07: Deadline

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Harleen knocked twice on the door and waited.

"Come in," Dr. Cook's voice came from inside the office.

Harleen went in and took the seat the asylum administrator gestured toward from behind his desk. Rather than make her wait, he set down the papers he was working on and fixed her with a firm gaze.

"I'm pleased to see you're adhering to the dress code today," Cook said with a humorless smile.

"I suppose you're referring to my attire yesterday when I had dinner with John," Harleen assumed.

"It is the intention of this medical facility to restore patients' mental faculties, not join with them in insanity," Cook stated firmly.

"Insanity?" Harleen questioned. "Do you even know what insane really is? Look out there at those wage slaves in Gotham. How many of them will struggle all their lives, working jobs they hate just so they can get bigger houses, bigger cars, and bigger bills? They literally work themselves to death, never having enjoyed one minute of their lives. Now, that's insane."

"I don't think it's relevant to our discussion," Cook dismissed.

"It is," Harleen insisted. "I've taken a patient consumed by fear and trauma and managed to get him having fun and laughing. Once some of these residents realize there's good in the real world, they may be willing to come out into it. But if we're not going to let them have fun, they might as well stay inside their own heads."

"I'm concerned about you," Cook replied. "I'm wondering how much contact you can have with this crazy man before it begins to affect you."

Harleen had to think quickly. She could see where Cook was headed. He was looking for an excuse to remove her from the case. John was just beginning to come back into the real world, and if she was prevented from continuing her work with him, she felt certain he'd relapse and return to his previously catatonic state.

"John isn't crazy," Harleen denied. "He's simply in a different orbit."

"Can you bring him into a normal orbit without getting dragged into his?" Cook questioned, taking his glasses off and pointed with the edge of them toward her for added emphasis.

"We have to meet our patients halfway," Harleen explained. "If they see us all serious and miserable, why should they want to come back if this is the reality we have to offer? My methods may be unorthodox, but they're working. Have any of your other doctors had so much success with a patient in John's condition?"

"No," Cook admitted. He set his glasses on the desk and sighed.

"There you are," Harleen said, seizing the moment and the advantage. "I'm helping John to make progress, and isn't it the entire point of this facility? Trust me, I have the situation well in hand. I know exactly what I'm doing."

"We'll see," Cook relented. "I'll give you four more weeks. Afterwards, I expect a full report of all progress made and an examination of the patient by an independent doctor to corroborate any conclusions you make."

"You can't put mental recovery on a schedule," Harleen countered.

"Do you want the four weeks or shall we have John brought in for a mental evaluation right now?" Cook questioned. His tone had become firm and unyielding.

She wondered as to why he was doing this. Her methods may have been strange, but they were producing spectacular results. Harleen couldn't believe he'd want her to stop simply because she was having a little fun along the way. It had to be something else, some other reason behind her removal, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to dig out the truth in the little time she had remaining.

"Four weeks is fine," Harleen accepted. In her mind, she was fuming, and it took all the concentration she could manage to keep the tone of her voice even and reveal nothing. Her hands wanted to curl into fists, but she forced herself to stay motionless.

After working so long and hard to restore John, the thought of him being taking out of her hands and put with another doctor, who couldn't possibly help him as much as she could, was infuriating. The four week deadline didn't give her much time, but Harleen suddenly got a better idea. If it worked, she'd have all the time she needed and no further oversight by Dr. Cook.

Harleen smiled at her opponent. "I'll have the full report on your desk at the end of four weeks, and I'm certain you'll be pleased with it."

"Good to hear," Cook praised. He put his glasses back on and began studying the papers on his desk once more. Without looking up, he said, "You may go."

Harleen left the office in a barely controlled rage. She had goals to accomplish and couldn't be bothered by a stuffed suit in a dusty office trying to tell her what she was allowed to do. Getting a job at Arkham had allowed her easier access to the medical files and patients, but it was starting to become a hindrance. Harleen wondered how long it would be before her goals and those of the hospital administration diverted too far to be compatible.

Her idea for how to bypass Dr. Cook seemed feasible in her mind, but so many things did that were best left inside her head. She needed more information before putting anything in motion, so she headed to the asylum's extensive library. She used a brisk pace as her time at the asylum was rapidly coming to an end, and Harleen still had many things to do.

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