Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the unfamiliars. Mainly, Samantha O'Reilly. This is my first fanfic I'm willing to publish and would greatly appreciate CONSTRUCTIVE criticism! I truly hope you enjoy!

Arkham Asylum's exterior was something to marvel. What appeared to be a Gothic building housed some of the most notorious criminals in Gotham history. A young woman brushed her coat off and shook her head. After a year who would have thought, she would ever step back into this horrid place. A guard greeted her and they exchanged a few brief words. The guard then led her up the cement stairs and opened the door for her; pausing briefly she inhaled and walked in. Inside, the floor was a polished marble and walls were littered with framed pictures of predecessors before her time. A young receptionist was busy talking on her headset and filing her ever so important nails. She took one glance up and proceeded to say something in the pager phone. Moments later, an old man with hardly any hair greeted the woman.

"Dr. Crane, how good of you to re-join us," said a man who immediately enveloped her in a hug. The young woman tried to hug back but felt no need as he was hugging for the both of them.

"Dr. Harrington, I've gone back to my maiden name if you don't mind," she replied hastily. Any reminder of her former love was a bad one. "It's Dr. O'Reilly now."

"As you wish Doctor," he replied, smiling to have his prized student back. "Anyways, I'm glad you decided to come back, there's a new patient that no one will touch and I knew you'd leap at the chance."

"Thanks, we both know who he is though, I doubt I'll ever figure him out," Dr. O'Reilly said. "If you don't mind, however, I would like to go to my office and set up. I remember the rules – nothing that can be used as a violent weapon, pens and pencils are to be kept in a locked drawer."

"Yes, yes, nothing's changed. Unfortunately, the office will be the one you and Jonathan shared; it was the only one available. I took the liberty of removing his things and replacing the furniture with something more contemporary. Now if you excuse me, I've a meeting with some board members. Good luck Samantha." Dr. Harrington turned on his heel and walked quickly to the right corridor. Samantha clicked her tongue and took the left corridor.

The memories started to consume her; only a year ago was when she was happily married to a brilliant psychiatrist; a passion they both shared. Dinners with board members, luncheons with friends, and events held by the wealthy Bruce Wayne encompassed her every free moment. Romantic getaways John had planned for her and him. Samantha shook her head, banishing the thoughts away from her current thoughts. No doubt she'd avoid his cell like the plague and refuse to visit. No doubt a fellow co-worker would spend their sessions working on Dr. Crane. No, her task was the Joker and that was all.

Samantha unlocked the door to her office and glanced around. The carpet that once was there had been ripped up to reveal a beautiful hard wood floor. The brown leather sofa and chair set was missing. Samantha's eyes closed as she remembered when the set was first brought in.

"Oh John!" she exclaimed her eyes filled with excitement. The sofa and chair set she had her eyes set on was now sitting in front of her.

"I told you I'd surprise you, Sam," the handsome man said as he kissed his wife passionately. "And how often have I disappointed you?"

"Never," she replied. "It looks like the cliche ones in the movies, its perfect!"

Samantha opened her now tear-filled eyes. In place of her beloved sofa set was a hard looking black leather couch and even more uncomfortable black leather chair. The one piece of furniture that remained was her cherry wood executive desk she had bought with her first paycheck. A janitor must have polished it. She walked over to the dark drapes and pulled them back to reveal the mid-morning sun. The room lit up like Christmas morning and it was clear someone had dusted. Few dust particles were present in the light, which spread over the entire room.

She sat in her chair and sighed. I guess getting back into the swing of things isn't the greatest feeling at first, she mused. Opening up the folder that Dr. Harrington gave made her wish she hadn't. The top picture was of a disfigured man in horribly done clown make-up. The outfit of choice looked like was plum colored and resembled a bad version of Willy Wonka. Pictures of gruesome murders and devious acts followed and it was complete with articles of Gotham General being blown up. Therefore, no one had taken the daunting task of "therapy" with the Joker, and that meant she had to try.

After spending what seemed hours flicking through her patient's file, curiosity got the better of Samantha O'Reilly. Standing up, she stretched her tired body. A cup of coffee would wake me up, she thought, and perhaps a bagel. Exiting her room, she locked the door, as it was one of the many rules at Arkham Asylum. It had been awhile since Samantha roamed the corridors and quickly was turned around to an area she didn't recall. After a couple of minutes wandering the second floor she had found the way she needed to go when she heard a familiar voice.

"I'd know that perfume anywhere," it said. Samantha stopped dead in her tracks and turned to where the voice came from. The door on cell number 204 had a name that sent chills through her body: Jonathan Crane. She moved to the side so if he peered out, he wouldn't see her. "A distinct aroma of roses and violets, if I recall I did pick it out. Funny you would wear it the day you returned. Samantha, I know it's you, that perfume was custom made and you of all people would know that." His voice was filled with a bitter tone Samantha had rarely heard.

Swallowing hard Samantha inched in front of the cell and looked in. Nothing like her mind had built up for her; the room resembled his office at their house she recently had sold. The view of the room was quickly blocked when the face of her former love was staring back at her. Nothing about him had changed, except for the eyes; Crane's eyes appeared not only sad but absent. Months locked up with no one but a therapist to speak to can be disheartening. Samantha's heart melted and immediately felt a wave of guilt. She could have visited more, but she only visited once.

"My love, I'm sorry," Crane lamented. There was an odd sincerity about the phrase; sorry for not telling her or sorry for losing his mind, Samantha couldn't be sure.

"Sometimes saying 'sorry' doesn't count and this is one of those times, Jonathan," she held back her tears. He wouldn't see her cry, she wouldn't let him. "I've seen the case files. There's no pure indication that you are deemed a psychotic individual. You just have a passion for striking fear in the hearts of innocent people. I thought you would just be using your experiments on select people here and that it wasn't supposed to generate fear. Jonathan, I believed in you and loved you with all of my heart and it shattered the day you were arrested."

"Sam," he suddenly reached his hands through the bars and caressed her face. His expression changed to someone who greatly disapproved and changed yet again, briefly into the loving man Samantha thought she knew.

"Sam," he said more quietly, "I love you; I never did any of this to benefit you or in your name. People need to learn what true fear is and how mediocre their lives really are. Something you don't even understand. I wish you felt the same, perhaps you and I could have still stayed together." A crooked smile appeared on his face. He grabbed Samantha's hand and kissed it, delicately as if nothing between them had changed. She gave in, for only a moment.

"Jonathan, I can't love you the way you want me to. I used to and it's taken a year of therapy and enough anti-depressants to choke a horse to get me back to square one. You had your chance, not only your chance with me, but your chance at doing what you loved. Now you sit there and analyze from your padded cell in a place we both dreamed about changing. I still hold those ideals to my heart while you want to scare everyone around you. I still care about you, but it will never be the way it used to be." She looked at him with pity, a genius who had lost everything was nothing to marvel, only something to pity. She pulled her hand away; it was slightly tingling from here Crane had kissed it. She was disgusted at the way her heart begun to melt.

"If you'll excuse me," she started to walk away. Crane began to call after her, "you can't fix him, he's not like the criminals you love analyzing; he'll tear out your soul piece by piece, Sam!"

Samantha back tracked a little and glared at Crane. "And just how would you know that?"

"I've seen the news, I'm not stupid. Besides, I was watching when they brought him in. You should have heard him laughing!" Crane said amused, a slight stupor on his face appeared. "I wonder what he fears…" Was all else Crane said while he lost himself in his thoughts. In disgust, Samantha continued to walk away. That was not something that she had planned and it had left her shaken.

Glancing down at her watch, she noticed the time for her appointment was nearing. That coffee sounds even better, she thought, perhaps a Valium while I'm at it too; it looks like I'll need it before the end of the day. As she watched the cell numbers increase, she stopped dead in her tracks in front of cell 213. Adrenaline was being released and her heart was pounding. Peering inside, she had no idea what to expect.

Editor's Note: I wasn't sure where to cut it off as I've already written most of the story. Hope that makes you want more!