Ha Ha Harlequin

The Joker was waiting for Harleen in his cell this time, and not inside an office or interrogation room. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, arms bandaged and resting palm up on his knees. He stared at them, not saying a word until his doctor came to his aide. The door burst open, announcing her arrival, and she immediately took the seat next to him, as he expected.

“Uh, Dr. Quinzel,” the guard began apprehensively. “He’s not chained up or anything. Do you really want to be so close to him?”

The Joker smirked as Harleen looked up at the guard in surprise. “Hugh, he just slit his wrists. I don’t think he’s going to do anything to me right now. On top of that, he’s heavily sedated with medication.”

Hugh shrugged but stood in the doorway, not willing to leave her there alone with that psychopath.

“Well, it looks like the doctors have you bandaged up nicely,” she began saying distractedly, quickly checking over each wrist. She brushed her hand over each one delicately, inspecting the work. Finding that they were both taken care of, she quickly pulled her hands onto her lap and looked at him sternly. She had just touched the same hands that had single-handedly murdered so many people. Innocent, unknowing people, and most serving only as a joke to him.

“Now, Mr. Jay, why exactly did you do this? I didn’t peg you as someone who has suicidal tendencies. You take too much pride in your life. What’s the reason behind this?”

He shrugged his shoulders sluggishly. “Felt like the thing to do.”

Harleen looked at him skeptically, not believing a single word. “People don’t just decide they want to kill themselves.”

“Am I people?” he asked, smirking at her and tilting his head sideways. He sounded just as exhausted as he had previously. “Buuuuuut-ah, since you asked, yes, there is something that I wanted.”

Harleen suddenly became weary. People that the Joker associated himself with ended up either dead or worse. “Oh, and what’s that?”

He turned and looked her in the eyes, his own looking worn out and saggy. He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“If it were, would I be asking you?” the young doctor pointed out, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear.

He chuckled. “Don’t be nervous, Harleeeey.”

“I’m not ner-” she began to protest.

“Every time,” he began but paused and sighed. “Every time you pull your hair behind your ear….it usually means you’re nervous.”

So he had been observing her, all this time, just as she had been observing him. She couldn’t say that she was all that surprised, but it was definitely unnerving.

“Fair enough…” Harley said, admitting defeat. There really was no winning against this guy. “But I’m not very good at guessing games, and I do not have all day. So, Mr. Jay, what is it that you wanted, other than a death wish?”

She gave him her best smile of encouragement, but he could tell that it was fake.

“I wanted to see you, of course,” he said, and suddenly, he seemed to be full of energy, as enthusiastic as he had been before the medication. “No tape recorder, no table between us, just me and y-o-u.”

Harleen blushed. Was he…hitting on her? No…he must just want some privacy for us. She tried to rationalize what was going on…but this was the Joker, and that was nearly impossible.

“Wa-why?” I asked in a shaky voice. The normally cool Harleen Quinzel was slowly losing her steely exterior with this psychopath. The worst part was, he had yet to do anything really…dangerous to her. It was just his reputation….no, not his reputation. It was his presence that made her lose her nerve. “Is um….there something you wanted to tell me, something you didn’t want anybody else to hear?”

“No, my dear little Harley Quinn,” he said, and he reached out with a bandaged arm and brushed his hand across her cheek. It lingered for a few long seconds, and was then brought back down to his lap. Harleen froze. Not only did he touch her…he caressed her. He didn’t try to choke her or anything, just a gentle touch. Instantly, her inner psychologist began searching for some hidden meaning behind the action. Why would he touch her? What would he get out of it? Or maybe…was it just for the fun of it?

She jumped out of her seat and began stumbling away from him. The small action had terrified the wits out of her.

“Mr. Jay that…” she paused as she landed in the corner of the room. Hugh caught hold of her and attempted to drag her out of the room. “Mr. Jay that was highly inappropriate.”

She could not hide the burning red sensation that was coming from her cheeks.

“What’s also inappropriate, Harley,” he began, previous exhaustion returning to him, but with the same intensity blaring in his eyes. “Is bringing certain male…interests into an asylum such as this.”

He wiggled her eyebrows at her not in a flirting manner, but in a challenging one. Harleen’s eyes widened as she realized that he was talking about Guy. How had he known?

“Word travels fast in an asylum like this, tootes,” he informed her as if reading her thoughts, winking. “And you know what?”

He paused, whether to be dramatic or suspenseful or just plain annoying.

“I don’t. Like. Sharing.” He over enunciated every syllable possible and it sent chills up and down her spine. Harleen cringed but did not look away from his face. So many emotions were rolling over her face like a sea during a storm. She was terrified, she was curious, she was worried, but worst of all…she was exhilarated. Hugh pulled her out of the room just as the Joker’s spine-tingling laugh began to echo throughout the hallway.

********

The water came pouring down, as if from heaven, cleansing her of that awful man. He had dared to touch her with his filthy, sinful hands, the nerve to reach across the table that served as an implied barrier between them and brush his contemptible skin against her own. Balling up the sudsy wash cloth in her hands, Harleen closed her eyes and shoved the rag into her face in hopes that it would wash her memory of earlier that day away.

Breathing deeply and pulling the rag away from her face, Harleen noticed a large soap bubble had formed on her hand. She stared at it, noting the way it quivered in the presence of even the slightest breeze. The Joker’s image burned into her mind once more, and she couldn’t help but remember what had happened…and also the details that only she would know.

His hands were rough and calloused, and permanently stained black splotches were visible, marring the pinkish-yellow color that was the rest of his skin. It smelled like fireworks, gunpowder, gasoline, and death. She placed a hand upon her own cheek, in the same spot where his had been only hours before. She recalled how gentle he had been, how unthreatening it was. Just a simple gesture to…

To what, Harley? She thought to herself angrily, and she pounded a fist onto the tiled wall of the ancient shower. A piece broke off and fell to the floor, completely ignored by the only occupant in the room. To show that he actually has feelings? And for you?

What a joke that was.

Harleen slowly lowered herself to the floor, her back against the grimy wall of the shower, small giggles escaping her lips. The giggles grew into laughs, the volume and intensity of it causing her eyes to bulge. She was laughing to the point where she couldn’t breathe anymore…and she didn’t even understand why.

And that was when she knew she couldn’t be his doctor anymore. He was changing her. Like clay, he was forming and molding her into something in his eyes, in his design.

Suddenly, she heard a ringing noise.

Someone’s phone…she muttered to herself, but then she recognized the ring tone. Her head shot up and, almost forgetting a towel and leaving the water running, she ran out of the bathroom and found her cell phone resting on the window sill. Quickly, she grabbed it and answered it.

“Hello? Hello?” she answered quickly, desperate for some form of communication.

“Ah, there you are Dr. Quinzel.” It was Dr. Arkham’s voice, pompous as ever. “I had been calling you for an hour. Did your phone die?”

“No, I uh, misplaced it,” she answered quickly, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “What’s the matter doctor? Do you need me to come to the asylum?”

She tried to keep her voice calm, making up for the shouting match the two had the other day.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I actually have some news for you,” he began slowly, and even though he never specified, I could tell it was bad news. “I, along with the other doctors, have decided to reassign you to another patient.”

Harleen was stunned.

“As in, I will no longer be the Joker’s psychiatrist?” she asked quietly, just to make sure. She already knew the answer to that.

“Yes,” he answered, sounding distracted. There was a rustling of papers heard behind his voice. “We will be giving you a new patient, starting tomorrow.”

“Does this have anything to do with what happened today?” she asked, gripping the end of her shirt in anticipation.

“Professionally speaking, it is because I should have a more experienced doctor examining him,” he told her, but she could tell this wasn’t the case. “But honestly, yes it does. I knew that this or something similar to this would inevitably happen; not with you, necessarily, but with some other doctor or nurse. The Joker is just too wild and out of control. I know that you are going to fight me on this, Dr. Quinzel, but I know this has affected you in some way and I feel that it would be dangerous for the two of you to continue your sessions.”

“Dr. Arkham, I completely understand and believe me, I will not be fighting you on this,” she informed him, and the relief she was feeling was evident in her voice. “I was having similar feelings to this. I am not sure how I would be able to face him again after something like that.”

“…really?” he asked her skeptically. “I know you are trying to make up for your previous behavior, Dr. Quinzel, but you do not have to be completely submissive to me.”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Harleen began, chuckling lightly. “I was actually going to call you myself and ask for a different patient, but you beat me to it.”

“Well, that is good timing, I suppose.” He still did not sound thoroughly convinced, but he was going to let it go. Why bother arguing when he was getting exactly what he wanted. “I guess I will see you at work then, and explain the details on your new assignment.”

“Dr. Arkham, may I ask who my new patient will be?”

She was curious to know. Who else was there? Who would be interesting enough to keep her attention after the Joker? Hopefully someone in a completely different wing.

“Jonathon Crane.”

There was silence on the end of the phone.

“Dr. Quinzel? Are you still there?”

She was going to see Jonathon again. But was this a good thing or a bad thing?

“Y-yes, I’m still here…doctor,” she answered, trying to regain her composure. “I will see you at the asylum tomorrow.”

“Alright, have a good night.”

Harleen hung up her phone and finally let the news sink into her. She went weak in the knees and the butterflies in her tummy had returned. For the longest time, Harleen had a crush on Dr. Jonathon Crane. He was young, attractive, successful, everything a young girl like her could ever want in a man. Unfortunately what went a long with that was a large ego, a sense of being better than the others around him, and the fact that he was working with the mob and tried to take over the city with a hallucinogenic compound that he himself had created. That definitely put a damper on some of her fantasies. But she had always hoped that one day she would be his doctor and that she could help him, maybe even cure him, if that were possible. She knew how much of a child she sounded like, and she mostly kept these dreams to herself. Pam was aware of her crush on her superior, but she never filled her in on these details.

You need to be calm, cool and collected when you see him, Harles, she told herself in her head as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Unfortunately the excitement and anticipation wouldn’t go away.

Her phone went off again, telling her that she had a voicemail. She looked and saw that she had over 20 voicemails and 50 or so text messages. A majority of them were from Pam, some from her parents, and a few from a number that she didn’t recognize. She knew that if she didn’t call Pam back immediately, she was going to murder her personally, so she decided to make that her number one priority for the moment. She quickly dialed the number and prepared for the bombardment of questions from her best friend.