In Another Life IV

Chapter 8

Harleen awoke the next morning in Ricky's arms. She had fallen asleep shortly after her shock, and carefully tried to climb out of bed without waking him. It didn't work.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, kissing her.

"Morning," whispered Harleen.

"You look so gorgeous," he whispered, continuing to kiss her.

"Thank you," she murmured, trying to pull away from him. He held her.

"Harley, you think we could try..." he began.

"I...I don't think it'll work, Ricky," she whispered, interrupting him.

"It can't hurt to try, can it?" he asked.

She shook her head slowly, and began returning his kisses. But it felt...wrong somehow. The feel of his hands on her body felt wrong, felt like he didn't belong there. But someone else did? Was that what these feelings were trying to tell her? Maybe she was a lesbian, maybe it was men in general who repulsed her, but...no. No, she had never been attracted to a woman in that way. Ricky was a nice, sincere guy, not some sleazy womanizer – he shouldn't repulse her...he was a good man. Not a bad man...not a kidnapper...not a criminal...not like...

An image of that same man, Mr. J, suddenly flashed in front of her face, just as Ricky touched her. She cried out in pleasure, and before she could control herself, a name escaped her lips. "Jack!" she cried.

Ricky immediately stopped kissing and caressing her. He sat up. "Who's Jack?" he demanded.

"I...I dunno," whispered Harleen, shocked. "I don't know anyone called Jack..."

It hit her suddenly. "Jack," she whispered. "Mr. J. He's the guy, Ricky, the one I keep seeing...Jack...something."

"You were thinking about him when I was touching you?" Ricky asked, angrily.

"I didn't mean to...I...I can't help what I think about, or feel..." stammered Harleen.

Ricky was silent, staring angrily ahead. "Do you think this Jack...sexually abused you?" he asked, quietly.

"No!" cried Harleen. "No, I don't think anything like that happened! Jack wouldn't..."

"So you do remember him," he interrupted.

"I remember...he wasn't a bad man," she whispered. "That's all."

He glared at her. "Did you wish it was him touching you?" he asked.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ricky," she snapped. "I don't even know who he is."

She stood up, heading for the bathroom. "I told you this was a bad idea," she muttered. "You never listen to me."

"Harley, I'm trying to support you and help you through whatever it is that's wrong!" exclaimed Ricky. "But you can't blame me for being a little upset when you shout out the name of another guy..."

"You shouldn't be jealous of a guy I don't even remember!" shouted Harleen. "Who's probably dead now anyway!"

She slammed the door, and waited until Ricky left for work before coming out again. Then she dressed hurriedly and drove off to Arkham, trying to calm down and think rationally. She was a psychiatrist, after all. It shouldn't be that difficult.

"Got a new patient today, Harley," said Dr. Leland, meeting her at the entrance. "He's being brought in by police escort after being arrested last night, supposedly by that Batman guy."

Harleen snorted. "What I wouldn't give to analyze him," she muttered.

"Maybe one day you can," replied Dr. Leland, nodding. "Maybe when he's had enough of playing the hero, he'll turn himself in for some psychiatric counseling. I'm sure he needs it."

"What do you know about the new patient?" asked Harleen.

"Not much," replied Dr. Leland, flipping through a file. "He's got no recorded name, and no fingerprints we can identify – they were apparently burned off in some accident which has left him horribly disfigured. Any research into his background is turning up a blank. He just calls himself the Joker."

The name hit Harleen like a bolt of lightning. She could only stare at Dr. Leland. "W...what?" she stammered.

"The Joker. Oh, that'll be him," said Dr. Leland, nodding at the armored vehicle entering the gates of Arkham.

"Joan, I...I know that name!" gasped Harleen. "That name...the Joker...it's got something to do with whatever it is I've repressed!"

"Are you sure?" asked Dr. Leland, concerned.

"I'm positive. The Joker...and Harley Quinn," she whispered. "They lived...happily ever after. Together forever."

Dr. Leland stared at her. "Harley, maybe it would be a good idea to let me handle this..." she said, slowly. "If this man is connected to that incident in some way, you probably shouldn't submit yourself to the shock of seeing him..."

"I thought you said I have to face that trauma, Joan," murmured Harleen. "I'm sure I'll be fine. It's probably...nothing. Silliness, y'know. Just a coincidence that this guy has a name I remember."

Dr. Leland nodded slowly, turning her attention back to the armored car. Policemen leapt out of it, opening the back door and pulling a man out, battered and handcuffed. Harleen could only stare at him in shock.

The man wore a purple suit, which contrasted sharply with his bright, green hair. His face was bone white, with two deep, green eyes, and a huge smile - shining white teeth framed by bright, red lips. She had never seen such a man before and yet...and yet...something about the image...and the face...she knew that face.

"Mr. J," she whispered.

He turned at her voice, and for a moment his smile fell in shock. His green eyes clouded in confusion – he seemed to vaguely recognize her, as she vaguely recognized him, but it was clear he couldn't remember how or why or where he had seen her before.

Then his grin returned, and he winked at her. "Hiya, toots," he said, in a voice she knew, although she couldn't remember how or why she knew it. "I'm the Joker."

"Harley...Quinn," she stammered, before she could stop herself.

He stared at her. "H...Harley Quinzel," she corrected, hastily. "Dr. Harley Quinzel."

"Harley Quinzel," he repeated, grinning. "Well, that's a name that puts a smile on my face."

"I'm Dr. Joan Leland, Mr. Joker, I'll be handling your sessions," said Dr. Leland, stepping forward. "Why don't you follow me to your cell?"

"Sure thing, Doc!" chuckled Joker. "Lead the way!"

Harleen followed them down the hall into the cell block, where the Joker was safely deposited. "We'll do a full psychiatric evaluation in about an hour, Mr. Joker, so you've had time to settle in," said Dr. Leland.

"We?" repeated Joker.

"You and me," replied Dr. Leland.

He sighed. "Pity," he said, glancing up at Harleen. "I was so hoping Dr. Quinzel could join us."

"Dr. Quinzel has other patients," said Dr. Leland. "Which she should probably attend to."

"Uh...yes...right," stammered Harleen. She had been unable to tear her eyes away from the Joker, but she managed it at last. "I'd better...uh...go."

"See you later, Harleen Frances Quinzel," he murmured.

She whirled around, stunned. "What?" she gasped.

"It's on your notepad," he said, nodding at the book in her hands. "Something about that name, though - Harley Quinn...zel." He grinned again. "It puts a smile on my face. It really does."