Descent

Chapter 11

"When I go in, lock the door behind me and raise the lights to 30%."

Mateo knew that the Joker had this odd connection with the woman before him but her request still gave him pause. No one in their right mind would face the Joker when he was in one of his rages.

"Doc, you...ah think that's a good idea?" When she raised an eyebrow in question, he stammered out. "You ain't seen Edward. Maybe you should have started with him."

His worry for her was heartwarming, but she knew she had no choice but to deal with the Joker head on. Any other course of action would have him thinking she was scared.

Harleen patted Mateo's arm in reassurance. "Don't worry. I can handle myself."

There was nothing else for him to say. He had to pretend he didn't know the real horrors the Joker could rain down on people. Mateo had to let the doctor think he was just another guard doing his job.

"Ok, but if it gets rough in there don't hesitate to call for help. I'll be right here."

Harleen nodded and Mateo opened the door. As soon as she stepped in he locked it behind her and turned the lights up as she had asked.

The Joker sat on his cot, back against the wall and eyes closed as if he was in some form of deep meditation. In all the hours of footage from his past stays at Arkham she watched Harleen had never seen him like this.

She watched as his nostrils flared, he was testing the air. "Good evening, Dr. Quinzel. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

Harleen tilted her head studying him. His voice was different, changing once again. It wasn't the rasping hiss of Mr. J, or the hypnotizing velvet of the Joker. Harleen realized that this might actually be his normal voice, the one belonging to the man buried under his illness.

She couldn't help but think the Joker looked peaceful. Resting there as if he was winding down at the end of a long day. Just another normal man, enjoying solitude.

"Mr. J?" She asked tentatively.

There was no way the man before her could be functioning under the influence of his more dominant personality. He was just too damn Zen. No, Harleen was willing to bet that the Joker and even Mr. J weren't home right now. Whoever the personality in front of her was, she had a feeling it was the real him. The man before his mind had split to keep from cracking.

"No sorry, it's just J."

The Joker opened his eyes and the pain locked in their gray-green depths almost brought Harleen to her knees. She wasn't sure what this man had seen in his life to make him look so lost, but in that instant Harleen vowed he would never suffer alone. His brokenness called to her own.

The Joker watched Dr. Quinzel as she took several steps closer. It looked like she was having a grand debate with herself. He patted the spot beside him, in offering.

Harleen wondered if she should sit next to him. Eyeing the spot the Joker had indicated she wondered why the fuck not. He seemed docile enough. Maybe she would be able to get to know this side of her patient. If she was lucky it could be the first step on his road to recovery.

Brushing down the back of her evening gown she eased down beside him. In the back of her mind she knew she was breaching every protocol known to man. But for some reason she didn't care about anything but being near him.

Later when she was alone she would convince herself that his stark pain called to her. That he was her patient and he had needed her. But Harleen knew the deeper truth to it, this man next to her called her like the flame to a moth.