Chapter Text
Harleen Quinzel had come to Arkham for a reason. A few reasons really but one in particular. An old friend had ended up in Gotham’s resident loony bin; one she just had to see. The rest was driven by a pure need to understand the criminal mind in an attempt to find a treatment that worked and who better to test her theories on then her old professor, Dr Jonathan Crane. The idea made her giddy, happy that she had landed a position at Arkham, the only institution that used electroshock therapy for something other than severe, depressive episodes of bipolar patients.
Harleen could still feel every needle prick he had ever injected her with, could still hear her own screams in her head as he forced her to confront her worst nightmares. Her skin crawled as she remembered the kisses he placed on her skin and the places his hands had touched her as she had lay on the floor, begging for her nightmares to be over only to be replaced with a real, physical one. She had agreed to it blindly when he had offered her excellent grades for certain services, turned her into a human test subject and unconventional lover. They had a fling, one she wasn’t opposed to but there were times where his fetish with fear had led him to take her when she still wasn’t in her right mind.
Harleen fumbled with the swipe card in her white doctor’s coat, refusing to let it go as she was scared that it may disappear and she would be denied access to her new place of work. Her heels clicked on the cobbled steps and her long, tanned legs slipped through her coat. Her outfit was probably unethical but she could care less; Arkham was desperate for new psychologists so she doubted that they would turn her away over a tight hugging skirt. The top of her red blouse showed through the jackets V and she used her other hand to adjusts her black, framed glasses accordingly. She really did hope that the professor remembered her.
When she reached the front door she pulled out her card, swiping it and feeling pleased when the light flicked from red to green. She pushed the door open, stepping into the cold building. Arkham asylum was impressive. A clashing of metal grates, concrete walls and ill fitted electronics from the door locks to security measures. She approached the guard house, tapping on the window with a small, pleasant smile on her face. The two men stared at her, looking slightly shocked and she let out a small giggle, her blue eyes creasing at the sides. She was use to that kind of attention, well aware that she wasn’t exactly average looking.
“Uh, I.D please,” one of the men came to the window and attempted not to stare to much at her. She pulled off her I.D badge and slipped it under a small slot in the glass. He took it, picking it up and placing it in a scanner, “Is this your first day Dr Quinzel?”
“Is it that obvious?” she asked, faking a nervous waver in her tone and shyly placed a strand of her fringe behind her ear, “Is everything alright?”
“Just checking the information,” he peered at a screen, using the mouse to click a few buttons before a loud buzz was heard. The metal door in front of her unlocked and swung open automatically and he passed her back her I.D, “Good luck in there and welcome to the nut house.”
“Thank you…,” she squinted her eyes as she tried to catch his name, “Barry?”
“Yes Ma’am,” he blushed, “If you need anything, like a tour…let me know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she gave him another shy smile, looking down but internally she was laughing, it would help having a guard wrapped around her finger here.
She stepped through the door and heard it slam behind her. An excited thrill ran through her bones and she let slip a soft sigh. She was here, she was finally in the depths of hell and she was finally going to get her revenge. Harleen spotted a woman in a matching white coat and she made her way over to her, giving a small wave.
“Harleen Quinzel?” the woman held out her hand as a greeting, “Dr Joan Leland, Arkham asked me to give you the tour and the introductory seminar,” Harleen took her hand, pleased to see another woman in this place; she really had enough of male psychiatrists bossing her around. Joan was a nice looking woman with a short black bob, hard black eyes and Harleen had a feeling this woman took no shit from anyone, especially the patients.
“Call me Harley,” Joan nodded, pulled her hand back and took the time to eye her up.
“I’m a bit surprised,” she started, “Why someone like you would apply here, especially with your grades so high.”
“Let’s just say I have a…special interest in the criminally insane,” she chuckled. Joan’s demeanour turned in a split second, her face cold and solid as if a rock. Harleen panicked inside, she couldn’t screw this up, not when she was so close to reaching Crane.
“If you’re here to bank in on these patients you’re in the wrong place,” her voice held a hint of disgust, “These patients are hard-core psychotics, they would eat you for lunch if you try going toe to toe with them.”
“Oh no, nothing like that. If you saw, I did my thesis on split personalities and I just want to expand on that, I wouldn’t dream of exploiting them in such a manor,” Harleen put on a sweet smile, trying to break the accusatory tension between them.
“We have plenty of those,” Joan’s coldness disappeared and she held out her hand, “Let’s start the tour.”
Joan led her down numerous hallways, most with patients Harleen had no interest in. The other doctor seemed to take notice and stopped before they reached a large, metal door with a pin code instead of a swipe card for a lock. Her hand rested on the handle and Harleen felt butterflies in her stomach. He was there, right behind this door, Crane. She kept her face stoic but inside she was positively humming with excitement at the idea of seeing him locked up and restrained.
“Remember what I said before, these patients are not your play things Harley, do your job properly or you’ll most likely end up in here with them and…,” Joan lowered her voice, “Stay away from the Joker if you can, he’s the worst of them.”
Harleen raised her brow. She had forgotten the crazed clown prince was a resident here. It peaked her interest but it didn’t distract her from her main goal. Joan keyed in the code and opened the door, letting Harleen walk through first. The door closed gently behind them and Harleen shivered. This ward wasn’t like the others, it was quiet, to quiet. Joan walked in front of her, pointing to particular cells. Poison Ivy, the eco-terrorist with close to meta-human powers, Two-face, the mutilated ex district attorney turn mobster and, the one that she had been waiting for, Scarecrow, previously Dr Jonathan Crane.
“He’d be a perfect subject for you if you are interested in split personalities, he’s currently under my care but I could let you take over his case after you’ve settled in, god knows I need to reduce my workload with him on it,” she pointed her thumb to the glass cell behind them and Harleen gave the man in the cell a brief acknowledgement. She could feel his eyes on her, waiting for her attention to solely focus on him and when he didn’t get it she heard a hand hit the wall.
“Back off Joker,” Joan warned. Harley paid no mind to them, stepping towards Crane’s cell. She placed her hand on the glass, a small, smug smile breaking through. He looked pathetic. Tied up in a strait jacket, his brown hair matted and fallen in front of his face. His skin was pale and clammy, his cheeks sullen. It filled her with happiness knowing he was suffering. Harleen tapped on the glass and he looked up, it took him a while to recognise her and his eyes widened slightly before going back to their hooded state.
“No introduction for lil ol me?” a smooth, raspy like voice came from behind her, another attempt at stealing her attention, “What’s so special about him blondie?”
“Nothing…,” she removed her hand and took a step back. Crane was still looking at her, a small knowing smile pulling on the corner of his lips.
“Old friends maybe?” he tried again and this time she turned around, becoming aware that she wasn’t the only doctor in the hallway and this maniac could ruin everything for her if he didn’t shut his mouth, “My, my, what a sweet thing you are.”
“I won’t tell you again Joker,” Joan warned again, obviously not pleased in his sudden interest, “Dr Quinzel is a highly respectable intern, it’s a miracle that she is even here.”
“Aren’t I lucky then,” he emphasized, “Quinzel, what an interesting last name.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?” she asked in a bored tone, ignoring an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach and the slight excitement that he was talking to her.
“Just getting to know the new doc,” he stepped out of the shadows and Harleen sucked in her breath. In here Crane looked pathetic but this man, this specimen of pure madness was stunning. Everything about him was interesting. His hair was bright green, slicked back to perfection and showing off the neatly scrawled, damaged, tattoo on his pale forehead. She couldn’t decide if his eyes were a steel grey or blue and his mouth…Harleen bit her bottom lip, she had never seen lips so bright and red before, like a perfect, rose red apple. He had no shirt on, only the asylums regulation orange pants and it showed off his unnatural, bleached skin that was adorned with Joker themed tattoos. A large harlequin jester mask sat on his right, upper sternum and on the left playing cards, surrounded by maniacal HA’s. Her eyes trailed to the large Joker across his stomach, underneath it a wide smile and when she looked back up he had his hand over his mouth.
“Nice smile,” she smirked, coming back to reality and shaking off her trance like state. He lowered it, the disturbing smile tattoo disappearing as he placed it behind his back and he pressed his head against the glass. For a moment there he had her completely captivated and they both new it.
“Be seeing you pumpkin,” he winked before he pushed himself off the glass and walked backwards slowly. Joan coughed, a frown marring her face again.
“Now that you’ve met him, we’re best to get your introduction seminar out of the way,” Harleen nodded, peeling her eyes away from the Joker who was still regarding her closely. She swore under her breath; she wasn’t here for him. Harleen turned her back on him and back to Crane. He had come closer to them while she was preoccupied and his eyes were narrowed. Was that…jealousy she could see? Harleen gave him a cheeky wink before blowing him a kiss while Joan was focused on Joker again. This was going to be fun.
……………………….
It was a few weeks before she was allowed back into the high security wing. Dr Leland had been watching her like a hawk, still suspicious of her and not willing to give her access unless necessary. Eventually though she had no choice since she had been given Pamela Isley as her first patient. She didn’t mind, the woman’s case seemed interesting enough for her to focus on. If she did well with her then maybe, just maybe it could get her closer to Crane.
With ease and confidence, she walked down the hallway, her hands behind her back as she held onto her clipboard and she hummed an old tune her mother used to sing to her. Harleen walked straight past Pamela as she had given herself a spare ten minutes to catch up with her old friend before she took the green skinned woman for her first session. What she hadn’t planned on was how her gut tightened at the idea of the heavily tattoo psychopath who was across cells with her main priority. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him since they first met but she really didn’t have time to explore that interest, not when she had other plans.
She stopped, feeling his eyes on her back as Harleen once again, did not address him first. It satisfied her a little knowing that the Joker wouldn’t like that. It must be so strange for him to have an intern waltz in and completely ignore the number one criminal in Gotham. She leant forward, tilting her head to the side and tucking her glasses into her coat as she peered in at Crane. Harleen heard a movement in the other cell but she wouldn’t let anyone ruin this reunion.
“Good morning, Professor,” she drawled out. Crane was sitting on the floor again, in the same spot she had first seen him sit on her first day. His jacket was tightened firmly in place and he rolled his neck when he moved to look at her.
“Harleen Quinzel, my favourite test subject,” Crane smirked. He pushed himself to a stand with his legs, struggling slightly, “Why am I not surprised to see you again.”
“We both knew this would happen one day,” his legs were lanky and it didn’t take many long strides to reach the glass, “I do hope you’re doing terribly.”
“How’s that father of yours?” he shot back quickly, not letting her get the upper hand on him. He was always quick with his words.
“Dead,” she said flatly, “You can’t use him anymore to hurt me.”
“Oh Harleen, you and I both know I have other means of making him come back since he’ll always be in that pretty little head of yours,” Harleen narrowed her eyes and straightened up at the reminder, “I do so miss our sessions.”
“Isn’t this an interesting turn of events,” his voice was soft with a slight grittiness to it and Crane looked past her to the Joker. His face dropped its amusement immediately, replaced with an agitation Harleen had only seen when he hadn’t got his toxin right.
“Go back to your business Joker,” he steeled out, causing the Joker to cackle.
“Why would I do that when I have my very own sitcom playing out in from of me?” she counted his footsteps as he crossed his cell and she let the cold, excited shiver roll off her. She couldn’t be distracted by him again, not when she was right here, right in front of the man who used her fears for his own sick pleasure.
“Professor Crane,” Harleen drew his attention back to her, determined to carry on their conversation.
“Harleen,” he replied, “You always were quiet attention seeking, who was that boy you set up to kill me?”
“You don’t get to talk about him,” she growled out lowly and looked to her hand, still picturing the blood on it, “I’m not scared of you Crane.”
“No, you never were, it was your own reflection wasn’t it. Your deepest, darkest, desires that had you screaming and of course, dear old daddy and his fists,” Harleen flinched but didn’t back down, “That’s why you really killed him Dr Quinzel.”
“It was suicide,” she whispered, her hands shaking, “I didn’t do nothing.”
“Course you didn’t. Guy just walked into my office the day after some of my venom went missing, terrified and out of his mind,” she felt her knuckles whiten, “I heard all about it Harleen, every…last…detail.”
“You know nothin’,” her accent slipped again, the Brooklyn drawl becoming more prominent, “He went mad and shot himself.”
“What was your theory again…,” Crane pondered before his eyes widened, “That love could turn anyone into a criminal…”
“Or one bad day,” Harleen had completely forgotten that the Joker was listening into their conversation and she pulled back quickly. Crane was pouring out her history to a madman she wasn’t quite sure she wanted anything to do with.
“Did you prove it?” Crane pressed himself up against the glass, “You did, didn’t you? You made Guy fall for you and then you put a gun in his hand, drugged him with my life’s work and sent him on his way.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she held her head up high, refusing to give him the pleasure of getting under her skin again, “Excuse me but I have a patient to see.”
“What about me pumpkin?” anytime he addressed her, Harleens heart skipped a beat, “Don’t you wanna talk to daddy?”
“I’m not your doctor and you aren’t my daddy,” Harleen didn’t look at him, she refused to because the psychiatrist knew if she did she wouldn’t be able to turn away; she would become too interested in him, to fascinated.
“It’s only a matter of time, baby,” his slow, delayed laugh echoed down the hall, following her to Pamela’s cell where she stopped and swiped her card. The plant woman didn’t make a fuss and she was relieved because right now her mind wasn’t entirely focused. Crane had rattled her, he had targeted areas she thought were no longer issues for her and then there was Joker, an enigma of a man trying to gain her attention and winning.