Imagine: During Arthur's first stay in hospital he meets a young lady who goes by the alias Harleen Quinzel. There's an instant attraction, but circumstances keep them apart. However once he becomes Joker she seeks him out, not realising that his influence will tip her completely over the edge. This was requested by heysoftie. Hope you guys enjoy!
--3rd person POV--
"Right, before we get started perhaps we all ought to introduce ourselves...I'm Dana." The bubbly woman with flaming auburn hair stood in the centre of the recreational hall, her gaze sweeping over the group of misfits gathered before her with judgmental interest. "How about we start from left to right, hm?"
At the back of the room, Arthur squirmed with discomfort, wishing he could somehow camouflage himself like a chameleon. He may be wearing the hospital-issued white tunic and pants, but unfortunately that wouldn't be enough to blend in with the grimy off-white walls.
He was a terrible public speaker. His nerves always got the better of him, and then he would wind up laughing. Laughing until his throat felt raw and his rib cage ached. Laughing like a maniac. And despite currently being in a room filled with fellow maniacs, the prospect was still daunting and enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.
His attention snapped-back to his surroundings, as the woman he'd been unable to take his eyes off since the moment he'd walked in, stood to introduce herself.
She was the only one here he had any remote interest in. He wanted to be able to put a name to that beautiful face.
"Harleen Quinzel, nice to meet ya!" She proclaimed with a flourish, and a little accompanying curtsy.
Arthur felt his mouth curve upwards into a smile. The first genuine smile he'd cracked in god only knew how long.
She was so beautiful it took his breath away. With her (h/c) hair and a smile that made his heart stutter in a most peculiar fashion, he'd never been in the presence of such exquisite beauty before.
Dana's eyes dropped to the register pinned to her clipboard, scanning the list of names. "Harleen....hm. You don't appear to be on my list-- ah, wait."
Harleen waited patiently, chewing gum which she blew into an unfeasibly large pink bubble. The ensuing pop seemed excessively loud, echoing through the empty chasm of the hall.
"You must be (y/n)." Dana stated, shooting her a disapproving look but the fake smile never faltered. "I'm afraid in order to complete the program I'm going to have to insist you use your real name."
Arthur turned to look back at Harleen, or rather, (y/n). His curiosity more than just a little piqued.
"What a drag." (y/n) drawled, with an exaggerated roll of the eyes. "It's only a name. What's wrong with picking whatever name you want? It's like you, are you telling me you're happy with the name Dana?"
The redhead visibly bristled, the smile now rapidly diminishing without a trace. "Actually I am, yes."
"Really?" (y/n) openly pulled a comical face, doing nothing to hide her disbelief. "You sure you wouldn't prefer something like...uh, I don't know..Jolene?" She grinned as if amused at the thought. "I like Jolene. It suits you."
Arthur found himself for the first time ever having to suppress a genuine laugh. Which was certainly a novel experience.
Dana on the other hand wasn't laughing. Far from it. Her expression was one of bemused irritation.
"For your information I happen to like my name, (y/n)."
"Good for you. But can't you just bend the rules for once? What harm can it do?"
"Quite a lot as it happens. To indulge you on this occasion wouldn't be constructive to your treatment."
"There's nothing wrong with me!" (y/n) argued defiantly, though her tone still remained surprisingly pleasant.
"(y/n) you've been diagnosed with histrionic personality disorder. That's hardly nothing. Now, let's move on shall we? We've already wasted enough time."
Huffing loudly, (y/n) flopped back down into her chair, folding her arms across her chest defensively.
Arthur felt sad for her. He didn't see why it mattered so much. It was only a name after all. Being hospitalised was bad enough. Having the doctors strip you of your identity was even worse. Without that you just became another number. Another wacko in a straight jacket. Another statistic.
Becoming so lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Dana addressing him.
It was only once Harleen -- yes, he decided to refer to her by the name she was most comfortable with -- turned to her left, and stared straight at him.
Without intending to he started slightly, sitting up with a jolt. He couldn't believe she was looking his way. Looking directly at him.
Instantly flustered, he straightened in his chair, attempting to rearrange his slumped posture.
Her eyes flicked back towards Dana and he instinctively followed her gaze, noticing then that the harassed teacher was awaiting a response from him.
"And you are?" She rotated her hand encouragingly, and Arthur felt himself internally shrivelling. The heat of his embarrassment threatening to reduce his already frail body to a withered husk.
"A-Arthur." He stammered, in a low voice, mumbling into his chest as he bowed his head in shame. "My name's Arthur."
He didn't hear her response, as his eyes skittered nervously back to Harleen, and he almost toppled right out of his seat when he found that she was looking at him again.
And then it happened...
She winked at him.
It came as such a shock, a sudden burst of laughter tore from his chest, catching him completely off guard.
Clamping a hand over his mouth, he tried in vain to stifle it. To stop it. But controlling these anxious outbursts had always been impossible, and this is what he'd been fearing.
Having to introduce himself to a bunch of strangers reminded him of being back in school, when he would silently pray for the teacher to not single him out to read in front of the rest of the class. And the only thing worse than reading in front of them, was laughing in front of them.
Even now he could still remember the humiliation. How they hadn't understood that he suffered from a neurological condition.
Hell, he hadn't even understood it himself. For many years as a child he'd believed that God must've hated him, to inflict him with a disorder that made him laugh when really he wanted to cry.
The bullying had been relentless and his teachers did little to prevent it. Instead they turned a blind eye, or rather a deaf ear, when the bullies had cruelly nicknamed him 'Happy'.
That was until one day he'd snapped and threatened to cut a permanent smile onto his lips with a par of scissors.
Then the teachers had done something. They'd separated him from the others, due to his 'volatile behaviour'
But all of the embarrassment he had felt then, paled in comparison to how mortified he was now. As he choked, and gagged on each laugh as it racked his ribs painfully, making his eyes water, and his face turn an alarming shade of puce.
But then, above the noise he was making, he caught the sound of something beautiful.
Tinkling laughter, resounded in his ears, filtering down through his chest like a soothing balm, calming his weary, aching heart.
His bleary eyes followed the sound, already knowing as if by instinct who it belonged to.
Harleen sat laughing on her chair, her (e/c) eyes filled with genuine mirth. It wasn't mocking laughter. Or at least it certainly didn't seem to be.
Arthur had been laughed at enough times to know when someone was mimicking or mocking him. But she, she was laughing with him.
God she was so perfect, she couldn't possibly be real.
She was funny, and friendly, and beautiful, and she had to be real.
This goddess in white scrubs couldn't be a collective hallucination. Dana had spoken to her and she'd answered. Sassed her in fact, so she couldn't possibly be a figment of his overactive imagination.
Although, at times Arthur felt so lonely, so starved of human interaction he couldn't help doubting himself.
But...he was taking medication now, to help with the ever-loosening grip he had on reality. It was just a pity he couldn't be prescribed something to take the loneliness away as well.
Once his laughter had finally dissolved into sporadic splutters, it enabled Dana to plough-on. Urging everyone to stand.
Now pushed for time, she efficiently began putting the patients into pairs. Taking yet another choice away from them, infringing on their right to pick their own partner.
It was exactly like being back at school, except now they were supposed to be responsible adults....of a sort.
Obviously Arthur would've chosen Harleen. Though in all honesty he highly doubted he'd have the courage to approach her.
But he allowed himself to daydream. To fantasise about sweeping her off her feet, and blowing her mind with his dancing skills and confidence. As if he was someone else.
However, he wouldn't be able to bare her rejection.
Much like how he used to crumple when he was always the last one picked at school.
At least here, the teacher wouldn't allow him to suffer that humiliation.
As he hovered timidly at the periphery of the room, he looked-on with morbid interest, wondering who'd be fortunate enough to land Harleen as their partner.
Once again, her curious eyes met his, and he felt his heart leap up into his throat when she unexpectedly came jovially skipping over in his direction.
She giggled as she watched him turn to check there was no one standing behind, as if unsure that she was heading towards him.
"Hey there." She grinned, as she absently twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "It's Arthur, right?"
Arthur didn't quite trust himself to speak, so he was forced to settle for a feeble nod of the head instead.
"(y/n), what are you doing?" Dana called out, her irritation increasing rapidly.
"Making new friends." She replied, standing on her tiptoes so that she could affectionately throw an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "I am allowed to do that, right? Or is that against the rules too?"
She seemed to relish antagonising the teacher, whom it seemed was all out of patience already, and the lesson was still yet to begin.
"(y/n), if you're not going to take this seriously then--"
"Oh but I am." She interrupted, still clinging to a hapless Arthur, draping herself over his body as if he were a clothes stand. "I've found my own partner, see? That's how eager I am."
Arthur's chest tightened, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm. Her body felt warm against his, and he could feel himself liquefying against her. It was only a matter of time before he melted into a gooey puddle on the worn, grubby floor.
"(y/n) I will allocate you a partner. Leave Arthur alone."
The words struck fear into his fluttering heart.
No, please, he thought. Don't leave me alone. Not now. Not ever.
"Aw, but Jolene--"
"It's Dana."
"He doesn't mind, do you Arthur?" Harleen pouted, looking to him for support.
He shook his head almost robotically, still too overwhelmed to even make an attempt at forming words.
"See?" She whooped with unabashed delight, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Please let us be partners. And I promise I'll behave."
A long contemplative pause ensued, as Dana appeared to review the situation, glancing down at the watch on her wrist with a sigh.
"Oh very well, we don't have time for this."
"Yay!"
Before he knew what was happening, Harleen had his hands clasped in hers, spinning around wildly in a circle, gravity pulling them apart. The spinning only added to his already churned-up state, but he held onto her tightly, doing all he could to keep them both upright.
"We're gonna have fun, Arthur!" Her beautiful lips stretched into a wide smile, as she gazed into his eyes, then promptly ceased spinning and leaped up off the ground, and into his arms.
Arthur amazed himself by catching her, and she looked suitably impressed by his hidden strength, as he cradled her in his capable embrace.
"Wow. You're pretty good at this."
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he fought to catch his breath. His wide eyes were cartoonishly adorable, not to mention the most striking shade of green she had ever seen.
The air seemed to thicken and crackle around them, all background babble faded into insignificance, as the pair gazed into each other's eyes.
Unable to cope with the intensity of the emotions he felt, Arthur begrudgingly set her back down, but she wasn't prepared to relinquish her hold on him just yet.
"So, what made you pick dancing?" She asked, as they stood alarmingly close, her arms still threaded around his neck.
"I-I like to dance." He replied.
His soft, rich voice trickled down her spine like warm honey, making her shiver in a not unpleasant way.
"Me too!" Harleen exclaimed, excitedly. "I love dancing! Besides, I can't paint for shit and even though I can do gymnastics I don't swim."
Water gymnastics, art, and dancing were the only available options as part of the hospitals therapeutic rehabilitation program. All patients were obliged to complete a number of sessions in their preferred activity before they were officially discharged from the psychiatric unit.
Harleen was of course attending under duress, but she had no other option.
If she refused then she'd be committed to Arkham State Hospital for the criminally insane, and as crazy as she could be, she wasn't that far gone yet.
"S-so why did you pick me, Harleen?" Arthur managed, his hands hovering nervously at her waist.
It didn't seem appropriate to hold her so intimately. The music wasn't even playing yet.
Well at least not in the room, but there was a full orchestra starting up in his head.
She tilted her head to one side. "Because I love your laugh."
His dark brows arched in surprise, almost touching his hairline.
No one had ever said anything like that to him before.
"You like my laugh?"
"No, I don't like it. I love it!"
"But...why?"
"It's a great laugh. It's infectious and cute, and it just makes me want to laugh along with you."
A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he frowned a little in confusion. "Oh, okay. Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Now, can I ask you something?"
"Uh, s-sure."
"How come you called me Harleen?" Her eyes held his. They were playful, and filled with a childlike innocence that spoke to his soul. The lost inner-child in him silently answered, conveying his recognition as he gazed at her adoringly.
He never wanted to stop looking at her. His eyes burned with the need to blink, but he resented having to. Not wanting to miss a single second of her beautiful presence.
"You want to use that name, don't you?"
She nodded, losing herself in those haunted eyes that betrayed a gentle, tortured soul.
And yet, there was s glimmer of darkness in them. Something unnatural and disturbing that lurked beneath the surface. It actually gave her a perverse thrill, recognising the silent storm that raged within. She recognised it instinctively, she sensed it.
Here was a kindred spirit. Someone else who was battling the shadow that clamoured for release.
"(y/n)'s a nice name." He was saying now, shattering her focus.
"Nice? Nice is a cup of tea, Arthur. I don't wanna be nice if it means being dull."
"You're not dull." He interjected quickly. "You're a lot of fun. I like your real name, but if you'd rather be Harleen then...Harleen it is."
"Aw, aren't you the most adorable little puddin'. I could just eat you up!" She snapped her teeth at him playfully, giggling as he chuckled, his complexion turning pink.
"I'm not adorable. I hate my name too. Well, my surname."
"Hey if I say you're adorable then you're adorable." Gently prodding him in the chest to emphasise her point, her smile gradually fell. Her beautiful features creasing with discomfort. "Harleen is the name I gave myself when I joined the circus. It's like...she's the other side of me. The side that's more daring, and exciting, and doesn't give a damn. D'ya get what I mean, puddin'?"
Touched by the new nickname she'd bestowed upon him, Arthur's cheeks flamed but he ignored it. Nodding his head in agreement, he felt relieved, and excited, and terrified all at once.
"I get it."
And if he didn't know before, then Arthur knew in that moment that he'd found his soulmate. Someone who struggled with the constant, nagging urge to to break free and go wild like an untamed beast that had been tethered all of it's life.
The same need that gnawed away at his insides, while he was forced to maintain the facade of a happy, law abiding citizen, which felt so false it made him feel numb and hollow, driving him to the very edge of insanity as he'd hit his head against the door in his room, out of sheer frustration.
But he no longer felt hollow and numb.
A thunderbolt had hit him. Striking him like lightening, the sensations so intensely powerful it couldn't be denied. He'd been a cynic, but now he stood converted.
He'd glimpsed the truth within her, and she'd glimpsed the truth within him.
In that beautiful and messy moment, love had struck, turning him inside out and spilling his soul for her to see.
And as for Harleen....in that moment, she would've gladly offered her himself like a sacrifice, handing him her heart on a silver platter.
A heart which Arthur would cherish, and Joker would devour....