Work Text:
Doctor Harleen Quinzel entered Arkham Asylum for her first day of work with a smile on her face. Greeted by a smiling guard she passed by smiling nurses and janitors as she walked down the corridors. Stepping into the elevator she kept a grin on her face as she glanced at the security camera above her.
Smile! You’re on camera! The sign below it said, so she did just that.
The elevator chimed and the doors opened, letting Harleen walk past several more smirking guards and into the waiting interview room.
Inside the room, there was a man, a hulking black figure strapped to the therapy bed with heavy restraints. His eyes, obscured by a cracked black cowl stared at her, narrowed in a heavy stare.
“So, Mr Batman,” Harleen said brightly, “ready for your first therapy session?”
2 YEARS AGO:
Gotham was burning.
Bruce stared at the wreckage of Gotham bridge from his perch above the city in horror, almost absent to the screams of fear that still rose from below as gunfire rang out all around.
“Gordon,” he breathed into his earpiece, “Commissioner, talk to me!”
“Jim is dead,’ Harvey Bullock’s voice said instead, “Two-Face got him and his daughter as he tried to get her out of city limits.”
Bruce suppressed the heavy pang of guilt and horror that ran over him, Barbara had been only eight years old, barely old enough to know what her dad faced at night, let alone someone like the former DA.
“Lucius Fox?” Bruce said instead, “where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Bullock said, seeming to brush off why the Batman was asking for a random business executive, “but Penguin’s been busy bombing Wayne Tower, it’s not looking good.”
“Harvey,” Bruce said, “I need you to marshall as many officers as you can and bring them to Wayne Manor, tell Alfred to-” He was cut off by a gunshot, striking his ear and sending Bruce to the floor in pain.
“Bad, bad, Batsy,” the Joker said, appearing on the fire escape from the roof, “we can’t have you messing with my plans again can we?”
“Why?” Bruce asked, “all those people… why?”
“Because I wanted to,” the Joker sneered, “because I could! Do I need another reason?”
“You won’t get away with this,” Bruce breathed, “the people won’t let you, someone will take my place.”
“But that’s the beautiful thing isn’t it Batto!” Joker laughed, “no one will be sane enough to care!”
All around the city a new series of explosions sounded, and Bruce watched on in terror as Joker’s purple gas filled the sky.
1 YEAR, SIX MONTHS AGO:
Weak chuckles came from Kate Kane as she stared at her partner’s broken body in front of her. It wasn’t funny, it shouldn’t be funny, it couldn’t be funny.
Then why was she laughing?
The gas circled around her, as it circled around all of Gotham, almost blocking out the sun with lavender fumes.
Outside, someone screamed as the ratatat of machine-gun fire flew over their heads, but Kate only began laughing harder.
Everything was just one big joke now wasn’t it?
10 MONTHS AGO:
The newly minted Doctor of psychology, Harleen Quinzel wore a proud grin as she exited Gotham University for the first time. For once in her life she could feel proud about something, know that she had worked hard and received the rewards of her labour.
Her training had taken a major shift in the wake of Gotham’s changes, with the Clown King of Crime taking his place at the head of the city, but it was better this way. Before Harleen would have said that people like him were crazy, but that couldn’t be right, it was Batman in Arkham after all, Joker had opened everyone’s eyes to the chaos and made them see the light.
A car rolled into place in front of her, a purple armoured monstrosity with a great grinning face in front of it, the Jokermobile.
One of the doors on the side opened with a hiss and a wave of gas rolled out, making Harleen cough with a giggle.
“Dr Quinzel,” a voice said from inside, “do get in, I have such an opportunity for us both.”
Nervous despite her giggling, Harleen climbed into the car, the door sliding shut behind her.
And for the first time, Harleen Quinzel came face to face with the Joker.
His skin was pale white, with bright green hair and a manic grin.
“So, Harley ,” he breathed, “how would you like some, further training.”
He laughed at this and, despite her confusion, Harleen laughed too, laughed and laughed until her chest hurt and her throat burned and tears stung the corners of her eyes. But that was okay, she had an opportunity now, a great, wonderful opportunity.
ARKHAM:
The sessions continued, three times a week. On Mondays, Harleen would try and coax tantalising question after tantalising question out of the bat. On Wednesdays, Harleen would take him for walks in the Arkham yard, carefully noting his reactions as the caught sight of the city. But Fridays, Fridays were Harleen’s favourite days of the week. On Fridays Batman just let Harleen talk.
“And I don’t know why everything is so funny,” Harleen admitted one day, “everyone just laughs and laughs and laughs, no matter what happens.”
“Maybe it’s just not funny,” Batman said from his restraints, and Harleen watched for a second how his cowl seemed to track her movements. It made her blush, that finally, finally, someone seemed to actually care about her.
“Maybe,” Harleen slumped into her psychiatric chair, “maybe.”
The next time Harleen turns up to work the Joker is standing in front of Batman’s cell.
“Oh but Batsy, we had so much fun together!” the Clown exclaims, “See, let me remind you.”
Joker had the guards pull an old man forward, wearing a tactical vest and ripped khakis.
“We found your old friend here trying to break inside!” Joker exclaimed with a nasty glint in his eye as he wiped out one of his BANG! guns, “any last words Alfie-boy?”
The man stared at Joker for a long second as Batman roared in anger and struggled against his restraints. After a second he merely opened his mouth and spat right in the Joker’s face.
BANG! The gunshot screamed through the air and the Butler dropped to the floor, one of Joker’s signature flags jutting out his chest.
“What Brucie,” Joker said, when Batman just stared at his butler’s body, “Cat got your tongue? No wait, I killed her too!” He broke into laughter and everyone else followed, it was uncontrollable, but it wasn’t funny.
“You’re no fun anymore,” he said sullenly after Batman still failed to respond. He turned around, throwing his gun behind him.
He passed by Harleen, not even giving her a glance. That was good because the look she was giving him would have melted stone.
Three weeks later Harleen is ready. She had stopped turning up to work, instead working on gathering what she needed for her plans.
Twin AK-47s? Check. Ten Kilograms of military-grade explosives? Check. One costume made from the ragtag bits of kevlar and armour left from the last attempt by the military to take back the city? Double-check.
Exactly two and a half months after Gotham had fallen to Joker, Harleen was ready to break out its vengeful defender.
Parking in her normal spot in the Arkham car park, she carried her significantly heavier bag around her shoulder and into the asylum.
“Morning Harley!” One of the guards, a chipper young woman said, “long time no see!”
“I took a holiday!” Harleen said, ignoring the way that the nickname felt like a sting, somewhere deep beneath the surface, she laughed along with the guards before making her way to her patient.
The butler’s body was still lying in front of the cell and Harleen gingerly stepped over the body as she passed by to head for the interview room.
Standing outside the door, Harleen stopped for a second. Batman was lying in his usual position on the chair, staring up at the ceiling.
Raising her hands into her coat as if to adjust her shirt, Harleen seized the guns strapped to her sides and with one fluid motion pulled them out from the coat and fired out around her.
The bulletproof glass of the interview room held against the burst, but the bodies of the guards and other staff were not as lucky. Pools of blood quickly gathered throughout the room as Harleen very calmly opened the door and went to the side of her patient and undid his restraints.
After getting up the Bat looked across the carnage calmly, casting Harleen an analytical glance before taking the offered gun, testing its weight in his hands.
“So, Batty,” Harleen said with a smile, “how do you fancy some good old fashioned revenge?”
The Bat looked at her, and he actually grinned. Of course, it was at that moment that a swathe of armed guards stormed in.
“Holy shit!” the guard who had greeted her earlier exclaimed, “what’s Harley doing in all this?”
Now that the gun was actually in her hands, now that she was actually saving the bat and not just watching, Harleen felt the earlier annoyance transform into a rage.
“DON’T CALL ME HARLEY!” She yelled opening fire on the guards. After the shock subsided they fired back, and both Harleen and Batman were forced to take cover as a hail fire of bullets came their way.
After a second the wave of fire stopped, everyone, being forced to reload, and that’s when Batman stood up. Harleen had heard that Batman didn’t kill, that he kept to a strict code. It appeared that that conviction was gone. Maybe Batman was just hollow now, a shell of what he once was.
The guards fell one by one as Batman and Harleen drew closer. Once he got up to them, Batman gave up on shooting, instead using his fists and the butt of his gun to beat them and snap their necks.
Breezing through the little remaining resistance in the rest of the asylum, the pair entered the car park. Climbing into Harleen’s car she set a course on her GPS for Wayne Manor.
The trip to the manor was surprisingly easy, clearly, word had not yet gotten out that Arkham’s sole patient was now an escapee. Even as they passed out the other side of the city and up the long drive to Wayne Manor no goon, no thug came to harass them.
Harleen moved to start slowing the car down as she reached the colourful entrance to the manor, but Batman cut his hand in front of her.
“Speed up,” he said, and Harleen did as he asked with a grin.
The ill-maintained glass and wood of the entrance shattered upon impact and the car came to a rolling stop on its side. Wayne Manor was a mess, purple and green graffiti haphazardly spread throughout the halls.
“Well well well,” a voice said from one of the balconies, slowly clapping as a figure stepped forward, “the Patient seems to have taken the Doctor, and here I thought I was going to have a day in bed.”
“Joker,” Batman said, before raising his gun and firing.
“Whoa whoa whoa Batsy!” Joker laughed, though he was forced to clutch his shoulder to cover up the flow of blood where he had been struck, “careful now, wouldn’t want to kill me would you!” He ran off, unbalanced and slightly surprised.
Batman tracked him as he disappeared before taking off in the other direction.
“He’s headed for the Batcave,” he said, “tonight we end this.”
Batman led Harleen to an old grandfather clock, turning the hands around until they clicked, Batman stepped back as the clock turned away, revealing an elevator.
Clearly, Joker had not cared for this entrance much, as the design was untouched, not even a speck of paint out of place.
The pair stepped in and the elevator rocketed down, carrying them into the Batcave within seconds.
Unlike the elevator, the Batcave was absolutely ruined. A giant penny was lying in two pieces on the floor while an animatronic dinosaur sat precariously on the edge of the metal flooring. Bodies were strewn throughout, sporting garish grins and wounds, all of them with the now-defunct GCPD badge.
Do you like it? The Joker asked from where he sat in front of a massive, though broken, computer screen, your little friends in blue had no clue what hit them as they sat there waiting for you.
“This ends now,” Batman said, pulling a rope from where it lay in the wreckage, whether he intended to strangle him with it or what Harleen wasn’t sure, but she was happy to find out.
She never got that opportunity, however, as the first thing Joker did was fire behind her, and the roar of a crumbling cliff face sent her unconscious to the ground.
When she did finally wake up it was with a heavy ringing in her ears, the sounds of battle rang around her and she pulled herself to her feet, watching from afar as two dark shapes fought at the edge of the pit.
Joker laughed as he cut through the weak prison suit and into Batman, sending him clattering to the ground.
“That’s just it, Batsy isn’t it?” Joker asked with a laugh, “you’ve never been better than me, not when you’re this broken already!”
Batman grunted, but was unable to get up, Harleen felt tears spring at her eyes even as she began to giggle, it wasn’t funny, it wasn’t funny, it wasn’t funny.
She burst into proper laughter, guffawing uncontrollably as Joker continued to taunt the Bat.
“Do you mind?” Joker asked though he had a nasty smirk on at Harleen’s struggle, “I’m trying to bask in my victory here.”
As Joker walked closer, Harleen stole a glance around her through her laughs. There was a piece of rubble next to her, small enough to hold, heavy enough to pack a punch.
“Eat shit,” Harleen said through her laughs, forcing herself to her feet as Joker pulled out his gun, with a mighty pull she swung the rock around, straight into his face.
Joker fell to the ground, and with a few more bashes with the rock Harleen secured the kill.
Almost slipping on the slick trail of blood left where the Joker’s skull had once been, Harleen rushed to Batman’s side.
He was breathing, but only slightly.
“Batman?” she said, “common Batman, stay with me.”
“Doctor?” Batman asked, he was dying and there was no way she could stop it, “remember, remember…”
Harleen turned him over when he trailed off, bringing him closer.
“The mission,” Batman breathed before his pulse stopped and his breathing ended.
Harleen tearfully placed him down, laying him carefully on the ground inside his ruined cave. After another second she removed his mask, carefully ignoring his revealed face before putting it on her face.
Batman wanted his mission completed, must have obsessed over it every day in his cell. It wasn’t what Harleen had hoped his last words to be, but what had she wanted, a confession of love? A tearful goodbye?
With another chuckle, Harleen pulled the mask over her own face. Shedding what remained of her lab coat she stared mournfully at her cobbled-together armour. She thought Batman would be okay on his own, if only she had given it to him instead.
With one last glance behind her, Harleen left the cave. Batman wanted his mission, Harleen would at least have to give it a shot.