Crane would always remember the first day that'd he'd met her. At the time, he'd never guessed that this strange girl sitting across from him would have any affect on his life other than mild and passing amusement, but it also wasn't the first time he'd ever been wrong.
"Call me Harley. Everyone does!" The smiling intern said, sitting across the desk from Jonathan. He'd thought her odd from the moment he'd seen her, and talking to her had only reaffirmed his original opinions. Her shrill voice and poorly-hidden accent hurt Dr. Crane's ears quite a bit, and she gave off the countenance of an over excited puppy, and the appearance of a vapid city girl.
"I'd rather not, thank you. And you are sure that you want to work here, Miss Quinzel?" he asked, scanning over her file.
"I'm certain, Dr. Crane. There's just something fascinating about these super-criminal minds. I've always been drawn to extreme personalities. There's such a glamor to them." She said, leaning forward excitedly.
"Yes. I do suppose there is something to be said about them… They can be quite… unpredictable." Jonathan Crane was very interested in this new intern. Despite her appearance and ways of speech, she was smart, certainly. Her work was well thought out and creative, and she could hold a solid conversation about very abstract theories.
"So am I in?" She asked, smiling sweetly.
"I believe that you are. Good luck, Dr. Quinzel." He smiled at her, and handed her the files of three inmates for her to work with. She rifled through the pages, crinkling paper drowning out the quiet of the room.
She flipped to the last one and stopped, looking back up with wide, blue eyes. "The Joker? I mean- are you sure? he's such a high profile-"
"Yes, I'm certain. I want to give you some challenges while you're here, and I think you can handle it."
"But he's so-"
"Do you not think you can handle it?" Dr. Crane asked, smirking up at her in a challenging way. Her face stiffened and she jutted out her chin. He made a mental note of her behavior.
Challenges. They always work. Dr. Crane thought.
"I can do it. I'll cure The Joker," she said. As the door to his office closed, Jonathan leaned back in his chair, compiling the traits he'd noticed about her in his head. This intern would be interesting to work with.
He wondered how long she'd last.
Later that week, the new intern ended up in his office again.
"Doctor Crane?"
"What is it, Doctor Quinzel? I'm afraid I only have a minute." He had a meeting he had to be to in less than five minutes.
"Please, call me Harley," She said, sitting down across the desk from him. "I just wanted to ask a question about Julie Reynolds… the patient from the A wing."
"The Catatonic? Yes. She just came in last week. I assume your session went well?"
"Well… I believe she also suffers from Diogenes Syndrome. She is refusing help of any type, and she's been collecting dust bunnies and other equally strange things on purpose. It sounds like hoarding, which is alarming. She also-" Jonathan Crane nodded and held up a hand.
"I apologize for cutting you off, but I do need to leave. This really may be more serious than we first believed," Dr. Crane muttered, cleaning off his glasses. "Her last therapist didn't see any problems… he thought that she was just refusing her mental state. Is that all, Miss Quinzel?"
"Well… shouldn't we start new treatments?"
"I plan to. I'm taking her off of your list and moving her to a full-time therapist in the B wing. She'll likely be here until she dies, sadly. But that is the way things tend to be with Diogenes. You are certain of this, correct?"
He looked up to see Harley biting her lip nervously. Classic self doubt- He knew she was right. He'd been watching over her patients. He'd come to the exact same conclusion.
Harley finally nodded and stood back up. "Thank you for your help, Doctor Crane."
"Oh- There's one more thing I wanted to ask you," He said, gesturing for her to sit down again. Crane looked down at his watch and sighed. He'd be late, but that wouldn't be too much of an issue. He was trusted enough that he could get away with it. This would be far more interesting and useful than anything in the meeting anyways. "How are your sessions with The Joker going?"
"Slow. He spends most of the time joking around with me or even just babbling nonsense. He seems reluctant to answer any questions I have."
"Ah. He does that with many therapists. Do not worry. It's normal."
He couldn't help but smile. She was lying to him. The Joker had spoken quite openly with her- not about anything useful, or anything new, but still just as openly as he was speaking with her now.
"I'm going to keep trying- I don't know what else to do."
"That's the right mindset to have, Dr. Quinzel." Crane gathered his papers and stood up. "Thank you for meeting with me. We'll talk soon.
"Thank you, Dr. Crane," She said, standing up and walking out of the room, her steps quick and light.
It wasn't very often that an intern impressed him in their first week.
"Dr. Quinzel, How have your sessions with the Joker been going?" Dr. Crane asked after her first two weeks of being an intern.
"He is showing signs of Anti-social-personality disorder, as well as Hypomania as far as I can tell," Harley replied, shrugging.
"And do you think that we are helping him?" Crane asked, staring at her coldly.
"I... couldn't say yet..." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "He's such a confusing patient. I feel like he's getting better, but I also just feel like we're moving so slowly, it's almost like treading water."
"I understand exactly where you are coming from," Crane said, sitting down to talk with the girl. "I have sessions with and ASPD patient, and we are getting nowhere. I am considering sending him to a higher-class asylum for extensive care that we don't offer here."
"It's just... The Joker shows no remorse for what he's done. It's been nearly impossible to diagnose him, let along know if it's possible to cure him. He keeps shifting his stories and changing the topic... I can't get him to tell me anything about his childhood or his relations with anyone! I'm not certain he even had a childhood or any friends." Harley ranted, drumming her fingers on the desk. She needed to vent to someone. Might as well be someone who understood.
"We aren't even sure if The Joker remembers his past at all," Dr. Crane said, attempting to make Harley feel better. "He's told different psychologists different accounts, all similar, but large details keep changing."
"He has?" Harley sighed and rubbed her temples. "But he..."
"I'm going to transfer him to another psychiatrist," Dr. Crane said, nodding. "He is obviously stressing you out." He started to scribble a note to himself.
"Please don't. I feel... I feel like I'm actually getting somewhere with him, just slowly. I just needed to talk it over with someone. Please, just let me keep on trying. I promised you I'd cure him on my first day, remember?" Harley said, a spark igniting in her blue eyes.
"Are you sure, Dr. Quinzel?" Crane asked, staring at her over his glasses.
"Yes. I will cure The Joker."
Crane had found his interest in the new intern only growing with each passing day. The way she walked, laughed, spoke... everything was interesting to him.
She was brilliant. Smarter than many of his coworkers. He'd already promised her a job once she graduated, but she still had a long way to go before then.
He just imagined them working side-by-side forever. He wanted it dearly, more than anything else.
It was something he never would've thought that he'd want.
Dr. Quinzel had been working at Arkham for a two months now. She had gone through several patients. Some were declared sane, while others were transferred to new doctors. The only one that she had kept for the entire time was The Joker. He kept watching, seeing what she did. She handled it very well, bt he was starting to worry. The Joker kept trying to get her to do something, but he didn't know what it was yet.
He was starting to worry that they'd lose her. He'd first assigned her the Joker because he'd wanted to see it happen, to watch her life crumble before her eyes because of a man locked in a cell. But now, he just wanted to see her smile every day. He wanted to see her working and thriving.
He had to end it. He couldn't lose her.
He'd left something in Joker's cell, just a key hidden under his pillow. Joker had used that to his advantage and fled the scene without another word. He'd only been declared missing an hour ago.
He'd be back before too long. Jonathan could send easily send the police an anonymous note about his hiding places. He'd been compiling a list from what he'd figured out from his own minimal conversations with the Joker.
The door to his office opened, and a familiar voice filled the room. "You wanted to see me, Dr. Crane?"
"Ah, thank you. Please sit down. I wanted to talk o you about The Joker," He said. Her eyes widened, but she nodded and sat down next to him.
"The Joker? What about him?"
"He's gone. He seems to have escaped."
"Escaped... but he promised that-" She cut herself off suddenly, then began to speak again in a quieter voice. "He said he wouldn't' do that. He told me that he wanted to get better!"
"He's promised a lot. He hasn't kept a single one of them," Crane said, rolling his eyes.
"I suppose I should write that up on his file?" she asked, biting her lip.
"That won't be necessary. I am transferring The Joker to a different Psychologist when he returns," Doctor Crane stated, looking at his watch. He had to leave soon. He didn't want drama, if he could avoid it.
"But I was making so much progress with him! Why stop now?" She asked, her voice near to a whine.
"Because he has killed more therapists than I would like to admit. It's dangerous for a novice like you to continue working with him. He;s obviously lied to you and manipulated you, and I can't let it go any further. You'll be killed."
"If he's so dangerous, why did you assign him to me in the first place?" Harley demanded, slamming her fist onto her desk.
He stopped for a second. The truth was that he wanted to scare her, to see her crumble under the stress. He couldn't tell her that, could he?
He decided to only tell her a part of it. To twist the full truth. "I wanted to scare you. Most interns don't realize the… strain that their job imposes. So I gave you a patient who could get into your mind. One who could show you exactly what we deal with in Arkham."
"But I wasn't scared. He never did anything to harm me, mentally or otherwise," She said, suddenly confused. "The most he's done was not keep a promise..."
"I know. That is exactly how he is getting into your head. You'll be given Pamela Isley instead. I'm certain you've heard of her. It should fill your need for a 'big personality'."
Harley sighed and nodded, feeling tears well up. She wouldn't cry in front of her boss.
"Goodbye, Dr. Quinzel. I apologize for leading you astray.
Nighttime at Arkham was something that normally scared people.
It was thrilling to Jonathan Crane. The shadows, the screaming… it all was beautiful. So much knowledge lay waiting in the dark… waiting for him to stumble upon it.
His tests had overtaken his life. He rarely thought of anything else now. He'd only been able to drive one man to the breaking point, but it just proved that it was possible. His formula would be perfected one day, then the world could be changed for the better. After all, what is the life of a few criminals as payment for a full understanding of the world's greatest power?
"Fear." The word rolled off his tongue smooth as silk and cold as ice. The word held power. The poor patient squirmed as he took the syringe in his hand, filled with what he was sure would be a success. So many hallucinogens... so much funding behind this one drug… it was almost as if that syringe was filled with his own life force.
But isn't that what fear is? To fear is to survive another day, and to never fear is to die. Fear was ingrained in people because it kept people alive.
The needle slipped easily into the patient, who gasped at the pain. He watched as the toxin entered her bloodstream… and he waited. Waited for success.
"What..?" The woman gasped, her pupils dilating dramatically almost immediately. "Where did…" She stopped speaking, breathing heavily. Then she screamed.
Crane smiled beneath his mask. The toxin was more fast-acting than his last had been. So long as the effects lasted for more than a few seconds, this formula would be a great basis for many new ones.
So many possibilities riding on this one singular test.
She looked about her as if surrounded and screamed again. Crane stuffed a rag into her mouth, and stood back, observing her motions.
Then he heard the door close behind him.
He whipped around, feeling his heart rate rise dramatically. He ran to the door, his long, spindly legs taking him there in only a few strides. He whipped the door open and held his needle tightly. He really didn't want to get rid of a body tonight, but what had to be done had to be done.
He looked down the hallway, only to see his new intern sprinting down the hallway as fast as she could.
He sighed. This would be even harder to cover up than if it had been the night guard. She wasn't even supposed to be here anymore.
He couldn't kill her anyways. He'd grown to respect her too much. He was fairly certain that his other coworkers would drive him insane if she wasn't there.
"Dr. Quinzel? What are you doing down here?" He said, trying to keep his voice cool and calm. The intern looked back, her blue eyes wide as he approached her. She was frozen to her spot as she looked up at him.
He'd never felt so tall as he did now. Her fear filled him with energy. Power surged through his blood like never before.
She'd never looked so beautiful to him as she did now.
"I-I just needed s-some p-painkillers..." She stammered out. He removed his mask, smiling as her eyes widened again. "Dr. Crane? ...What are you doing?" She asked quietly, glancing back at the door. Muffled screams were coming from behind it.
"Succeeding," Dr. Crane said, "Greatly succeeding." He released her shoulder and stared her in the eyes. "You are a bright girl, Dr. Quinzel. I'd rather not have to get rid of you. So are you going to keep this little run-in a secret?"
"This isn't right, Dr. Crane. Whatever you're doing, it's hurting others," Harley said, furrowing her brow.
"Alright then… perhaps we could trade. You keep my secret, I'll keep yours," he offered. Harley looked up at him, her eyes betraying herself.
He already knew that she'd been sneaking in to see the Joker, but now she'd all but admitted it.
"I don't know what you mean, Dr. Crane. I have nothing to hide," She said, smiling nervously. He'd seen her manipulate the other workers into doing little tasks for her, bu now that she was under stress, her skills seemed to have dissolved. He shook his head.
"Perhaps I am thinking of another one of my interns who sneaks into the C wing late at night to visit cell 44." Harley stepped backwards, shaking her head.
"I haven't been-"
"I've known from the beginning," he said, a sinister smile spreading across his face.
"And you never exposed me... why?" She asked.
"I never exposed you, no." He stopped there, not even sure about why he didn't report it. It was more than enough to get her fired for good and ruin her career. He normally would have enjoyed watching her life spin out of control after that.
There was something different about her. He didn't want her to leave. She was the only coworker that he was ever excited to see and to talk with.
Harley looked down, hiding her blue eyes behind her bangs, before looking back up at him, something shining in them that stood out from the fear that he'd seen in them only moments ago. The same determination that she'd shown when she was fist assigned The Joker. He noted the familiar expression.
"Deal. I… I won't tell," Harley said quickly before turning her face away from her boss. "May I please have some painkillers, though? The Joker just used my last one."
Jonathan Crane sighed. There was now a loose end that he couldn't quite bring himself to take care of. It'd be easy to finish her off. Flood her office with some potent toxin and wait for her to die from heart failure. Simple, easy, and almost untraceable. Sure, the toxin itself would be easy to find, but who could trace it to him? The crime was flawless, easy. It was power.
But he couldn't do it. Jonathan Crane had always thought his heart cold and dark, but he was wrong.
She was brilliant. She was beautiful. She was manipulative. She was perfect.
Somehow, The Master of Fear had fallen in love.
A.N: Here is the first re-written chapter. It's just all the flashback scenes combined into one really big one. I'll get the next one up (hopefully) this week, but finals are coming up soon. I'll try and get these out as fast as I can, though.