Ha Ha Harlequin

Disclaimer: I do not own Harley. Or Batman. Or the Joker. Or Bartholomew. Or Arkham. Or Dr. Arkham. That's all DC's.

“That’s not an alter ego. It’s who I am. Who I was. And who I always will be.”

The taped rewound itself to the beginning.

“That’s not an alter ego. It’s who I am. Who I was. And who I always will be.”

This time the screen froze, and the Joker’s eyes bore into Harleen’s, even through the television screen. His words still echoed in her head, despite the fact that the sound had stopped.

She was sitting on the floor with her knees curled up into her chest, mesmerized by the video she was watching. Her head tilted to the side slightly, eyes alight with intrigue. The Joker was the most interesting, dangerous, exciting man she had ever encountered, and it was impossible for her not to be fascinated. Like a sailor out at sea drawn to the call of a Siren, Harleen was drawn to the call of the Joker, the message that he was so desperately trying to send out to the world.

She chuckled suddenly, shaking her head and shutting the tape off. She must have watched the same video at least a hundred times. She could practically recite everything spoken by each person.

Her fingers met her eyes as she tried her best to rub the sleep out of them. She caught notice of the time, and knew she only had about a half hour till she needed to be at work. It was another Joker day, and Arkham had called her in early. Most likely to tempt her into taking the Joker case. A smile spread across her lips as she grabbed her keys and purse. She knew that Arkham would crack eventually. It was only a matter of time. When he asked her this time, now that the shock had disappeared, her answer would be different. She was certain that she was ready to take on the case. A quick glance in the mirror prevented her from leaving the building. She looked healthier today, despite the lack of sleep she had gotten the night before. This was mostly due to the fact that the large bruises that were on her neck had completely disappeared. She was free to wear a regular shirt, which was exactly what she did. A ruby-red smile stretching across her face, she felt confident enough to take on anything. Especially the Joker.

________________________________________________________________________________

The clicking of heels on the floor signified the approach of Harleen. Her head was down, staring in concentration at her manila folder and Joker notes. A pen was neatly tucked behind her ear, and her glasses were perched on the edge of her nose.

“He’s waiting for you inside, doctor,” the policeman outside the interrogation room told her, saying the last word in a very patronizing tone.

She didn’t have to look up to know that he was smirking at her. She simply pursed her lips and said, “Thank you.” She was used to the moronic police by now, and didn’t give him a second thought.

Harleen was a little annoyed that Arkham had not bothered to wait for her in his office. She had walked in there previously to find it empty, and assumed that he was already down here.

That man really knows how to push my buttons, she thought to herself angrily.

“We-he-hell, lookie at what we’ve got here.”

Harleen’s head shot up to look at who had spoken. The Joker was sitting in his usual chair, in his usual straight jacket, with his usual bindings. He was looking up at her with a face of pure amusement, grinning at her as if she were some stripper here to give him a lap dance. Furrowing her eyebrows together in confusion, she looked around the room to see if Arkham was in there. He wasn’t. She had assumed that when the guard had said, “He’s in waiting for you inside,” that he meant Arkham, not this psychopath.

Perhaps I’m supposed to wait for him in here… she thought to herself, but upon further investigation, she found only one chair there, and it was right across from the Joker. Realization dawned upon her face, quickly followed by anger, and she didn’t give a damn whether or not the Joker could tell.

“Look who the, er, good doctors of Arkham fed to the sharks,” the Joker began, the corners of his lips twitching. “Or should I say, shark?”

Oh she was seething at this point. Even his comment did not phase her.

“This is going to be…funnnnnnn.” His voice rumbled on the last word, causing an unwanted shiver to course through her. This momentarily pulled her away from her mutinous thoughts towards Jeremiah Arkham. She looked down at him, and he was still smiling. She could practical see the gears working in his head.

As swiftly as the anger had come, she let it slowly drain out of her face so that she looked calm and tranquil. Something told her that losing her cool in front the Joker was not wise. She would get Arkham later, but for now, she had a patient to attend to. Gently, although with shaking hands, she placed her folder on the table and sat down in her chair. A camera was already set up and waiting to be activated. If Arkham had told her, she would’ve made sure to bring a voice recorder, not the video camera. But, since that was all she had, she reached across and pressed play anyway.

And then it sunk in. She was alone. With the Joker. Playing psychiatrist.

Just don’t let it show on your face and you’re golden. But even that thought was laughable; she could even feel her lips trembling with rage. Plus, all he had to do was look into her eyes and he would know. As she was thinking it, his dark brown eyes were plastered to her face.

“This is Doctor Harleen Quinzel interviewing patient 6823,” she began in a falsely cool tone, not taking her eyes off the man in front of her. “February 12.”

She wasn’t sure why she included the date; Arkham never did. Then again, she didn’t want to be like him.

“Good morning, patient 6823,” she told him, flashing him a small, professional smile. “How are you?”

Like she gave a damn about how he felt.

His look of amusement immediately disappeared and was replaced by annoyance.

“Ah, that’s right,” Harleen began, as if she were talking to a child. “You don’t like to be referred to as that. What would you prefer?”

She was feeding him some rope; see how much of it he would take. He grinned, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“You can call me anything you want, toots,” he told her with an exaggerated wink. “Buttttt-a, if you want my personal opinion, Mr. Jay has a real nice ring to it. Perhaps if you said with a cockney accent, you would see it to, hehe. Heck, go crazy, why, why not a Queens accent?”

He was giggling in his seat now, clearly enjoying himself. He mouthed the words, making I appear as if he were saying “Mistah Jay.” Harleen was watching him, waiting to see if he would glance up at her to see her reaction, like all the other patients would. But he never did. He wasn’t behaving like this for her; he was doing it for himself. She quickly scribbled down the note on her clipboard, trying not to draw too much attention to herself. But she knew that no matter how tiny her movements were, he would notice them. In fact, the tinier they were, the more intriguing they were to him. It was like she was hiding something from him, and he had to know everything.

“So, Mr. Jay,” Harleen began before he could do anything else. She actually planned on using his nickname. Mr. Jay was a name that made him appear more…human, as laughable as that sounded. She would accept the situation better with that name, as compared to the Joker. “Did you sleep well?”

“Super,” he told her, not paying attention. He began scrunching his face as if he had an itch, but couldn’t scratch, due to his straight jacket. “Wanna do a guy a favor?”

Harleen blinked.

When she didn’t move, he pulled his head back, offended. He made a face as if to say, “Well, fine then.”

“Did you dream?” she continued, shaking her head and hiding a smile.

“Of course I dreamed,” he told her matter-of-factly, as if she were stupid. “Everybody dreams. The correct phrasing of the question should have been, ‘Did you remember your dream?’ And you’re supposed to be the professional here.”

The Joker pursed his lips and shook his head at her in disappointment. There was still a gleam in his eye, as if it were a trap he had just set up. She smirked despite her better sense of judgment. She quickly made a mark on her clipboard.

Knowledge of psychology.

“But since you’re so curious to know, I did indeed remember my dream,” he continued, not allowing her the chance to speak. She was slightly grateful for that.

She thought about what she was going to say next. Asking, “Can you describe the dream to me?” would most likely result in me having to ask “Will you describe the dream to me?” Perhaps after that he’ll ask for a please. He would trouble her with trivial things like that. She ended up going with a, “Please describe the dream for me.” Sure it was more demanding, but it would show her dominance.

Mr. Jay was thoughtful for a moment, even proceeding to squint his eyes, as if trying to make out something in the distance. He suddenly shuddered, as if he saw something horrific. Harleen couldn’t tell whether or not it was him being ridiculous her him trying to unnerve her. She was thinking it was more of the former than the latter.

“Well it all started off with me, lying on that cot in my er…” He paused, tilting his head slightly and smacking his lips lightly. “Room, as you would put it. So I was lying on it, not a care in the world when I finally fell asleep. I was, uh, walking down this dark hallway, or alleyway, I dunno, something like that, when all of a sudden, I felt myself shrink till I was closer to the ground. Instead of walking I began…er…gliding? Sliding? Sliding. I was sliding on the ground. In the distance, there was a door, the only door in the whole hallway. As I reach it, it opens.”

He paused and looked at her curiously, to see if she was paying attention. She was. While her ears were open, her eyes were glued to his eyebrows. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with them. No, they were just so full of…expression. He used more facials than any other person Harleen had seen before. She nodded her head, indicating for him to continue.

“Cowering in the corner was some, er, guy,” he explained.

“Were you aware of who the man was?” she interrupted, keeping her voice proficient. By now, all of her anger had seeped away, and her professionalism had returned.

“Errrrm,” he was thoughtful again, sucking on his lips this time. “I dunno, possibly. He looked like he had a face that I had brought a knife to, once or twice. Then again, I’ve done that to hundreds of people, so who knows?”

If he was trying to scare her, it wasn’t working. But Harleen didn’t think that that was the case.

“As I was saying, toots.” Harleen’s mouth twitched at the nickname, but she allowed him to continue. “The man was cowering in the corner, shaking like m-m-mad.” He began shaking his head, like a dog shaking off water. “Hehe, and it only got worse as I approached. I, I looked down at him and was so annoyed of his quaking that I just had to….to…lash out at him. Once…twice…three times. His neck, his arm, his leg. Lash, lash LASH! Hehe…”

The look in his eyes was manic, and for the first time, Harleen actually believed that this man actually belonged here. His eyes were wide, and he was looking at her, but not seeing. His mouth was hanging open in a wide smile, and not because of his scars. His body was trembling with laughter. Now she was becoming disturbed, but not frightened away. If anything, it was bringing her closer.

“Finally, he stopped moving entirely,” he said, his tone suddenly deadly serious. “I was soo-oo thankful that he had stopped shaking.”

The Joker’s eyes bore into hers once more.

“And…then what happened?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat. It took her a moment to realize that she on the edge of her seat. Quickly and quietly, she slowly slid back.

“Annnnnnd, I woke up.” He ended, anticlimactically, with a shrug of his shoulders. He looked over at her, and all of the intensity in it before had completely vanished. He was as calm and serene as he was the moment she stepped into the room.

“How were you feeling in your dream?” Harleen asked placidly, although on the inside she was startled.

His dark eyes swiveled towards hers mischievously, and the glint in his eyes were back.

“Thrilled.”

Just as Harleen took a breath to respond to this disturbing statement, the door crashed open, causing her to jump and glare menacingly at the intruder. It was the guard outside.

“Quinzel, Dr. Arkham wishes to speak with you right now,” he told her, avoiding eye contact with the Joker. It was as if Arkham had filled a balloon with helium just for Harleen, and was now slowing letting the air out.

Her jaw clenched. “Does Dr. Arkham not see that I am with a patient right now?” There was poison in her tone. “A patient that he so kindly handed over to me?”

“Handed?” the Joker exclaimed, sounding offended. “What am I, the kid being tossed between two divorced parents?”

The other two ignored him.

“Yes, but he is ending your session for today,” he informed her, nervously. It appeared that the Joker’s presence startled him. “He needs to speak with you right away.”

Exhaling out her nose and turning towards her patient, Harleen spoke. “I’m sorry that we have to cut this session short. But we will continue on Friday.”

The Joker nodded his head, as if he understood, then looked back at her and smirked at her.

“Ya know, I really like you, Doc,” he began, shifting again in his seat. “Unlike these other moronic doctors around here, you know how to have fun.” He paused briefly to smack his lips. “And boy, am I going to show you how to have fun.”

He didn’t even laugh when he said it. He said it so casually that it unnerved her, but she still didn’t let it show. Instead, she sent him a small smile. Shutting off the camera and bringing it with her, she followed the policeman out of the room and did not look back. Arkham was waiting for her down the hall, leaning against one of the old, concrete walls. If he thought that her anger would have disappeared and be forgotten by the end of the session, he was dead wrong. As soon as her eyes met his they narrowed and she was glaring daggers at him.

“You son of a bitch,” she mumbled at him, walking straight passed him and expecting him to follow.

“Now Harleen,” he began, keeping close behind her. “You should know better than to speak to your boss like that, especially after he’s just given you a promotion.”

She whipped around at his words.

“Oh yes that’s all nice and wonderful of you, thank you so much!” she exclaimed sarcastically. “It would have been nice to know that before you left me in a room alone with the fucking Joker!”

She charged down the hallway towards her office when she saw that he would not give a response. To her frustration and annoyance, his face was calm and a bit amused at the same time. He had obviously been expecting this and had mentally prepared himself. Harleen pulled the door open and slammed the camera and the Joker’s file onto her desk, collapsing into her seat and rubbing her temples.

“Careful, that’s property of the asylum,” he scolded her, taking the seat across from her.

He had the nerve to chuckle after she shot him a look of death.

“You did very well today, Harleen,” Arkham began, folding his hands in his lap smugly. “Your anger with me decreased the edge of the Joker. He could tell that you weren’t afraid. He actually talked to you.”

Harleen couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“You call that talking to me?” She started laughing again, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. It was a crazy and slightly deranged laugh. “He was trying to psych me out, just like he did with everybody else, telling me about his dream about murdering a man.” She snorted.

“Well, you didn’t let it phase you,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow slightly. “You did not react inappropriately at all. It was as if he had no affect on you.”

“I just wasn’t showing it,” she growled at him, returning to her staring at him defiantly.

“Even so, all the other doctors would have run out screaming by now,” he told her pointedly. He casually brushed a hand through his dirty blond locks. “And that’s how I know you’re the right woman for the job.”

“You didn’t run away screaming,” she reminded him, not wanting to give up this battle. “And did you know, Jeremiah, that I was going to come to you today and accept the job? Willingly? But no, you went and took matters into your own hands-”

He held a hand up to cut her off. “I wanted to catch you off guard. I had already decided on this from the beginning, and knew the best way to help you with your nerves was to throw you in there without any preparations. If you had prepared, then you would have acknowledged the fact that you would be treating one of the most dangerous men in Gotham.”

There was a silence between the two of them. She hated to admit it, but he was right. All of her anger kept her fear at bay, and she was too focused on trying not to be angry to let any of her fear show.

“So…this is it then, hm?” Harleen asked, closing her eyes and rubbing her right eye. “I’m the Joker’s new psychiatrist?”

Arkham bowed his head. “Ahm.”

“And that makes me a real doctor now, right?” She opened her left eye slightly.

“Yes, and speaking of which.” He paused and reached into his lab coat pocket and handed her a small piece of plastic. Harleen took it gently and saw her new pass that would let her into most of the wards in the asylum. She smirked at the shiny piece of paper.

“He was actually responding to your questions,” he continued, amusement in his voice. “Not switching topics to say, your personal life or family.”

“Yes, but that’s because he didn’t know that I would be his doctor,” she answered, not tearing her eyes off of her ID card.

“And now he will,” he said, his voice turning serious. “He’s going to prepare for you next time. He is going to get as much information on you as possible, which will be very difficult, considering you were only an intern before and the only patient of yours that is still here is Thomas Schiff, in a completely different wing as the Joker.”

But before she could respond, the door to her office burst open. Both doctors stood up as the secretary from the front came into the room, looking very pale.

“Thank God I found you, Dr. Arkham,” she shouted, looking only slightly relieved. “They told me you would be in here.”

“What is it, Pearl?” he asked sternly. “What’s happened?”

“It’s…it’s Thomas Schiff…” she began, her facing growing, if it was even possible, even paler. “He was attacked in his cell.”

This alarmed Harleen. Her patient, Thomas Schiff?

“How is that possible?”

“Nobody knows…” she said her voice trailing off, looking embarrassed. “But it…er…it looks as if he were attacked by a…snake.”

Harleen’s heart stopped.

“Was he…was he injured in the neck…arm…and leg?” she asked, closing her eyes, as if knowing the answer already.

“Why…yes.” Pearl sounded very startled. “How did you know?”

Harleen ignored her. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

“Is he dead?”

Slowly, the secretary nodded her head, looking fearfully at Harleen, who was sure Pearl was wondering how the hell she knew all that. Harleen ignored her curious and worried glances to look instead at Arkham’s. His face was white. He had been listening in during the Joker’s session.

“Get the Joker back into that interrogation room…and call an ambulance,” Arkham told Pearl in a shaky voice, who nodded, not quite understanding what was going on and dashed out of the room. “Well this changes a few things.”

“I’ll go get my notes-”

“No,” Arkham cut her off, running a hand through his hair again, looking abashed. “The police are going to want to talk to him. And they’re going to want to talk to the two of us as well.”

“Because he told us what he did…” Harleen answered angrily. “He’s already confessed. They’re not going to let us keep him here, are they?”

“The odds are unlikely,” he answered, pulling out his Blackberry and quickly texting somebody. “We’ll have to be very convincing. You’ll have to be very convincing.”

She was not all that surprised at this. She knew exactly why Arkham wanted to keep the Joker here; more donations would be made. People do not want another mass breakout with the Joker in the institution. She wanted to keep him there because he was…intriguing. Once she started, she couldn’t just stop. It was going to be a hell of a job trying to convince the GCPD that the Joker’s confession was just a very detailed dream. Harleen cursed quietly to herself. She was screwed.