Arkham wasn’t such a bad place. Never had to work your ass off on terrible jobs to pay a ridiculous rent in order to sleep in a rat hole. Never had to lie or adapt. Never. This was the best part. The twist was that you were forced to take drugs to be controllable, and you were locked up. Was that fair? No. Arthur Fleck was currently waiting for yet another psychiatrist. They’d been hesistant to send anyone since he tried to escape and killed a nurse. Hilarious. So, he’d been isolated for two weeks now, no explanation. Who was it going to be, this time? Or would they let him rot alone in his cell forever? That would be unprofessionnal. He was making plans to escape, as usual, when he heard footsteps in the corridor. He heard the key rattle in the lock. And then, his heart stopped. An angel had just opened the door. She had pale skin, blong hair, and the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen.
« I must be hallucinating. » He said out loud.
« Ha. Ha. Ha. » replied the vision.
« Mister Fleck, will you sit down? »
She sat opposite him across a little table. The furniture was screwed on the floor.
« Good evening, mister Fleck. »
- Good evening, doctor… »
- Miss Harleen Quinsel. I’m no doctor. » she sighed.
- They’re too scared to send you proper personel, now, mister Fleck. »
- But you’re not. » Arthur noticed.
- I volonteered. This assignment sounded better than cleaning vomit again. »
- No vomit to clean here… » Arthur assured her.
- Though wait… » He looked around, and pretended to throw up. She chuckled.
- You’re laughing! »
- You caught me, mister Fleck. I’m supposed to ask you how you are, since the incident. »
- Good! I’m terrific, doctor Quinn. I’ve never been feeling better. »
- Waw. » She whistled.
- That sounds nice. Perhaps, I should try killing people myself. » he chuckled.
- I recommand. You really should. »
Beautiful and funny. That was a rare combination.
« So, mister Fleck, have you been taking your medication? »
- No, doctor Quinn. I haven’t. » she scoffed.
- You’re supposed to say you have, even if that’s not the case. »
- I have, then. Medication is my passion. » She smiled and took some notes.
- Alright, then. So, how did you deal with the withdrawal effects? »
- I haven’t been taking medication in a long time, doctor Quinn. I used to take pills that would calm me down, back then, but they cut the fundings. »
- By « back then », do you mean before your performance on Murray Franklin’s show? »
- Yeah. Oh, they’ve got the fundings to numb me now, don’t they? But why would I take my meds just to reassure people? I don’t feel as awful as I used to, anymore. You’d have to make me, doctor Quinn. »
- I’m not a doctor, mister Fleck. Not everyone can afford the student loans, and the scolarships are scarce. »
- I don’t care, doctor Quinn. You’re the only one having the guts to come to my cell. »
- Still not giving me neither the title, nor the money. »
- I think you should have both. Have you seen the show? » He asked suddenly.
- Of course! The whole nation did. I would usually switch channel when I saw Murray Franklin’s face on the screen. I found him pretty obnoxious. That night, of course, was different. »
- Because I was entertaining. » She grinned.
- I have to admit you caught my attention. »
- So, what did you think of Murray’s death? »
- I was shocked, but I didn’t like Murray Franklin. »
- He’d invited me on his show to make fun of me, humiliate me in front of everyone. Does that sound fair to you? »
- It isn’t, mister Fleck. The world isn’t fair. Murray Franklin was rotten. »
- Well I decided to go. And he’s rotten, now. You can say. » Arthur Fleck flashed a wicked smile. She smiled back.
- Joke’s on him, right, mister Fleck? »
- Joke’s on them. I will never let anyone treat me this way. Ever again. Does his death make you sad, though? »
- Quite frankly, no. I’ll let the mourning to his fans. »
- My mother… She used to worship him. She was obsessed. His death would have killed her, if… I… I hadn’t… » He let his voice trail off.
- You know, I’m not really sure she was my mother. I don’t even know whether anything she told me was ever true. She lied to me all my life. Only lies! » His ragefull fist exploded on the little table. Harleen Quinsel flinched. Arthur fleck lowered his gaze and bit his lip.
- Your file says you were adopted by a very unstable woman. What I don’t understand is : why would the adoption system let an unstable woman adopt a child, when there are so many suitable families unable to have children. There must have been a mistake. »
- You think I wasn’t adopted, doctor Quinn? »
- Miss. Quinsel. I think I should investigate, mister Fleck. »
- Please. Call me Arthur. »
- Arthur? What, are we intimate? »
- Anytime. Anywhere. Any way you like, doctor. » she blushed.
Footsteps were heard in the corridor. Arthur Fleck was feverish with anticipation. His personal angel was coming back, today. He’d been more or less quiet since he’d met her the last time. Not that he hadn’t been planning his next escape, but he had wanted to meet her again. A whole week had been long, though. But he’d been compensating with agreeable hallucinations. It was real, this time. She was finally coming back as scheduled.
« Good evening, mister Fleck. » she said, as she was sitting opposite him across the little table.
- Doctor Quinn. I missed you, you know. I live for our discussions. »
- Miss Quinsel, mister Fleck. » She tried to hide a smile, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
- How have you been since the last time we’ve met? »
- Good. Quiet, you see. No murder. Yet. »
- Well, you’ll spare me, today. Won’t you, mister Fleck? »
- Oh, murder is the last thing on my mind, when I see you, doctor Quinn. But to tell you the truth, I would be lying if I pretended I don’t have other… Instincts. »
- Mister Fleck!… » she blushed. He chuckled.
- Don’t be embarassed. You do know it’s just a healthy reaction for a man, especially a man in my position. You’re a beautiful woman. » Before he could think any better, he reached out, and re placed the strand of hair that had been flying off behind her ear, again. She cleared her throat.
- Will you stop this? » she mumbled weakly. She cleared her throat, again.
- Merry Christmas, by the way. »
- Oh! Is it, already? How time flies. Well, you’re here. I’m having a very merry christmas, indeed. » She lowered her gaze.
- What are you trying to do, mister Fleck? A seductive spell? »
- I wish! But I wouldn’t stand a chance, now, would I, doctor Quinn? » She coughed lightly.
- So, how have you been dealing with the holliday season? »
- Changing subjects, are we? I hardly noticed it. Not that hollidays had ever been exciting to me, even before this whole mess, you know… Back when I was outside of this place. But every day feels pretty much the same, in here. Your presence put aside, that is. »
- Some patients suffer from nostagia, on holliday season. They feel homesick and bittersweet. They’re restless. They don’t sit well with the seclusion. You seem strangely in peace. »
- Sick of what home, doctor Quinn? I would really have no home to go back to. I had no friends. I had lost my job. Not that it had been the job of my dreams, anyway. I had no family. The only one I had was a liar. I’m not even sure she was my mom. Every day was the same, out there, too. The Murray Franklin’s show was the only thing I’d shared with… Whoever the fuck Penny Fleck was. The holliday season is just a distraction. People try to pretend they’re not horrible, and they fail. You know what? This place is just as bad as any other place, doctor Quinn. Not that I intend to rot in here for ever. But there’s no nostalgia to embrace. »
- You’re very cynical. »
- Prove me I’m wrong. »
- You’re cynical, mister Fleck. But you’re not wrong. »
- Oof. I sense you’re not filled by the christmas spirit either. How come you’d rather spend time with an insane criminal than with your own family, doctor Quinn, hum? » She sighed. He stared.
- who hurt you? I ll kill them. »
- Now your flirting technique is working. » He giggled, and she schrugged.
- You’re not wrong. Perhaps, except about your mother. » She produced a yellowed cardboard file.
- Merry Christmas, again. » Arthur Fleck frowned, and reached out.
In the file lay four sheets of paper, filled with letters and figures.
« What the hell is that? » he asked.
- This, » she explained, showing him two of the sheets,
- Is an analysis of your DNA. It was collected back when you were arrested. » Now, she was showing him the two others.
- And this, is an analysis of the DNA of Penny Fleck. It’s much older, as you can see. It dates back from when you were in her care. You must have been a baby, at the time. She’d been equally arrested. »
- What do they say? » Arthur Fleck’s features were dark, and tense.
- According to the data, the sequences are akin. Your DNA matches hers. That proves she was your biological mother. » Arthur looked devastaded, and confused.
- You mean : I killed my own mother? She wasn’t lying to me? But the file said… »
- Yeah, that’s what I had been wondering, too. Why would they lie in an official medical file about you being adopted? It makes no sense. Unless… » She hesitated for a while.
- That might not be the truth. I have no proof about what I am about to tell you, here. So don’t take it as an objective view point. It’s only a theory… »
- Spit it out. » He was cold, and she was getting nervous.
- I… This adoption nonesense would perhaps mean something if your birth had somehow been disturbing to someone with the capacity to falsify the information. »
- Thomas Wayne… » growled Arthur between his teeth. He was clenching his fists on the table. Hard. She cleared her throat, and went on.
- Nothing is for certain. It’s the only way i can make sense of your situation. But I might be mistaken. If my theory is right, it was in someone powerful’s best interests to blur out the circomstances of your birth. Someone with a reputation to maintain… » Arthur Fleck burst out laughing. It was that painful, irrepressible, sick fit of laughter. He hadn’t had dealt with a crisis like this one in a while.
- I know who that is. » he laughed and growled.
- Thomas Wayne. » His laughter was killing him.
- That bastard! » He wanted to rip somebody’s heart out.
- He lied to my face! » His fist fell hard on the table. A deep crack opened on it. Harleen Quinsel had sprung from her chair. She was white with terror. He spread an apeasing hand.
- No, no, no… Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. See? I’m quiet. I’m quiet… » She sat back down, but she was trembling a little.
A silence settled in between them. Arthur knew he had to break it, or she would end up running away.
« How did you get this information? » He asked. Her voice was hoarse. It took her a few minutes to get her mind to work again.
- I… Uh… I had to sneek into the director’s office on his lunch break. He keeps this kind of information in his archive. »
- It was risky, I bet. You took risks for me. »
- I… » she blushed.
- I didn’t. I took risks for the truth. » His face shone with a wicked smile.
- You took risks. For me. » She was so utterly embarrassed.
- No… No… No… » she stuttered. Then, she got up, and mumbled a:
- Good bye, mister Fleck. »
But by the time she was at the door, he had joined her, and closed it. They were very close, at this point. Which was strange, because at this distance, he could smell her scent.
« What about my condition? » He had to ask.
- Your mother… She was deeply instable. I’m… Afraid this story about her drug addicted boyfriend abusing you is highly probable. » He was strangely quiet.
- At least, I didn’t kill her for no reason. » He schrugged bitterly.
- Good bye, doctor Quinn. »
He moved to allow her to reach the door.
« Hey, mister Fleck? » She said when she was about to turn the handle.
« Knock, knock. »
- Who’s there? » he smiled.
- Not Thomas and Martha Wayne. They were shot in an alley, like any other worthless clown. » He laughed. A real laugh, this time. She was really an angel, this one. He stepped closer, and ran his hands through her hair. She gasped.
- You have to stop me, now. » he warned.
- Because if I’m getting closer, I risk to kiss you. And if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. Do you understand? You have to understand. You have to know, because you’re the sensible one. »
He had said it. But when he did step closer, she didn’t move away. And they kissed.
Les pattes de mouche de la puce polichinelle 