Mad Love (Harlivy version)

Chapter 6

"So...? What do you think?" Harley asked nervously.

Dr. Jonathan Crane was sitting up in the reclining chair, intently studying his patient- err- doctor. "Do I think there's a chance it could be Borderline Personality Disorder? Sure. I mean, anything is possible and you have certainly described some of the common symptoms. But do I think that's what it is? No. No not really."

"Why?" Harley asked, pouting slightly.

Crane set his notepad down. "The mood swings you've described are simply not severe enough."

"OK, well...What about schizophrenia?"

"No family history, Doctor."

"But the voice I hear..."

Crane sighed. "While the voice is slightly alarming, I wouldn't immediately jump to schizophrenia. If I were your doctor, rather than the other way around, I would chalk these symptoms up to stress."

Harley arched an eyebrow. "Stress? That's it?"

"I understand that it's difficult to be impartial when evaluating yourself, but I believe those more severe diagnosis you mentioned are more a product of your fear than true psychological analysis."

"OK..." Harley acquiesced, leaning back in her chair. "But all of this stemming from stress or anxiety would mean that I had gone through or was experiencing something particularly traumatic."

Dr. Crane shook his head. "Not traumatic, per say. From what you're describing, it seems that you've been slowly accumulating stressors since the day your gymnastics career began."

"But that was years ago, Dr. Crane." Harley protested.

"That's irrelevant. Those stressors were simply lying dormant in your memory. Now you've begun a new job and are attempting to prove yourself as a competent professional, not to mention being constantly tested by the very sick minds you're attempting to remedy. Speaking of which, a mental chess match with Poison Ivy is a game few among us could win, Batman included. You have quite literally entered into the belly of the beast, Dr. Quinzel. And you did so with more than a few unresolved issues of your own."

"Says the man in chains." Harley balked.

"Oh, the irony is not lost on me, Doctor. As far as the voice goes, I think it's simply a symptom of your transition from a young girl growing up in central Gotham to elite athlete to exemplary academic. From just the quick history you've given me, it sounds like none of those transitions were particularly smooth and so it's entirely possible that some part of your psyche is still identifying with your former self or circumstance."

Harley bit her lip, mulling Crane's words over in her mind. "And that aspect of my psyche has been 'awakened' by an onset of stress."

"Yes." Crane nodded. "If I were your psychiatrist, that's what I would tell you."

Harley sighed. "OK. I accept your hypothetical diagnosis." They sat in silence for a moment before Harley asked, "how have your symptoms been? Does the new dosage we agreed on seem to be making a difference?"

Crane shrugged. "Yes and no. You can take all the drugs in the world but you won't get better until you want to get better. You should remember that, Dr. Quinzel because I would like you to get better. You're one of the few competent Psychiatrists I've had." He watched as Harley's lips stretched into a grin. "I don't mean that as a compliment as much as I do a wake-up call, Doctor." He continued. "I might be playing for the other side but the game isn't much fun without a few decent heroes."

Harley nodded in understanding and got up to call the guard.

"That was your one free pass, Harleen. Next time you're of less-than-sound mind, I will see it as an opportunity."