Ha Ha Harlequin

The café was crowded, but despite that fact, Harleen was still able to pick out Pam’s flaming red hair. She sighed, and checked herself in her little compact mirror one more time. Even though she was not thrilled with the idea of meeting a complete stranger on a so-called ‘date,’ she still wanted to look her best. Her smile was forced, as if she didn’t want to be here, which was exactly the case. Not showing up, though, would only result in feeling the wrath of Pamela Isley.

As Harleen approached the table, as if on instinct, Pam turned around and greeted her friend with an award-winning smile. She squeezed Harleen in a friendly hug, and turned around to introduce her to the two men at the table.

“Harley, this is Dr. Jason Woodrue,” she told her best friend, pointing to the man on her right just as he stood up and stuck his hand out. Harley shook it with a smile. “Jason, meet my best friend, Dr. Harleen Quinzel.”

Harleen was slightly surprised. Jason was not at all Pam’s usual type. She usually went for the overly masculine, body builder types. Jason was more…well, for a lack of a better adjective, nerdy. He had short, neatly trimmed brown hair, with a pair of square glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The only thing that made him looking masculine at all was the stubble growing on his broad chin.

“Ah, Dr. Woodrue,” Harleen greeted with a smile, recognizing the name. This was Pam’s boss, from the botanical laboratory that she worked in. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Now the attraction made sense. If it were socially acceptable to date a plant, Pam would do it.

“Likewise,” he replied in a very surprisingly deep voice. She had to refrain from grinning.

Now the man next to him was a different story. He wasn’t an overly tall man, under six feet, but still taller than herself. He had curly dark brown hair, and bright blue eyes. He smiled at her, and he had adorable dimples. Harleen liked him already.

Here’s to hoping this one’s not gay, she thought to herself, almost hopefully.

She flashed him smile in return, shaking his hand as well. Pam gave her a knowing look.

“Harley, this is Guy Kopski,” Pam introduced them. “He’s a med student at Gotham University.”

“Well don’t tell her that,” Guy said, playfully glaring at her. “You’re supposed to say that I’m some doctor from Gotham General, mentally preparing myself for a brain transplant that has never been attempted before.”

“That certainly would be more impressive,” Harley said, chuckling lightly and adjusting her glasses on her nose. “But I’ve been where you are, so no worries.”

“Tell me, Doctor Quinzel,” he said, returning to his seat. “Is it worth it? All this training for the medical field, I mean?”

Harleen was thoughtful for a second. Was studying for six years at school really worth it? A year ago, heck two months ago, she would have said no. But now, things were changing.

“Definitely,” she answered with a smirk. “Not at first, mind you, but eventually you will find something to catch your interest.”

Pam had been staring at the two, grinning all the while. She knew her best friend very well, and could tell when Harleen was attracted to someone.

“Tell them, Harley,” the red-head began, taking a sip of her water. “Tell them about your new high-profile patient that Arkham stuck you with.”

Harleen had to roll her eyes. She knew that Pam was trying to get her to brag. Whatever happened to liking someone for whom they were?

“I wouldn’t say they stuck me with him,” she responded, opening up her menu and searching something good to eat. She was feeling in the mood for a salad. “But I am currently having sessions with the Joker. Just assisting, though, I don’t actually talk to him. Not yet at least. Today was our first session.”

“Yet?” Guy asked, catching that tiny yet important word.

“I have a feeling that Dr. Arkham won’t be able to handle this patient any longer,” she told the table matter-of-factly, feeling important. “He’s only had two sessions with the guy, and he’s already about to crack.”

“And you think that you are qualified enough to handling him?” Jason asked skeptically. There was something that Harleen did not like about this man. He was certainly a lot darker than his friend Guy, and he doubted her talents. No, he underestimated her. She took it as a challenge.

“More qualified than Arkham,” she replied stiffly, although she knew she was saying too much. It probably was not wise for her to berate her boss in public, even if it was true.

Before anyone could say anything else, Harleen’s Blackberry went off in her purse, vibrating boisterously. Embarrassed, she reached down to hit the ignore button, but then saw it was from the police department. She excused herself briefly, earning a glare from Pam.

Earlier, Harleen had made plans to meet up with Commissioner Gordon after her lunch date, but he had just called to tell her that he needed to do it earlier. What he meant by earlier was right at that moment. She returned to the table.

“I’m sorry, Pam, Guy, Jason.” She apologized directly to each person. “But I have a date with Commissioner Gordon involving one of my patients. You guys enjoy the rest of your lunches.”

With one last look at Pam, who was glaring at Harleen even harder than before, she took off, stomach growling.

Pity, she thought to herself, frowning slightly. Guy actually looked like he would be worth my time.

She was about to leave the restaurant, wondering if she would ever see the man again, when she felt somebody grab her shoulder lightly, stopping her. She turned around in surprise, which turned to amusement once she saw who it was.

“Before you go running off, Cinderella,” Guy began, removing his arm from her shoulder and brushing his hair out of his face. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out again sometime, if that’s what you would call this. Just the two of us. I’ve never trusted first impressions before, but I wanted to prove myself wrong this time. Now feel special, for I only do that for a few people.”

Harleen couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle. “I bet you say that to all the girls. I’ve always been a believer in fate. So if we’re meant to go out again, it’ll happen naturally. See you around.”

She left him there, him looking amused and her grinning. She mostly told him that because she didn’t want to be late for her meeting with the commissioner, and only a little bit to flirt with him.

Commissioner Gordon was found waiting patiently in the entrance to the Asylum just as Harleen entered the building. He rose out of his seat at her entrance, and immediately stuck out his hand for her to shake, which she did.

“Commissioner Gordon, it’s great to finally meet you,” she told him with a professional smile. Just because she was an intern did not mean that she couldn’t act like a real doctor.

“Likewise, doctor,” he told her, bowing his head slightly.

After getting clearance for Gordon at the front desk, she led him down the long dark hallways and up to the third floor where her office was, which she instantly regretted. Taking him to an interrogation room would have been better than her poor excuse of an office. Deciding it was too late, she gestured to the lone chair across from her ‘desk.’ He sat down and looked around the room uncomfortably. Embarrassed, she opened one of the file cabinets in search of Schiff’s file. Gordon was the first to speak.

“You said you had a few questions for me, Ms. Quinzel,” he asked. Harleen could tell that he was impatient. It was understandable, being the commissioner of the GCPD. “Regarding former Commissioner Loeb’s funeral?”

Her lips curled up into a ruby-red bemused smile. Straight to the point.

“Yes,” she began and cleared her throat. “As you are well aware of, I am overseeing Thomas Schiff, one of the men the Joker had used in attempts to assassinate Mayor Garcia. Just the other day, I heard some disturbing news from him in concerns to that day. I was wondering if you had any idea.”

He waited for her to continue, face not changing. When Harleen had made the appointment, she was afraid that the commissioner would intimidate her, not purposefully of course. She feared that she would be timid to ask anything. But at the moment, she was completely confident. Perhaps it was the professional atmosphere of the situation; her sitting behind her desk, albeit a tiny one, and him on the other side.

“Thomas informed me that he was taken, involuntarily, by Mr. Dent,” she told him warily, knowing very well how outrageous she sounded. “And even threatened his life. I am just curious to know whether or not someone noticed something peculiar that day, such as this.”

“There has been no reported case of this, Ms. Quinzel,” he told her hurriedly, words flowing out smoothly, as if it had been rehearsed. Harleen was instantly suspicious. He caught on, even when she was doing her best not to sound accusatory. It was easy to see how, if this were true, damaging this could be to the Commissioner of the GCPD’s reputation, but she was determined to get the truth. He continued speaking. “If there had been, the GCPD would have informed the public immediately. Mr. Dent was a very successful public official, God rest his soul, and it comes as no surprise that inmates at this facility would try to tarnish his reputation. Now, if that is all that you had to ask me, I must be going. There is much to do to recover from the Joker terrors.”

Harleen was shocked and almost angered as she watched him begin to stand up and leave the room.

“Excuse me, Comissioner Gordon,” she said, stopping the man in his tracks, the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. “But we like to refer to this institution’s occupants as patients, not inmates. What he told me was the truth, I know it.”

“I beg to disagree. He either told you a lie or what he thought was the truth. He is a paranoid schizophrenic. I wouldn’t take what he said to heart, doctor.”

“I thought of that as well,” the blonde retorted, standing up and eying him suspiciously. “But this was at a point where he had progressed significantly. Please, if you know anything, it is best to tell me. It may be crucial to his recovery.”

He looked as if he was debating something in his mind before answering.

“There is nothing left to say,” he told her finally, and he turned and left.

Harleen remained standing and staring at the doorway for what felt like hours. She was so shocked that he had not answered truthfully and had dismissed her so easily. She sat down in a huff.

"What a complete and total waste of my time," she muttered to herself angrily. Although she knew that he had confirmed that something in fact had happened, even if she didn’t know exactly what.

The Joker was eying her once more, a playful glint apparent in his dark eyes. The young woman did her best to avoid his stare. It seemed that he did everything in his power to make her uncomfortable, always making sure to draw the attention onto her. And even in their second week in, it was still working.

“Tell me, why a clown?” Dr. Arkham asked monotonously, not even giving the man his full attention. He had his camera set out and he was scribbling nonsense onto his own clipboard.

The Joker’s eyes swiveled slowly from Harleen’s to Arkham’s.

“I’m no ordinary clown,” he stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Hold on I think I have my card on me here somewhere…”

His voice trailed off as he began searching, limited to craning his neck and looking underneath the table. Harleen grinned slightly, amused. Arkham cleared his voice to get the Joker’s attention again.

“Please answer the question, patient 6823.”

“I’ll tell you what.” The psychopath adjusted himself in his seat, finding a more comfortable position, one closer to his doctor’s face. “I’ll answer all your questions as soon as you stop giving me those dumb little nicknames of yours. Hm?”

He raised his eyebrows at him.

“Unless, of course-ah,” he began, his attention switching once more from the male to the female. She watched, anxiously, as his eyes slowly went from Dr. Arkham to herself.

Shit.

“Legs came up with a few good ones,” he told her, sending her an exaggerated wink. “I bet she’ll be more creative than patient 6823 or John Boring.”

Dr. Arkham sighed for what seemed the sixth time that session. He reached his hand across and shut the tape off, much to the Joker’s amusement. He sort of wiggled his head side to side at the older man, mocking him.

“Thank you, patient 6823,” Arkham told the patient with a forced smile, packing up his belongings and towing Harleen out of the room. “My office. Now.”

Without saying a word, she followed the agitated man to his office. As soon as she had stepped into the room, Arkham had closed the door and turned around to face her. His face was contorted in deep thought, debating something silently in his own mind. Harleen did her best to keep her mouth shut for fear that he was going to take her off the case. Those worries were put to rest as soon as Arkham had opened his mouth once more.

“I want you to go in there alone,” he told her bluntly. He had definitely learned to stop beating around the bush and sugar-coating situations.

The young woman was too stunned to speak, mouth slightly ajar. Perhaps her ears were deceiving her, for she could have sworn that he had just asked her to go in the little room, with only a one-way mirror and a table and chairs, no protection whatsoever, and actually talk to the evilest man in Gotham. Her, Harleen Quinzel, a mere intern at Arkham Asylum, a building that did not have the best reputation. He could not be serious.

“You must be joking,” she said after a moment. She was shaking her head, refusing. “I can’t…I can’t…I won’t. Do you know what a guy like that would do to me?”

How could Arkham be so stupid? Letting an intern treat Gotham’s most terrifying psychopath.

“I have thought this over in my head,” he told her with a grimace, walking around and sitting on the edge of his desk. “But he seems more interested in talking to you than to me.”

Harleen snorted. “I’m sure he’s just doing that to get a rise out of you.”

“Let’s test that theory then,” he said in a challenging tone. “One session with him. If it ends in disaster, you will never have to be in the same wing as him again, let alone the same room. If it ends in success…”

It was a tempting offer, but she wasn’t stupid. She was an educated individual who graduated from Gotham University with her PhD.

“Absolutely not,” the blonde told him firmly, anxiety apparent in her voice. “If you think that I will be able to handle this alone, then you belong in here just as much as any of these patients. You’ve been able to persuade me once before, but not this time. No. This conversation is over.”

Knowing how unprofessional she sounded, she left the room, her heels clicking harshly on the tiled ground. This was the last thing that she had expected. The conversation from lunch last week with Pam and Guy flashed in her mind, and she remembered how confidently she stated how she would be taking over for Arkham soon. Mentally berating herself, she ran towards her office and sat down in her chair, running her fingers through her smooth blonde locks. He really should not have just sprung that on her, not so bluntly either. It was too soon. She’d only have a couple of sessions with the two, not nearly enough for her to confidently go in there on her own.

“But you turned down the opportunity of a lifetime,” she whispered aloud to herself. “Imagine the fame, Quinzel. Your face in the newspaper, the reporters around you, perhaps you’d finally be invited to one of those fancy Gotham balls.”

She snorted loudly at this point. What was she thinking? She hated all that fancy nonsense. She supposed it was just the idea of getting invited, the honor, the prestige of it all, that she wanted, not to actually go there.

Biting her lip hesitantly, she thought about the cons of the situation.

Talking face-to-face with the Joker.
Being in the same room as the Joker alone.
The possibility that the Joker would crawl into her mind and find all of her hidden secrets.

“Some doctor…”

Where was her sense of adventure? She was always the one in her family who had wanted to do great things with her life, and here she was chickening out over some guy wearing his mommy’s make-up. The thought made her sick with disappointment.

Sleep on it, her brain told her. Then let Arkham know tomorrow.

Taking a deep breath and calming her nerves, she pulled out the Joker’s file once more, the first time in awhile, and put down a little note next to his profile, smiling all the while.

Talented at pissing Arkham off.