𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝔂,

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-2 sessions later-

Harleen had been coming back and forth, scribbling endless notes about him. She'd written his stories down, every one of them. The one about his father, ones of his abuse, his terror, and his jokes.

She often found herself thinking about what he told her, and overanalyzing every word. He often forced a pitiful “aww” and the softening of her serious face. His words were piercing through her, slowly, and Harleen found herself caressing his face, and shedding a tear whenever he did so.

She was exercising empathy. Or so she thought.

Harleen fixed her ruby red skirt, by now this was routine. Every Thursday she'd come and do the same thing: go inside, go through the metal detectors, review her notes, nod at the guard, fix herself and walk in. Mind you, they've only seen eachother three times.

Harleen entered the room, her heels clicking noisily behind her, offering a sweet smile. She sat on her chair and watched the pale man on the couch, which by now he became accustomed to. They'd gotten used to exchanging conversation, him for an ally, and her for trust and information.

“How are you Joker, how's your week been going?”

He replied with a smile, brightened by her attempt for conversation. After answering ‘same old, same old’, she began her evaluation. She kindly looked to his green eyes for answers as she asked a few prepared questions she had, nodding and scribbling down an answer or two.

Joker began to swerve off topic, but so absorbed by his speak, Harleen didn't notice.

“That reminds me of a man I met, the bane of my existence, doll. See Doc, I was just a normal guy, promise. But, every since my accident it's been a little... Hard to get work. And as much as it shames me to admit it to you, I had no other choice then to turn to crime. I wasn't even stealing much. An apple here, a soda there, a guy had to eat...”

He slowly started with crocodile tears.

“But then he came...I BECAME HOSTILE TO LIVE! And he painted me like a criminal... Like a horrible man, who did horrible things...The Batman. He ruined me...RUINED ME...

Joker full on cried, his sinister glare reduced to the soft stare of a child, she couldn't help but cradle his face. Marveling at how Batman was such a hypocrite to his word, ruining the image of a poor man, reducing his happiness into sad silence in solitary confinement- from then hate grew.

She turned to her handbag, and reaching inside picked up a small cup of vanilla pudding and a plastic spoon, offering it to him for comfort. His solemn face grew into the smile that people feared, but for her, it was soft and appreciative.

Having leant over and unwrapping the straight jacket, Harleen realized she'd done something dangerous, right at this moment he could reach over and strangle her, and no one would be the wiser... But he didn't. He reached for the cup and accepted it sheepishly, peeling off the top, he ate some pudding. She wiped the salt tears from his face, smiling into the green abyss of his eyes, thinking about how innocent he really was after seeing the real him and the him that Batman painted for the city.

Harleen sat with him on the couch as he finished his pudding cup, edging closer with every scoop. He turned to her with a smile after finishing and continued to tell another, somewhat happier story of him making up a joke based on something stupid a guard did on Tuesday. This didn't help her research at all, but somehow at this moment in time, she barely seemed to care.

His stories went on and on, birthing one after the other as he continued, and her smiling all so stupidly into his eyes, inching continuously closer to him until their legs touched. And then she froze. Had he noticed? He did.
But he didn't seem to mind.

So she sat there, listening on and on, slipping an occasional question in, so that she'd have something extra to put on her notes that day. Harleen even ended up writing about what conditioner she should use, because out of the random spurts he had, he'd suggested that she use a green apple shampoo.

Eventually her watch went off, signaling that it was her time to go, and regretfully she let him finish his story and began to look for her things. Harleen reached slowly for her belongings, pushing strands of her hair away from her face to get last glimpses of him.

Helping him back into his straight jacket to avoid suspicion, Harleen fastened him carefully. His growls against the officers grew louder as they knocked for her answer, afraid that she'd been there for too long and perhaps he'd done something to her.

She of course answered, and proceeded to work fast, and cursing the imp voice inside of her, begging to kiss him goodbye. The blonde barely knew what she had been doing when she reached for his chin and kissed his cheek, causing both their lips to turn up into a smile; regretfully before waving him goodbye.

She left the room, her face a noticeable shade of pink, upon being asked if she was okay, she answered that she had been frightened by the call for her, which caused her cheeks to grow a bit red, and that it was nothing to worry about. But on the contrary the real reason was.

The woman started her car after reviewing her notes and got on Gotham City Parkway after paying a few tolls. As the pavement sped beside her, she drifted into thought as a love song came on and she caught herself thinking about how dreamy he’d become.

“I... No Harleen, pull yourself together, he doesn't like you. YOUR A THREAT! Actually, he's the threat..OF COURSE, Batman. He's what caused him to become do untrusting. He caused him to become so cruel. He caused him to make a sacrifice!-”

She yelled out in her car as she panicked to slam her foot on the brake. A child had run into the road. She’d stopped just in time, and the child skipped off, unharmed.

Breathing a small sigh of relief the lovesick woman was still in her contemplation of thoughts, reliving their moments together but arguing that she barely just gotten to know him and that he was no good for her. Her mind also drifted towards Batman, and the more she thought the more her hatred grew.

Upon reaching her driveway, she clicked her seatbelt, gathered her things and got out. Sighing as she unlocked her door, she threw everything onto the floor and tossed herself on her bed, terribly lost in thought.

“Should he... Would he... Could he...




















Love me?”

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