and I are making much better progress in isolation. Really, I think it would be irresponsible to complicate his thoughts at this particular stage, don't you?"
"You've had him in partial or complete solitary confinement for months!" Joan interjected. "You know Harley is a better candidate for rehabilitation! The other inmates are targeting her and it's only a matter of time before it derails her."
"Yes," Dr Washington - or Percy as his keycard betrayed, said solemnly. "That is regrettable - but I can't permit it. I must put the health of my patient first and frankly I don't believe seeing Miss Quinzel would be a benefit to dear Jonathan just now. If you feel unable to care for her under the present circumstances, might I suggest you refer her to another or up her medication?"
Dr Lelands chest tightened with indignation. She blinked slowly, shaking off the perceived insult to her abilities. Dr Washington was right. She was unreasonable in expecting him to change what he was doing to suit her. Harley was just… Special. Dr Leland knew what she was of course, but Harley's positivity, intellect and capacity for kindness endeared her to a lot of the staff. Sympathy was easy to give to someone who had suffered so at the hands of a monster. However, Joan couldn't let her fondness for Harley impede another patient's recovery. Even when - if Dr Leland was honest with herself, she perceived no real potential for any real betterment in the Scarecrow.
"I apologize," Dr Leland replied.
"It's alright," said the other doctor as he flashed her a bright, white smile. "It's only human of us to be hopeful, isn't it? And what a lovely thing it is, don't you agree?"
She nodded.
"I must admit though," Washington continued. "That I rather expected you to come about Dr Isley. They were close, weren't they?"
"Oh! I wasn't aware… That is… I thought I made the referral out to Dr Malone?"
"You did, you did," Dr Washington nodded with a wide smile. "But he and I both felt he was much too burdened to take on a difficult setback and, well, I'm always happy to help."
"Of course," Dr Leland replied. "And it's appreciated."
"Yes," her colleague explained. "And speaking as someone with previous experience with Miss Quinn's former paramour, I have every confidence you'll succeed now that they're apart. I'll give your regards to Pamela Isley, yes?"
"Thank you, I shan't delay you longer then," she replied.
"Not at all," he said. "Actually, I appreciate the visit - we don't get too many, us 'heavy lifters'. Feel free to stop by any time, Joan - may I say 'Joan'? Well, given a bit more time, perhaps we'll be able to figure a little something out. Now, give my best to George - if you see him, and tell him he was completely spot on. He'll know what that's about. I tell you, the man's an absolute wiz at statistics."
Joan didn't think anything of it when her colleague rose, placed a friendly hand on her shoulder and led her to the door. She was walking to the elevator when she realized he had called her by her first name. She'd have to correct that at some point, only for now she'd rather get herself a cup of coffee.
"Nice face," Harley mumbled as Tarquin slid himself down onto the bench she was seated on.
"Shut up," he hissed, finger-brushing his hair down over the left side of his face.
Harley clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Honestly she didn't really care and she didn't want to be in this ward, with this person, for these reasons. The Mad Hatter's words weighed heavily on her shoulders. Sitting here was useless. She needed to do something. But what? Escape? No, she couldn't. There was no way she could even consider leaving the professor and Ivy behind.
Tarquin was uncharacteristically quiet. She definitely owed whoever gave him that black eye a hug and a 'thank you'. Still, he intermittently sighed pathetically, begging for sympathy or admiration. Orderlies and nurses moved in and out of this common room. There were others here but it wasn't Harley's usual ward and so she didn't know any of them well. Another sigh.
"D'ya mind?" she hissed. "I'm tryna think over 'ere!"
"Whatever," huffed Tarquin. "Maybe you'll get good at it."
"That's a nice eyeshadow," Harley replied. "Want ya other side ta match?"
He angrily scooted away and turned his back to her. Harley Quinn learned forwards over the table, resting her chin on her folded arms.
'Damnit, what would they tell me to do?'
'You have studied us well enough to venture a guess,' said Professor Crane's voice in her mind.
She shook her head violently.
'You're useless,' said another voice.
"Please don't say that," Harley mumbled out loud to Ivy's unmistakable drawl.
'Why not?' Ivy's voice continued. 'I'm saying exactly what you're making me say. You're useless, worthless and you're leaving us here to rot.'
Harley buried her head in her arms and shook her head again.
'Quite interesting,' Jonathan Crane's voice noted. 'You realize of course these are your own words.'
"You don't know that," Harley whispered.
'Of course I do,' said Dr Crane. 'Because we are you. You are projecting your feelings onto images of us.'
"So you're voices in my head. Gee, that's great," Harley whispered, once again out loud. "Then I really shouldn't listen."
'Figures you'd spend your time talking to yourself,' Ivy's voice chimed in. 'Meanwhile we're suffering for being your friends!'
'Your feelings of self loathing and doubt seem fairly interconnected with your mental image of Pamela Isley, why do you think that is?' Dr Crane's voice continued.
"You're not real. Ya said so yerself," Harley replied. "And I don't needa therapy session with a person who aint even here!"
'This is not the first time we have had this conversation, Harleen,' the professor's voice replied. 'You made me come to you in this form. Do you know why?'
"Miss 'im," Harley whispered. "He'd have made it all better. Go away, you're making it worse!"
'I see,' Jonathan Crane's voice replied before her own natural voice took over: 'How's this then, Harley? D'ya know me now?
Frustrated and with no inclination of discussing matters with her own 'professional' side, Harley sat up straight, blinking away any shine to her eyes.
"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" Tarquin's voice said and she turned to see him staring at her.
"What?" Harley demanded. " What?! Ya got somethin' to say?"
"Nah, nevermind. Shit, chill," he replied, placatingly holding up his hands.
The harlequin took a deep breath. They were being watched. They were always being watched. If she didn't get along with 'The Ringmaster' or 'The March Hare' or whatever Tarquin was today, she'd get bumped out of this program and then Dr Leland wouldn't let her see Jonathan.
"Man, okay, and I thought I was having a rough day," Tarquin mumbled.
"Sorry," Harley mumbled. "Didn't mean to snap at ya."
"Yeah, you did. Doesn't matter though."
They were silent for a few seconds, neither looking at the other.
"Hey," Harley said. "I can take a look at the eye, ya know. I'm a doctor. Well, used ta be."
He shrugged.
"It's okay. The guy I'm sharing a room with, he's just… Well, he thinks I'm too noisy at night. You should see what I did to him. "
Tarquin let out an awkward laugh and Harley smiled, having no doubt the other guy was perfectly fine. She turned around to face him. It was probably a good idea to get her mind off of things. Harley let her voice drop to her natural range and spoke:
"Having bad dreams?"
He shook his head.
"Nope, I just can't sleep. It's the rats. I try to bang on things. Sometimes it scares them away. But they are everywhere. They're in the walls, I'm sure of it."
'Haaarley? You're not listening to me!' her own voice called from the backrooms of her mind.
"In the walls? Probably. This place is old, like, ancient - almost. I betcha there's holes in everythin'," Harley said, drowning out insistent knocking in her mind.
"Can't stand 'em," Tarquin scoffed. "Nasty. Everywhere but you can't see them. Do you think your… eh… friend, The Mad Hatter is coming back to see us?"
Harley ignored the hopeful tone and even the question itself. If only she was a rat and she'd crawl through every wall in this damned place until she found him. Love was something she admitted freely. She'd promised to protect him and every second she wasn't with him she was failing.
'Remember that night? In the parking lot? When Mistah J beat the confetti out of you?' said Harleen Quinzel, MD, somewhere in Harley's ear.
Harley rolled her eyes. Yes, she remembered and professional Harley wasn't being helpful right now.
'Remember what you promised yourself?'
She did. What a joke. Harley Quinn, queen of crime. Harley let out a chuckle much to the confusion of Tarquin. Imagine it, she'd set out to find professor Crane because she thought she could bend him to her will given time, that'd she'd make a sidekick out of all of them.
"I'm not strong enough to be alone," she mumbled bitterly. "I don't know what to do."
"We should break out of here," Tarquin said. "I'd take you with me, you know, you can work for me. I was just about to hit it big - and when I'll get out…"
Harley's eyes snapped up to his face and then glanced at the orderlies who definitely heard that.
"Shh!" she hissed at him. "What the… Gee, do ya wanna spend time in solitary? 'Cause that's how yer gonna get alone time! Betcha there's rats down there like ya wouldn't believe!"
Tarquin shuddered visibly. Harley smiled at a nearby orderly as they were being studied. The look on his face did not suggest he was pleased with what he'd heard but he made no move towards them and that made her a little easier. She wouldn't mind being send down there herself - only knowing these people, they probably would let her anywhere near. That and the basement wasn't technically meant to be in use. As a matter of fact she was fairly sure several rooms down there wouldn't pass legal requirements. No, they'd likely just stuff her in the regular solitary cells. She had a previous acquaintance there. The Joker had managed to escape from there once before as well. He might as well be the rats in the walls. Everywhere she went, her thoughts seemed to inevitably drift back to him at some point.
"Let's bounce," Harley said swiftly, distracting herself as she rose.
"Sure," Tarquin replied.
He smiled with some pride as she grabbed his arm, checking to see whether the other patients had indeed noticed. Any other time Harley wouldn't have been caught dead touching him but she was too eager to leave the room to let him take his sweet time. The boy had a knack for drawing attention to himself.
'Not positive attention. Classic overcompensator. Probably desperately afraid of being a disappointment to his father-figure.'
Harley grinned widely at her professional side. Still being an attention seeker has its uses. She paused in the hallway. Tarquin nearly tripped when her hold of him yanked him backwards.
"Hey!" he cried, before Harley dragged him into a nearby corridor.
"Shh!" she hushed him, smiling brightly. "Wanna partner up?"
"Wait, what? Really? You're serious?" Tarquin exclaimed, too loudly but excitedly
"Shushy-shush! Duh, 'course I'm serious! I've got an idea - and if ya do what I say, I'll bust ya out of this joint!"
The key turned in the lock but Jonathan didn't open his eyes. The old tray scraped across the floor and another was placed down. The door shut, the locks clicked, they moved to the next cell. Rinse and repeat. She was quiet at first. Perhaps still asleep. Hopefully so.
'Dr Isley, how you live to vex me.'
'You should have let me take her when we had the chance!'
Moaning and mumbled pleading. She'd learned nothing. He sighed, ignoring his own thoughts. The door was shut and the guard made their way back to whichever hole they came from. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, picked up his glasses and sat up slowly. The light had been switched on for about an hour. That indicated nothing at all. He certainly didn't think the lights followed the customary day-rhythm. Jonathan stumbled to his feet. It was the same plastic tray as always. Browning plastic, paper cup, plain selection. He picked it up carefully. The joints of his fingers were still bruised and stiff. A sandwich with a questionable spread, a cup of water, sad apple slices and a mandarin.
He rotated the latter fruit in his hands. There was no visible puncture mark but he was certain it was there somewhere. He took the cup and poured the water into the toilet mounted on the wall. With shaky fingers he peeled the fruit and tossed the sections into the bowl as well along with one or two apple slices. Lastly he broke off the tips of the triangular sandwich, where the spread hadn't touched the bread and smelt the pieces in his hand. Nothing. He couldn't be sure but he also knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer and so he popped the bread in his mouth. A touch chew it was, dry as his mouth was but it would have to do. He flushed away the evidence of his paranoia.
She coughed the next room, exclaiming sounds of disgust.
'She is the reason you are here! Get rid of her!'
Jonathan sighed with bitterness. He was too tired for revenge. Too fond of Harley to remove a last desperate link to her. Too proud to give Poison Ivy the satisfaction of being right. Dr Isley's time would come - but not tonight.
It was past midnight. The harlequin lay on her cot in her cell. Her eyes were closed and her face held the expression of a sweet, sleeping angel. The guards had made their rounds not too many minutes ago and as always they shone a flashlight in her face. The cell opposite hers, which often had housed Pamela, was empty and so she had no one left to deceive. Blue eyes appeared in dim light of the EXIT-sign down the hall, as Harley carefully slid out from under her covers. She put on her hospital slippers and waited in the darkness.
If Tarquin wasn't completely useless, he'd be here soon enough. Everytime you found a hole in these walls, they'd patch them up and guard them closer next time around. So you always had to be coming up with new ideas - or using old ones they'd forgotten about. In reality keeping inmates locked in such an old building as Arkham was like trying to keep water from escaping a swiss cheese.
She carelessly hummed a cheery tune, mentally disconnecting from everything she was about to do. Flowers grew in her ears, sugar and sparkles filled her eyes. A buzzing sensation caressed her spine.
'You should keep listening to me,' said her professional side, but Harley blocked it out.
It was best not to think too hard about these things. She might have to do things - and while there was nothing she wouldn't do for the right person, she preferred not having consciously made the decision. Harley always had. Tonight was special though. Harley had a plan and it was her plan. She'd do something no one else had done before.
"Hey," a voice whispered.
"Shh!" Harley smiled as she looked over to see Tarquin standing by her door.
Giving him a cheery wave she jumped elegantly to her feet and danced over to the door.
"Just like you said," he grinned, holding up a small bit of wire. "Went right through the lock. Took me a while to find that laundry chute, though."
"Yeah, yeah," Harley dismissed him. "Whaddya mean, just standing there? Help a girl out, will ya?"
Tarquin snorted and set to work getting into the lock on her door. He made clumsy progress and Harley tapped her foot first in impatience, then to the rhythm of a tune in her head.
"Watch and learn. I'm an expert, really," Tarquin whispered. "My uncle taught me and…"
"Bet," Harley interjected as the lock clicked open and she could eel past him.
"So where's this way out then?" Tarquin continued, following her down the hall with some annoyance over her indifference.
"Not our first stop," Harley whispered and merrily skipped down the corridor.
The nighttime lighting of pale bluish tones and the occasional green glow from the door signs whirled together in her mind like stage lights. She'd done this before - just never quite like this. A quick sole exit, elegant and practical. Mistah J's elaborate displays. He'd always say that doing something with panache was half the fun of doing it.
"What then? Hey, it's my break out too," Tarquin hissed as he jogged to keep up with her.
Harley whistled in reply. Eyes in the darkness glistened at them, but that patient likely wasn't raising any alarm. While they might get away with it since it was Harley - and she was pretty much free to take a shot at right now, it was unlike they'd take a chance, not knowing the person she was might. Snitches never prosper - or was it cheaters? They crouched by the corner, studying the cone of light emanating from a flashlight down the corner.
"I can take him out," Tarquin whispered.
"How quick? 'Cause we needa keycard, not an alarm," Harley replied, watching the guard approach.
"Took on, like, five of his size before," Tarquin continued and when Harley in her annoyance said nothing, he amended: "Nah, sorry, there were probably twelve, just felt like five, you know."
The sound of his voice carried, quickening the pace of the guards steps and sharpening his eyes. Harley gritted her teeth. Honestly, if she hadn't needed him… The harlequin jumped out from around the corner and ran towards the startled guard, landing the first kick squarely in his shoulder. He stumbled to the floor, reaching for his radio, but she was on him in a second, punching at anything she could. A disembodied voice sounded from the radio, but it wasn't comprehensible, obscured by the sounds of their struggle. The lighting switched from the pale, deathly blue-green to an angry, brighter red as the alarms began to sound.
"Shit! Fuck! What the…" Tarquin squealed as Harley was placed in a chokehold.
"Do… Something," she gasped at him with much difficulty.
Tarquin jumped on the guards' back, tearing at his hair and pounding the back of his head. It didn't do much damage but it was distracting enough that he released Harley. She crawled backwards, grabbed the card off of his belt as he knocked Tarquin off him and to the floor. Tarquin cried out and the guard roared with frustration as he struggled to place Tarquin in handcuffs. Harley bolted down the hallway, very aware that the camera's would soon enough send more guards and orderlies to subdue them. She slid to a halt before a small but heavily secured cabinet, unlocked it with the keycard and withdrew the dartgun inside. The tranquilizer was everywhere and it was not without tremendous glee, she loaded the gun, turned and fired. She could have hit Tarquin of course - not that it would have mattered much, but she didn't. The guard howled as the dart pierced his neck and Harley didn't wait to see if he'd go down completely. She ran back, grabbed Tarquin's arm and ran as fast as she could.
"I… I had it… I," Tarquin spluttered but was ignored.
"Keep moving!" she commanded and paused, only to make a snap diction about direction.
"Where… The hell… Hey!" Tarquin continued.
He barely kept up with her. They made a sudden turn as a group of five guards came running towards them from a corridor.
"This way!" Harley cried.
They made it down a hallway and Harley unlocked a door, shoving her companion inside and slamming it shut behind herself. It was a small utility room, but was interested her was the maintenance chute on the wall, behind a shelf full of cleaning supplies. Shoving the shelf to the floor, Harley set to picking the padlock on the chute.
"That leads outside?" Tarquin wheezed as he came up to assist her.
"Nope!" Harley Quinn grinned. "But it ends near IPBS."
"What?"
"Inmate personal belongings storage," Harley's natural voice explained. "Ya know, where ya stuff is now, that they took when ya came in, sweetie!"
The lock fell to the floor just as the door handle twisted. Harley locked eyes with Tarquin. If he'd had the sense to be useful, he'd have barricaded the door, but tough luck. She tore the metal cover open and swung her legs inside, not bothering to let him go first. Falling through the darkness with an excited 'wheee', she landed in a narrow shaft on the level below. Confused squealing behind her, informed her that Tarquin was on his way.
"Hard part," Harley announced, just as he landed on the floor, and she began breaking down a door from the inside.
She didn't have much luck but Tarquinn soon got on his feet and put his shoulder to work and the door sprung open, lock busted. They jumped out into the hallway and Harley's feet took the right direction by instinct as adrenalin slowly evicted her senses from her skull. Her heart attempted to break her ribs. One of her hair ties had come out, leaving her with only one pigtail, and the rest of her hair flowing freely.
"Harley! Get on the floor! Now!" cried a voice from down the call, but she ignored both the command and the dart flying past her cheek.
She stopped at the door. A boring, stupid door. She'd broken through this too many times and she'd never appreciate having to do so. Fumbling with the keycard, she heard Tarquin shout behind her.
"You'll rue the day! You'll all see!"
"Get down, kid!" another guard returned.
Finally the pad on the door glowed green and the lock clicked open. Harley hurried inside, barely letting Tarquin in before she slammed the door. She grabbed a crate nearby, pausing to frown at the pain in her chest seeing the Joker's old proxy company logo on the side made her feel.
"Oh dude! That's my hoodie!" Tarquin exclaimed, having gone further down the rows of shelves without her noticing.
"Who cares," she snapped as a group on the outside unlocked the door and began trying to force their way through.
Harley knew what she was looking for and went straight to the Joker shelves - for he had a habit of taking up a lot of space everywhere he went. She opened two cardboard boxes and rummaged through until she found a small clown doll and a handful of what looked just like wrapped grabbed it and rushed to Tarquin.
"Here," she said, trusting it all into his hands.
"What's that?" he replied.
"Throw 'em at the squares," Harley smiled and indicated the candies. "Go past 'em and then when ya see da big white wall at the end of the hall, ya twisted the head of that one around, throw it as the wall. You'll be out in no time, promise!"
"Why can't you?" Tarquin said, looking uncomfortable.
"Why? 'Cause it's a solo operation. I'm busting you out - and yer not gonna tell no one. Anybody asks, we both escaped tonight, yeah? Made some noice in Gotham. You'll be a smash hit in no time!"
"I don't get it! You're not coming?!"
"I'm staying in the cheese," Harley hummed, twirling around. "Go get 'em, boss!"
The absolute horror that had initially been on his face at her first statement was replaced by a blushing smile.
"You're… You really think?" he said.
"Yeah, sure," Harley shrugged, pushing him impatiently towards the door.
He nodded, turned and readied himself for the inevitable fall of the barricade. The harlequin was gone when next he looked back, slipped to the back of the room. The only indication he got of her whereabouts was a 'clank' when she pulled the grate off of a ventilation shaft and crawled inside. She was already in the next room when she heard the first explosion. Good. He'd keep them company. She'd find a way. A way to save those she loved. It didn't matter how long it would take. Harley would search all of Arkham if she had to. They never see it coming. Who'd want to escape only to remain within ? They paid no attention to the rats in the walls.
"I'm coming," she whispered quietly as another explosion followed, shaking the entire vent. "I'm coming for you! Hang tight!"
TBC
