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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel	By : Risen86 Category: DC Verse Comics > Suicide Squad Views: 6735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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When I get into the small grey room for my first session with The Joker the maelstrom of professional interest, curiosity, excitement and almost lethal dose of fear is leaving me breathless. Drumming my fingers on his file, I glance at my watch before opening the documents and reading over them.
You can’t go into this scared Harleen, people like The Joker have a hard on for fear… I coach myself - they can smell it a mile away and when they do they seek and destr- CLANK!
The metal door bangs open interrupting my thoughts and nearly sending me 3 feet in the air. In an attempt to look nonchalant I focus on setting up my digital voice recorder only glancing up briefly to thank the guards before they leave. I let the silence in the room build as he sits there, the chains around his hands clattering only slightly with his minimal movements. I want the silence to build, to make him uncomfortable because I need to assert control. Control was key with people like The Joker.
Moving my attention from the recorder I flip a page over in his file and re-read an already examined section. The building stillness dies abruptly when laughter explodes into the room. This time I do jump in my seat and my head snaps up; he is looking right at me. The sound he’s making isn’t quite right; it’s caricature of what it’s supposed to be; it’s laughter made grotesque. The laughter drew on with such intensity that his limbs shake and his body falls back into the cold metal chair helplessly. I watch, aware that this type of outburst is common for him, but still unnerved by it. When he finally gets it under control he leans forward.
“Wow… I just got this intense feeling of déjà vu. You know doctor; I think I may have done this before ” Trying desperately to hide my unease “You’ve done what before?” I respond.
“ This…” he gestures to me then himself and then the room. “I’ve done this before.”
…Well there goes trying to assert control …
“Yes, I’m well aware of your past admittances to Arkham.” I tap his file.
“So, why are you trying to play mind games with me?” placing his finger tips on the table he leans forward a little and tilts his head to the side “How ‘bout we don’t play games with each other doc? I have a tendency of winning mind games and believe me you don’t want to lose.”
I feel a shocking thrill run through my body, which I squash immediately.
I stay silent reflecting a little “You are obviously a smart man Mister Joker… and an observant one at that, I apologize. ” His files indicated he is narcissistic, often ego stroking helps to make narcissists biddable.
“Ahahahahaa, so polite Doctor…So sweet. But flattery will get you nowhere. “ He looks at my name tag squinting slightly to read the small writing “Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Psychiatrist.” He looks back at me “Beautiful and smart; if only you were deadly. I love beautiful, smart and deadly it gives me a hard on every time.”
“That was pathetic, is that supposed to be a come on?”
He bursts out loudly with laughter then stops abruptly, his eyes narrow. He angles forward, his lean body pushes up against the metal table. His hands, joined by the shackles on his wrists that were bolted into the floor, splay flat on the table just inches from his chest.
“I don’t know, are you deadly Doctor?”
Our eyes lock, my breath catches and there is an explosion of butterflies in my belly. Something in the room shifts and I feel myself drawn deeper into his eyes, cold blue eyes that betray a calculating intelligence. Seeming to find what he’s looking for in me he sits back, unblinking, face neutral then he tilts his head and smiles with such deviance and threat that my body instinctively lurches away from him. I swallow thickly feeling the heat of his scrutiny on my cheeks “N-not p-particularly…” I’ve never thought of myself as deadly even though I have been taking self-defense almost as long as I have been taking gymnastics. With his eyes on me I can’t bring myself to say anything else even though I want to. Why should I? I’ve got nothing to prove. Confused by the butterflies still jittering around in my stomach I tug at my shirt lightly and notice his eyes drop from my face to the newly exposed skin just above my chest.
“Mmmmmm… ” His eyes half close when they drift back up to my face “You really are rather stunning. Tell me, what is a place like this doing around a girl like you, hmmm?”
“I’m here to help you -” I feel a bout of confidence coming back to me despite his low chuckle. I keep silent through it then once it’s ended “Why’s that funny?”
“It’s funny Doctor because I’m going to help you.”
“I don’t need your help Mr. Joker and you are in no position to help anyone anyway.”
“It would seem so to you but that is, really, just based on perspective. Perspective, perspective, perspective is an interesting thing… Tell me Doctor do you know how many psychiatrists I’ve been assigned to here at Arkham?”
“Yes, 11… Are you going to ask me if I know how many of them are dead? Because I have the answer to that as well.”
“Really? And what is that number?”
“Six are dead killed right here in Arkham, one is in a coma, three of them are missing and assumed dead and one is alive living under protective custody.”
He smiles wide, silver teeth glinting “And yet here you are, willingly too if I’m reading you correctly. Do you know what that tells me?” I shake my head “Two things:” He lifts his index finger up with his wrist still on the table “one you must be deadlier…or crazier than you let on,” he lifts up his middle finger as well “and two you’ve got a fat pair of balls hidden in that tight little dress.”
I can’t help my snort of laughter; his eyes linger on my twitching lips then come to my eyes.
“And you’ve got a sense of humor. Your future is looking very bright.”
“Mr. Joker, can you tell me why you think you are here?” I ask in an attempt at redirecting the conversation.
“Boooooorrrrriiiiiiinnnnngggggg.”
“I can’t help you if you keep avoid-“
“You remind me of a little kitten pawing at the wagging tail of her daddy. You aren’t oblivious to the danger though darling, but I think you might be drawn to it. Tell me am I your daddy? Are you my little p-”
“I’m not your little pussy!” I snap; I blush immediately afterwards, appalled at the choice of words.
He laughs at that, and then stops to examine me. We sit in silence for a long time, his eyes wander over me, my hair, my face, my glasses, my eyes, my bust, my blue dress, my arms then back up to my eyes again. We sit for what feels like forever and by the time he’s done scrutinizing me I feel naked and raw in front of him. His eyes are so feral, shinning so brightly with predatory intelligence that my breath comes out in gusts and I break out in goose bumps.
“I rather like you Dr. Quinzel,” He says finally. “I find you…indecently” he tilts his head quickly side to side as if looking for the right word “ …clean. And I do so love dirtying things up.”
“I’d like to perform an exercise with you.” My voice is flat, refusing to give in to his taunting.
He breaks out into a grin “I’d loooovveee to perform an exercise with you.” The innuendo is clear.
I lift his file up and pull out a series of 4x4 cards I’d hidden beneath it. There are a total of 10 of them, each with a different pattern of inkblots. I pull the first card up and flip it over for him to see. He stares at it in silence then leans to the side so he can see past the card and to me “Not the exercise I was thinking of doctor. Are you trying to piss me off?”
I exhale sharply and place the card down.
I tried to assert control and that went over about as well as a fart in church. Flattery didn’t help; I’m just going to stick with honesty.
“Believe me, I didn’t want to use these but you aren’t giving me much to work with. I really, really” I stress the word “want to help you and to do that I need information from you. Please help me, so I can help you.”
“God, you are perfect.” He leans forward and stretches his hands across the table towards mine but the chains become taut when he reaches about half way. He places his hands flat on the table and partially stands out of his chair so his weight is on them. I don’t move away from him, some shadowy part of me is finding it hard to.
“Mmm Dr. Quinzel, I will make you an offer I haven’t made anybody else.”
“Yes?” I encourage gently.
“I’ll talk for you doctor, but I’m going to need incentive. Just a little favor, nothing you can’t handle.”
“I’m not going to have sex with you.” I say flatly, my heart pounding faster at the words. He smiles at me widely “I wouldn’t dare assume that you would so easily, but we’ll get there.”
“Alright,” I again ignore the tail end of his sentence “What’s the incentive?”
“The Circus.”
“What?”
“Reach into my pocket, pumpkin.” I eye him suspiciously “I promise not to kill you.” He assures.
Curling his shoulders inward he puts his head down at an angle. I tentatively slide two fingers into his front breast pocket and pull out a card. It’s a joker card, on top of its skull head is a red cap’n’bells and his eyes are crossed out. I look back at The Joker, until now his Arkham jumpsuit was covering his whole body so I haven’t seen any tattoos like the one I saw when we first met. With his body at this angle I can see past the collar of his jumpsuit to a tattoo of aces on his neck and left shoulder; his skin is oddly pale and it’s damp. He’s obviously hot, I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before, even I can feel the heat and I’m wearing a dress. He lifts his head up and he catches me staring but does nothing other than stare back intensely.
“Go to The Circus. Ask for Frost at the door and give him that card.”
“I don’t think so, do I look like I want to die?”
“If I wanted you dead I could have killed you when you leaned over to take that card.”
“Then what?”
“Then nothing. You leave, you stay that’s your business.”
“…ok….”
“That’s a good doctor. If you perform, so will I.” He puts more weight on his left hand and sticks out his right in offer of a handshake. I hesitate and I feel my hands trembling but he waits patiently for me, hand outstretched. I reach for him and our hands clasp, his is warm, strong and steady with the sureness of a man who knows he’ll get what he wants. Mine quivers slightly, the danger coursing though me. We shake once, then I pull my hand away conscious of how he lets my fingers slide through his.
I glance at my watch to break off the eye contact and am shocked to see his session has been over for 10 minutes. “Looks like our time’s up.”
“Aaaw, already?” he pouts.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” I jibe and he grins at me. As I walk towards the doors I continue, “By the way Mr. Joker I’m glad you are doing well. You look much better than you did the last time I saw you.”
He pushes up to stretch to his full height, clasps his hands and lets his arms fall down in front of him “Mmmm. Dr. Quinzel,” I stop at the door but don’t turn around “You may wanna go in disguise.”
With that I push the handle of the door down throwing a “We’re done.” to the guards before heading back to my office.
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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel