mad love

The Joker laughed manically as the police officers and Arkham ambulance drivers put him into his straight jacket and handcuffed his arms behind his back. His latest heist was small to him; he had his Goons gather up every person on the main Wayne Board Enterprise committee and stuck them on the roof of the highest building in Gotham. His plan (which his Goons failed to play out; but he would punish them later for their failure) was to tie them up, set them into group of three on each end of the rooftop and place a bomb in the middle of the four groups. The lucky thing, in his eyes, was that there were twelve members of the committee and his hopes were that one group would reveal the identity of Batman for him. The group that followed the plans were to live; the other three groups, well… KA-BOOM!

Unfortunately, as he realized early on into the plan, is that these committee members had families that would notice they weren't home by they usual nine-to-five schedule. It was a risk he was willing to take, though, for the identity of his best friend. Yes… his best friend. For who would he be without the Bat? Just another criminal on the streets of Gotham. What made it so fun was that Batsy was always looking for him, looking for his next move. But the Joker was always ten steps ahead of Batsy, even if Batsy thought he was in control.

The problem with the plan, though, was the committee members were high risk profiles under the GCPD; if they went missing, the entire task force when looking. And being held on top of the highest building in Gotham, well… It was a easy place to look.

Each of the four groups claimed they had no idea who the real identity of Batsy was. But the Joker knew better; he paced back and other between each group in the dark skies of Gotham and taunted each of them with his signature switch blade, toying with them until they gave out the truth. The Wayne Board members were the highest powers in the city since the mobster fued of the Falcone's and Maroni's died out once the oh so signification Commissioner Chief Gordan rose into power. His patience was running low, but he didn't let that phase his optimistic view. He kept his morbid humor going until the helicopters started circling the city, looking for the board members. He didn't let his own fear show on his face, so as they tied his up in his straight jacket and tied him to a crash cart (with at least three leather restraints holding him down from his chest to his legs- oh, goodie! They cuffed his feet together, too.

So the Joker continued to laugh manically, knowing his Goons were loyal to him, and that they would probably be put in the Asylum as well as him, he felt at ease. Yeah yeah yeah, his plan failed, he was going straight to Arkhum- not that any of the task force said that, but he knew the drill. He'd break out soon enough.

And as they pushed him through the dim halls of his second home, the Arkham Asylum, he continued his laugh. He teased and joked about the restraints not being tight enough, even mentioned that he usually preferred dinner before being tied up, and eventually was put in his cell.

Then, after a day of being strapped to his iron bed in the asylum, and after heavy doses of sedative that only made him more intrigued with his situation, they told him that he would being seeing a doctor that afternoon. Wonderful, he thought to himself, not having spoken a real word since being put in his cell, a Doc will be the perfect thing for my escape.

Harleen had gotten up and dressed every morning as if she was going to meet the Joker. She had been begging and pleading with her superiors for months now to let her take on his case when he would be back inside Arkham. Every morning she would buy two cups of coffee and two donuts with rainbow sprinkles in hopes of meeting him and giving him that, as if that would have him trust her enough to open up. Much to Harleen's dismay, every day was another strike out and full of disappointment.

Harleen had graduated from Gotham City University by a full ride scholarship thanks to her superior intellect. It had been her dream since she had decided that psychiatry was the field for her, to work in Arkham Asylum and try to help super villians - to try and figure out why they were the way they were, why they had chosen those alter egos, why. The biggest question of all had to be the Joker. No one even knew the true story behind how he had gotten the scars on his face, running from the corner of his lips upward.

When Harleen had walked into the asylum that day, she had grown to expect the same routine - finding the Joker not there and ending up giving away the extra coffee and donut to one of her bosses to suck up a little more to them. Today, she had been granted such a pleasant surprise. News bustled around the buildings and the villains were practically in an uproar because of the new patient: Joker.

She waited and waited and waited until she had gotten the okay to go talk to him. Harleen had only a few months to work with him to get something from him that had been unknown before and if she did not get such information... well, she would be taken from the case immediately.

Inside the tiny room, Joker was already sitting across the table from her, cuffed to the table and looking... nearly sad? Possibly because he had to meet with another doctor. "Hello, Mista' Jay, do you mind if I call you that?" Harleen asked as she sat down and getting no response from him. "My name is Harleen Quinzel, and I'm your new psychiatrist." Every word she spoke was thick with her accent. "I brought you a cup of coffee and a donut, something a little different than the food they serve here. I know the cafeteria doesn't always give you the best of meals, not that a donut is any better," Harleen shrugged, feeling both nervous and excited as butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She hoped that he wasn't able to tell.

She figured that now was the best time than any to try this idea that she had been working on for a while now. "I have a proposal for you, Mista' Jay, I want to get inside that head of yours, so I thought we could play a bit, have some fun and get to that world of heroes of villains of yours. We're going to pretend that I'm your sidekick, hopefully not one of your others - I've seen how you treat them. You can call me... Harley Quinn, like a jester or a clown, and we can just get to know each other. Does that sound okay, Mista Jay?"

The Joker stared at his blonde doctor long and hard, not letting any emotion reach his face. He didn't glance at the coffee and donuts he was secretly begging to have, because she was right- the food here was barely edible. Once she mentioned the words Harley Quinn, he looked up at her with a wide grin.

"Mista Jay, huh?" He mimicked, using his cuffed hands to bring the coffee cup to his lips. It was scalding hot but he took a big gulp anyway. "So.. Miss.. Harley...." he drawled out her name slowly, "what's on the agenda for the day? Do I get to look at ink blots and tell you what I see? Or maybe you want to hear about my parents and take a Freudian view on me? Maybe mommy didn't love me enough? Maybe daddy beat me?" He giggled, folding his hands and leaning in closer to her side of the table. "Tell me, I love to play this... game.."

Harley was shocked that he was actually speaking to her, that it worked. She then felt relieved and the way he spoke her name made a shiver run down her back. Harley shook her head at his comment and continued to play along. "Nah, Mista Jay, why'd you kidnap the Wayne Corp. people? Think they knew something you didn't?" she asked, bringing her own coffee to her lips to take a sip, the liquid burning hot.

She had taken no notebook in to take notes, only going in to try this in hopes of it working. She wasn't worried about that, though, only worrying about him and how long he would be willing to play this game with her. She wondered how long it took him to grow bored of things like this. Still, Harleen was positive she had chosen the perfect alter ego name for her, it went along perfectly with his Joker ruse. Depending on how well he continued to go along with this would depend on how deep she would have to go into this alter ego of hers she had started creating months ago in the off chance that she would actually meet him.

"Because," The Joker whined, "they know who my Batsy really is... You see..." He took a bit of the donut slowly and then licked his scarred lips. "I wanna see Batsy without the mask." He took another gulp of coffee and scooted his chair closer, leaning forward and resting his head in his propped up hands.

For the first time, he looked directly into her eyes. He was surprised how blue they were, and right away he noted how anxious she was to be with him. He smiled wide and licked his lips again. "What pretty eyes you have," he paraphrased from the children's book Little Red Riding Hood.

Harley tilted her head to the side slightly as she listened to him, "What makes you think they know who Batsy is?" The words came natural to her as she pretended to be this villain sidekick - even calling whom she figured was Batman as Batsy without a thought. "There's loads of important people in Gotham; why would they know, Mista Jay?"

Harley felt her heart racing as he leaned forward in his chair, staring at her and grinning. He looked so much different in person than on the news. She didn't know if he was really as crazy as they made him out to be. Sure, there was this delusion of being a clown and wrecking havoc all over the city, but there seemed to always be a cause behind it all. His schemes weren't pointless. She still felt good about herself that he liked this whole game of her being in his world. He was open to that. And that alone should make her stay on this case.

The Joker sighed a loud, exaggerated sigh, as if she should've already known the answer. "Because," he repeated, his tone a little less patient (heh, get it? Patient? He's a 'patient.') "They're the suits in charge of Gotham. They're the big money. They even like to think they run this city better than I do," he giggled at the idea. In his Gotham, things were a lot more fun.

"Do you see where I'm gettin' at, Har-ley?"

Harley tried to ignore the silly feeling in her stomach as he spoke her name again. She was completely unsure as to why she felt like that every time he said her name: Harley. For a second, she wondered if she would feel the same way if he had said Harleen. It took her a moment or so before replying, hoping it had been played off as her pondering what he had just said. Harley should have known that. He was positive that the people in charge (or thinking they're in charge in his case) had to know who Batsy was (and there she was thinking Batsy instead of Batman, as if it was simpler and more natural to her). "I get it, I get it," she hummed, leaning back in her chair a little, listening to his giggle as he most likely thought of a city he ran.

"Your Gotham would be so much better, wouldn't it, Mista Jay? There'd be loads more fun and explosions and things that go bang!" a little giggle slipped out of her lips after speaking, it was unexpected to her. "Would ya' keep ol' Batsy in your Gotham? Have fun with him tryin' ta capture you, and finally unmaskin' him?"

"Of but of course!" The Joker exclaimed, pretending to be shocked. "Who am I, without my Dark Knight? I live to please him. I'm the cat and he's my mouse," his words were filled with more emotion as he spoke of the Batman, "I like to play with my food. See how much they can... endure...... and I think I've almost got the Bat to crack."

The Joker leaned back and stared at the ceiling with stars in his eyes, "I almost got him to break his own rule. No killing," he mocked in a deep, gruff voice. "He beats me within an inch of my life. I get sent here, get patched up, get out.. Somehow..." He straightened himself back up and looked back at his blonde doctor, plotting in his head. He could feel her anticipation towards him. She was the key. She could get him out, doctors orders.

Harley could hear how his words were full of emotion just of how he spoke of Batsy. But upon hearing him speak about how he was beat within an inch of his life, it remade her think about how she felt about the Batman. Sure, he had a rule against killing, as the Joker just stated, but he had no problem beating people until they were nearly dead. She could see the bruises on his skin now, after realising how much he would get hurt in these fights.

"If you ever had the chance, would you kill him?" she asked, looking at him curiously, eyes glancing over his face looking for something to read, something that was a little unusual, but as she figured, the Joker was a little harder to read than most. Eventually Harley would get there, she was convinced. They would continue to meet practically daily, she would keep up this ruse of being a villain herself and gaining his trust as she would get to know him and learn things others haven't.

The obvious answer to her question was yes, or so others have thought, but Harley thought differently. If the Joker would kill Batman, his games would be over, he would have no mouse to play with. But if Joker would manage to unmask the Bat, then he would find more ways to tease and taunt and torture Batman. She figured he would much rather keep him alive.

"I could never," He gasped while slamming his hands onto the table. "Killing Batsy? That would be the end of all my fun!" He refused to go back to mobster work. He didn't give a damn about money. All he wanted was the Bat.

"What fun would I have if I wasn't taunting my Batman? He's Gotham's hero, after all." He spat the last words sarcastically. He was no hero. The Joker was going to prove that. "No, I want to know all I can about the Bat. Why he is the way he is," he sighed, "just like you're going to hope to figure me out."

Harley jumped as he slammed his hands on the table and a guard peeked in to make sure everything was fine. Harleen told him that everything was fine and the guard shut the door, her eyes not leaving Joker. He spoke about what she had thought he would have said. Still, she kept quiet about that, letting him think that he was smarter than her. And maybe he was, but for now, she was content thinking like she was.

"Sure, I hope to figure you out like you figuring out Batsy, but in this room I am your partner. I work with you to help you out; I am Harley Quinn. I hope to earn your trust and nothing in this room needs repeated anywhere else. This is just between you and me, puddin', I can promise you that," she said, hoping he believed every word she said, because she believed every word she said. There was nothing in this room that she would repeat to anyone. There were cameras in here, sure, but they were outdated because of lack of money the asylum had and only recorded videos in old black and white with no sound. Even if Harley had a reason to talk to someone and tell them what she was finding out, there was nothing she would want to say other than she was hopefully making progress.

The Joker listened very carefully to what Har-ley was telling him and nodded his head slowly, letting a wicked grin form bigger and bigger after every word. He leaned closer to her as she called him puddin', (which for some reason he rather enjoyed) and knew that this little minx was his calling card to get out of this place again.

"So.. you work to help me out..." He toyed with the words she spoke, "does that mean you can get me... out, my Harley Quinn?" He tried at a softer, more comforting smile that his easily manipulable mind could work with. He saw right through her; she was eager to work with him, eager to please him, and he knew that he could get her to do anything he wanted.

"Theoretically, yes, Mista' Jay. With just my signature I could request your release from Arkham," Harleen said, reverting away from her ever growing alter-ego Harley. With just a few scribbles, Harleen could get him out, or at least request to get him released. The difficult part would be having someone else, someone higher up on the ladder believe that he was fit to be released and at this point, she doubted it would happen.

"To get you out, someone with more authority would have to believe that you were mentally stable enough to be released..." she hummed, looking at his grin and realising that she quite liked it. It was a bit mal-shapened, but it was beautiful in it's own fucked up sort of way which brought Harley back out and burying Harleen once again. "Just one sessin' wouldn't do it, puddin', sorry to say. If you wanna blow this popscicle stand you gotta make 'em believe you..." Harley trailed off in her own thoughts then, imagining how a really big boom! could get her Mista' Jay out just as easy, if not even simpler than paperwork could. But if he left, then she wouldn't be able to have these talks with him. Harley wouldn't really be around him. She didn't like that thought either.

The Joker sighed and made a tut tut tut noise with tongue. So getting out would be a little harder than he thought. It'd probably be a better bet, anyway, for him to get out after a few more sessions with his Harley. Make her believe he's getting better, show some fake progress, continue their talks about him getting out.

"So, Harley," he murmured, rubbing his chin and though to be thinking very deeply, "How do we get that started? I think I'm ready to be better to get myself out of here, Doc."

Harley tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment of how it would be possible to make her boss think that he was improving. "Ya gotta talk to me, Mista Jay. Give me something ya' haven't told anyone before, but honest. Start with little things, like maybe sometime you've seen your daddy happy," she suggested, lips forming a smile.

Harley (and Harleen) knew well one of the explainations behind his chelsea grin was because of his father. Maybe if Joker could give a moment that he could remember about his father being happy would be seen as some sort of improvement.

The Joker grunted and laughed shortly, the idea of his father. "Daddy was only happy with a bottle between his lips," he spat, not realizing that she managed she actually hit a nerve. "But I don't have dad-dy issues. I don't have any issues," he paused, "except being in Arhkam."

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his legs and sat very stiff. He hated this part of being "psychoanalyzed"- all the fucking questions about his past. The past is the past for a reason, he thought. It's what he does now and tomorrow is all that matters. And to him, that was mostly toying for the Batman. That's what made him happy, who cared about his father?

Harley flinched at his words, how harsh they sounded coming from his lips. Talking about daddy was something he obviously didn't want to do, or at least liked to do. She parted her lips to ask about his "issue" on being able to figure out Batsy's real identity, but couldn't get the words to come out as the door opened up again and a guard stepped in to tell them their time was up. A frown appeared on Harley's face.

"Well, Mista Jay, I guess this is all for today," she said, lips pouting as she had enjoyed his company, even the moments that frightened her a little. "'Nother coffee and doughnut tomorrow, puddin'? Or would you like something different?" she asked him as she moved to stand up from the table. Harleen smoothed out her skirt and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

The Joker stood up slowly, placing his hands on the table to balance as he leaned over and analyzed her face. He frowned slightly, noticing her frown, and shook his head no.

"Coffee and doughnut it is," He said, slapping his hand on the table with a smile. He begrudgingly walked over to the guard and placed his hands to be cuffed. "C'mon, Jeffery, make'm nice and tight!"