The Last Laugh

Harley sat in silence as they wheeled her down the dark and dingy halls of Arkham Asylum, with almost her entire body wrapped up in either gauze or a cast. All that could be heard were the murmur of the other patients talking to themselves or having a meeting with their psychiatrist.

She stared down at her unbroken arm, not thinking nor saying anything. Joker had ruined her life; she was a young, attractive, successful young woman, and he had brought her down to his level. She had killed many innocent lives; she had robbed defenseless people; and worst of all, she had obsessed over him, the one person that had turned her into the monster she was. All he did was use her, and knew that no matter how harsh or cruel he was to her, she would always come crawling back to him in hopes that things will change.

The man that was pushing her wheelchair was Dr. Reynolds, her former employer. She could only imagine the words that were flowing through his mind at the moment. Disappointment. Disgust. And worst of all, pity. The last thing that Harley needed was that.

On Dr. Reynolds’s right was Dr. Leland, a very well-known and experienced doctor that Harley had never had the pleasure to meet. She had short black hair, cut in a slight bob that framed around her dark-skinned, yet pleasant, face. She only took care of the extreme criminals, such as Jonathon Crane, and Harley had proven to be just that.

Dr. Leland pulled out a set of keys and pushed them into the lock of Harley’s brand-new cell down in the maximum security wing of the asylum. The doctor opened it and allowed her colleague to lead Harley into the concrete and yellowing room. All that was in there was a single bed pushed into the upper right hand corner, a nightstand right next to it, and a brown folding-chair in the upper left-hand corner, opposite the bed.

Together, they carefully lifted Harley onto the bed and then left without a word. She heard them mumble something to each other as they stood outside her door, but it slowly grew quieter as they disappeared down the hall.

Harley looked down at herself, pitifully.

“Look at what he did to you,” she whispered to no one in particular. “From this day on, I am no longer Harley Quinn, but Harleen Quinzel, and HE does not exist.”

********

A few weeks had passed, and Harleen had had a few sessions with Dr. Leland, who seemed to take special interest in her and her situation.

“You appear to be handling the circumstances well, Ms. Quinzel,” she had once commented to Harleen, looking over her report. “The Joker had-”

“DON’T say his name,” Harleen growled, not looking away from the floor.

“Excuse me,” the doctor apologized. “You were thrown out a window, and yet you have not had a psychotic episode with neither me nor any other staff here at the asylum. It appears that your condition is getting better.”

“And what exactly is my condition?” Harleen asked, slowly looking up with watery blue eyes.

Dr. Leland hesitated before answering, “I am going to refrain from telling you your condition until the end of our sessions. I apologize, Ms. Quinzel, but because of your medical experience, you may recognize your condition and use special techniques to falsely prove that you are sane.”

Harleen sighed, and mumbled, “Whatever.”

The doctor sighed, decidedly relieved that her patient had not put up a fuss.

Harleen had showered and washed away all of her make-up, and to her, all traces of the Joker. She had made a couple of friends in the asylum, mostly male, due to her good looks.

No one had visited her once, not even her parents who lived in the Northern part of Gotham City. Not one person had sent her anything...

That is, until she received a visit from a person that she had never met before.

There was a knock on her cell door, and the slot slid open, revealing Dr. Leland’s eyes.

“Ms. Quinzel, there is someone here that would like to see you,” she announced pleasantly.

Harleen didn’t move as her two guards opened the door and slid on her straight jacket, which felt awkward; due to her many injured body parts. They dragged her out into an interrogation room. She was secretly grateful that it was not the one that she had interviewed the Joker in so long ago. The two guards left, and moments later, a young man entered the room with a pad of paper and a pen tucked behind his ear. He stopped abruptly, and stared at her for a couple of long seconds. Her eyes narrowed as he did so, and he got the hint and continued his way to the seat across from Harleen. His pleasant smile did not ease the icy glare that stood frozen in her eyes.

“Ahem, hello there!” he greeted friendly. Her focus didn’t change, and he swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “My name is Jack Ryder. Maybe you’ve heard of me, I’m one of the local reporters on GNN.”

He smiled and waited for a response, but frowned when he received none.

Of course, Harley had recognized him. He was the one that had announced the capture of her ex-boyfriend, Jonathon Crane.

“Let’s get to the point then, shall we?” he began, pulling out the pen from behind his ear and setting it preparedly on the pad of paper. “I am doing a report on the Joker and-”

This had received a reaction from her.

“Get out,” she growled at him, eyes flashing. “I want nothing to do with him. He’s done enough to me.”

“Well, yes I can see that,” Jack said, startled. “But I just want to ask a couple of questions about your experiences with him-”

“Guards!” she shouted out to the door. “Guards, please remove him from this facility! Dr. Leland? Dr. Reynolds?”

No one came to her aid, so she decided to take matters into her own hands and headed towards the door. She was about to kick the door down when he said something that made her think twice.

“I can get you out of here early!” he shouted desperately, reaching out for her, not sure whether or not it was ok to touch the raving lunatic.

Harleen slowly lowered her foot, but didn’t turn around.

“You’re sentenced here until you are deemed sane,” he continued, lowering his hand, for he knew he had her. “I don’t know how early I can get your released; it all depends on how cooperative you can be. Alright?”

Her expression softened and she turned around slowly. “Promise?”

He smiled at her innocent tone and nodded his head. “I promise.”

“Alright then,” she said and returned to her previous seat. “Hit me.”

“OK then, first question,” he flipped open his notepad and searched for the question. “You were the Jo-I mean, clown’s psychiatrist, right? Yes, when did you first realize that you were falling for him?”

Harleen hesitated. It was a deeply personal question.

“It was after he had escaped, actually,” she began, taking a sudden interested in the concrete floor. “He had interested me as soon as I began interviewing, and it only grew. He kept in contact with me, until the masquerade ball.”

“That was where he blew up the Gothamplex, correct?” he asked, jotting down a couple of notes.

“He left me behind...again,” she continued. “And this angered me. My first thought was that he wanted me to prove to him that I could handle anything that he threw at me, so I took on the persona of Harley Quinn. It fit with him and his mystique.”

“Wasn’t it also a spin-off of your name as well? Harleen Quinzel?”

“Yes,” Harleen muttered. “He still wouldn’t let me join him after that. Not until he needed me. When I failed to kill Batman, he cast me aside. Threw me out the window.”

“Is that why you are all bandaged up?” Jack asked, horrified. “He abused you so much, how could you take it?”

“I figured that it was because of an abusive father,” she shrugged as if it were nothing. “And that was the only way he knew how to relieve his anger.”

“But, you don’t deserve that kind of treatment, after all you’ve done for him,” he commented, angry.

She smiled at him. “He took me out of my serious world and into one of laughter and fun; albeit a dangerous one.”

Jack glared at the floor and pursed his lips, in deep concentration. There was an awkward silence, but Harleen waited patiently for his response.

“You know, I really don’t get you,” he told her suddenly. “How did a smart, sophisticated person like you get seduced by a mad lunatic like the Joker?”

He squinted his eyes as he realized his mistake, and awaited her outburst. But nothing came. He opened his eyes curiously to see her face calm and emotionless. Seeing that she was fine by this, he pressed on.

“What was the attraction?”

“He was different, wild, crazy, and a genius,” she explained, her eyes glazing over. “In my serious world, I turned to a man that could make me laugh again, and feel exhilarated.”

“But were you never terrified of him?” Jack asked, growing generally curious by this strange woman.

“At times, but I was only afraid of losing him, or not being accepted by him.”

They talked in the room for hours about her experiences with the Joker, and Jack Ryder grew to admire the brave young woman. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was one o’clock, and they had been talking for three hours.

“Ah, I should’ve been at work an hour ago,” he moaned, rubbing his head. He stood up and helped Ms. Quinzel out of her chair, leading her to the door. “I hope you won’t mind if I come again?”

“No, not at all,” she answered pleasantly.

She, too, had come to grow interested in this man interviewing her. He seemed genuinely curious and concerned about her, which was a changed from most men she’d met in the past. One in particular.

She even found herself anxious about their next meeting, and even a lot more cheerful in sessions with Dr. Leland.

She found herself returning to her previously happy life. A Joker-free life. An obsession-free life.

When she was returned to her room, Harleen found a bouquet of flowers on her nightstand. She immediately knew who they were from when she saw their bright purple and green colors, and her heart stopped in her chest. There was a tag on it that read, ‘Keep on smiling, because I miss you, - J’ scribbled in purple crayon. Her guard had left her laying her down on her bed, staring at the ominous flowers. Her lips slowly parted, and she reached out for them with her unbroken hand as if to grab them. But instead, she pushed them off onto the floor and heard the satisfying shatter.

He wanted her back, but she was through with him. No more obsession, no more killing, no more Joker.

She closed her eyes, and dreamed of freedom.