"...Dad, I'll be fine," Julia said, checking her watch Monday morning. "I know it's Gotham, but this is what I love doing - and I always have a knife in my glove compartment in case I'm in danger and can't call the police. But I really need to get going. Maybe you or Mom could call me back tonight? Alright. Love you too!" She hung up her phone hastily, grabbing her purse and folder and heading for Arkham.

It started out as a normal day, although normal didn't have to mean pleasant - overly confident criminals in colorful outfits being forced into uniforms, the defiant screams, and the horror stories about the place the other residents in her group loved to tell during break, most of which Julia fervently hoped were mere rumors. But even so, she still wanted to prove to her parents that she could do it.

But she was surprised at how some of the patients seemed more jumpy than usual when she and the others made their daily rounds. More...fearful.

Maybe she would try to ask the head administrator if he'd noticed anything different before she would leave for the night, since she knew what an expert on fear he was. She would probably find him in the library there in Arkham, and sure enough, she found her boss at a table in the library reading a book about the many phobias of the mind. She greatly respected Dr. Crane, especially since she knew not many bosses were as passive and patient as he was.

"What brings you here, Ms. Madison?" Dr. Crane asked without seeming to even look up from his book.

"Hello, Doctor. I was wondering if you noticed a difference in the patients' behavior today?"

"Oh, definitely. Why do you ask?" He now looked up at her.

Well, you are kind of the head administrator. Shouldn't you care about that kind of thing? But she didn't want to press him, so all she said was, "I just thought I'd bring it up just in case. We like to keep you posted."

"Well, thank you for your concern," he said, closing his book and standing up to put it back on its shelf.

Just then noticing the title, she asked, "So, find anything interesting in there?"

"Fear in itself interests me," the doctor said quietly with a foreign look on his face, as if he had a lot on his mind.

"...Which was why I wondered if you might know something about this," Julia said before she could stop herself. She hoped she didn't sound accusing.

"I respect the mind's power over the body," he replied easily.

Julia nodded, pretending she understood, but she must have still had a few lines of confusion on her face.

"In other words, don't fear your fear; embrace it."

She hesitated. "I guess that makes sense," Julia said, but still wondered how that helped the patients, or if any new drugs they'd been prescribed was interfering with their minds. Well, whether she undertsood or not, she trusted him.

Dr. Crane nodded. "So glad you agree." With that, he bade her good night and walked out.

I should probably head on home too. She'd just exited the library when she heard a familiar whiny voice. Harleen Quinzel.

"So, Jules, how's your boyfriend?"

"Good-bye, Harleen," Julia said, shaking her head.

"Wait up!" Harleen ran up beside her.

Julia looked at her, cocking her head to one side condescendingly. "Why would you say something like that?" Julia asked honestly. "I went to ask him about the patients. It's just kind of strange that these guys would be making threats to us from their cells one day and be shaking and staring quietly the next."

"Aw well, either way, I saw the way you smiled at him." Harleen flashed her hands in front of her and Julia grandly. "I can see it now! Julia and Jonathan -"

"Good night, Harleen!" Julia said quickly, making her way to the elevator. She wondered how someone in their twenties who still acted twelve could have made it into the profession of psychiatry so easily.

"Agh! Make it stop! Make it stop!" came the voice of a male patient nearby.

Julia felt a shudder of sympathy for him and all the other patients as the elevator doors closed in front of her. But she would not suspect her own boss, and she wouldn't tell her parents either; they would merely say like so many times before how afraid they were that she "couldn't handle it."