He sat on the cot, staring at the floor. He could hear the nurses passing by, and not a single one failed to peer in at him from the little reinforced plexiglass window set into his door. They all knew exactly what he was here for. He knew when his doctor was nearing him – her heels on the white floors sounded slightly different than the heels of all the others. Her gait had a little step to it, something that brightened his spirits in this dim and dreary place. He didn't look up, but the grin spread slowly on his face. He was chanting softly to himself. "Don't look up; just let them think there's no place else you'd rather be." He heard the enchanting heels stop outside his door. When the door opened, he heard a man say, "Shouldn't this guy know by now that killing people is wrong?" His doctor dismissed the man curtly. Once the door closed behind her, and she'd taken a seat next to him, she sighed. "Why do you keep doing this?" He didn't look at her, and she was left staring at his profile, angled downwards. "I can't turn back. This road is all I'll ever have." It was a surprisingly lucid statement, something she was unused to hearing from him. Of course, he didn't say it regretfully, not even somberly. No, it sounded more… joyous. He was happy with the path his life had taken. Silence for a few minutes, and when she'd worked up the courage to speak, he beat her to the chase.
"Why do you keep doing this? Hmm? It's obvious that your dying."
She'd frozen, her mouth still slightly open. "Dying?"
"Dying. Hollywood certainly made being a psychiatrist look much more interesting, didn't it?"
"Hollywood? What do you think I am? Living proof that the camera's lying?"
He didn't answer for a few moments, and then he grinned. She could see it in his profile, the way his eyes lit up. "Tonight's your night doc." He looked up at her then, made eye contact. His smile stretched almost to the point of grotesqueness, and she loved it. "So smile. You'll go out in style." She'd stilled in surprise. Was he taking her with him, the way she so desperately wanted him to? He continued. "If you let me I could show you how to build your fences, and set restrictions. How to be separate from the world. Your own person. And when they call you psychotic just tell them it's a constant battle that you hate to fight, and blame the limelight.
It was colder in here than she remembered. Maybe it was because she'd grown so used to the air of Gotham. She was wrapped in a white straight jacket, staring at the white wall in front of her. Her face felt bare, devoid of makeup and greasepaint. The words her J had told her a few months ago came back to her suddenly with a vengeance that made her giggle, and, though she fought to contain it, eventually laugh insanely. " You can't turn back, because this road is all you'll ever have." She didn't want to turn back, didn't want to be apart from her Puddin' ever again. He was right. She'd been dying, and he'd saved her. Now, how to get out of this damn cell and find her Puddin'... She smiled. "Tonight's your night, so smile. 'Cuz you'll go out in style."