Chapter 5: Jokes in Therapy

"Okay, Victor, what can you tell me about yourself?"

Dr. Quinzel sat across from Victor Zsasz, an infamous serial killer. Tallies were cut into his upper arms and neck. Tallies from every victim. His skin was pale, his eyes rimmed in dark circles. He had a bald head and lanky frame. He stared at Quinzel hauntingly, making the doctor unsettled. She was hoping to find any connotation of Zsasz that would meet the criteria of her trial.

"No, Dr. Quinzel. Tell me about you. What kind of perfume is that I'm smelling? It's quite strong. Overcompensating for something deep and dark at home, maybe? Is there something imprisoning you, doctor?"

"I'm sorry if the scent is too much, I'll remember that for next time. But we are here to talk about you, Victor."

"No, please don't hold back. It's comforting. It reminds me of my mother. You know I saw her when I got my marks? All of them. She encouraged me to keep going. She encourages me now."

Dr. Quinzel sat up straighter in her chair and asked, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"That no matter where I am, or who is near, I'll always get the mark, Dr. Quinzel. I need the mark. I wonder what your mark would feel like."

Dr. Quinzel smacked her lips together and pressed the button under her desk, where two guards came in to retrieve Victor Zsasz.

"Oh, my. Did I say something wrong?" He amusingly asked.

"Yes. Sorry, Victor. You just don't meet the criteria for this trial. I'll refer you to Dr. Crane, maybe you can make some progress with a male doctor. Good day."

As Victor and the guards left her office, Officer Morello came up the hall and was startled to see him being taken back to his cells. She peeked into the office to see Dr. Quinzel slouched over her desk, rubbing the bridge of her nose in deep breath.

"Hey," Morello announced and came into her office, "Didn't they just bring him down like five minutes ago? Did he try anything?"

"No…" Quinzel sighed, "But he said enough. What are you doing walking around?"

Morello shrugged, "Well, I was going to HRS but saw you kicking out Zsasz, my curiosity got the best of me." She came and sat down in the patient chair and pulled out two granola bars from her pocket. She tossed one to Quinzel. "Still looking for your last patient?"

"Yup… I've only got two days until the deadline. Warden is breathing down my neck. I've interviewed almost all of HRS and all of them do not fit the criteria. Or I'd need a week of sessions with them to break the wall. I don't have a week; I need someone who is ready to go."

"Well, HRS has slim pickings of that," Morello said, "Who do you have so far?"

"Edward Nashton, Lazlo Valentin, and Coralline Atkins. I was thinking Zsasz, but I knew I'd be risking Atkins safety with that piece of work. He's got a thing for young women."

Morello nearly choked on her granola, "You enrolled Valentin?"

"Yeah. He's not as hopeless as he seems. He was a surgeon, attending no less. He's got a lot of mental disorders, but he opened up to me about his husband's death, which shows me he's wanting to reform."

"Wow, how did you sit through all the Shakespearean?" Morello laughed.

"Not well," giggled Quinzel, "But who knows, maybe Nashton or Atkins will like it. If I can actually get this trial off the ground first."

"Who do you have next?"

"Jay… another one who doesn't want to open up. A sweet guy, but his mind games are starting to get to me."

"That guy gives me the creeps." Morello shuddered.

"Hey," Quinzel slighted, "He can't help his face looks like that."

"It's not his face, I don't care about his face. You can be ugly and not creepy."

"Well, I like him. He's not creepy with me."

"Then let him in your trial," said Morello, "Even if he doesn't open up, you have a deadline and if you miss it, you're fucked. Plus, he's right next to Nashton's cell. They might go in with a rapport already, making it less overstimulating for them."

"I'd have to get proof of wanting reform first, which means he needs to open up. I can't let him in the trial just because I like him," said Quinzel as she tossed the granola wrapper into the garbage can.

"Do what you want, I'm just saying you don't have a lot of time."

"I know, I know. Would you be able to bring down Jay for me, then? I'll try again, I guess."

Morello smiled as she sat up from her chair, "He likes you; you know that?"

"What?" Dr. Quinzel laughed.

"He does. He's always asking me when he gets to see you. Just be careful with that. Isn't that called 'transference'?"

"That's not transference. Even if it was, it's totally normal to develop romantic feelings for a psychologist. I mean… especially for the people in here who have never had that understanding." Dr. Quinzel said sternly.

"Whatever you say, doc, I'll be back with Doe."

"Thank you, Ruby."

"Oh, EDDIEEEE! Eddie. Eddie. Ed. Edward. Edward. Eduardo. Edson. Helloooo? I know you can hear me, come on. We used to be friends. Edwaaaaaaard."

Jay was pressed against the small, barred window facing Edward's cell. He heard a faint groan and cackled to himself.

"I can hear you. Come on, I'm bored. Let me pick your brain for a bit."

"Please stop."

"Why? We used to laugh together, remember? The less of them you have, the more one is worth, right?"

"Then I realized you're demented."

"Aren't we all? That's the beauty of this place, Eddie. Was it that dead baby joke? I knew you didn't like it. Too on the cheek, eh? Come on, you can give me some. The Riddle Master. Hit me with a joke!"

"That's your schtick."

"Oh, come on. You must have a funny riddle for me."

"Sigh… Fine. What do you call a murderer full of fibre?"

Jay scrunched his brows and said, "A cereal killer?"

"Hah."

"Eddie, that was shit."

"Yeah, I know. I don't care. I have better things to look forward to than making you laugh."

"Oh, yeah? Like what? Shower block? I knew you liked being naked next to me, you tease."

"No! Like spending some time out of this fucking cell! Away from you."

"Oh! You mean Miss. Quinzel's conquest. You have to be a good boy in that room, Eddie. Can't go flooding the place again."

"Shut up!"

"Hahaha! Oh, I knew you'd cheer me up!"

Morello came up to Jay's cell and tapped the window. "Doe, you're going to a session with Dr. Quinzel, she's requested it. I'm opening the door."

"Oh, Jesus, that woman is insatiable. She can't be away from me too long."

Morello opened the door and began shackling the cuffs to Jay.

He asked giddily, "Wait… wait, wait, wait, wait. Is Quinzy considering me for the trial, too?" He exaggerated a schoolgirl squeak.

"You know I couldn't tell you that even if I wanted to," sighed Morello.

"You hear that, Eddie?!" Jay shouted back to Edward's cell, "It's all coming up me! You can't get rid of me that easily!"

There was an irritated groan heard from his cell.

"Let's go, Jay," Morello led him down the hall.

Jay shouted back, "I love you, Nashton! Wait up for me, okay? Kiss, kiss."

"Come in!"

Morello opened the door to Dr. Quinzel's office, already perked to her desk. Fresh lipstick on and posture straight, she beamed a grin to the two who entered.

"Here he is, doctor. Present and accounted for."

"Thank you, Morello. Come on in, Jay. Let's try this again." Dr. Quinzel gestured to the seat. Jay released a delighted sigh, and his chains rang to the chair. Morello closed the door behind them.

"Dr. Quinzel, we have to stop meeting like this. The others will know," Jay said with a wink.

"I called you here because I need the last patient for my trial. Your bunk mates are making that pretty difficult. That includes you. If you can give me even one story of your childhood, or why you chose crime, I can take it and you'll be in."

"That's a new shade of lipstick. I've never seen you wear it before. It looks good on you. You wear it for me?" Jay asked.

Dr. Quinzel tried not to roll her eyes, "You're doing it again, Jay. You wanna make me happy, right?"

"I would go to the ends of the earth, then fly to outer space, take over a galactic spaceship and wrap a ribbon on it and give it to you if that would make you happy."

Dr. Quinzel stifled a laugh, but Jay sniggered shamelessly.

"If you want to make me happy, play ball with me so my trial doesn't go up in flames. Start with when you were a child. How was that like? How would you describe your childhood?"

Jay sighed and looked down, but still keeping his crooked smile. He looked up and said, "I grew up in a trailer park. With shitty plumbing, so there was always this smell of shit. My dad was a mean drunk. My mom a broken shell of a woman. I was desperately trying so hard to make them laugh. My dad's sense of humour was drowned in the bottle. My mom's drowned in her tears. Somehow, I was the only one who kept laughing."

"Was there abuse in the home?"

"Oh, tons! That's how we showed our love for one another. Nothing like nurturing your child with slaps and cigarette burns. Made me stronger. Taught me I can laugh at anything."

"That sounds awful, Jay. I'm sorry. You don't seem too upset by any of this you're telling me. You do know you didn't deserve any of that, right?"

"Now I do. Back then, it felt like love. I'd find myself purposely getting into trouble just so they would notice me. The beatings were no different than a kiss goodnight. I craved the chaos."

"Right. You wanted attention, even if it was negative attention. Is that right?"

"Sure, yeah. I like that. Write that down."

"Uh. Okay." Dr. Quinzel scribbled her pen across the notepad.

"School was a bore, I wasn't too good at any of it. The teachers hated me. The students hated me even more. I was a terrible prankster."

"What kind of pranks would you pull?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Cutting the break lines of the jock's trucks, putting acid into the teacher's coffee. Chasing after the girls with a dead rat. My imagination wasn't that great back then."

"Really? That all sounds… pretty imaginative."

"Oh, you flatter me, doctor. But no, imaginative came much later."

Dr. Quinzel glanced back down to his file, "Yeah, I see that."

"Really? What do you see?"

"Running a drophead fighting ring, bombing the hospital, sending decapitated heads to the police… shall I go on?"

Jay began to cackle, "Nah, that's good."

"Was there ever a positive outlook in your quest to make people laugh, Jay? You know, without such macabre violence?"

"There was a time I wanted to try stand-up."

"Get out, really?"

"Yeah! I used to practice for hours a day, write down my own material, I even had a stage name."

"What was that?"

"I think you know it, doctor."

"The Joker. You adapted that name for other means, too."

"Came a lot more naturally for those means, too."

"What was stand-up like? Did you enjoy it?"

Jay slouched back in his chair, tutting, "Not really. No one really liked my jokes."

"Why?"

"Too dark."

"They couldn't have been that bad. Tell me one."

Jay straightened in his seat, curving a grin again, he thought for a moment and said, "What's the difference between me and cancer?"

"Uh… I'm not sure."

"My dad didn't beat cancer."

Dr. Quinzel went slack jawed and gasped, "Oh my God!" Jay started laughing, and Quinzel couldn't help but laugh, as well. "That's horrible!"

"I got another, wait, wait… what's the best way to get a nun pregnant?"

"I'm not sure I want to hear this one…"

"Dress her like a choir boy."

"JAY!"

Jay threw his head back in maniacal laughter, clutching his stomach. Dr. Quinzel covered her face into her palms whilst shaking her head. Behind her hands she was laughing.

She put her glasses back on and her face was flushed, "That's disgusting."

"You're the first person who has ever laughed at my jokes, Quinzel. Clearly, they're not that disgusting to you."

Dr. Quinzel wasn't sure why she laughed; it was amusing because of the mind-blowing degeneracy of them rather than actually being funny. Fascinatingly dark.

"Your laugh is contagious, Jay. That's why I laughed."

"Oh, sure. Whatever you say. I think you have a niche for dark humour. That's my specialty, you know."

"Oh, I know, Jay. Trust me. When stand-up didn't work out, where did you go from there?"

"Drops," he replied in a dead-pan shrug.

Dr. Quinzel raised a brow and began writing it down, "You were a drug user?"

"How else would I get my creativity? They inspired me to be the Joker. Wearing the makeup and suit felt less alien that way. I embraced it quickly."

"You know, the drops could have deteriorated your mental condition much worse… this is good."

Jay smiled, "Oh, you like the crazy dropheads, eh?"

"It means that is a definition of why you chose crime. It's something I can write down to convince the Warden to let you in."

"So, in short, yes, you do."

"What about the accident? Did the drops compel you to get into trouble which led to it?"

"Quite possibly, yeah."

"Do, explain."

"I was making a bomb."

Dr. Quinzel tilted her head, "A bomb? You were making a bomb?"

"Yes, Quinzy, I'm quite capable of making a bomb."

"Yeah, I know. It's in your file that you were proficient in making bombs. But what does that have to do with…"

Jay explained, "Well, one night, I was making a bomb. Don't know where or why I'd use it, but I was making it and suddenly the thing just combusted. It hit my face and when I woke up, I looked like this. You could say that too ignited a psychosis, or something."

"Your face was disfigured from a bomb?"

"Yup."

"Jay, you and I both know that is not true. Before you were apprehended by the vigilante there was a scuffle and you were thrown into a table in your residence. Acid spilled over your head. Says it in the police report and your file."

"Oh, Pfft. Who said that? Bats? You gonna take his word over mine? Harley, I thought you trusted me."

"Why are you lying to me, Jay? Have you been lying this whole time?"

Jay tilted his head and smiled, "You told me to tell you a story. Like I'm the only man who has ever lied to you."

"Jay, this is… why would you… you now know I can't use any of this. You won't be getting into my trial."

"Whoa! Calm down. Why can't you use it? Because you think I'm lying? Sweetie, you got a story, you got what you need for the Board, so just use it. Why risk your trial just because I slipped up on one white lie?"

"Because it's unethical."

"When has that stopped a successful woman before?" Jay leaned into the table and his eyes looked up to hers and said, "My story is told through moments, not sessions. Every moment you have with me, you got more of that story. My true story. I can promise you, Miss. Quinzel, you let me into your trial I will obey all of the rules that piercing mind has laid out for me. I will embrace the change you need from me, just because I want to see you succeed."

"I should stop this session right now. Everything you're saying is grounds for it."

"We've never been on institutional grounds, Harleen. Don't you lie to me and tell me our sessions are strictly professional. There are times you just want to be indulged and told your beautiful. You deserve it. You think I waste these sessions, but I don't. Not when they're with you. You deserve everything you want, doctor, you deserve your trial and the success. Don't throw this away over some… code of conduct bullshit. Just let me in the trial.

Dr. Quinzel kept an infuriated glare, flicking her pen on the back of her hand as she stared at Jay. He never looked more sincere, completely steady in the course she would take.

"We're done. Go."

Dr. Quinzel pressed the button under her desk for Morello.

"Harleen. Please. Don't do this." Jay said softly.

Morello came in and asked, "Done already?"

"We're done. Just take him."

Jay sighed and pushed up off the chair, before leaving with Morello he made one last forlorn gaze to Quinzel before departing her office.

Dr. Quinzel tapped her fingers on the desk for what felt like minutes. Puzzling, thinking, repenting. She then grabbed the laptop from her bag and started it up on her desktop. On her computer, she wrote an email to Warden Javier Santos and the members of the Board.

"I am choosing to enrol High-Risk Security patient, John Doe, into the Positive Beginnings Program. Doe has opened up in therapy and disclosed trauma and possible drug addiction that may have encouraged criminal behaviour. Doe is remorseful of his actions and wants to seek treatment for a better control of his impulses. I believe he will succeed in therapy and among his peers in the Therapy Room."

Send

Dr. Quinzel hesitated to tap the touch pad, but she did. Email was sent, and she opened her own files to type the names of the patients.

Who will be treated?

Lazlo Valentin

Edward Nashton

Coralline Atkins

John Doe

Morello led Jay back to his cell in HRS. She took off the shackles and nudged him back before the door then closed it. The echoes of her footsteps faded away, and Jay was left alone in his cell.

"Eddieee… Eddie… I'm sad. I need you, buddy."

Edward grunted from his cell, "Hm."

Jay pressed the side of his face against the metal wall, "My girlfriend is mad at me, Eddie."

"Girlfriend?"

"Dr. Quinzel. She doesn't want me in the trial."

"Dr. Quinzel is not your girlfriend."

"Uhh, yeah, she is. You wouldn't know sexual chemistry if it slapped you in the face, Mr. Rogers. Who is your girlfriend? Batman?"

"Fucking prick."

"You know what… it's fine. I don't care that much, anyway. She wants to be mad because I told one little lie, she can."

"What did you lie about?"

"I don't know, Ed. I can barely keep half of them straight. She wanted my sob story, but I don't even know my sob story. I don't even know my name. I can't collect any of my past when I'm living in the present. Why does it matter? She could have written down what I told her and just let me in the trial, anyway. She's guided by the system, Ed. We gotta save her."

"So she denied you for the trial?"

"Yes... are you even listening? I'm spilling my soul to you here."

"Oh, thank god…"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Doe!"

Morello came marching up to the door window of Jay's cell and announced, "Dr. Quinzel wanted me to come tell you she enrolled you in the clinical trial. Orientation is Thursday, an officer will come get you. That goes for you, too, Nashton."

Edward staggered off his bed and to the window, as well. His face anything but glad.

Jay giggled, "I got in?"

Morello nodded, "Yup. Congrats."

"No! No, no, no. Anyone but him!"

Morello groaned, "Nashton, calm down."

Jay smacked the metal wall, "I told you, Ed! You're not getting rid of me that easily!"

"Fuck!"

It was nearing 5pm, and Dr. Quinzel was dreading going home. She knew what she was going home to, and now that the trial was full, she was stalling time making preparations. Then there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

The Warden walked in, startling Dr. Quinzel from her slouch. She sat up straight and smiled, "Warden! How are you! Is there anything I can help with?"

"Can we talk?" Warden Javier asked.

"Of course! Take a seat."

She knew the Warden would have his objections to the enrolment of her patients, but she allowed him to take a seat first.

"Now, I know what you're going to say. You don't approve of the patients. Sir, I can assure you these were the only patients that showed an ounce of compliance in my interviews. I am confident that…"

"Yes, yes. I know, Harleen. The whole point of this trial was to successfully reform the most dangerous of the criminally insane in Gotham. The names didn't waver my trust, if anything, they spoke on your ambition. If there was one I was truly troubled by is Atkins. But I read your report, and she opened up in therapy. I just wanted to check in and see how you are feeling. How you feel about having these criminals all in one room?"

Dr. Quinzel was surprised by the amicability and said, "Oh. Well, nervous. Always nervous. It'll be a huge adjustment for them. However, I'll start their sessions with a group therapy meeting, build the comfort more and more. Of course, I'll be watching from the observation room, and two officers in the room with them always."

"Good. All the mechanics of the therapy room are in place?"

"Yes, sir. Have you seen the room yet? It's pretty amazing. I decorated it mostly by myself. The observation room has comfortable sitting, as well. The window was installed this morning."

"Oh, I'll see it all Thursday for the representation. That's their orientation, if I'm of mistaken? You'll be holding a group meeting only?"

"Yes, just the group therapy for now and actual sessions on Monday. I'll lay down the ground rules. They can see the room and their personal corners, give them an idea. Also meeting who they will be seeing everyday is crucial. I really want them to get along."

"Remember, Harleen, this is a trial. There is bound to be bumps and bruises along the way but that's all part of the learning experience. Not everything has to go like clockwork from their first meeting onward. An incident or two is not going to shut down your trial."

"Yes, sir. But I also don't want it to turn into a fighting ring. I want them to respect each other. No one should feel like they are going to get hurt."

"You care about their safety. That's good. They will see that and not want to tarnish the length of rope they've been given. I have the utmost faith in your plans, Harleen. This may be what brings Arkham's reputation from the gutter."

Dr. Quinzel had a closed smile, "I hope so, too, sir."

"Will you be here for a while?"

"Yes. I've got a lot to jot down. It's all coming together so quickly like… doing your taxes on the hood of a speeding car. Only so much time before it hits the wall."

"You'll do fine, you're doing fine. You ever go home to that boyfriend of yours anymore?"

Dr. Quinzel flinched at the question, "Uh… of course I do. It's just… this is a big trial."

"Does he understand your work?"

She fibbed, "Yes… he's very supportive."

"Good. All successful people need that. A mission at work and loved ones who stay home and keep the hearth fires burning. I'll leave you to your work."

"Thank you, sir."

"Thursday is the day, Harleen. I'm eager to see the pieces come together. Good luck."