Harley

I Knew He'd Understand

"Dr. Quinzel is everything alright?" Arthur asked before he took a deep inhale of his cigarette. Thick grey smoke filled the pristine white room.

I looked up from my notes, my night of research hadn't prepared me for Mavis' disgusting comments.

Workplace harassment was an understatement, that "man" made me feel disgusting and I felt helpless if I told anyone I'm sure they wouldn't care. They'd probably take the side of the rich man over the woman in the "short" skirt.

I kept subconsciously adjusting my black skirt so I wasn't "provocative" in any way but I knew that it wasn't true.

Right?

I placed my clipboard on the table and stood up.

"Alright Mr.Joker this is going to sound strange but...is my skirt too short?" I asked and stood there like a pathetic pooch.

Arthur cleated his throat as his eyes scanned me from head to toe, his eyes lingered on my body for a minute before he returned his gaze to my face. He shifted in his seat a little and took another puff from his cigarette.

"No, in fact, I think you look beautiful." he said with a child-like smile.

The nonsense, here I was asking my patient about something so stupid. And I was the dumb broad because I was actually blushing as I sat down at the table.

Arthur watched me intently, his green eyes like mini forest lit up just a little as he watched me and I couldn't quite place why.

The doctor, that freakin creep.

He reminded me of my grandfather or my pathetic excuse for one.

Joker

The doctor kept drifting in and out of it during our session. Her eyes just wandered and saw beyond me at times, she was here but definitely far far away.

She came in with a bin full of everything from books to drawings, all for me she said. She said she wanted to help me get better.

That was probably the first time anyone's ever cared for me. Yet now here she was in front of me, with no one to care for her.

"Dr.Quinzel." I said, her head snapped up from her notes.

Her eyes were glassy and her chest rose and fell quickly. Harleen looked like the saddest jester on the court. Worn down by whatever what going on outside those doors. I wanted to help her, like she was helping me.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I put out my cigarette.

She laughed a little and tried to brush the question off but whatever was on her mind continued to hang over her like a noxious cloud.

"I'm serious." I said, my face stern and unwavering.

Her face contorted in confusion before she let out a reluctant sigh.

"The head doctor here, he was trying to make a pass at me." She looked down at her lap.

I nodded, that's why she wanted me to judge her outfit. As I opened my mouth to speak she kept going.

"You know Joker, it's not the first time it's happened. It's way back in my memory but my grandfather. He was a sicko after my parents up and left." Her voice was small and meek, which was a strange pairing to her Brooklyn accent.

Her shoulders dropped and her doctor demeanor washed away.

"What happened to your parents?" I asked.

She put a finger gun to her head and "pulled the trigger"

"They were troubled type, partied all the time. Dad was a little crazy and well, he shot mom right in the noggin and when he couldn't find me he offed himself." She shrugged but it was obvious by the furrow of her brow that it hurt her.

The room went silent for a minute as she continued to stare straight down at the table.

"My grandfather was a big shot, the founder and owner of ACME chemicals, never met him a day in my life before I got to that big mansion. Growing up there was hell Mr. Joker, until that day." her hand was balled into a fist, she looked like she was fighting with herself at this point.

"What day Dr.Quinzel?" I asked as I lit yet another cigarette, as the story progressed her demeanor became more unhinged. There was this disturbing distance and depth to the look in her eyes, I didn't know who I was talking to. Harleen left the building and this other person was familiar, much more like...me?

She tore her gaze away from the table and locked eyes with me.

"The day he got what he fucking deserved puddin'" she said as her fist slammed against the table. There were actual tears in her pretty blue eyes but they refused to fall.

Just like that, she snapped back, the anger was no longer present in her facial expression. No tears fell from her eyes as that memory seemingly dissipated from her mind.

After this she looked at me and reached out to touch my hand, her small palm was cold and well-manicured.

"Thank you." she smiled.

After this we continued the remainder of our session, she helped me decipher what was real and what wasn't. I told her about my fucked up childhood, she just listened. When I told jokes, she actually laughed.

She laughed for real and it was with me, not at me.

When the session was over she helped me handcuff myself once again.

"Until next time Mr. Joker." it had to be my imagination but I swore I saw her blush just a little.

"Have a good night Harlequin" I laughed, she let out a small chuckle.

I watched her leave, the room and prepared myself for the rough handling from the asshole Arkham guards. They had a habit of throwing me in my cell while being awful to me.

While they treated me like trash I thought of the one person who cared about me in this terrible world.

Harley Quinn.

Truly my saving grace.