Her Favorite Patient

Part 3
Harleen had been seeing her patient for three months now, and during that time the subject of her childhood had not come up again. But it was always in her thoughts. She felt jittery when she walked alone to her car after hours, and even when she was in her own shower. The slightest noises made her jump. The area around her eyes was beginning to darken from the sleep she had lost. Every time she was on the verge of drifting off, the Joker's unwelcome smirk forced itself into her head, leaving her nervous and on edge the rest of the night. One night she had even allowed her shaky fingers to trail down and stroke her clit while her mind wandered over his round chin, his strong jawline, his sleepy brown eyes, his deep lacerations. She hadn't reached a climax, but at least she had fallen asleep.
Today Joker traipsed into her office wearing his purple suit and a pair of brown dress shoes, de-knifed. His handsome, scarred face was clean and his washed hair was neatly combed. He took a wide-legged seat and thumbed his jacket collar outward, smiling at her. “Privileges.”
“I see that.” She nodded her approval and covered a yawn.
“I been a good boy.” He leaned forward, as if letting her in on a secret. “I hear they're even going to give me extra cookies at lunch.”
“So, you've been following the rules and that's been working well for you.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Eh, fair to middling.”
She put her chin in her hand, more to rest than to think. “So you're not satisfied with the privileges you've earned?”
“Oh they're well and good. I mean, who doesn't want extra cookies?”
Her sleepy eyes looked more in his general direction than at his face. “But you want something else. What do you want, Mister Joker?”
“Well, I want a bed that doesn't feel like a pair of train tracks. I want to wear my make-up.” He stared at her eyes. “I want to ask a good friend out to dinner.”
“Oh so you've made a friend. That's wonderful.” She suppressed a yawn. “One of the other patients?”
He shook his head and smiled mock-sheepishly. “She's this beautiful, brilliant doctor I've been seeing twice a week for a few months.”
Her pasty cheeks gained a slight tinge of pink. “Mister Joker, even if you earned outside privileges, it would be inappropriate for me, as your doctor, to accept a date from you.”
He waved his hand dismissively, shooing the idea like a bothersome fly. “Forget the doctor part then. What about as friends?”
She blinked her eyes heavily as she considered it. “I suppose it depends on what sort of an outing you had planned.”
He got up and pushed his cushy chair over to her desk, then leaned forward on his elbows. “We'd start off with dinner at a top-notch place. A place where we could dance. And while we danced I'd tell you how thankful I am for how much you've helped me, Harleen, for the better man you've made me. Then I'd walk you back to your place and, if I was a very lucky boy, maybe get a good-night smooch. On the cheek of course.”
He licked his lips.
She didn't answer. She gazed over his features with heavy eyes.
“You look tired, Harleen.” He gave her a concerned look.
“I just haven't been sleeping well.”
“Boogey-man been making racket all night?”
“Something like that.”
He gave her his creepy smirk. The one that had been keeping her awake. She sat back in her chair, crossed her legs, and folded her arms.
He took off his jacket and leaned further toward her on the desk, the smirk still on his face. “You don't like it when I smile at you like this, do you Harleen?”
“No, Mister Joker, I don't.”
“I'm sorry.” He paused and leaned in further. “I just can't help smiling when I'm around you.”
She uncrossed her arms, but held her hands on her lap.
He got up from his chair and moved around her desk. “You know what would make you feel better? A hug.”
She stared at his outstretched arms. They weren't muscular, by any means. But his forearms looked toned and strong, almost safe in a way. She let him take her hands and pull her to her feet.
“I don't think that would be appropriate,” she said in a rehearsed monotone.
He squeezed her small hands in his. “Come on, it's just a hug. From a concerned friend.”
She let him wrap his arms around her small waist and pull her into his vested chest. He wasn't wearing cologne, but he smelled manly and comforting.
He trailed his fingertips down her spine to the small of her back. His voice was low, almost a growl. “See there? Don't you feel better?”
She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing herself closer to him, letting him soothingly rub her lower back. She felt as though she could drift off to sleep in his arms.
He whispered in her ear, “Does my smile remind you of someone, Harleen?”
She drew back, fully awake. “Like who?”
“Like your step-dad.”
She crossed her arms. “Mister Joker, I already told you I was not molested by my step-father.”
“So who touched you?”
“I never said anyone did.”
“Ah. But you never said they didn't.” The smirk crept back into the corners of his slashed mouth.
“And I'm not going to. Because we're not here to talk about me. We're here to talk—”
“About me. And we will. But first I want to know why my sweet little smile gives you the willies.”
“Because it's not sweet. It's devious. And I don't appreciate devious men.”
“That's an awful big projection you're putting on me, Doctor. Do you project the cat that felt you up onto every man?” He twitched his eyebrows. “Or am I special?”
“We are not going to talk about this.” She sat back down and popped a peppermint into her mouth..
He perched on the edge of her desk. “Well okay then. I was going to tell you more about my scars today, but if you're not interested...”
She ignored his bait. “Why don't we talk about why you're unhappy with your privileges?”
“Because I'm not five, Doctor Quinzel. I'm not dazzled by cookies. Now, if they were handing out fireworks...”
“What about getting to wear your own clothes? Being allowed visitors?”
“Oh yeah, because I have a whole line of people clamoring outside my door. No, Harleen. Why should I have to follow all of society's little rules just to crap when I want to? And even if I do follow all the rules – go to church every Sunday, pay my taxes, adopt an Asian kid – none of it matters. Because next year I could come down with the Hiv. Or the Russians could drop the A-bomb. Hell, a stray comet could blow us all to bits. Now ask yourself, Doctor, where is the sense in following society's quaint little rules when we live in a world we can't control?”
She adjusted her glasses. “It's true, we can't control what happens to us. But we can try to make it as good as possible.”
“Yeah, let's just make this as good as possible.” He leaned down toward her and narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you were thinking when he raped you?”
Her heart beat hard. She gritted her teeth and glared at him.
“I'm sorry – bad joke. But don't you see? All of this - the government snooping around people's business, Arkham's mission to stabilize the unstable, hell, even the make-up you cover your pretty face with, any attempt to exert control in a chaotic world – is just one big, sick joke. I mean, I could change my ways, take up stamp-collecting or racket-ball, really become an asset to society, just to get hit by a truck the next day. Now where's the sense, where's the order in that?”
He stood and walked toward her. “I'll tell you what's really fucked up. On the day my parents married, my father made a promise to take care of me and my mom. And we deserved it, I mean really deserved it. She always had the house spotless, dinner on a perfectly set table at five sharp every evening, real June-fucking-Cleaver. I was this cute little tyke that made straight A's in school and always said please and thank-you. And instead of taking care of us, that bastard came home piss-drunk every night to beat the snot out of us. And I'm sure you didn't do anything to deserve getting raped. I can just see you – little girl, cute as a button, blond pig-tails and a lollipop in your mouth, watching cartoons on a Saturday morning – bewildered as hell when he touched you. I mean, you had made your bed. You had fed the cat, just like you were supposed to. What had you done to deserve that? Nothing. What a cruel fucking joke.”
Tears began to form in her blue eyes. His stance, his unnerving smirk frightened her. But what frightened her even more was how much sense this psychotic man made.
He knelt in front of her and squeezed her forearms tightly. “Harleen, if there's anything I've learned, it's that following the rules rarely gets you what you want. The world is one sick, twisted joke, and the only reasonable way to deal with that is to laugh along with it. Me and you, we're the same, kid. And I'm not saying there's some magical God up in the clouds that brought us together – there's not. But we were lucky as charms to find each other here. You remember how I told you not all scars are on the outside? You of all people outta know that. And I sure as hell do. We can help each other with that. Now I may not be a good little sheep that follows all the rules, but unlike my drunk fuck father, I am a man of my word. And I promise you Harleen, when you decide to open up and tell me what happened to that dumpling of a little girl, I'll tell you exactly how I got my scars.”
He took her hands and, looking up at her eyes, placed a gentle kiss on each. She slowly brought a hand up to touch his scarred cheek. He let her caress him for a moment before rising. He pulled her up from the chair.
“May I kiss you, Harleen?”
She nodded.
He licked his lips. He kissed her button nose, her cheeks, her eyelids. Then he softly kissed her mouth, letting his tongue wander just over her lips before breaking away.
Someone knocked at the door.
He gazed down at her with his sleepy brown eyes. “Time to go.”
“Joker,” she breathed.
“Call me J,” he told her. “It's what everyone used to call me.”
“J.” She smiled at the intimate initial he had given her.
“Maybe you'll come visit me, Harleen? You know, since I got privileges now.” He squeezed her hands.
“Harley. You can call me Harley. It's what everyone used to.” She sounded like a small child. “And of course I'll visit you, J.”
His smile spread into a broad grin. “I look forward to it.”
He put his jacket back on and walked out the door, leaving her flushed and bewildered.