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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
I had him taken out of solitary; he’s been in there for far too long, or at least that’s the excuse I used. Taking a sip of my juice I place it down on the table in front of me, the truth is I haven’t stopped feeling guilty about the incident with the electroconvulsive machine. Shifting on the bench I look around, this isn’t our usual setting either. I’ve decided to have a session with him in the yard instead of one of the blistering session rooms where we can be alone and I can get caught up in his head games. Out here, in view of the other inmates and staff, I feel I will be better able to handle him… I hope.
I can hear movement behind me, turning around I see Graham and Johnson standing beside Joker. He isn’t wearing his long sleeved bright orange jumpsuit today; instead he’s in orange pants and a plain white T-shirt. The tattoos on his forearms are clearly visible, a smiling mouth on and ‘hahahaha’ on the other. I hadn’t noticed before, but he’s very well defined, I can see the muscles bunching underneath his shirt.
He really doesn’t seem like the sort to work out…
“Take his shackles off. “ The other patients are shackle free, granted Joker is a special case but I know that he won’t kill me. I can tell from the look on Graham’s face that he disagrees and would like to argue. I can also tell from the tension in Joker’s shoulders that Graham is in imminent danger of violence.
“Just do it.” I order Graham brusquely, he complies and the smirk on Joker’s face is so infectious that I look down at my papers to hide mine. When the shackles are removed I shoo the guards away. Joker watches them leave in silence then turns to face me.
“Would you agree doctor that ecstasy and pain are in many ways one and the same?”
I am already feeling uncertain as to the direction of our conversation “It has been said that pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin. “ I pause “Where is this going?”
“You see doctor, I’m of a mind that they aren’t two sides of the same coin. They are one and the same thing just processed…differently by the mind. There is the same form of intensity, the same facial expressions, the same elevated heart rate, the same helplessness and, if someone is inflicting it on you, the same intimacy, the same… connection.”
There is a resounding click in my mind.
Oh, that’s where he’s going with this.
He doesn’t give me the time to respond “We had a connection, didn’t we Harleen? Something very special happened in that room.” I look down at the pen in my hand, avoiding those piercing blue eyes.
“You shouldn’t call me Harleen. I’m your doctor not your friend.”
“You don’t argue when I call you pumpkin, but you have a problem with me using your first name?” He laughs “Typical irrational woman.” Oddly, I blush.
How is he able to do this to me every single time?
“You use pumpkin to mock me. You’re doing this-” I exhale sharply “you’re doing this to manipulate me.” He’s moved closer to me so I gesture for him to sit on the bench on the opposite end of the table. After a few seconds he chooses rather to straddle a spot right beside me on the bench.
If I’m honest with nobody else I should at least be honest with myself. The truth is I had felt something in that room with us and I’m feeling it here with us now. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time and I’m still not sure what it was now. Whatever it is it is bigger than him or myself and it does make me feel a connection however twisted; it is electric. I also know that being what he is, a psychopath, Joker is incapable of feeling any connection to other human beings. His brain simply can’t function that way.
I twirl the cap on my pen nervously, I had thought very seriously about asking Schumer to take Joker back after our last session. It had been too intense, too overwhelming, too out of control and when he told me to let go- and I did- it felt too good.
“You are a psychopath Mister Joker. You don’t feel connections.” I add without looking up at him.
“I’m not a psychopath and I’m feeling a connection right now.” He leans forward and puts a hand over mine; I immediately yank my hand away.
“I’m done with this topic of conversation.” I whisper, “I believe I’ve earned some answers.”
Leaning away from me, he puts both hands on the bench behind him “Ask away.”
He keeps his word, for the next 45 minutes he answers all my questions. He also tells me about an abused and neglected child that grew into a brilliant, well-educated young man. I record it all, keeping my interruptions to a minimum. He never gives me a name though and when I probe he tells me it’s unimportant. I wonder briefly if maybe he doesn’t remember it. He’s surprisingly funny and very entertaining despite the topic of conversation. I am completely engrossed in him; I find his odd mannerisms and expressive blue eyes so captivating that I don’t notice the commotion behind me until Joker breaks out into a fit of laughter and loud yelling erupts around me.
Whirling around in the direction Joker is facing I see four patients exchanging blows just a few feet away. One thing that Arkham Asylum is known for, apart from it’s infamous criminals, are the violent fights that frequently break out. I am currently witnessing one of them.
“Hey! Enough!” I yell jumping up and rushing towards them. Not wanting to get in the middle of four aggressive criminals I stand to the side helplessly, then start yelling for Graham. Unable to locate any of the orderlies, I grab ahold of one of the patient’s arms, I recognize him straight away as Victor Szasz a notoriously vicious and unpredictable serial killer, pulling away from the scuffle he turns his hostility onto me. Before I can react Szasz backhands me and sends me stumbling a few feet. My eye begins to throb and I know it will bruise. The crowd gets rowdier causing the fighting patients to turn their attention onto me. Fairly quickly I feel like a lamb offered up to slaughter.
“Graham!” I yell again feeling panic begin to set in. Victor charges me with another of the patients in tow. I move away instinctively bringing my arms up to fighting position, but my back collides with something hard and unmoving. From the corner of my eye I see a hand stabbing forward and Szasz goes down, screaming all the way. He is kneeling on the floor with my pen sticking out of his eye; there is blood pouring out onto his face. I feel an arm come around my shoulder and I see hand with a smile tattooed on it just a few inches away from my face.
The hush in the yard is immediate and extremely unnerving, the only sound I hear is the moaning coming from the floor, and I see all the eyes move away from me to Joker standing beside me.
“Come on now boys” he sounds lighthearted “you know I don’t like other people playing with my toys.” A feeling of ease creeps over me, it slows down my heart rate and makes the trembling stop.
“Sorry Joker.” My second attacker has stopped dead in his tracks and his response is filled with dread. “I meant no disrespect… I – I didn’t know.”
“Mmm,” Joker responds while taking a sip from my can of grape soda that has mysteriously appeared in his hand. Looking down at Szasz he adds “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.“ I snort my laughter in an attempt to smother it and he grins at me.
“Dr. Quinzel?” The voice pulls me down to reality and I realize that not only am I still under Joker’s arm but I have also instinctively grabbed ahold of the back of his shirt. I pull away smoothly and attempt to cover up my faux pas by explaining to Graham what had happened.
“I’d like to have an MRI done on you.” I tell Joker as Graham puts his shackles back on. I expect him to be uncooperative; he’s already given me so much more in this one session than he’s ever given anybody else. He watches me intently then I catch a glimpse of silver as he smiles.
“Anything for you.” He tries to move closer to me but Graham yanks him back. Before Joker can react I bark at Graham, “It’s alright!”
He pulls a small piece of paper with an address scribbled on it from his pocket and hands it to me. I look at him quizzically. His smile widens as he lets Graham lead him away. I look back at the paper and written at the bottom is ‘Quincy Quinzel.’
“Dr. Quinzel… Dr. Quinzel!”
I jump at the sound of my name and look around the lunchroom as my whereabouts come back into focus. Dr. Schumer is standing beside me, so close that I can almost feel his breath on my neck.
“Oh I’m sorry.” I move away from the counter, thinking he means to get into the cupboards. I re-read the little purple sticky note that I got from Joker. Quincy, he’s found him. I’m not sure how I feel about that; he’s obviously had someone looking into my past, into me. How much does he know? Does he know where I live? Does he know my hobbies? What does he think about me? Does he like me? Does he have someone following me? Do I need to be worried?
I’m sorry what? I back track through my thoughts Does he like me? Really? He’s a psychopath!
“Well that remains to be seen.” I mutter. I’ll schedule an MRI and once I get the results I’ll know for sure.
“Is that the note you got from Joker?” I snap out of my reflections and find Schumer in my personal space again. I fold the sticky and tuck it away into my white coat pocket.
“No,” I lie “its just a reminder to call my brother.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.” He responds then reaches over and puts his hand on the small of my back. “I heard about what happened in the yard today, do you want to talk about it?” I stiffen and lean away.
What the hell is going on with him?
“No.” My response is abrupt and verging on an order, I push his hand off my back gently “I want to make sure Joker doesn’t get thrown back into solitary though.“
“He stabbed another patient in the eye.” Schumer looks annoyed.
“He stabbed a serial killer who was about to beat me probably to death!” I snap. “Where were the orderlies? He didn’t have to do what he did but he did it anyway just to help me out! We aren’t going to punish him for that!”
“ I assure you Harleen, The Joker doesn’t ‘just help’ anybody out.” He stops and gives me a once over “He also doesn’t need anybody taking care of him. Believe me, he can do that very well on his own.”
I blush “He’s my patient. It’s my-“
“Job” he finishes for me as he backs me into the counter “He won’t get moved into solitary but I expect a full report on the incident”.
“Yes, of course…” my voice wavers from the breathlessness his disregard for my personal space leaves me with.
He turns around and storms off.
What the fuck?
I splay my legs outward and lean back into my chair as I survey the common room. Yes, my sweet doctor has been looking out for me. You see, she pulled some strings and had me taken out of solitary (not that I needed the help), but it’s the thought and all that jazz…
I know what you are thinking: ‘Oh dearie me J, how could you? How could you have her attacked in the yard after she’s been so kind to you!’
Well, my silent audience, just shut it! I had nothing to do with that appalling incident (couldn’t have planned it better myself) in the yard. I even went out of my way to stop it (See? I’m not psychotic!); mostly because, unless given express permission, I really don’t like other people playing with my toys.
Slipping my hand into my pocket I pull a picture out and flip it over. It’s of a young woman almost completely upside down, her legs splayed wide in an aerial split and her torso wrenching sideways in a twist. The perfect image of a body in motion, of a body struggling against inertia and Harleen Frances Quinzel is beautiful in it. Now, now, let’s not get overly excited; I don’t keep an image of her in my pocket so I can randomly make Moon Eyes at her, or jerk off to her (I’ll admit I thought about it) for that matter. It’s just, on afternoons like these, when the insane are being abnormally unexciting it’s nice to have a little reminder of why I’m still here.
I tap the picture on the table beside me. Why am I still here? I look at the picture again. An obsession (there is nothing like obsession to keep a man’s interest)? Under any other circumstance I would have made my gory escape already, most likely at my psychiatrist’s expense. Instead here I am playing games with an extremely fuckable woman (who has daddy issues by the way… more on that later). Is it maybe that connection I mentioned earlier on today? I burst out laughing at the thought and notice the orderlies in the room shift uncomfortably.
Taking another glance at the picture, the laughter stops dead in my throat. I crush it in my hand and place it back in my pocket. See the problem with games is, sometimes when you think you are playing them on others, you find out you are just playing them on yourself at the expense of others.
His hands push my knees further apart as his lips sprinkle kisses down my belly. I strain my hips forward, anticipating where his mouth will end up and hardly able to control my excitement. Placing both my hands in the soft hair I shove downward eagerly, he laughs and obliges. He moves his lips down to my pussy and I feel the warmth of his tongue push past my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and I let out a relieved moan.
I haven’t been with anyone since I left Brooklyn and to say my sex life with Dylan, even before I found out about the 16 year old he was banging, was less than satisfying would be an understatement. So when I went to my self-defense class today and my hunk of a sensei expressed interest, it wasn’t hard to say yes. He was handsome and he was sweet and his fingers were firm when they pushed me to the floor of the back room in the dojo.
Opening my eyes I looked down at him, thrilled as the light filtering into the room threw colors on our bodies. We were red, then we were yellow, and then we were blue. I laughed and yanked his hair noticing that it was now green, a very familiar shade of green. An image of Joker pops up in my mind and a searing heat shoots down my spine to that spot between my legs. I look around the room but there are no more lights and when I look back at my sensei, his hair is definitely still green.
I moan loudly and buck my hips up, my legs fall limply to the sides as I feel a finger slip into me. The ecstasy is coming; I can feel the pressure in me building like water behind a dam. The pale back flexes and I catch a glimpse of a tattoo of aces, right there, on his neck and shoulder. Joker? I feel his finger inside me curl forward and caress that sweet spot just at the entrance of my pussy.
“Oh please Mr. J! ” I yell as the orgasm comes, making my body quiver. I look at him again and our eyes lock, his sparkling blue ones drawing me in. Confused and at the same time completely at ease, I watch quietly as he places a kiss on my clitoris and smiles. I feel his hand slipping up my body to cup a breast he doesn’t break eye contact.
“I don’t like other people playing with my toys.” He tells me impassively then he lunges forward pen in hand toward my eye.
I gasp frantically awake, body still humming from the orgasm.
That I had in my sleep? Is that even possible?
“Fuck,” I mutter remembering how good the green hair and pale skin looked between my legs “I’m in so much trouble.”
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel