by Paul Dini
In Harleen’s view, this was rationalization with a side of self-aggrandizing—We’re not like the rest of the world, we’re different, we’re special—which they used to justify violations of the social compact and normalize Batman’s aberrant behavior.
Eventually she found Dr. Fay Silver, an older woman who sometimes consulted for Dr. Leland. Harleen chose her simply because she displayed a sense of humor about most things, even Batman. Harleen dutifully checked in with her once a month and never told her anything important. Dr. Silver probably knew as much, but so what? The rule said she had to see a therapist; it didn’t say anything about actually having therapy.
Harleen could just imagine the look on Dr. Silver’s face if, during one of their monthly appointments, she suddenly said, Oh, by the way, my father spent most of my childhood and all my adolescence in the Coxsackie Correctional Facility. That’s a maximum security prison in New York. He got out just in time to see me graduate from high school.
The good doctor would probably look at her the same way her first college roommate had when Harleen had foolishly been honest when Olivia had asked what her father did for a living. Harleen had finally moved to a dorm across campus just to get away from the stares. Nice people’s parents didn’t go to prison. Well, not unless it was Club Fed, where all the inmates had been framed for banking irregularities and taken a plea to spare their families the expense of a trial they’d probably have lost. White-collar crime wasn’t like real crime.
Harleen had known better than to tell anyone about the scariest night of her life, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell Dr. Silver about it, either. If anyone found out she had seen two murderous psychos die violently in the same night when she was seven years old, she wouldn’t be working at Arkham Asylum. She’d be locked up in it, just on general principle. Then they’d go after her mother for saving her life. The police beat up victims of crimes—Harleen didn’t want to know what they would do to someone who dared to fight back.
Especially here in Batmanville.
Only one person in the whole world would understand how hard she’d had to work to put her background behind her, and how that had meant putting her goals ahead of everything else. Only one person in the whole world could comprehend how frustrating it was to have done all that hard work only to find herself surrounded by people who settled for less because it was easier than striving for more.
Only one person in the whole world knew how much it pained her that, on a planet full of adventure, so many people were just sleepwalking through their lives. Only one person in the whole world could see how natural it was for her be drawn to someone larger than life, wide-awake, fearless, and energetic, with the power to make her laugh and cry within seconds.
There was only one person in the whole world she could bare her soul to, who would listen to her admit that, despite her best efforts to conform to the standards and expectations of her profession, she had fallen in love with her patient. Only one person in the whole world would not immediately condemn her.
And the only person in the whole world who really understood her didn’t let her down. “You’re a true rarity, a woman of daring who welcomes the challenges of a world full of bold, bright colors and is brave enough to enjoy it rather than hiding from it, by running on a human-sized hamster wheel and calling that life.”
“Somehow you know exactly what’s in my heart,” Harleen sighed. “You get me like no one else ever has.”
“Of course I do, my dear Dr. Harley Quinn,” said the Joker.
It was like the sun was shining inside her, Harleen thought with another happy sigh. She’d never known how good it could be to have someone who knew exactly who she was—who she really was. And who she really was, was Harley Quinn.
Harleen had been truthful when she’d told Dr. Leland she hadn’t given Dr. Patel the idea for swimming therapy. Harleen Quinzel was a consummate professional who’d never even think of doing anything untoward. The mischievous Harley Quinn, however, wasn’t so inhibited and thought nothing of screwing with the status quo for a good laugh—you could tell by the twinkle in her eye.
It was Harley Quinn who had written a piece about the virtues of swimming therapy; then formatted it to look like it was a transcript of a talk given at the International Congress held by the Royal College of Psychiatrists in London last year. Harley Quinn left a copy in the staff lounge where Dr. Patel was sure to find it. Pretty soon he was pontificating on the benefits of swimming to anyone who held still long enough. Harley let one of the nurses tell her all about Dr. Patel’s new obsession over lunch one day.
Song Guo, R.N. had a PhD in psychiatric nursing; if any of the doctors pissed her off, she made them address her as Dr. Guo. Harleen admired her intelligence and enjoyed her company. Harley knew that Guo was most likely to see through the “transcript” as a fake and was having lunch with her just to find out if she was suspicious. She wasn’t, so Harley salted the staff lounge with a few more “articles” tricked up to look like reprints from professional journals and then had the good luck to find an issue of the North American Journal of Psychiatric Professionals with a real piece on the benefits of swimming for hospitalized psychiatric patients.
Harleen Quinzel might have been a bit surprised when Dr. Patel began talking about taking a few of his low-risk patients to the County Pool for a private swimming session, but Harley Quinn wasn’t. Harley knew that, on Dr. Patel’s planet, anything good enough for the Royal College of Psychiatrists in London was a bandwagon worth jumping on. What surprised both Harleen and Harley was how many of the staff were taking him seriously.
Not everyone thought it was a good idea. A number of orderlies thought Dr. Patel was losing his mind. At Arkham, patients could be well behaved on the premises but still too dangerous to go outside. Yet Dr. Patel had enough support that Dr. Leland had to give it serious consideration.
Harley tried not to hope. It was still all talk, and at Arkham, things could get talked to death. If swimming didn’t make it, Harley thought, she’d just have to think of another way to get her puddin’ out into the daylight and fresh air.
As impressed as Dr. Leland was with the Joker’s improvement, she wasn’t even ready to consider moving him out of his cell. There was a much longer way to go before Dr. Leland was willing to risk letting him take a short walk on the grounds even with armed guards standing by and snipers stationed in the windows. In the meantime, the air in the sub-sub-sub-sub-basement was so filtered, it was cleaner than outside air. He was given supplements to prevent vitamin D deficiency and the fluorescents in his cell were supposed to be the kind that mimicked daylight. Harley was pretty sure they weren’t, but contradicting her boss wouldn’t help.
And then, a minor miracle came to pass.
* * *
When Harley heard Dr. Leland had okayed a trip to the County Pool for Dr. Patel and his three most well-behaved patients, she thought it was a joke. But Dr. Patel assured her it was true.
“Dr. Leland will be going with us,” Dr. Patel told Harley when she asked, “along with two nurses and three orderlies, in a prisoner transport van with two drivers experienced at transporting high-risk prisoners.” He gave a short laugh. “None of my patients are high risk at this point, and I doubt that Dudley Garan ever was. They didn’t call him the Dud ironically.”
“Maybe at one time they did,” Harley said.
Dr. Patel gave another short laugh. “As if criminals even know what irony is,” he said, and walked off before she could ask him when the trip was scheduled for.
Harley stared after him, thinking the way he underestimated his patients’ intelligence was abusive and unfair. She would have pointed it out to him but he’d never have listened because he underestimated her, too.
A little later, Harley learned from Nurse Guo that the trip to the County Pool was two weeks away. Dr. Leland had reserved the pool for the entire day, so the patients would have the whole place to themselves without anyone staring at them. Plus, if anything
did happen, there’d be no risk to innocent bystanders—or by-swimmers. Dr. Leland herself would not be going in; she would remain fully clothed and observe.
Two weeks was a nice, long grace period, too, Harley thought; it gave Dr. Leland plenty of time to change her mind. It would also let her gauge how the other patients at Arkham would react. If the upcoming trip created too much unrest, she could call it off. Dr. Leland was nothing if not shrewd.
Shrewdness, however, was no match for a perfect storm of circumstance.
* * *
The day before Dr. Patel’s trip to the County Pool, Joan Leland found herself on the phone with Assistant District Attorney Dale Morrissey saying, “No, this is impossible. I was told the grand jury would be convened next week. I can’t testify tomorrow. Does the DA think other people are just hanging around waiting for him to say ‘Jump’? We’re busy.”
“The DA has stage four lung cancer,” the other woman replied bluntly.
“What?” Dr. Leland almost dropped the phone. “That’s impossible! Darius Hunt never smoked a cigarette in his life!”
“Believe it or not, Dr. Leland, an awful lot of lung cancer patients aren’t smokers. As I understand it, Darius has a rare form related to extreme stress.”
Dr. Leland put her elbow on her desk and rested her forehead on her free hand. “How in God’s name did he let it go on for so long?”
“He’s busy,” Dale Morrissey said flatly, and Dr. Leland felt stung. “He’s arranged for the grand jury to hear testimony in the corruption case tomorrow. At the end of the day, he goes straight into the hospital for surgery the next morning. After that, we’ll handle everything, but he feels it’s crucial that he’s on hand if they indict. Do you want to tell him you have something more important to do?”
“No, of course not.” Dr. Leland sighed. “Only in Gotham City.”
“I hear you, sister.” For the first time, Dale Morrissey sounded sympathetic. “See you tomorrow.”
A moment after Dr. Leland put the phone down, there was a tap at her office door.
“Come in,” she said wearily.
“Pardon my nose, but I could hear you,” Dr. Quinzel said. “You sounded upset. Is everything all right?”
* * *
Harley was amazed at how eager everyone on the staff was to go ahead with the trip to the County Pool rather than postpone it. Even staff members who hadn’t originally been in favor of it wanted it to go ahead as scheduled.
The doctors and half of the nursing staff gathered in the staff lounge to talk it over.
“These patients already have outdoor privileges, they’re well behaved,” Dr. Patel said. “The worst thing I can imagine is Dudley the Dud falling on his face and breaking his nose. If he does, we’ll pick him up and put a Band-Aid on it—problem solved.”
“What do you think, Dr. Quinzel?” Dr. Leland asked suddenly.
“Me?” Harley asked as everyone turned to look at her. It was startling to be the center of attention but she had to admit it felt good, too; no wonder the Joker was so flamboyant. “Well, I’m not as experienced as my colleagues,” she began, her voice small and humble.
“Oh, just spit it out already,” said Dr. Davis impatiently.
Harley gave him a wounded look. “It’s not just Dr. Patel’s patients we’ll be disappointing if we cancel. All the patients are waiting to see if we’ll really go through with it. If we cancel, they’ll never trust us. Not for a long time, anyway.”
“So what’s your solution?” Dr. Leland asked Harleen.
Harley took a breath. Everyone was still looking at her, as if she were important and what she had to say mattered. “I would send Dr. Davis in your place with Dr. Patel and his group because he’s in charge when you’re not here.” She paused; no one argued so she continued. “Dr. Percival is the next most senior so he could be in charge here and work from your office for the day.” She flashed a smile at him. “I promise we’ll be good, Dr. P—we’ll save all our problems for Dr. Leland when she comes back.” She actually got a few polite laughs on that one.
Dr. Leland stared down at her hands folded in her lap for a few moments. Then she looked around the room. “All those in favor of Dr. Quinzel’s suggestion?”
Everyone said Aye. Harley hoped she didn’t look as boggled as she felt.
“The ayes have it,” Dr. Leland said. “I’ll have my phone with me except when I’m testifying, so I’d like updates via text and email throughout the day, even if it’s just to say everything’s great or boring or whatever. I’ll leave other contact numbers with everyone in case there’s an emergency and my phone battery dies. And I want extra staff on duty here tomorrow. I’ll authorize a full day of overtime for everyone who comes in.”
“You can depend on us,” Dr. Davis assured her solemnly. Everyone made noises of agreement.
“I still don’t like letting this go ahead without me,” Dr. Leland said, talking over them. “But I agree with Dr. Quinzel—cancelling at the last minute will hurt patient relations.”
As the meeting broke up, Dr. Leland asked Harley to come back to her office for a few minutes. Harley was still feeling a bit bowled over. Perhaps the other doctors would have said exactly the same thing she had, but Dr. Leland hadn’t asked them. She’d made it Harley’s suggestion, then followed it.
“Does your star patient have any feelings about this excursion?” she asked, motioning for Harley to take the chair in front of her desk.
“I think he’s just waiting to see what happens, like all the other patients,” Harley said. “I should get back to him. He’s probably getting anxious.”
“Oh?” Dr. Leland’s expression turned wary. “Does he have a problem with your absences?”
Harley shook her head. “Not with my scheduled absences. But unscheduled absences are different. He’s so dependent on me right now. If I’m away for too long, he starts feeling a bit lost.”
“Please tell me you go home to sleep,” Dr. Leland said.
“That’s a scheduled absence,” Harley said. She didn’t mention she’d given the Joker a smart-phone for those times when he woke up in the middle of the night feeling frightened and alone. Patients weren’t allowed to have phones. But who else was he going to call? His old gang was scattered, in jail or on the run. He had no one else in the world, only her.
“Did he say in so many words he feels lost without you?” Dr. Leland asked.
“Not in so many words exactly. But almost. He’s—” Harley caught herself before she said he was an injured, abandoned child. She knew Dr. Leland wasn’t ready to think of the Joker in that way—the woman had only begun to see there was more to him than the label homicidal maniac. Dr. Leland didn’t know him the way Harley did and probably never would, which was just as well. Harley wasn’t comfortable with the idea of her boss getting that close to her puddin’.
“Dr. Quinzel?” Dr. Leland was looking at her with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry.” Harley felt herself flush with embarrassment. “I’ve got so much on my mind.”
“You were saying the Joker is somewhat dependent.” Dr. Leland’s concerned expression intensified.
“Rather dependent, yes. Transference—you know how it is,” Harley replied. It was the first thing she could think of.
“Still? I would have thought that would already have peaked,” the other woman replied, studying Harley’s face. “You’re not struggling with countertransference, are you?”
“Oh, heavens, no!” Harley laughed a little, hoping she wasn’t protesting too much. “I’ve always understood how vital it is not to become emotionally entangled with a patient, especially one so damaged.”
Dr. Leland scribbled something on a small notepad. It could have been anything, Harley told herself—a just-remembered dental appointment or a reminder to buy milk on her way home, nothing to do with her or the Joker.
“You know, since you’ve been making such good progress with him,” Dr. Leland said, tearing the note
from the pad and sticking it in her pocket, “I was wondering if you’d given any thought to when you might resume treating other patients again.”
“Uh,” Harley said, momentarily lost for words. “Well… no.”
“Don’t worry about it right this minute,” Dr. Leland replied. “We can talk about it after I get back, the day after tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Harley said as she stood up. “I really should, uh, go. Back to work.” She headed for the door.
“Not so fast,” Dr. Leland said. Harley froze with her hand on the knob. “You’ve fallen behind with your daily reports.”
“I have?” Harley said, hoping her tone of innocent surprise sounded genuine.
“I’ve seen nothing from you for the last four days.”
“Really?” Harley turned around. “I know I sent them. I remember.”
“Well, re-send them, if you don’t mind,” Dr. Leland said.
“Of course,” Harley said. She didn’t think Dr. Leland sounded suspicious but she wasn’t smiling. “Suppose I wait till after you get back so it won’t be one more thing piling up—”
“No, send them before you go home tonight.” Dr. Leland’s tone was matter-of-fact but she still wasn’t smiling. “I’ll have my tablet with me tomorrow so I can download them and read them while I’m waiting to be called. The legal system is made of hurry-up-and-wait.”
“Sure thing,” Harley said and hurried out before Dr. Leland thought of something else.
Dammit! She’d never be able to magic up four detailed, objective reports on the Joker by the end of the day. Maybe she could tell Dr. Leland her computer had eaten them and offer her a four-day summary. In her opinion, weekly summaries should have been enough by now anyway. Harley hadn’t broached the idea for fear of rocking the boat. The less Dr. Leland thought about her and the Joker, the better.
Of course, not turning in her daily reports was no way to keep her boss from getting too curious, Harley thought ruefully. She needed all the approval she could get from Dr. Leland if she was going to move the Joker out of the sub-sub-sub-sub-basement. It would be a major victory just to get him transferred to an aboveground cell, one with windows for natural light. From there, she would maneuver him to a part of the building where the windows actually opened. There would be bars on them but at least he could breathe fresh air.
