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It hadn't struck her as a strange thing for him to say at the time.
"You smell different today."
Such an innocent sentence. As innocent as anything coming from a man whose idea of fun involved blowing up banks and flooding fire stations could be, anyway. It could even be taken as a compliment, if one was inclined to take it as such. And, strangely enough, she was.
So she'd shrugged and smiled modestly. "Thank you. A friend gave me a new perfume."
His eyebrows had risen in silent understanding then and she'd quickly changed the subject, feeling like she'd somehow given away far too much.
Harleen opened her mouth to scream. The air left her lungs and floated in rising bubbles, bursting silently once it reached the surface. She straightened back up, gasping desperately and gripping the marble sink until her body stopped shaking. She couldn’t bear to turn around, so instead she stared at herself in the little cabinet mirror.
She looked like a mess. The formerly pristine hair dangled in loose locks around her face, sticking to the wet skin and pulling where her half-undone bun hung. Nimble fingers quickly brushed through it, taking longer than necessary. A squeaky little voice in the back of her head mocked her for being scared, but she quickly squashed it. She had a date tonight. She needed to be presentable, that’s all.
With that in mind she reached for a towel and rubbed her face raw. After all, sloppy wet foundation wouldn’t do. It was perfectly reasonable to redo her makeup. In fact, she should probably do a full face instead of a basic everyday look. She’d expect her date to take care in his appearance, so she should as well, right? Nodding to herself in the mirror, she ignored the hint of green on the lower right corner and got down to work.
Once the setting powder was on, she caught a glimpse of herself and looked for anything she might’ve missed; an unruly eyebrow hair, clumpy mascara, smudged lipstick? Her stomach turned at the realisation that she looked perfect. No more excuses now…
Harleen turned to peek into her living room and almost whimpered when she saw he was still there, sprawled on the couch and staring at her with an inquisitive eyebrow, just like he’d been when she’d first entered her apartment after a hectic day at work. The urge to throw up hit her again and she considered dunking her head in cold water once more. With any luck he might grow bored of the act and leave before the need for oxygen forced her back up. Or maybe if she kept still he wouldn’t see her… It worked for snakes, why not for him?
“Are you done freshening up, Doc?”
Each word felt like a shot of adrenaline, and both her hands came up to press over her chest. Oh god, oh god, oh god. What was she going to do? Call the cops? He’d kill her before she could so much as dial the first number. Maybe she could fashion a rope out of towels and sheets and climb down from her tiny bathroom window? No, that was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why had she gone into this line of business? You could find anything on the internet nowadays, she could have just googled him and written her book based entirely on speculation! Not like anyone would have known the difference anyway.
“Doc?”
A pathetic little shriek escaped her lips when he spun her round by the shoulder. Heart about to jump out her throat, she saw her entire life flash before her eyes. She wasn’t ready to die, there were still so many people out there whose faces she had to rub in the dirt. Her former team captain, the head of Gotham University's psychology department, that infuriating guidance counselor who said she'd never amount to anything, that ugly cat that hissed at her everyday, the--
“I must say, I thought you’d be happier to see me.”
His voice cut through the jumbled mess in her head and she blinked up at him, brain broken beyond repair and struggling to piece words together. “Y-You… w-wha…?”
“I could be anywhere right now. Yet I decided to come to you. At the very least you should take it as a compliment, don’t you think?” Her lower lip trembled and he sighed dramatically, letting his hand fall away from her shoulder. “Though I suppose…. You don’t want me here?”
Harleen shook her head vehemently, regaining control over her mouth and following him out into the living room. “Oh no! No, no, no, it’s not like that at all! I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all. You surprised me!”
The Joker looked back at her over his shoulder, eyes so innocently hopeful that they broke her heart and made her regret everything she’d been thinking up to then. How could she have ever thought so badly of this misunderstood man? “So you are happy to see me?”
“Of course!”
No sooner had she said that than he retook his place on her sofa, plopping down without a care in the world and picking up the ice cream tub he’d been devouring. Once again she wondered if this was real or if she’d finally gone insane. It was a very likely possibility. Yet reality is always far more bizarre, and the truth was that the Joker himself was in her apartment, lounging on her leather couch and eating the last of her triple brownie chocolate fudge ice cream.
Once his eyes were off her she regained the ability to think critically, and again she wondered what the hell she was going to do. The cause of her worry didn’t offer any answer, being far more interested in scooping up the last remnants of chocolate and zapping through programs until deciding on a 24 hour news channel.
Harleen gathered some strength to speak, but not before sitting down on her armchair. Just in case her knees decided to give way once he replied. If he replied. “So, uh… to what do I owe the… the pleasure?” She could have smacked herself right there and then. She was stammering far too much. This was her patient. She was the authority figure here. Yes, he was a mass-murdering psychopath who had no problem in… in gutting people… people like her… if he ever got the chance… as he had now… alone in her apartment… A perfectly manicured hand came up to her neck before she shook those thoughts away. If he wanted to kill her, he’d have done it by now. Yeah, exactly!
Finally at ease, she allowed herself to take a good look at him for the first time that evening. He was out of his Arkham overalls, instead sporting what she recognised as the uniform issued to all security guards at the asylum. She knew she shouldn’t, yet she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit impressed. Just a little. It’s not that she was condoning it, but… credit where credit’s due and all that.
“Oh, I just felt so… stifled in there. Our sessions are the only highlight of my day.” As he spoke she shifted in her seat, crossing her legs professionally and trying – failing – to control the smug little smirk on her lips. “See, I really want to put your advice into practice. I really do. But how fruitful would it be in that dreary old asylum? It’s full of crazies! You say ‘hi' to some guy and suddenly there’s a wooden puppet offending your mother. Does that seem like an environment conducive to rehabilitation to you?”
Harleen pondered this, taking the time to avoid locking eyes with him. Something about his words didn’t sit right with her, but she found that her brain couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. It was hard enough thinking straight during their sessions in a controlled environment, let alone in her own living room.
Luckily for her, he obligingly answered his own question, “Of course not!” Placing the empty cardboard container on the coffee table, he made himself more comfortable, feet up (but kindly no shoes on, she noticed with gratitude) on the armrest and staring at the ceiling, just like he did during their sessions at Arkham. “I mean it, Doc. I really want to do right by you. You try so hard for me… I need—Nay, I must do everything in my power to make sure your hard work isn’t in vain. And I think you know…” The corners of his red lips lifted slightly in a sheepish smile. “...I’ve been holding out on you.” His green eyes left the ceiling and fixed on her. “Not anymore. I’m finally ready to tell you everything.”
It took her a moment to realise she was gawking, mouth hanging unashamedly open as the possibilities of what ‘everything’ entailed swam in her mind. She quickly composed herself, fingers gripping the hem of her skirt and biting her lower lip in what she convinced herself was professional concern.
She really couldn’t argue with him. She’d often felt that the asylum was more likely to cause insanity than to cure it. But more than anything she was ecstatic at how well he was progressing. He’d escaped and come to her! Clearly her methods were working. Not only that, but he also wanted to share even more with her. Oh she could just smell that book deal!
A notebook was already open on her lap, and she’d just put pen to paper when there was a knock on the door. The Joker didn’t move from his spot, though he did pull himself up a bit straighter to look at her in that quizzical way of his. Harleen rolled her eyes in annoyance and was about to tell him to ignore it, but her eyes quickly widened in realisation when the knocking took on a familiar pattern. Suddenly her mouth felt very, very dry. “You have to go.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
If she’d been fully concentrated on him, she might have heard the threatening undertone in his words. As it was, her eyes flicked anxiously between the couch and the door. “I have a date tonight."
Harleen made sure to step out and close the door behind her in record time, praying that she was enough to divert her date’s attention from the interior of her apartment. Predictably, all of her effort turned out to be useless, and she found James with his back to her and far too engrossed in rehearsing greetings to notice her. Any other time and Harleen might have actually stood there and snorted at all of the different endearing ways he could come up with to say ‘hello’ and offer her the bouquet he was carrying. As things were, however, she had to speed it up a bit. “Hi, James! Loving the suit, are those for me?”
The blond turned around almost immediately and beamed brightly, holding out the flowers and running his eyes over her, “You really outdid yourself today, Harley! Are you ready to go? You’re going to love this place, I promise. Bruce Wayne dines there, that’s how you know it’s good.”
“Oh, uh…” She kept her face lowered and her gaze fixed on the flowers, intent on betraying nothing. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t feel very well tonight.” Daintily, she coughed into her free hand and batted her lashes, making a show of weakness, the kind that made guys like James go into full chivalry mode and fuss over her.
He didn’t disappoint, handsome features taking on a worried look as he lifted his hand to her forehead softly. There was no fever for him to feel, of course, but he still pressed his lips into a concerned thin line. “I’ll stay and take care of you.”
“What?”
“I can’t leave you alone like this, Harley.”
“B-But I’m fine, really! Nothing a lil’ sleep won’t fix.”
“I know you don’t want to be a bother, but I must insist. I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you like this.” He gave her one of his dimply smiles and reached for the doorknob behind her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a perfect gentlema--”
“Come on baby, don’t keep daddy waiting!”
Just like that, time stopped existing.
Her eyes met James’ and later she would swear that her heart had physically ceased beating for a full second. The Joker’s voice was lower than usual, enough that no one would recognise it, but she would know that mischievousness anywhere. Weakly, she blurted out, “That’s… that’s not for me.”
“I’m yearning for you, Harleypie! All thirteen inches of me!”
If there was a hole in the ground, Harleen would have jumped in to never come out. James was staring at her, first in confusion, then self-consciously down at himself. Finally his eyes turned to the door with the faintest hint of rage.
Oh no. No, no, no.
Her hand flew to the knob and in a flash she was inside, shutting the door on his face with more fake coughing and the most apologetic look she could muster, “I… I’m so sorry James, I have to go!”
At first she considered pressing her ear against the door and wait there until James left, but her feet kept moving and she soon found herself right next to the sofa, looking down at her uninvited guest with her hands firmly planted on her hips. “What was that for?!”
“He wasn’t good enough for ya, doll.” It was almost enviable, really, the way he shrugged and calmly kept his attention glued to the screen, like nothing could ever faze him. “Even I could see that.”
Her arms flew above her head and down again in aggravation, “You didn’t see him at all!”
“Exactly. That’s how obvious it was.”
Frustration overwhelmed her and she gave up before stalking over to the armchair and picking up the notebook again. The message was clear: if he wanted an impromptu session, that’s what he’d get, regardless of what she had planned for the night. It was terribly inconsiderate of him, and very different from how he behaved towards her at Arkham. “So what would you like to talk about today?” Her words came out colder than she intended them to, but she was determined not to waver.
“I was only looking out for you, Harl...”
Just like that, all of the irritation melted and her resolve crumbled. She leaned back, looking as guilty as can be. He needed her patience and understanding, not for her to act like a stroppy teenager. “I know. I just…” She sighed and looked up at him, sure that there was no need to finish the sentence.
Joker nodded with understanding eyes, “You’re wondering about the thirteen inches.”
“N-no!” Harleen quickly brought the notebook up to cover her face, smacking herself with it in the process. Ears already pink with embarrassment, her cheeks soon followed when she heard him cackle delightedly.
Against her better judgement, she found herself joining in.