In the Mind of Madness

Kenna went to work Monday morning feeling rather optimistic. When Darla left Saturday they made plans to have lunch Sunday, and it left Kenna in a good mood. Darla was fun to be around, perky and happy, and reminded Kenna of herself before her dad’s death. Plus God how long had it been since she had any girl time?

But Kenna didn’t let herself think about that. She would try to preserve her happy temperament while she could.

Dr. King passed Kenna’s office, first finding it odd that her door was open, then he heard her singing under her breath.

“Kenna?” said Dr. King, sticking his head in the door.

She looked up from the paperwork in front of her, smiling serenely. “Good morning, Alan.”

King rose his eyebrows. He’d told her a few times to call him Alan, but when she insisted on Dr. King he gave up. “You seem…enthusiastic.”

“Thanks. The same time today with The Joker?”

King nodded, smiling a little even though he was still confused by Kenna‘s sudden mood swing. “That’ll be fine…Are you positive you want to go through with it?”

Kenna nodded immediately, continuing to smile. “Positive.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Kenna.”

“Bye.”

Dr. King left her office, and Kenna realized what she had just done. She giggled a little at herself. There were really two Kenna Archers: the serious, professional Kenna that had taken over after her dad’s death, and the bubbly Kenna from her youth. Having a friend again was bringing out the bright, sunny Kenna, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it yet.

Lunch rolled around, and Kenna munched cheerfully on a turkey sandwich and granola bar. Sheila came in a few minutes later, her graying brown hair a little flyaway.

“Are you okay?!”

Kenna’s eyes widened at her friend’s worry. “Yeah. Of course I am.”

“God! I heard that psycho attacked you yesterday, and I didn’t know your number, and I’ve been worried sick not knowing if you were alright or not.”

Kenna laughed. “Attacked? He just grabbed my wrist.”

“Well, Jeannie said he tried to rape you!”

“Oh my god! She has a wild imagination.” Kenna said, covering her mouth so her food wouldn’t show as she chuckled.

“You seem great. Maybe better than before…Did you get a boyfriend or something?”

Kenna raised an eyebrow at that assumption. “No. I’ve just had some much-needed girl time, and I think it really helped me.”

Sheila pouted a little. “If you needed girl time you could have asked me!”

Kenna winked playfully. “Sorry, Sheila. I’ll make sure to call you next time.”

*

With a slight skip in her step, Kenna made her way to the windowless room where she’d met with The Joker before. She opened the door smiling, but then frowned. Was she in the wrong room? Kenna studied the man at the table, his arms crossed over his chest. After a few seconds she realized that it was The Joker. Sans makeup.

“I see they forced you to bathe.” she said to him conversationally, closing the door.

There was no response. Kenna then noticed how angry he looked. His face was blank except a slight scowl to his lips, but his eyes were so livid they were shining. Kenna made a note about serious irritation caused by removal of makeup, then looked back at The Joker.

“We’re back to the silent treatment? All because some big bad men made you wash off your face paint?”

His eyes stayed locked on hers, the furious shine still lingering. Kenna knew that pushing him further went against her promise to Dr. King to stay safe…but she just couldn’t resist.

“You know, I have to say that the clown without his mask isn’t that bad. Those scars are hardly noticeable, almost like a birthmark. Why do you insist on hiding them?” she pressed, leaning in to watch his reaction.

The Joker still didn’t reply to her, and his face stayed impassive, but Kenna couldn’t stop a small smirk from appearing on her face. She crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee, forming her lips into a sweet smile.

“I bet it’s a lot more comfortable here without that jacket. At least you can feed yourself now. But…I seem to remember a deal involving a certain clownish villain that I know opening up in exchange for freedom from restraints.”

The Joker’s mouth twitched upwards from his scowl for a split second. “You’re rather bipolar, you know.”

“And you aren’t?” Kenna said, then quickly continued before he could interrupt. “So, let’s get down to business. What were you trying to hide under all that makeup? Was it to make you scarier? Memorable, maybe?”

“I said I would talk, not that I would respond to overused pseudo-babble.”

Kenna pulled a tape recorder out of her pocket and set it on the table. “I’m listening.”

The Joker opened his mouth and Kenna pressed the record button.

“I was eighteen and working for a bunch of wannabe mobsters. We were gonna hit a small bank that nobody knew about. None of us were more than twenty, so being the cocky kids that we were, we figured we’d do it hard and fast and get outta there. When we showed up, who would be there but Falcone himself? He’s dead now, you probably don’t know who he was, but back then he was the biggest crime boss in Gotham. He didn’t think it was very funny that we were going to try and knock over his bank, but I couldn’t stop smiling. So he had his men tie me up, and he used a pocketknife on my face. Told me now I could always smile. Life’s a little funny isn’t it, Doc?”