Harley did unfortunately have to leave the next morning to go to work, which was very difficult for her. "I should just quit my job and stay here with you forever," she murmured, lying in his arms.
"We've talked about this, pooh," he said, stroking her hair back. "I have things to do which you can't help me with right now. But you can help me by remaining free and employed at Arkham – a nice, trustworthy shrink who can get info to and from law enforcement is gonna be really valuable to me. You'll be the perfect joke to play on people – they'll never see it coming."
"And when can I take off the mask and be your Harley Quinn?" she asked, staring up at him pleadingly.
He kissed her. "Soon. I promise. Just be patient a little while longer."
Harley reluctantly obeyed, although it took all of her strength to drag herself away from the Joker. She was very careful upon exiting the warehouse to make sure she wasn't noticed, and waited until she reached a more populated area of Gotham to hail a cab to Arkham.
"Harley, you have a visitor," said Dr. Leland, who greeted her as she entered. "A Detective Montoya from GCPD. She's waiting in your office."
"Oh, thank you, Joan," said Harley, heading for her office.
"You're not in any trouble, I hope?" pressed Dr. Leland.
"No, I'm sure it's nothing important," replied Harley. "I just stopped by the GCPD yesterday hoping for some information, so I imagine she's just come to give me an update."
"Information on a patient?" asked Dr. Leland.
"Yes," lied Harley, thinking it best to conceal her interest in the Joker for now. "She used to work closely with…Professor Crane. And I know he's not my patient, but I feel sorta responsible for him…"
"Harley, you can't be the one to help him," interrupted Dr. Leland. "I know you probably feel like you should be, given your history, but it wouldn't be ethical. I know you've been checking up on him while he's here, but it's probably best for you and for him that you distance yourself from him. Otherwise you're never going to be able to free yourself of that feeling of responsibility. It's not healthy for him or you."
Harley nodded slowly. "Well, I'll apologize to Detective Montoya for dragging her down here anyway – I'm sure she has much more important work to do than report on someone who's not even my patient."
"Dr. Quinzel, it's nice to see you again," said Detective Montoya, nodding at her as she entered her office. "I just came down here to apologize once again for my partner's behavior last night."
"That's really not necessary – I've forgotten all about it," said Harley, smiling at her.
"And I'm sorry we couldn't be more helpful regarding the Joker," continued Montoya. "But he's a real mystery. Hopefully he'll be arrested soon and you can analyze him personally. I can't say it's something I would look forward to, but you're clearly braver than I am."
"You're the cop, not me," replied Harley. "That makes you the brave one."
Montoya smiled, and cleared her throat. "Well, I just wanted to say, if you do find out any information about the Joker, we'd certainly welcome it. That may not be the impression you got last night, but I was just startled, and Bullock was drunk. He said…things he shouldn't have said, about Batman. I don't think it's right that we let him do our job for us. We are busy, as you saw last night, but that doesn't mean that we should outsource our work to vigilantes or even psychiatrists," she added, nodding at Harley. "But at this point, we'll take whatever help we can get. I hope you understand that."
"Of course I do," said Harley. "And I'll be happy to share any psychological insights I discover. But I can't say it's a top priority of mine – it was a long shot asking you guys last night, and I've kinda given up now. You're far more likely to get concrete results from Batman."
"Well, we usually do," agreed Montoya.
"Has he shared any information with you about the Joker?" asked Harley.
Montoya laughed. "He doesn't really share anything – doesn't talk at all if he can avoid it. He just said he's working on it, but he also has a lot on his plate. I'm not too optimistic we'll have any breakthrough on the Joker anytime soon. But I hope and pray we do."
"So do I," lied Harley, escorting her to the door. "Well, thanks for stopping by. You should see Professor Crane while you're here – he spoke very highly of you, which is why I asked to see you. Said you were always nice and helpful."
"With his case still pending, I don't think that would be a good idea," sighed Montoya. "Still, it's sad. He always seemed like he knew what he was talking about, and was genuinely interested in helping. I guess you never really know people – they can seem good and decent and benevolent, but even the most benign exterior can hide a dark interior."
"Yes," agreed Harley. "Have a nice day, Detective."
She shut the door, and then checked her schedule. She had about ten minutes before her therapy with Pamela Isley was scheduled, so she grabbed a cigarette from her jacket and then headed outside into the courtyard for a quick smoke.
As she blew out the cloud of smoke and leaned back, she remembered the previous night and morning with the Joker, her Joker, her Mr. J, the man the police feared and the Batman hunted for in vain. Just like when he had killed Sal Valestra for her, it made her feel special to know that she was his, and he was hers. That only she could provoke such strong emotions and passions in such a man, a man who murdered for fun. And yet he took her seriously. She had the power to break or betray him, but she would never do that, because she needed him as much as he needed her. It made her finally understand her purpose, her reason for being, to love this man that only she could love.
During therapy, as Pamela rambled and ranted about her situation, Harley largely tuned her out, still thinking of the Joker, of what they had, and how unique and special it was.
"You wouldn't still be so angry about all this if you didn't still love him," interrupted Harley suddenly.
Pamela stared at her. "Are you insane?" she demanded. "How could I love him after what he did to me? That would be crazy."
"Well, you are in here," replied Harley. "Which means the state thinks you're crazy. And maybe you're not as sane as you believe yourself to be. Sane people would never agree to be a scientific experiment for a man, after all. Sane people would run a mile from anyone who asked them to do something like that."
"Yeah, but I was in love with him, I told you," she retorted. "It was like a temporary madness, but it's over now. Now I hate his guts."
"Hate is a corrupted form of love," replied Harley. "It still shows devotion, of a twisted kind. If you were truly over him, you'd be indifferent to him. There would be no strong emotions on your part, not love or hate. To feel that strongly means that there is still something about this person that makes him special to you."
"I want to see him suffer, but I think that's completely justified after what he did to me," retorted Pamela. "The desire for revenge is a normal human emotion, isn't it?"
"It is," agreed Harley. "But you believe you've become more than a human, so surely you can master these petty outbursts of human nature."
"If I wanted to, but I don't want to," retorted Pamela.
"Then I'm afraid you're going to be in here a very long time," sighed Harley. "Society doesn't let people take revenge on others, and we live in a society. Until you can overcome this desire, society is not going to let you roam free. Anyway, revenge isn't a good reason to hurt someone."
"Name me a better one," demanded Pamela.
Harley said nothing. "Fun," she murmured at last.
"What?" asked Pamela, confused.
"Nothing," said Harley, standing up. "I believe our time is up – I'll see you next session, Pamela."
She left her and headed toward the break room, through the cell block. "Harley, I saw Detective Montoya here earlier," said Professor Crane, approaching the bars. "Was she helpful in finding the Joker?"
"Not really," replied Harley, attempting to hurry past. "And Dr. Leland thinks we shouldn't be speaking, that it wouldn't be ethical, so…"
"When have you cared about what's ethical?" interrupted Crane. "Not when you were dating Jack Napier, I'd note."
Harley whirled around, glaring at him. Then she headed over to his cell and swiped her keycard to enter. "Could you not spread that around to half the cell block?" she hissed.
"Why? I thought you weren't ashamed of it," he retorted.
"I'm not," she replied. "But I don't need my coworkers or patients to know I dated a criminal when I was in college. That would change their perception of me as someone upstanding and professional…"
"And why would you care about that?" he asked.
"So I don't lose my job!" she snapped. "Unlike some people here!"
"Why are you in such a bad mood?" he demanded.
"Because Dr. Leland specifically said I should distance myself from you!" snapped Harley. "And I want to keep my job, so I'm not going to disobey my boss!"
"So you've just resigned yourself to not finding this Joker?" asked Crane. "I thought you wanted my help with that."
"I don't need your help anymore," retorted Harley. "I hit a dead end at GCPD, and I realized I shouldn't be futilely trying to find someone who might as well be a ghost for all the evidence he leaves behind. I'm not going to waste my time hunting for a ghost. I'm not crazy."
"Aren't you?" he asked quietly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "Look, Professor Crane, I know you love analyzing people by trying to see all the stuff you think you see beneath the surface, but the reality of the situation is that you're insane, and you're locked up in this asylum because you're insane! I realize that asking for your help made you think I was on your side, that I respected your analysis, but you're in here because you need help, not me! And since I can't be the one to help you, I think it's healthier for us both to keep our distance from each other, as Dr. Leland requests."
"It's nice that you have such a newfound respect for your health, and for the advice of your superiors," murmured Crane. "You didn't when I gave you my advice regarding your relationship with Jack Napier."
"I've grown wiser in three years," she retorted. "And you should have too, so you wouldn't have ended up in here. Goodbye, Professor Crane."
Crane said nothing, staring after her as she stormed out of his cell, slamming the door behind her. Then he slowly sat down on his bed, and retrieved a notebook from under his pillow. "Anger, annoyance, avoidance," he sighed, writing these down. "And a sudden disinterest in previous obsessions. Clear signs of some unnamed fear. I just wonder what she's afraid of."