Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, THE JOKER, HARLEY QUINN OR ANY OTHER BATMAN CHARACTERS MENTIONED. SOME SCENES FROM MOVIE, OR TRIED TO BE FROM MOVIE. NOT MINE.
Commissioner Gordon sat patiently in the interrogation room at Arkham Asylum. He tapped his fingers on the table, breaking the absolute silence of the room. He occasionally pulled out a manila folder that he had tucked underneath his arm and read through the files for the millionth time. Gordon wanted to know everything about her; age, past occupations, family, friends, EVERYTHING. The file said that Harleen Quinzel was 5 feet, 3 inches, weighed 115 pounds, had blue eyes, dyed blonde hair, and Caucasian. Categorized as a Psychotic criminal. Her passed occupation was a Criminal Psychologist at Arkham Asylum. She occasionally associated with the Joker. Elite level in gymnastics. Has a PhD in Psychology from Gotham University. Gordon didn't understand what went wrong with her.
He looked up just as the door swung open, and slowly the clown-face of Harley was illuminated by the small glow. He stood up as she walked in.
She was in the same outfit she was when he had caught her only hours before, except that it was concealed by a white straight jacket. Her hat was still on her head, and her make-up was cracking.
"Harleen," he greeted grimly.
She rolled her eyes.
"Again with the Harleen..." Harley mumbled despondently, pressing her lips together.
"Have a seat," he said, gesturing his hand towards a chair.
The woman shrugged, or would've shrugged if not for the straight jacket, and hopped into the seat opposite him.
"There's a surprise for you," Commissioner Gordon whispered, and the lights flipped on.
Batman was standing behind him protectively, watching Harley's every movement. They watched as she grinned and put her feet up on the table.
"Nice to see you again, Batty!" she greeted cheerfully, squinting her eyes. "Trying to look all dark and mysterious with the whole light thing? What, afraid that the psycho's here'll see you and piss their pants?"
"You know very well why we had to keep him hidden, Harleen," Gordon said.
"Harleen, Harleen, Harleen," she mumbled to herself thoughtfully, looking down and moving her jaw around, as if she was tasting the name. "Don'tcha see? Harleen's gone! Boom, bang, thump, crash, gone! G-O-N-E. It's Harley now."
Gordon slid out the folder he had and flipped it open. He skimmed through it, then looked up at her and said, "Your file says your name is Harleen Quinzel. Former employee of Arkham Asylum in Gotham City."
"Isn't ironic that you put me in here?" she giggled, ignoring what he had just said. "You'd think you would've locked me up in jail or something. What made you put me in my second home?"
"Because people as psychotic as you belong in asylums," Batman answered, looking down at her.
"Psh, I'm not a psycho," she told him, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself in the jacket.
"You've murdered a large amount of people, without any reason," Gordon informed her. Harley smiled, remembering it like it was yesterday. She put her feet onto the ground.
"I'm not a psycho," she repeated quietly, looking at him emotionlessly. "I'm just…different. You see, the way I've been, recently, taught to view the world is...motivating. All the dark, the bad, the ugly. The world you lived in, let's say a year ago, was psychotic. Muggings happening on every street corner, murders every night, bank robberies, the list goes on and on and on. And did anyone ever do anything about it? You don't count. But, as you know, things have CHANGED. Mobs don't come out every night like they used to. Criminals cower at your signal. You are like an epidemic, and to the, uh, good people of this town, you are addicting. It's like crack for the good! And because of people like you, people like me and the Joker come out to...play. To make a little pandemonium."
She smiled at them triumphantly and jumped up and down in her seat, as if she had succeeded in winning something.
Gordon looked at Batman, who was emotionless.
"You are a walking contradiction," Batman said, sitting down in the chair. "When we first caught you, you were angry with us when we said you weren't quite as smart as the Joker. But your whole being is to be just like him. The way you act, the way you steal, the way you kill. It's almost as if, to you, he is..."
"A God?" she stopped him, grinning slightly and tilting her head. "A genius? An idol? That's because he IS. To me. He. Is. I try so hard to be exactly like him, so hard to make him accept me...but it's never enough. NEVER. ENOUGH."
Her voice was shaking now, in anger. If they had been able to see her arms or any other part of her body, it would have been shaking as well. Her eye twitched and her breathing had become abnormally fast. Then, as quick as it had left her, her smile came back and she put her feet back up on the table.
"If he doesn't accept you," Gordon started. "Why do you keep on trying?"
"Because he is my drug," she said, her smile getting wider and wider. "Everything about him is...amazing."
"But he's rejected you many times," Batman said, standing up and pounding his fist on the table.
"All part of the game, Batty," she informed him, leaning forward onto the table. "And what about you? The people of this rat hole have rejected you again and again, especially the police here. And yet you kept on going, like a bat version of the energizer bunny. Now look! They have you in here interrogating people! They've given you your own personal beeper! That is the reward of perseverance! That is what I want."
He walked across the table and grabbed her by my shoulders, lifting Harley about a foot off the ground.
"You're only a toy to him!" he yelled at her. "He's using you to make Gotham a worse place so that HE could take control of it. In the end, he's just going to use you and then kill you."
"Then so be it," she said with a grin. "Isn't that what you are to him?"
He stared at her, his lips quaking, and then threw her down to the ground.
"I'm done with her," he mumbled, and walked towards the door.
"What makes you angrier, Batty?" she called out to him. "How different we are, and you can't understand me? Or is it that you and I are exactly the same? The worst in us being brought out by the corrupt people of this city?"
He stopped for a second, and then continued until he was out the door.
She was down on the floor, laughing and giggling as if he had just told her an incredibly hilarious joke. Harley rolled over onto her back and looked at Gordon expectantly.
"Ready to take me back?"
Harley was lying down on her back on her yellow bed in her yellow-bricked room. She stared at the ceiling and mumbled undecipherable words. They had finally taken the straight jacket off of her, seeing that she was not a threat to herself or others around her, and placed her in a repulsive orange jumpsuit. There was a small piece of white cloth that was stitched to her clothes with the number 001389 stamped onto it. Her make-up was still intact, but was melting and rubbing off, and her hat was taken away. She wasn't able to shower yet, so her hair was still a blonde, greasy mess.
She raised herself up using only her abdominal muscles and walked towards the door. She gazed out the little window and snorted at all of the passing doctors. Harley turned around and slunk down onto the floor.
'I hope I wasn't as worthless as them,' she thought to herself and sighed. 'I WAS that pathetic. Even the Joker thought I was a joke.'
Her thoughts flared when she remembered him.
'What, am I still not good enough for him? He thinks there is someone better than me? Psh, I hope he has a fun time searching for her,' she bit her lip as she thought that. 'He probably could've easily found someone as weak as me and turned her into someone even crazier and blood thirsty for the Joker as me.'
Her door opened, and she let gravity pull her down to the ground. A police guard walked in. He looked at her and smiled.
"Ms. Quinzel?" he called out, still smiling.
She rolled onto her back and flipped forward, looking at the man viciously.
"It's Harley, now," she snapped.
"Time for your free time Ms. Q-" she gave him a, "if eyes could kill, you would be dead," look. He corrected himself. "Harley. Come with me."
She got up off of the floor and exited out her door, with him following right behind. He smacked her butt and she jumped. Harley turned around and gave him a menacing glare, which he answered with licking his lips and holding up a nightstick. She flared her nostrils and continued walking ahead.
When they reached the recreation room, there were only a couple of other people inside. Two women and one man. The news was blaring from a TV in the center of the room. The one of the women were sitting on a couch across from it and watching it intently. The other woman was sitting on the floor in the corner, staring at her hand and blowing into it as if it were on fire. The man was sitting at a table, and with closer examination, she found that she recognized him.
"Jonathon?" she called out, waving her hands up in the air and jumping up and down.
He was sitting at a table with a two-thousand piece puzzle, but not trying to finish it. He didn't acknowledge her presence, which she responded with charging over to him and turning his chair around to face him. Crane looked up at her lazily, with his eyes sagging. She assumed that they had drugged him.
"Harleen," he said tiredly, confirming her previous though. "I haven't, haven't seen you in awhile."
"It's so good to see you," she said happily, taking the seat beside him and looking at him admiringly.
"You've been busy," he said gesturing his head over towards the TV. The news was on and it was talking about the Joker and I. "I believe you belong in here more than I do."
He tapped his teeth together. Harley brushed her hand around his face.
"Jonathan Crane..." she said quietly in adoration.
He grabbed her hand suddenly and roughly as she pulled it away.
"Dr. Crane isn't here right now," he said, like he was hypnotized. "But if you would like to leave a message-"
He cut himself off and rolled onto the floor. His body began jerking and spazzing. She looked at him curiously, but it didn't seem as if she cared.
"Scarecrow, Scarecrow," he mumbled continuously. "Scarecrow..."
The guard that escorted her over rushed over to see what had happened, pushing Harley away. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and began reciting commands into it. She noticed his nightstick hanging out of his belt and quickly grabbed it, knocking it behind his neck. The cop collapsed onto the floor and Harley pushed Jonathon onto his back. She straddled his body and leaned down towards his face.
"Jonathon's not here?" she asked in-fake sadness as he continued to flinch uncontrollably. "Good. Cuz I don't want Crane."
She leaned in even closer and grinned at him.
"I want the Scarecrow."
Author's Note: Thanks to Gamine Madcap, psychmaster, twili.imp, AnGeL oF mAdNeSs, and ChrsitineDae17 who had reviewed for the last chapter. That was SIX reviews!! Yay!! Thanks you guys! And I really appreciate suggestions. It helps me to become a better writer. Once again, five reviews til next chapter. Review this one, because I worked especially hard on it. Thanks!