Inside A Joker's Mind (Joker)

[harley]

Players: Dr. Harleen Quinzel and the Joker
Location(s): Arkham Asylum
Plot Summary: Flashback of the very beginning, when Harley and Joker met their soul mates.

"Let him wait, who cares if he sits around?" Doug, one of the orderlies at the asylum, sat back in his chair, boots up on the table as the chair teetered back on two legs. Hands behind his head, he was in no rush to stand by and protect the new psychiatrist as she went through her residency. The tight bun without a single strand of hair out of place, the glasses, she was no match for the Joker. Everyone had warned her, but she said she could never truly call herself a psychiatrist if she didn't try to rehabilitate the most damaged minds.

"Ya can't keep a man like the Joker waiting, he won't tolerate it. He's bigger than life, needs to be in the spotlight. He needs to feel as though he has your undivided attention, or he won't even spare you a glance. Harleen spoke with her back to Doug as she frantically looked through stacks of books for her notebook. She had been researching the Joker for years, before she even got accepted to grad school. All of her research, held in one leather-bound journal, and it was lost. Chaos theory at it's finest, as it was likely no coincidence that Harley lost her notes on the first day of her time with the Joker.

It had been two weeks since Harley had been home with her clown prince, out and about doing her own thing, trying to prove to herself and ultimately Joker, that she was good for more than just baking pies laced with cyanide. Even now as she sat in her temporary hideout, missing her dear Joker, Harley could remember those first meetings. The first one was rough, trying to just get Joker to speak to her was almost impossible. So much of it contained Harley talking, trying to get the man to open up and realize she was his friend, not just his doctor. After he began to talk, things got easier from there.

"Meeting the Joker again? Sure you don't need us there in case he snaps?" Doug had learned to grow fond of Harleen as her time at Arkham expanded. She was the good-looking down-to-earth resident who wanted to make the world a better place, starting with the worst offenders. A juvenile passion of course, as Doug had put in enough years to know it would never work.

"Sweet of ya to worry, but this isn't our first round. Besides, doctor-patient confidentiality." Smiling to Doug, Harleen grabbed her infamous journal and heading off to the therapy room, for her tenth meeting with the Joker. A woman who once began her rounds with a tight bun and strict wardrobe, now walked the halls with her blonde hair left down, her white coat open to show off the fairly revealing red top and black skirt. Two of her favorite colors, they went well together.

Stepping into the dimly lit room, he had already been brought in, waiting for her. Walking to the large chair with it's aging leather, Harleen took her seat and opened her journal. "It's been a week since our last session, got to say I've missed ya Mr. J." Less than formal, Harleen felt that calling him 'Joker' was like taking the stance of everyone who was against him. She didn't want to associate with them, no, she wanted to build her own rapport with the psychotic killer.

Leaning forward, Harley's big blue eyes and almost too-innocent smile seemed to fit her perfectly as she placed a perfectly manicured hand on top of the Joker's own. "How have ya been feeling since our last discussion?"

[The Joker]

Joker sat alone in the poorly lit room at a bolted down table and sat staring off into space. He couldn't remember what session he was on, the Arkham staff liked dragging him out of his cell for their different "experts" to try a hand at figuring Joker out, why sometimes he even had 4 visits a day. So who would it be today; Bundy, Farnsworth, Samson? When the door to the private interview room opened and the blue eyed woman sporting her blond hair in a tight bun entered the corners of Joker's mouth turned upward. His eyes focused on her and he watched her lips move as she spoke. Closely the Joker studied her, reading very tiny hints in each of her movements. When Dr. Quinzel's warm hand touched his own Joker made an pout and released a soft, exaggerated, sigh.

"Better, I guess."

[/b] Sitting back in his chair Joker let his hand slip from under Harley's and stared off toward the naked wall on his right. "You're the only one who understands me. The only one who gets it. The rest of these dopes are still trying to fit square pegs into round holes."[/b] Joker paused dramatically. "And the food here sucks." The clown shook his head before turning back to face Harleen. The woman had grown closer to him over the course of their sessions, maybe no one else in Arkham could see it but from that very first day that the two of them had met Joker had known that Ms. Quinzel was meant to be on the other side of the interview table.

"But enough about me, what about you?"[/b] Joker asked with his hands clasped together atop the table, sincere appearing intrigue painted all over his pale face. A connection between the clown and his psychiatrist was formed, had been formed for some time, but while Harleen listened to what the Joker had to say and the stories he had to tell she still wasn't in the role that Joker would have preferred, though she was getting closer.[/blockquote]

[harley]

So calm and collected, Harleen reveled in the knowledge that no one had ever seen the Joker like this. All of her colleagues had described him as insane, impossible to work with, and not a candidate for release...ever. Harleen saw the other side, the tender side. The side where she felt like the Joker actually cared about her, and what happened to her.

"Doug tells me ya haven't been happy with the food, I'll see what I can do about that." Taking out her pen, Harleen clicked the tip out as she wrote in her journal, noting the Joker's food concerns. Most likely, his doctors would laugh at her, but she would push on his behalf. Someone had to be a champion for the man while he was locked up.

Beneath the table, Harleen crossed one slender leg over the other, allowing her foot to bounce up and down on thin air. The psychiatrist that always looked so put together was restless, had been for weeks now. She couldn't sit still, couldn't focus correctly if she did. Using her index finger, Harleen pushed her glasses back up on the bridge of her nose as they began to slip, eyes focused on the man in front of her.

"I believe we have made true progress in these sessions. I feel like we have a real connection, that allows us to venture forward together." Beneath her words was the Brooklyn accent she carried, had been with her since birth. She tried to hide it at times, though it never worked, eventually she just gave up.

Grasping her journal, Harleen had buried the slight sting of rejection when the Joker pulled back away from her. It was silly really, to feel rejected by a client, and that's all he was, right? "Me? I'm your psychiatrist. I attended Gotham University where I maintained very high grades. Before that, I competed in gymnastics, which is how I earned my scholarship to the university." Harleen rattled off the facts of her professional life, just as she had been trained during her years of schooling.

"I have followed your story since before grad school Mr. J, it's been very...noticeable. I used to watch ya on the news, and I always felt there was a very good side to ya. I applied to grad school because of you."

[The Joker]

Joker enjoyed hearing the woman speak about herself and the past she carried with her. It was quite a past to be proud of, great accomplishments in her field of studies as well as her acrobatics abilities yet when she spoke of all of this Harleen Quinzel's words seemed hollow. She had accomplished a lot but it still left her feeling empty and the Joker realized this, he realized even with the things she had already done and been through she was still an empty vessel that could be filled; a blank sheet of clay that could be molded - but by the correct hands only.

"Since before grad school you say?"

[/b] The Joker's eyebrows lifted, giving her the attention she wanted but just shy of really going where she would have liked. "Am I really that interesting Ms. Quinzel?"[/b] She thought there was a good side to him, inwardly it made the clown snicker. Good? Joker absolutely despised it. Good and bad, the world was too clear cut, and if there was one thing that the Joker was not it was clear cut. He was enigmatic and completely unpredictable, just like the world actually was. Maybe Harleen didn't realize that yet, but she would soon.

No one had ever taken such an interest in Joker like this woman did. Sure there were the number of psychiatrist who thought the Joker and figuring him out would be their ticket to stardom and prestige, but just one meeting alone was enough to deter the most dedicated and determined of docs. Not Harley though, it seemed the longer she spent with him the deeper and deeper she fell, but of course that was no accident. As close as the woman had gotten to him, figuratively and physically, it would have been all too simple for Joker to attack and maim like he had done to so many doctors, guards, and orderlies alike. Harley was different, she was not the usual; she proved to be worth the Joker's attention. "You are an interesting girl, Harley."[/b][/blockquote]

[harley]

Harleen was supposed to be the doctor here, the one in control, but she knew that wasn't the case. No one was in control, not in this relationship. They were feeding off each other, and Harleen was just fine with that. Anything to get the Joker to open up and let Harleen in some more, though she had already gotten very close to him.

If she closed her eyes, she could remember all the media surrounding Joker's arrest, the sheer insanity that the city went through. It was big news at the time, everyone who lived in Gotham remembered that time. "Ya really shook up the city back then, made regular people truly afraid. Most people thought ya targeted things randomly, that it was all just some chaotic mess. However, I can see the logic in it. Every detail, perfectly planned out and accounted for. The thinking is brilliant, really. Something only an amazing mind could come up."

It slipped out, Harleen hadn't really meant to go on and on in praising the Joker, though she didn't quite regret it either. He needed to feel as though someone understood and cared, and Harleen did understand. Joker wasn't psychotic at all, he was a master at his craft.

"Harley? My goodness, no one has called me that since...since before college." Harleen couldn't help but feel the heat on her cheeks as she turned a slight shade of pink. The old nickname had disappeared when she became an adult, no longer needed the childish shortening of her name. Even her college boyfriend didn't call her Harley as a pet name. In the back of her mind, however, the part of Harley that may have still existed smiled, liking the way it rolled off the Joker's tongue so easily.

"Let's play a memory game, I'd like ya to close ya eyes and tell me about ya first crime, the very first. Stealing from a shop, vandalizing, whatever the first one was." Journal open and pen ready, Harleen sat up straight as she waited to hear what the Joker might tell her. Truthfully, she was on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

[The Joker]

This woman, though as infatuated as she was, saw the Joker for what he really was: a genius! They way she spoke of his ability to insight fear, create dread from pure nothingness, and bring an entire city to its knees showed how deep she was really in. The Joker sighed happily, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head as he looked toward the white ceiling with a large grin slapped on his face. "I am amazing aren't I."

[/b] She said all the right things and stroked his ego. It was magnificent. Though it was only lucky for Harleen that Joker was in a good mood, any other day saying all of this could have drawn a much different reaction. Joker didn't desire or need needless praise, but sometimes he enjoyed it nonetheless.

No doubt her superiors and co-workers had already warned the woman about him and told her the dangers of getting to close but Harleen didn't care, she threw caution to the wind! It was what entertained Joker so much about her. She stared right into the face of terror, and smiled. "I like it. It was the very first thing I liked about you. Harleen Quinzel. A little reworking and you get Harley Quinn, like harlequin hahahaha."[/b] She had the perfect name, as if meeting him was all decided from the very first time she took a breath. Though of course something would need to done about the rest of her to really fit his image of his...Harley Quinn.

"Ooh, first crime you say?"[/b] Joker leaned back forward in his seat, his hands coming down so that he could tap one finger on his chin. He thought for a moment as if the memory was a fleeting one, but of course he remembered his very first quite vividly. It wasn't something you just forgot, no matter how much time passed or how many more crimes you'd committed since. "Ah, I remember."[/b] He nodded to himself with his large smile glaring at the woman in glasses. "Old dad had just gotten done using me as a punching bag after catching me using his razor, and he really creamed me too - ha ha ha!" The Joker wasn't usually one for puns but some were just too good to pass up.

"Anyway, after he was done beating me the old man went to bed. I remember it was about one in the morning when I snuck into their bathroom, got daddy's razor, and then climbed into bed with dear old mom and pop. He hated when I climbed into bed with them, I was too old for that at age nine ya see, and he would always send me back to my room - usually with more bruises too! This time he didn't send me to my room. This time I was extra quiet, extra careful not to wake either of them."[/b] Joker's voice began to get lower and lower as he leaned slowly across the table, closer to Harley. "I listened to them snoring and watched them breathing. I almost fell asleep laying there with daddy's razor in hand, but then something SNAPPED!" Joker slapped his hands on the table top, his voice raising even louder than before.

"I jumped up on top daddy's chest! I raised the razor high, 'You don't even have the hair to shave' I told him like he told me! Then I scalped him! Right there! In his bed! With his own razor! HA HA HA HA HA! Poor oblivious mom woke up then. She screamed and she cried. 'Don't cry mommy', I said 'Look, daddy's smiling' And then I cut the biggest, happiest, most permanent smile onto his face, hee hee ha ha ha haaa!"[/b][/blockquote]

[harley]

Confident with some slight narcissistic traits, Harleen mentally noted them as she made scribbles in her journal. She refused to allow anyone to see the notes in her journal, transcribing them to official hospital notes instead. Truthfully, her journal was a mess of sorts. Random scribbles here and there, mostly about the things that Joker wanted or needed to continue a lifestyle that would bring him happiness. His happiness was suddenly very important to the doctor.

"Harley...Quinn...interesting. A nickname that maybe my childhood friends would have given me, had they thought of it. Truthfully, everyone seems to see me as being very dedicated. Is that how you see me Mr. J, as a jester?" Blue eyes focused on the pale man across the table from her as she unknowingly tapped the end of her pen against the paper. His answers were all important, everything he did was important. From his hand gestures to his facial expressions, the Joker was always trying to convey something to his audience.

"Ya know, most people find discussing the sins of their past to be traumatic, though a few find it very therapeutic. I don't think ya fit into either category..." Letting her words trail off, Harleen thought about their past sessions before. This wasn't the first time that abusive childhoods came up, and Harleen felt sympathy for the poor guy. She wasn't entirely sure that everything he told her was truthful, but rather, something his mind had come up with to cover up the truth, just so he wouldn't have to go back to that dark place.

"Ya talk calmly about very serious crimes, very violent crimes. It all seems so natural to ya, so maybe I should be asking the hard questions instead. Address the elephant in the room, so to speak." Removing her glasses, Harleen placed them on the table between them as she stood up, walking around the table. Standing just a few feet away from the Joker was daunting, and she could feel her heart pounding, could even hear the blood pumping in her ears. She had watched his reputation grow as the whole city tuned in whenever the news talked about the psychopathic clown. Now here she stood, close enough that if she reached out, she'd touch him. For most people, that was dangerous.

Leaning down a bit to come closer to his eye level, rather than towering over him, Harleen's face took on a very serious look. "What is keeping ya from attacking me? I've read the files, I've seen the pictures of the other doctors, no one will work with ya. What makes me different?" Almost from the start, Harleen knew that their relationship was going to be different, she had to know why. Had to know what the Joker truly saw when he looked at her. It had nothing to do with his therapy, but in a way, it had everything to do with hers.

[The Joker]

"Everything has a deeper meaning." Joker spoke in a slight mocking tone. Did he see her as a jester? When pointing out the fun part of her name he merely meant it as something he enjoyed about her, that was as far as Joker had thought into it. "I think of you as what you could be. You could be a star, kiddo! Arkham ain't the place for you, you're a lot more than these dopes give you credit for. Trust me I'm a good judge of character."

[/b] He nodded to his words and ran a hand back through his green hair. "Sins? Traumatic?! That was my opening act! The first of my many great works of art. I am a performer Harley, a showman! Your first time is always supposed to be special; personal...and maybe a little messy."[/b] The Joker slapped a hand on the side of his face and cackled loudly but quickly snapped his jaws shut. "Y'see, Harley, I'm not like most people...am I?"[/b] He grinned wickedly at her, maybe even...flirty?

This was the most fun Joker had had with one of his psychiatrists in a long time. Some were fun because of their sternness and hardheaded attitudes in thinking they could break him, others were fun because they were so obviously in over their head. Both were no match for the Joker and left him doing all of the work. This time around, with Harleen Quinzel, the Joker had someone to genuinely play off of. They were a team, a duo, a regular Roy and Siegfried! When Harley spoke the clown nodded to her in approval and agreement. He was calm, those crimes were violent, it all did come to him naturally. She was on the right path and it didn't scare her one bit instead it intrigued her and not because he was an interesting patient with an interesting mind, but because he was interesting, period.

Joker's green eyes followed Harley around the table and he remained motionless as she came nearer and nearer to him. She knew his reputation and knew fully well what he was capable of and yet Harleen approached anyway. The woman was clearly batty! After her question the Joker was still silent, his eyes still locked on her. In the blink of an eye the crazed clown had pounced and threw Harley's back onto the table with him on top of her. His face was only a few inches from her own, his smile dangling over her mouth as he reached up with one hand and messed her hair. Calmly the Joker undid the woman's tight bun and let her long blond hair pool on the table surface. His white fingers moved with such skill like he'd spent a life time dedicated to hair styling and in a moment he had slid down off of Harley and back into his seat.

"You complete me."[/b] He grinned broadly as he admired the psychiatrist and her new hairdo. "Your hair looks better that way."[/b] The double pigtails on either side of her head hang beautifully, and she looked much better without the glasses too.[/blockquote]

[harley]

Now the Joker was talking crazy, telling her to leave Arkham? She had just begun to branch out, to find her calling in her field. So much progress with the man no one else would touch, she was being labeled one of the greatest psychiatrist in Gotham. People were just about to start putting her name in local textbooks, and he wanted her to leave? For the first time, Harleen didn't understand the Joker's motivation for such a thought. More importantly, if she gave up Arkham, she'd never see this man again.

"Ya are one of a kind, Mr. J. Have touched a lot of lives." Of course, almost all of those lives were because they lost someone close to them. More than likely, Harleen would be the only person whose life got better because of the Joker, who went to grad school because of him. Her professor had practically called her insane when she told him she wanted to work here and meet the Joker, but Harleen knew she was meant for the position.

Now, face to face with true terror, Harleen held no fear. He wouldn't touch her, wouldn't hurt her. If he wanted her hurt, it would have happened by now, during the many sessions before this one. At least, that's what Harleen's mind told her, and she believed it.

Everything happened so fast, his movements were super-human. He had grabbed her, thrown her on the table, and was holding her down with his own body weight. Beneath the table sat a panic button, right in front of Harleen's chair, and so far from her current reach. Her attending would say she screwed up, put herself in the position to be killed, but Harleen's body didn't fill with terror. As she looked that pale grinning face in the eyes, Harleen almost felt calm. Aside from the table thing, his touch was gentle, so careful with her. He didn't try to hurt her, didn't wrap his long fingers around her neck. Instead he reached for her hair and the feeling of his fingertips running over her scalp was enough to send shivers down her spine, though it felt good.

As Joker moved back to his seat, he said nothing. Harleen slowly stood herself up, using the table as a brace. He hadn't hurt her, yet her heart was about to pound out of her chest. That pulsating sound of the blood in her ears was back louder than ever, and she almost missed the words when he finally spoke. You complete me. An unusual choice of words, something often reserved for romance. A hand raised to cover her heart, as if pressing on her chest would slow down the beating.

Moving her hand up to her hair, Harleen ran her fingers along it, feeling the two pony tails. She hadn't worn pony tails since she was a child, a very young child. It made her look much younger, gave her a very childish aura. Everything has a deeper meaning. His own words played through her mind as she crouched down at his side, balancing her slender body on her heeled shoes. It took grace to do such a thing, something Harleen was full of. Hesitant, Harleen's hand reached out towards him, resting on his leg. In her mind, the sting of his last rejection played out, but she forced the thought away. "What exactly are ya trying to tell me?"

[The Joker]

She was a good kid, but inside of that good kid was someone waiting to be let out; freed and allowed to express herself how she really wanted. Harleen just didn't know any of that. She needed to be showed that she was trapped in someone else's ideas and thoughts of what she should be. In a way Harleen Quinzel, or at least the real her, was not alive and it was because of everyone in society keeping her asleep. Luckily for the psychiatrist she had taken an interest in the right man. If there was anyone who could shatter the visuals and the shackles of society it would be the Joker. And the good blond doctor would be forever thankful of him, and forever loyal.

Joker had done her great favors so far; giving insight into his own mind which she desperately wanted, excitement of meeting with him when all others were too afraid to, and of course that great new do he'd given her. In time he would do even greater things to and for her, and of course Harley would pay him back. The Joker watched his little puppet staring at him longingly. The woman stooped down into a crouch near him and placed her hands nearly into his lap. Joker put a slender finger to his bright red lips and shushed the woman. He glanced around the room before leaned to the side of Harleen's head, his lips just inches away from her ear. "They can hear us. Meet me in my cell, tonight."

[/b]

Joker leaned back and raised his wrist before his face. "Oh dear me, look at the time! Interview's over, right boys?"[/b] The insane clown stood from his seat and backed away from Harley as the orderlies came in. He placed his hands behind his back so that he could be restrained and quickly gave Harleen a wink before being ushered out of the interview room. Joker laughed madly the entire trip back to his cell. When night finally fell Joker lay, awake, in his room with his hands under his head staring up at the ceiling. He didn't doubt Harleen would show up but he was beginning to wish she'd hurry.[/blockquote]

[harley]

The silence in the therapy room was deafening as Harleen barely dared to breathe, lest she miss what the Joker's next words would be. On bated breath she waited, the blood rushing through her body the only sound she could hear as the Joker's face drew closer to her. When his lips parted to speak, his paranoia of other ears hearing came out, a symptom that Harleen had noted multiple times in her journal. There was no one else who would hear, their sessions were private, confidential, but still the Joker wouldn't believe that so easily.

When he stood to be removed back to his cell, Harleen watched the orderlies enter the room, taking the Joker away as she was left crouched near the floor, simply watching. Doug offered his hand, which Harleen grasped as she stood, collecting her journal. They would ask why she had been so close, why she dared, and why she didn't call for help when the Joker placed his hands on her. Harleen never spoke of that session to anyone, merely repeating patient confidentiality as though she were a broken record.

That night, Harleen waited. As all the other doctors left for the night, she stayed, pretending to be working on a scientific paper regarding the Joker, which she wanted to get published. Rather than a paper, her journal held scribbles and drawings. A masked face with a jester's hat, over and over. The image had come to Harleen after their session, and she couldn't shake it. Tonight she would get her answers, tonight she would learn what really made the Joker tick.

Harleen was no good at computer work, security cameras and what not. She waited until the night orderly did his rounds, following him. Gone was the white lab coat that made her stick out, leaving her red blouse with it's black skirt, gone were the black heels that announced her presence with their 'click-clacking' sounds. She hadn't touched her hair, leaving the two pig-tails just as the Joker had intended. Stockinged feet walked silently through the corridors, following the orderly, until they came to the corridor with the Joker.

As the orderly left, Harleen moved to the cell, her hand moving to press against the clear wall that stood between them. There he was, lying on his bed, without a care in the world. All the answers to Harleen's universe swirling up inside his precious head, just waiting to be told to Harleen. "Mistah J, shall we begin our session?"

[The Joker]

Joker nearly couldn't believe his luck, that someone like Harleen would be sent to him at such a time when he felt like he was in need of some new material when dealing with Gotham and Ratman. Of course he never pulled the same joke twice and he was always creative enough to make newer and more and more ingenious plans but things were growing a bit stale with just himself and his idiotic henchmen. Harleen Quinzel was someone Joker could mold and build into the perfect accomplice, a woman who was completely devoted to him even before they had ever met. That first meeting at his cell Joker had seen it in the woman's eyes, her attraction and underdeveloped dependence on him. She just needed to be coached and guided in the right direction; the direction away from a mundane life as some psychoanalyzing doc who's life would be nothing but monotony and repetition. The Joker was actually saving her and giving her something much more than she could even hope for herself, he was a true hero. A smile came to Joker as he lay in bed, a chuckle growing and emitting from his throat.

Before long Joker noticed the golden hair of his newest project, he sat up and looked at her with a straight face, his eyes gleaming in the dim light as he looked over her attire. Her hair remained in the styling that Joker had placed it in, which truly was a much better improvement over the bun she usually wore to work, she had also decided to get rid of the coat she usually wore leaving only a blouse and skirt; red and black, the colors Joker had grown accustomed to seeing her sport under the white coat. The clown also took special note of the woman's long legs, her white lab coat usually kept them shamefully obscured.

The woman was certainly ready to do whatever she could in order to get closer to Joker and spend more time with him. Surely she knew that this could not be a positive in the eyes of her employers but of course Joker knew the woman didn't care about that, she obviously only cared about what he said and what he did and that those two things revolved in some way around her. She wanted to be a part of his life and his thoughts, but there was very little of that that could be possible with the invisible wall separating them. But like everything else between him and a goal, Joker had a plan for that. "Not yet."

[/b] The Joker responded to the blond while still sitting on his bed. He leaned toward the foot of the bed and pointed toward the ceiling above Harley's head. There, in between one of the gaps of a vent, stuck out a sliver of white paper.

Though she could not read it from there, once Harley managed to reach the vent she would find the words 'wear me' scribbled on it. And attached to that note was a rectangular box that held a spandex costume reminiscent of a harlequin, red and black just like Harleen liked to wear, and with it was another box; containing enough plastique to free Joker from his cell.[/blockquote]