Trip to Brookhaven pt. 4 (Wednesday 3/22)
Jonathan follows Tara to the door, opening it for her and leading her outside. He leaves a note on the chart outside Harley's room, advising them to sedate her if the laughing fit lasts for longer than 10 minutes. He strokes one hand down Tara's back, "You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," Tara replies, taking a deep breath and leaning against his hand. She turns her face into his shoulder for a moment, drawing strength from him, from the knowledge that he would protect her. "Yeah, I... I had to work out if I was right."
"If you were right about what?" he asks, there are several patients being escorted to group therapy up ahead so Jonathan takes a shortcut through the Green Wing that just barely skirts by the Red Wing.
"About her. Where she's coming from, what sets her off. I needed to know if I understood. And I guess I do." The Green Wing she liked much better than the Blue, she's decided. Pamela was lovely. Firefly and Harley... she thinks she might be able to help Mr. Lynns, but Harley is beyond help, at least the kind she knows how to give.
He feels almost guilty for liking Harley now, after the way she's made Tara feel. "She... okay, she's completely cracked," he says to her, "but... we all have kind of a soft spot for her. All of us, we... it's almost like a superstition you know? Be nice to Harlene and she'll keep the bad JuJu away from the rest of us."
"I get that," Tara replies, nodding. "She's bright, she's perky, she's got to be easy to like. She's just, um... insane. But if she's a good luck charm, I guess I'm glad she liked me."
"Harlene Quinzel was once a psychiatrist. An incredibly ambitious, if not exceptionally bright psychiatrist. She went after the Joker in hopes of being the one to crack him, to dig deep into his psyche and find out just what it is that makes him the way he is," he explains.
"It didn't work. Instead, he got to her, driving her insane, fueling her obsession with him. He broke her, completely, and built up some one he could see himself having a life with. His kind of life. Some one who'd laugh at his jokes, take part in his insane plans... he created the perfect companion for himself. And then, this attractive, ambitious young woman set him free from Arkham Asylum and escaped with him."
"She was caught not to long ago, transferred here from Gotham because she used to work at Arkham. Last anyone had heard of the Joker, he was headed towards California."
"So, um... if he created her to be his perfect woman, does that mean he will be coming for her?" She knows she wouldn't leave Shane in prison - and knows that Shane would stop at nothing to reach her, if she was imprisoned, just as when Shane was kidnapped in that god-awful place. And that kind of love makes Harlene Quinzel the most dangerous person in this asylum.
"And that's the really difficult question," he explains, because we're all fairly certain the Joker doesn't love Harley. That level of psychopathy doesn't allow for that depth of feeling. But she is an obsession. His mental illness prevents him from staying too focused on one thing at a time, but when he does get it back into his head, it's safe to say he doesn't actually have limits on what he'll do to achieve his goals."
He shakes his head, "I'd never heard of The Joker back home, apparently it's one of those strange things having to do with time or something. Because apparently he's a household name in his Gotham. Everyone has heard of him because his crimes, the wholesale destruction he brings... it's just that horrific. SO really, we don't know if he's coming for her or not. He might be apprehended. He is caught from time to time; he just usually manages to escape."
"There were these super security precautions for Pamela," Tara observes. "With the fruit bar and everything. What sorts of things do you have to watch out for with Harley? Because, um... yeah, if anyone in here escapes, I'd lay money on her. And I'm not the betting kind."
"She's not allowed visitors; I had to pretty much beg Dr. Chilton to let you meet her. No deliveries, no mail. Everything in that cell with her? Went through about ten separate security checks. She herself doesn't have any kind of meta powers, so we're mostly concerned with outside influences. The window in her cell? It's made of bulletproof glass."
"I think that's, um... yeah. Probably just as well. And thank you. For the chance to meet her. It was... I mean, for my work, it was really helpful." She cocks her head, resolutely pushing Harley's reaction to her story aside for the moment. "Was that everyone? Or was there someone else you wanted me to see? I don't remember how many of those keys you had..."
Shaking his head he opens his mouth, "No, that was all Tara, not too many, but I didn't want you overwhelmed," he explains, only to be cut off by a commotion coming from one of the hallways that feeds into the one they're in. They're almost to a cross section, a turn to the left leads to the main gate and out; where as a turn to the left leads to a red gate-like door and into the Red Wing.
Drugged, senses dull, he walks, through the corridors of Bethlehem, not noticing the way his leg still pained him, not feeling the pain at all, not allowing it to register. The red haze of the world filling his senses, nothing of meaning around him, nothing of value.
And then, he sees it, coming around the corner, a bright splash of gold. Raising his eyes he sees its hair, the hair of a beautiful woman. In the blink of an eye he's shrugged off the guards and is moving towards her. Jonathan he pays no attention to. It's been so long since he's seen something this beautiful. Such perfect, soft looking skin. He presses her against the wall nearest them, the door to the Red Wing.
He reaches his hands up, still handcuffed together, to stoke her face, touch her hair; his chest and left leg are pressing her into the bright red door. Perfection, perfection right in front of him. She doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve to be forced into this world, the meaningless drudgery of life. He can save her, he can free her.
The fuzzy, blank look in his eyes fades and slowly, slowly, he smiles, a possessive glint coming into his eyes.
Tara's caught, back up against the wall, with this scarred man touching her, his left leg caught between hers, pressing against her pelvis. He smiles, but it's not a nice smile. If she could melt through the wall she could, if she dared to open her mouth she'd scream - but she daren't. She knows this game. If she opens her mouth that gives him an in, to kiss her, to put something inside her - and he looks as though he would want to. Jaw clenching she keeps her eyes open by a matter of will, refusing to look away from the sudden evil in front of her. If she's going to get hurt again, she's going to see it this time. It won't be like the bullet that came through her back, took her life blindly
He sees Zsasz approach Tara, and that's all according to plan, he'd wanted to test Tara in a situation like this, see how she'd react. She'd done very well against most of the other inmates, but Zsasz was definitely the scariest. Tara's reactions were always so textbook; it was only natural to want to test her bounds whenever possible.
What he didn't count on was the sudden possessive glint in Zsasz's eyes. The way he touches her. And Jonathan has read Zsasz's profile; he was here when Zsasz went on his last rampage. He knows what all that means, what his body language was screaming. He was claiming Tara, fixating on her.
Mine a voice inside him says, and he has to agree. Angelus gave Tara to him. Crowley gave Tara to him. Tara pretty much gave herself to Jonathan. He'd be fucked if some one was going to come in and steal his girl away from him.
The entrance of the Red Wing has a box hanging on the wall in front of it, a box full of sedatives keyed to personnel thumbprint. It doesn't take him long to get to the Thoarazine kept in there and within moments he's got the syringe uncapped and squeezed any possible air bubbles out. He can see exactly where they've been pumping him full of drugs at Bethlehem and so he aims for that spot, hoping to hit a vein.
One minute all he can see, feel and smell is the perfect, golden creature in front of him. So brave, standing up to him, eyes open, not cowering or begging. And the next he can feel everything getting fuzzy again, the world fading to the reddish hue that he's grown so familiar with. Even the golden creature fades... fades away into red as his arms are roughly grabbed by two guards.
"Tara, oh my god, Tara are you all right?" Jonathan asks her.
He hears it, before he's led away, hears the words and he now has a name to go with the golden creature.
Tara doesn't speak, can't speak, shaking with fear. As soon as Zsasz is pulled away from her she slumps, her back to the wall, until she's far, far beneath him, curled in the smallest ball she can be, protecting all of her vital organs as if preparing to be beaten. She doesn't try to run. That only ever angers them, only ever makes it worse. She'll take it, whatever it is, soundlessly. The way she took her father, the way she took Glory when the goddess broke her hand and licked away the blood. She might bite through her own tongue, but she won't scream.
"Tara, Tara, Tara," he calls, trying to bring her back to herself. He doesn't dare touch her, not like this. Once she's back to herself, then he'll touch her, reassure her, but not now. If he does it now, she'll just retreat further and further into her mind, "Tara, pull it together. C'mon, you're fine, he didn't do anything to you, there's nothing you can't bounce back from. Come here, come talk to me. I sent him away Tara; no one messes with my girl."
Jonathan's voice slowly filters through her consciousness, the same voice that has been her lifeline during their therapy sessions, associated with safety. She's his girl. Crowley's Witch, Shane's wife, Jonathan's girl. The relationships that have defined her, since she returned from the dead. "I am Lazarus," she whispers, shining eyes meeting his. I am Lazarus, come from the dead. Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you... She loves teaching, but there has to be more to it than that.
They react to her, this way - the crazy people. All of them seemed to like her, until she offended Mr. Lynns. She got along with the most 'evil' people in Fandom, Mr. Crowley and Angelus, Belthazor... and she doesn't see evil when she looks at them, any more than she saw evil when she looked at Pamela Isely. A gift. "I shall tell you," she whispers. Jonathan's right. He didn't hurt her. Frightened her, but didn't hurt her, because Jonathan sent him away.
He sees awareness return to her eyes, smiles at it. "Hey there," he says, touching her cheek softly, her words aren't making sense, she isn't making sense, but she's talking, reaching out for him, "Why don't we get out of here?" he asks her, "Or at least up off the floor," he gently tugs on her, rising to his feet.
"He didn't hurt you right?" he asks, checking Tara's head for any kind of injury. He was touching her, all over. Even if her body is fine... this is going to have her shaken.
"No," Tara replies, using his hand for leverage as she rises to her feet. "No, he didn't hurt me. I'm okay." There's something here, though, just out of her reach. She went crazy after Glory, clinically insane and as far gone from reality as a person can be and still conscious. Maybe it's that they sense, that she's been in the place where they are. She knows what it's like to want something so badly that there's nothing strong enough to stand between you and it.
Knows it from Willow, whose desire for revenge burned her hair and eyes and soul black, knows it from Shane, who was locked away from her in the Cube, Shane whom she would have done anything to reach. She risked killing two angels, to do it - or whatever the death of an angel is called. If she'd had Willow's sort of power, perhaps her own hair would be black right now, too. She turns her head towards the large, scarred man, watching his progress. Wondering what he sees. There's a reason here. The Powers sent her back without giving her specifics on her assignment... and maybe, just maybe... this is closer to it than teaching.
((pre-played via IM locked for interaction, but please OOC to your heart's content))