Ha Ha Harlequin

The door was right in front of her, sitting innocently, as if all that was hiding behind it was a broom closet. But Harleen knew all too well that the door was hiding something much more dangerous. Someone, more dangerous. The white paint on the door was chipping, and the orange-rusted metal lying beneath it was exposed in a few areas. She lifted the hatch on the door to get a peak at the room’s only occupant. Jonathon Crane was sitting on a chair in the back of the room, facing away from the wall. He was busily writing something down, and hadn’t yet noticed her intrusion. She lifted out his file from underneath her arm and looked it over for the hundredth time.

Possible dissociative identity disorder- often refers to himself as the scarecrow
Often talks to himself
Does not like company, prefers to be left alone
Reacts violently when he feels like he is being ordered around
No straight jacket – on probation
Refuses to take any sort of medication
Prefers to be referred to as ‘Scarecrow’

As the list continued on to reveal the medication he was under, she closed the file and closed her eyes. Jonathon had changed so much in the past few years. He had never shown any sort of emotion other than contempt before. Most of the time he was just expressionless, always appearing calm and collected. Nowadays he was just the opposite; full of emotion, ranting on and on about how he was the ‘Master of Fear,’ or the ‘King of Phobias.’ He really did belong in this asylum. Luckily for her, he was composed at the moment, perhaps heavily sedated. Judging by the way he was actively writing in his corner, he was Jonathon now and not the Scarecrow.

Harleen opened the door to his room. Unlike the sessions with the Joker, she was going to have her sessions with Jonathon in his own room. That’s how sessions were normally conducted; no guards, no tables, and no cops.

The strange thing was, she did not feel nervous. The only thing occupying her thoughts at the moment was Mr. Jay. The two patients she had been allowed to have thus far were quite different in many ways, but in others, very similar. Jonathon had a character that demonstrated his higher intellect, while Mr. Jay was a wild animal; doing what he wanted when he wanted and not caring about who got hurt (in most cases killed) in the process. But they were both criminals, greatly superior in comparison to others, and both had done very evil things. Harleen knew what she would be getting herself into when she applied for the internship at Arkham, but she never realized it would happen so soon.

“Ms. Quinzel, this is most irregular,” Jonathon said suddenly, startling Harleen slightly. He turned around and she could detect the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips and a glint in his crystal blue eyes. “One could recognize the sound of your heels anywhere, Ms. Quinzel, let alone on an old asylum with cheap linoleum floors.”

She mentally cursed herself for choosing the heels. She should have gone for the flats but no, she wanted to look ‘assertive.’ She cleared her voice uncomfortably. “I suppose you know why I am here, then, Jonathon.”

He sneered, his eyes suddenly losing their playful glint and growing cold. He looked so unkempt; he was always the type of person who always made sure there was never a hair out of place on him. His hair was greasy and disheveled, his clothes was covered in stains, and he looked sickly thin.

“I would prefer it if you referred to me as Dr. Crane,” he began, slowly turning around and continuing his writing. “And yes, I am aware. Although, I am thoroughly surprised that they chose you as my latest doctor, if one could call you that. And so soon, too. I wasn’t quite done with the last one.”

His tone was very condescending, almost challenging. Harleen became tense and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You discovered Dr. McClure’s irrational fear, and then used it against him,” she told him, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Ah, Coulrophobia,” he said, as if relishing the memory. “All it took was a little paint, a little blood…and he was mine.”

Harleen pulled out her tape recorder and placed it beside her. She hit the record button, trying her best to ignore his last statement.

“So, Jonathon, how are you feeling today?” she asked, deciding this would be the best direction to go in. She needed to keep talking, keep doing something. If not, she would find herself staring at the man and he would catch on quickly, if hadn’t already. Or her mind would wander to other patients….

“Spectacular,” he told her, voice dripping with sarcasm. He had yet to give her his undivided attention since she walked into the room. And then suddenly he did. “Why, may I ask, are you with me and not your other patient, Ms. Quinzel? Was the pretty and headstrong young doctor not able to handle the clown?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she knew he was smirking. She could hear it in his voice. Harleen sighed. He never missed an opportunity to treat her coldly and make her look bad.

“Or did you simply give up, just as you did with the altercation between Thomas Schiff and Harvey Dent.”

That got her attention. How had he known about that? Did he really have such connections within the asylum? Of course he did; he was the asylum’s previous proprietor. He would know every nook and cranny of this place, all of its secrets, everything. She sat up a little straighter.

“What do you know of Schiff and Dent?” she asked him, curiosity getting the better of her. She knew she had promised Batman that she would stop digging into this mystery, but she couldn’t help herself. Crane had set a trap and she had willingly sprung it.

He shrugged his shoulders innocently, and as he turned around to face her, she noticed that the playful look was back in his eyes. He was going to play with her and toy with her, Harleen knew that very well. He had information that she didn’t know but desperately wanted to uncover.

“Not much,” he teased, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them off as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Harleen clenched the file in her hands, growing frustrated in her attempts to maintain her cool. If she fed his ego some more, he would eventually tell her what she wanted to know.

“Clearly, Dr. Crane,” she began, remembering to use his preferred name. He took notice. “Your sources are far better than mine, along with your methods of ….persuasion. If you could enlighten me in any way possible, you would have my undying gratitude.”

She stared at him, trying to look as innocent as possible. In most situations similar to this, she would have tried to use her ‘feminine assets’ to influence him into telling her, but she knew that wouldn’t work on him. He wasn’t interested in such things, a fact that had greatly depressed Harleen when she had first discovered it. He sneered at her again, but it was obvious that she had hit the right note with him.

“You flatter me so, Ms. Quinzel,” he said, replacing his glasses on his face. He folded his hands together on the back of his chair and began staring her down. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.” She raised an eyebrow at that. There was no way this would turn out well. “I will tell you everything your heart desires if….you were to help me with a little experiment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. She did not like the sound of that, especially after recalling his last ‘experiment’ on Gotham City.

“You can relax,” he told her, eyes flashing at her fear, a smirk on his lips. “The asylum and the police destroyed my entire supply. What I want you to do is more….dangerous.”

If he was trying to comfort her, it wasn’t working. “I will not make a deal with one of my patients. Especially with you, Dr. Crane. Or has Scarecrow made an appearance now?”

He smirked again, ignoring her question. “Kiss me.”

Harleen’s eyes widened in shock. There was no possible way that he was interested in her; it had to be a trick. What was he up to? A ploy or not, her heart did skip a beat and a nervous sensation surged through her body. “Dr. Crane, that is highly inappropriate and I will do no such thing.” She found herself saying that a lot lately.

She pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses on her face. She could not prevent the reddening of her cheeks, unfortunately. So it appeared as if he did know her feelings for him, judging by his triumphant smirk on his face, and he was using it against her, the bastard. She knew she shouldn’t have felt as hurt or surprised as she did, but she couldn’t help it. She had been practically in love with the man ever since she got her internship. He now had two things against her, both that she desperately wanted. But what was he going to get out of it? The satisfaction of winning? Of being better than her? It was never that simple with him. But still, she would be getting what she wanted.

He could get anything he wanted from her, even without using his famous gas.

“And…what would you get out of this arrangement, doctor?”

“That is something you need not worry about, doctor.” He continued to stare at her. He wasn’t menacing, but he wasn’t trying to be soft with her either.

Harleen blinked and reached out with her hand to shut off the tape recorder. She could get in a significant amount of trouble for this, but then again, worse dealings have occurred at this asylum. She bit her lip nervously, not quite knowing what she was doing.

“Alright Jonathon,” she began, taking a deep breath. “You tell me everything you know, and I will do as you say.” She knew she was being stupid, and there were a billion scenarios of the different ways he could kill her were flashing through her head, but she knew he wouldn’t kill her. That wasn’t his style. At least, not Jonathon’s style.

A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. He just looked at her not moving a muscle. Of course, she was expected to go to him. Glaring at him, she stood up and walked over to him. He didn’t even have the common courtesy to stand up for her, or caress her cheek or anything, much different from the fantasies she had in the past. Harleen knelt down so that she was eye-level with him, and began to lean in closer to his face. His face was completely expressionless, making the situation even more awkward than it already was. Just as she began closing her eyes, she felt his hand on her cheek. But it wasn’t a soft loving touch; it was rough. Her eyes pried open and she stared fearfully into his cold eyes. He was sneering at her, looking at her as if she was the moth pathetic thing he had ever seen.

“And they want you to be my successor? Pathetic,” he insulted her, throwing her face away from him and returning to his writing. “I suggest you gain better control of your emotions, Ms. Quinzel, and learn not to trust anybody in this facility. A lesson I learned a long time ago. I could see the hope in your eyes, the desperation. Pathetic.”

Harleen’s ego was badly injured, and as a result she remained on the floor, staring at him clenched hands on the old tiled ground. She knew it had been too good to be true. And in that one moment, whatever feelings she had left for him, whatever faith she had in him, had disappeared entirely. Her schoolgirl crush was over; it was time for her to enter the real world.

“That’s enough for today, Dr. Crane,” she told him stiffly, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. She grabbed her tape recorder and left his room.

“Goodbye, Dr. Quinzel…” he muttered, not paying attention.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she returned to her office.

********

Harleen was walking back to her car. It was late evening, and she had just finished her day at Arkham. She was a bit of an emotional wreck; Jonathon had shaken her, and insulted her. She was angry with him, but even more so angry at herself for falling for it. She should’ve known that he would do something like that. She spent most of the day trying to avoid any other patients or doctors by locking herself up in her tiny office, convincing everyone that she was just doing paperwork. She didn’t even take her lunch break.

She angrily pulled her keys out of her purse, and her mind wandered to her other patient. She wondered who was seeing him now. Most likely Dr. Arkham. Or perhaps Dr. Leland. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much, seeing as it was partially her decision to leave Mr. Jay in the first place. She shook her head and sighed just as she reached her old clunker of a car.

“Excuse me, miss?” she heard a man say from behind her. He sounded very close, and cursed herself for not being more cautious, especially at this time of night. She quietly took her keys and placed some between her fingers, just in case and slowly turned around. But even if she had wanted to use them, she was too slow. A hand went over her eyes and a rag covered her mouth. She panicked as she recognized the chemical slowly being wafted into her body. She was terrified, and blindly struggled as much as she possibly could; but the man and the chemical were too much for her. Attempts at screaming and fighting back were all futile, and soon everything went black.