Still Defiant! SI-OC [Marvel/DC]

36: Quinn

"It was so beautiful, like holding the entire world in your arms. His adorable blue eyes looked at me with such affection that I almost thought I'd get diabetes from love. Can you imagine that, Doctor? Holding the greatest gift life can give you and never wanting to let it go?" The voice was filled with so much love and tenderness that the hand holding the pen paused for a moment before continuing to write.

"That's a love only a mother could have. I'm still a bit young for that," Harleen replied, watching her patient rock her hands as if cradling something that wasn't there—a ghost from the past.

"Yes… a mother, that's what I was. Just a mother who wanted to see her child grow up healthy and strong, live his life, see him start his own family. But life has always been a cruel joker. Just as it gives you great gifts, it takes them away in the most unjust ways."

There was a sense of helplessness followed by a snort. Her lips trembled, smiling as she recalled the past. Then her eyes met Harleen's.

"You know, Quinn, your eyes remind me of his." At her words, Harleen raised an eyebrow, swallowing with some doubt as she decided whether it was the right moment to take a step further in these sessions. It had been several days since she started treating her most special patient, several days of testing the waters, advancing slowly, probing and waiting for a reaction.

After all that back and forth, this was the first time she had managed to see the woman's more "vulnerable" side.

But the decision was made before she could do so, as the woman with green hair laughed—a chilling yet somehow sad laugh.

"Yes, those blue eyes that suddenly lost their light, like candles being snuffed out in the wind. At that moment, I almost felt like something broke inside me, but no, it wasn't like that, Quinn. The reality is that I learned something else, an important lesson. Everything you love, everything that matters to you, will one day be taken away from you. And then… what's left?" She leaned in, locking eyes with Harleen.

Harleen didn't know what to say, but she didn't need to, as her patient spoke first.

"Nothing! Except the joke. That cruel joke the world plays on you, over and over again." Her voice echoed through the room. Harleen looked at her and couldn't help but ask her next question.

"And… is that what turned you into… this?" She gestured, more precisely toward her unnaturally pale skin and the inhumanly long smile that adorned her face.

The woman looked at her differently; there was something different in her eyes, something Harleen hadn't seen before. For a moment, she thought the woman had stopped smiling, but it was only for a moment.

"Oh, Quinn, don't you understand, dear? I simply decided to laugh at the joke instead of crying. And you… well, you can laugh with me if you want," she said, smiling more softly, not with a manic or sarcastic smile, but just a kind smile.

"Laugh with you?" Harleen frowned slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line, something that didn't go unnoticed by her patient, who, for the first time since their sessions began, actually stopped smiling.

"Yes, dear. After all, life is nothing more than a poorly told joke, and we… well, we're just the poor devils who are forced to listen to it. So why not laugh until we're out of breath?"

At another time, perhaps in another world, Harleen might have found the entire conversation interesting, even fascinating. But in a world where she hadn't grown up with the true horrors of Gotham weighing on her shoulders, her thoughts were less cynical.

She didn't see things the same way as the woman in front of her. In fact, she believed that this world, as cruel and unjust as it might be, was also beautiful, and there was hope in it.

After all, there was a hero trying to make it a better place.

With that thought, Harleen smiled and jotted something else down in her notebook.

"Laugh until we're out of breath, huh?" she finally said, looking up from her notebook to meet her patient's eyes. "And what happens after the laughter stops? What's left then?"

There was silence. The green-haired woman admired her smile with curiosity. She could see it— that smile wasn't for her, and it wasn't because of her, which intrigued her greatly.

"Darling, when the laughter stops, there's only silence left—a boring and uninteresting silence, one that devours you from the inside, consuming you until there's nothing left… unless you find something else to laugh about! That's why the joke must never end."

The smile returned, and Harleen almost scoffed. What a twisted thought, what a distorted view of the world. Now she understood why this woman was here. She wondered if she could help her, heal something that so many others before her had failed to heal.

But… looking into those deranged eyes, she wondered if there was really anything left to heal.

"Or maybe, after the laughter, there remains the opportunity to change something. To make the joke have a different ending," she finally said in response, and her patient let out a loud laugh.

"What is this? I didn't think you were so optimistic, dear, so naive. Do you really believe there's something more in this world? That things can change? That's not how this game works, and it's better if you understand that before you lose," she said, her voice descending to a tone less kind than before.

"What if this isn't a game?" Harleen quickly replied, irritated for some reason.

"And what if, instead of laughing at the world, we try to fix it? It might be difficult, it might even be impossible, but there are people willing to try, to fight for it—" she stopped herself. She had gotten carried away, had done something she shouldn't have; she was there to listen, not to lecture.

Silence returned, and Harleen cleared her throat, deciding that maybe she needed to take a break.

"Not just optimistic and naive, but also idealistic? I thought you were smarter than that, Quinn. It's disappointing..." Despite saying that, for some reason, Harleen could feel that the woman was still looking at her the same way as before, the same way she had looked at her the first time they met. It was a look that was hard to identify.

"Being a bit optimistic, somewhat naive if you want to call it that, and even a little idealistic, are part of the job, Mrs. J. After all, I'm here to make things better, to help, to make sure the joke isn't the only reality in this world, and to ensure that people don't have to laugh just to avoid crying," she said, following the same kind of analogy the woman used in an attempt to make her understand.

But all she got in return was a scoff, one filled with amusement and mockery.

"Oh, Quinn! You're a delight. Do you really think I'm one of those cases you can fix? Do you think you can pull me out of this spiral of madness I live in?" Her words were dripping with sarcasm.

"No," Harleen said, causing the laughter to stop.

"I'm not here to fix you, Mrs. J. I'm here to understand you." Harleen had spent many nights in an internal debate before coming to a conclusion that she believed was the right one.

She and Daniel had discussed their different points of view many times when they could chat with each other, though it didn't happen often. There was one conversation she remembered deeply.

It was about doing what's right and doing what's necessary.

Something that reminded her of the speech he had given at the conference a few days ago and the reason why she understood why he did what he did in Afghanistan.

This wasn't a fair world.

But that was okay. That's why people like her, like Daniel, existed—to make this unjust world a little more just. That was the difference between Defiant and the woman in front of her. Both believed this world was dark and cruel, but one fought to change it, to make it better, while the other let herself be dragged into that darkness without hesitation, content to leave things as they were and simply laugh at it.

That's why she was here—not to save the woman in front of her. No, she could see now that there was no salvation for her. She was part of a world that would be changed slowly but surely, a mere remnant of a past era, now rotting away in a cell.

She was truly here to study her, to understand what had made her become what she was, and hopefully to prevent it from happening to someone else. That was the change she was referring to. After all, as Daniel had told her:

You can't save them all, so just save as many as you can.

Maybe she couldn't help Defiant by punching bad guys or flying through the skies, but that didn't mean she couldn't be useful in other ways, more specialized ways, just as she had been with the victims of Killgrave.

"You're a curious case, Quinn. Very curious. Just when I thought I could see through you, you show me I was wrong. That almost never happens—it's quite amusing. I wonder, what's underneath all that?" The woman looked at her thoughtfully, as if trying to see through her soul.

It made her uncomfortable.

'What will I see once I break that mask?'

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Harleen entered her office, feeling the weight of fatigue on her shoulders. It had been a while since she'd had such a difficult session. Now, she just wanted to relax a little. Without meaning to, she touched the hidden pocket in her lab coat, but quickly shook her head, clenching her fist and biting her lip.

The temptation was strong, but she had managed to stay firm despite everything. She hoped the hard part would soon pass and, little by little, it would get easier.

"You look stressed," the voice made her stop in her tracks, and she turned her head so quickly that she could have twisted her neck if she weren't as agile and flexible as she was.

Daniel greeted her with a somewhat shy smile. She smiled when she saw him, but in the next instant, her smile faded into a frown and a pout.

"You don't call, you don't write, you disappear, and then you reveal your face to the whole world. You'd better have a great excuse," she said, locking the door to her office and crossing her arms, giving him a stern look.

Daniel scratched his cheek with his finger. Well, there was a lot to explain.

"Well, why don't we talk about it over dinner?" he said, lifting the bag of takeout he had picked up on his way to Rikers.

Harleen looked at the food and remembered she hadn't had dinner yet.

"Alright."

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"Do you ever think!? You could have died, Johnny!" Franklin Storm felt a sharp pain in his head as he looked at his son. When he got the call from the police, he had been terrified and worried—feelings that quickly shifted once he confirmed his son was safe and sound.

Now, he was just angry and disappointed.

"I know! Alright? You don't have to yell at me. I was there... I almost pissed myself when it happened..." Johnny Storm sighed and scratched his head, not daring to meet his father's eyes.

"No! You don't know. If you did, you wouldn't keep doing this!" Franklin grabbed his son's arm and pulled him out of the station, dragging him to the car. For a moment, he considered putting him back in the cell he had just taken him out of, but he couldn't do it, no matter how angry he was.

Seeing his father's car but not his own, Johnny frowned deeply.

"Hey, where's my car?" he asked.

"In the junkyard," the response came quickly, making Johnny blink in disbelief. He watched his father get into the car, still stunned, before quickly reacting, opening the door, and getting in as well.

"The junkyard! Are you crazy, old man?!" he protested with clear indignation.

"No, I've never been more sane. It's over, Johnny, do you hear me? It's over! No more racing, no more cars, and no more parties. Until you straighten up, you're coming with me to the institute, and that's final!" His words were severe and firm. Seeing his father's eyes, Johnny realized that this time he was dead serious.

"Oh, come on! You know I hate that place. Everyone there is super boring and dull. I could fall asleep in half a second just being in there!"

"It's that or nothing, Johnny..." Franklin Storm sighed and looked at his son with a weary expression, the lines on his face deepening, making him look a little older than he really was.

"You have so much potential, son. You could do incredible things if you just tried... please." Johnny felt bad, unable to ignore the exhaustion in his father's voice. A strange bitterness rose in his throat.

"Alright, I'll go to your institute..." he finally sighed, causing a small smile to form at the corner of Franklin's mouth.

As he watched the scenery blur past, Johnny thought of something else. If he was going to the institute, he should be able to figure out a way to get back at that guy. A mischievous smile formed on his lips.

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"Woa… it's amazing," Harleen said, reaching out to touch Daniel's face with fascination.

"It's not foolproof, but it'll help keep my identity hidden for a little while longer."

Harleen nodded and pulled her hand back, letting Daniel turn off the mask and return his face to normal. To think that he had gone through so much in such a short time… it must have been tough.

"Have you been sleeping well?" she asked with concern, and Daniel looked at her, nodding.

"I've been following your advice, Dr. Quinzel—at least six hours a day."

That was good; she had worried that without her constant reminders, he might forget.

"Well, we've talked a lot about me. What about you? How's work been?" At his question, Harleen fell silent for a moment.

Should she tell him about the artificial pheromones?

No… she couldn't let him worry unnecessarily about a problem she had created herself. She was supposed to help him, not give him more work. She could solve this on her own without being a burden.

"Well, things are going well. I've been dealing with some interesting patients, but nothing really worth mentioning."

Daniel nodded, listening but not pressing her with too many questions. After all, she was still a professional, and patient-doctor confidentiality was something she had to maintain.

Of course, knowing who Daniel was, she knew that if she told him certain things, she wouldn't have to worry about him revealing them. So, if he asked, she could tell him, which was, of course, a complete breach of her code. But then again, she had already done questionable things for him, like letting him use the Star Labs facilities illegally, so something like telling him why a patient wet the bed until they were 27 didn't seem like a big deal in comparison.

"I'm glad your work is going well," Daniel finally said when Harleen finished sharing some of the things she'd been up to.

Noticing how he suddenly fell silent, she raised an eyebrow.

"What is it?" At her question, Daniel looked a bit embarrassed.

"Uh, well, I might need your help with something again." At those words, Harleen suddenly straightened up, her expression lighting up with a smile and bright eyes.

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but a very loud part of herself had been worried, doubting. What if Daniel didn't come back? What if, now that the whole Killgrave victims situation was almost completely resolved, he no longer needed her? If she was left behind again....

Those thoughts had been tormenting her for several nights, making it difficult to fall asleep, and it didn't help that she was also suffering from the effects of the abstinence she had inflicted upon herself.

Even so, she convinced herself, telling herself that he would come back, that she could still do a lot to help him, and it seemed she hadn't been lying to herself—he came back, he wanted her help, he needed her.

With her heart racing and a huge smile on her face, she reached out to squeeze his hand.

"Tell me everything." Feeling her grip, Daniel smiled and nodded. Explaining it was easy since Harleen already knew about Gen-M; he just had to update her on the new discoveries he had made.

She listened attentively, asking questions when necessary and expertly answering the questions Daniel had, bringing forth all the knowledge she had acquired over her years of study.

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Note:

Writing this chapter was difficult. The Joker... is a complicated character. Martha as the Joker? Twice as complicated. I had to make several drafts before I was even moderately convinced. I still feel that I need to improve on the character's portrayal, but I believe I'll get there when the time is right.

Let me know what you think. You know I read all the comments, critiques, and suggestions. If you notice any errors, point them out, and I'll correct them immediately. Good night/afternoon/morning, and see you in the next chapter.

Finally remember that You can already find the next chapter (and several more chapters) of this story on Patreon (patreon.com/EmmaCruzader) All the support received is appreciated ;D