Obsidian

i. Through the Looking Glass.

HARLEEN

Harleen had practiced this every day for two weeks, twice a day. Hold out your hand, smile, and nod. Say thank you. Only give what you have to. Try not to talk for too long.

She did it repeatedly, as many times as she could stand, until it looked real.

But now that she was here, standing on the precipice of the last three years, Harleen Quinzel did not know what to do.

"Harleen?" Joan Leland called, snapping her from her thoughts. "Did you hear me?"

Harleen shook her head, flashing an apologetic smile the doctor's way. "Sorry, Joan. I was thinking. Run it by me again?"

Life was funny sometimes.

Her first day in Arkham Asylum felt like it had been only yesterday instead of the long drag of these last years. Young, vibrating with ambition, Harleen thought she was invincible and that success was inevitable.

She had spent those first precious days following Joan around like a shadow, drinking every bit of information and trick of the trade she could. Her boss had been bold, unapologetic, and radiated a genuine confidence that Harleen had only ever daydreamed of.

She would never have imagined that nearly six years later, she would be leaving Arkham for the final time, not as an award-winning psychiatrist but as a rehabilitated criminal, a recovering domestic violence victim, an absolute fucking fool.

Joan patted her hand. "Quite alright, Harley," She said, and Harleen grit her teeth against the old name. She hated it but couldn't bear to hear her full name, her real name, ever uttered in this Asylum again. "I reminded you that your parole officer will require you to check in every Friday. It's of the utmost importance that you don't forget."

Harleen busied her hands by tightening the strap on her backpack to distract herself from the flare of annoyance that ignited within her chest. "Yeah, thanks. I almost forgot." She lied.

"And your sponsor is here. He was very interested in meeting you and offered to drive you to your outpatient facility," Joan continued. "You're fortunate, Harley."

Luck. When have I ever been lucky?

"Yeah. I know, I'm grateful. Could you tell my sponsor that for me?" The lie came quickly, practiced to perfection, locked and loaded on the edge of her tongue.

Joan chuckled and nodded toward the door that led out of Block A and into the main lobby of the Asylum. "Tell him yourself. Now is hardly the time to be shy, Harley. You've worked so hard. You deserve this."

A smile was the easiest thing in the world, so when she flashed one to Joan, she knew it looked genuine. She knew that the dimples in her cheeks made her look younger, happier, more alive than she actually was. "Thanks, Joan. I couldn't have done any of this without you."

"Call me when you've settled. I want to know how you end up doing out there."

"Sure," Harleen nodded. An empty promise. "I will. Can I ask you one last favor, Joan?"

"What is it?"

"Could I say goodbye to Jervis and Jonathan? I don't know when I'll see them next." It was the most honest thing that she had said in days.

Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane had been nothing but kind to her since she arrived in the medical wing of Arkham Asylum three years ago, a shattered, fractal of a thing. Dr. Crane had been one of her psychology professors back in college and had assisted in deepening her understanding of the human mind. He had taken her under his wing, seeming to sense that she had been an underprivileged girl getting her first real taste of education. He was the closest thing to an elder brother she had, and she would miss him.