I do not own Batman, Joker, Gotham, or anything you may recognize. Charlotte is my own. First Joker story, so please leave your thoughts and critism!
"You are not to try to rehabilitate him; there is no saving him. Your job is to go in and listen to what he tells you, ask the questions that have been provided for you to ask. Don't give him any personal information, he'll get inside your head before you know what you've done. Having a therapist is all for the public. We have to make it look like we're trying to make some progress with him. We're not. I've lost too many good people because they listened to him. His previous therapist was checked into the lower parts of the asylum last night. Now, I'm not saying all this to try and scare you...no, actually, I am. If you don't think you can handle it, tell me now. I've had bigger men than you succumb to his mind games. No? Alright then, here we are. Steve, give her half an hour to start. Ms. Rayne, good luck."
Charlotte Rayne stood in front of a large white door feeling only slightly intimidated. She knew what she was getting into before the lecture on the way down here and was ready for everything Mr. Arkham told her. Charlotte was not a dumb girl, she researched everything about this asylum, about her new patient, and about his previous therapists. She was pretty sure she knew what she was getting into.
A burly man in a long white coat, now known as Steve, stood to the left of the door, arms folded across his chest. He wore a frown. Hard, slanted eyebrows shadowed hazel, mean eyes. When she looked up at him, he moved to unlock the door.
Charlotte nodded to him and he pulled the door open slightly.
"Half an hour," he told her.
"To start with," Charlotte replied. "I'll tell you if I need more."
She started to walk through the door, but was jerked back by a large hand on her shoulder.
"You're not to try to rehabilitate him," Steve said. His eyes stared into her own, trying to get the point across.
"I heard the lecture," Charlotte said coolly.
She swept passed him and into the therapy room, the door swinging shut in her wake.
The first thing she noticed upon entering was the state of the room, which could make the most sane person go crazy. It was entirely concrete with no paint or anything to liven the walls and nothing on the floors as cushion from the hard rock. Bright lights hung from the ceiling making a dull buzzing sound that was already annoying and in her head. One table stood in the center of the room and two chairs occupied it, one pushed farther away from the table - out of reach.
This was when Charlotte noticed the person taking up said chair. Old make-up caked his face, given only because when it was taken away he managed to slit a nurse's throat and use her blood as face paint. It was streaked with sweat and maybe rubbed off in his sleep and pieces of his real face showed through. His hair was a dull green, greasy and matted. He obviously hadn't showered in a while. He was wearing a plain white straight-jacket, wrapping his arms around his body. His feet were shackled to the floor so he couldn't move.
As she was studying him, he was also making his own judgments about her. Charlotte was dressed in a nice women's suit today and high-heeled shoes that were a little wobbly on the concrete floor. Her black hair was up in a bun so she wouldn't have to deal with it falling into her eyes while she was working. Her face was heart-shaped with blue eyes and a small, upturned nose. Her lips fit the rest of her face nicely. She was average height and seemed built in some way, but she looked fragile and easily breakable.
Charlotte moved to the chair nearest the table and sat down, smiling easily at her patient.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Charlotte Rayne," she introduced.
The man across from her grinned, looking up at her from under his eyebrows. "Hi," he replied.
"Isn't it proper to introduce yourself as well?" Charlotte asked.
He flipped his green hair and leaned forward as much as his current position allowed him to.
"I'm the Joker," he said.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Joker," Charlotte greeted, feeling that the usual approach to a man like him would get her nowhere. Perhaps starting out as if everything was normal would be a good way to begin her work.
After all, why would he want to talk to her if she treated him like he was insane? Every other person he'd been with wanted to poke and prod at him, to cure him, to find out what was going on inside him head and he killed them. Maybe a different approach to this situation could save her life. Maybe she was simply wasting her time.
The Joker grinned and sat back in his chair as if he wasn't in a straight jacket in a concrete cell. If she didn't know any better, she might say that this conversation was on his terms and that they weren't in an asylum at all. They could have been meeting for the first time at a coffee shop, the way he was acting.
"The pleasure is all mine, Charlotte," he replied, smacking his lips before his tongue darted out to lick them.
Charlotte almost asked him to call her Doctor, but she didn't think that would go over very well. Being on a first name basis with him wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, but whatever made him comfortable, she supposed would have to do.
When she didn't immediately respond to his statement, the Joker continued, "Char, Chuck, Charlie. Do you like the name Charlie? I think it fits you rather nicely."
At this, Charlotte could no longer let him go on.
"I'd prefer it if you called me Dr. Rayne or Charlotte, if that makes you more comfortable," she told him.
Joker licked the corner of his mouth and nodded his head, "Oh, sure, sure. Charlotte it is then."
She was thankful that he didn't make a big deal over the name. This wasn't nearly as bad as what they'd made it out to be. Yet. It was still only her first day, not even the first half hour and he was probably testing her, pushing her limits like a child seeing how far they could go with a substitute teacher. He would want to know how far he could go before he could break her.
"Thank you," Charlotte said, looking down at the file she'd placed on the table.
The Joker cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to speak again.
"Now, I'm sure you didn't come here just to chit-chat, although I wouldn't be opposed," he laughed. "You are my new therapist."
Charlotte finished looking over her papers and faced the mad-man readily, shrugging her shoulders.
"What would you like to talk about?" she asked.
Joker rolled his head as he thought about this, taking the question to heart before answering it. His tongue darted out to slide over his lips again and he chewed on the inside of his cheeks where his scars were.
"Let's talk about you," he answered. "Why are you here? Why is a pretty thing like you interested in talking to someone like me?"
This was a dangerous topic and Charlotte shook her head, "No, I want to talk about you today. Maybe we'll talk about me tomorrow."
He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Everyone always wants to hear about me. I'm not pretty or kind like you, but no one wants to talk about those things. What do you want to hear me say?"
"Tell me something about yourself, just one thing no one else has ever heard before and then you don't have to talk about anything else today," Charlotte compromised.
It gave the man pause and he thought about it for a second, before nodding.
"And then you'll tell me something about you, something I don't already know or can guess," he told her.
Charlotte thought over this addition to the compromise, but she didn't really see a way out of it so she agreed.
The Joker flashed a grin, showing his yellowed teeth for a moment before he paused to think over what he would tell her. Charlotte wondered if he would tell her something worth while or if he would make up a lie. She'd heard of the stories he made up about his scars; they always changed and were only told before he murdered a person. That was one story she would wait to ask him about, for sure.
Teeth nawed on too red lips until they looked like they were about to bleed. Joker's black eyes watched her, sizing her up and contemplating what he would tell.
"My birth name was not the Joker," he finally stated.
Disappointed, Charlotte sighed, "Everyone knows that."
"Tut! I wasn't finished," Joker reprimanded. "It did start with a J."
Not nearly as much as she might've hoped for, the therapist was happy with this as a start. She grinned just a little at having this information.
"Your turn, Charlie," Joker reminded, once again leaning forward in his chair.
Charlotte almost reminded him of her earlier request to be called by a proper name, but decided to ignore it. Being annoyed with the nickname might just be asking for him to use it more. Now she had bigger things to think about anyway, like what she would tell him about herself.
Across from her, Joker waggled his eyebrows in anticipation of her answer.
At last, she decided what she would tell him and she smiled a little because she was using his answer and turning it back on him.
"My birth name is Charlotte Ember Rayne."