(A quick note from the author :
If you're reading this, I assume you've read 'Possibilities and Progress'. If not, I strongly suggest you do, otherwise this will not make a word of sense. Anyway, it's implied slash, of course, and if you're not into that sort of thing then please, just don't read it. I don't think I can take anymore page-long, possibly drunken rants about how horrible my writing is, especially since that was only my first story.
All annoyances aside, if you're about to read this, then, thank you! I hope you enjoy the story.)
Ultimately, Jonathan concluded as he crossed the street in the rain on his way home, what he had done was not at all professional.
He was, admittedly, not one for rules. In fact, at times Jonathan felt that rules were made to be broken, and he should know, having written quite a few of Arkham's himself. This most recent incident, however, had simply gone way, way too far.
You've never kissed a homicidal maniac before, Jonny, a voice giggled through the silence as he stepped inside and locked the door behind him. This worried Jonathan – Scarecrow wasn't known for speaking in tones more fitting love-struck teenage girls.
Jonathan figured it was a day for new experiences. In the morning, for example, he had actually slept in for an extra ten minutes. After that, he'd boldly switched to a new brand of coffee, which he had found utterly revolting, but that wasn't the point. He was trying new, exciting things.
Like masturbating in the shower, for example. And in the morning! Jonathan was rather proud of this newfound adventurousness.
The audacity continued long after he got dressed and went to work. He arrived at Arkham fashionably late, waltzed up to the iron doors, ignored, for once, the annoyingly chatty receptionist, and by the time he had reached his office he thought the whole day was going quite well.
And then he kissed the Joker.
It was ridiculous. It was unplanned, unorthodox, unexpected, and entirely, undeniably unprofessional.
Jonathan didn't regret it for a second.
The Joker, he thought, was truly 'something else'. He wasn't sure what exactly, but...
Something special, Scarecrow supplied, in a suspiciously mocking tone.
'Mm.' Jonathan mumbled in reply. It wasn't such a bad description in itself, 'Mmmmm.'
He smiled. Yes, that was quite an accurate explanation of that man and his perfect combination of charm, soft lips and cute-but-criminally insane sense of humour. And the laugh, of course.
Even if it weren't for all that, Jonathan still would have done it simply for the expression on the Joker's face after he'd kissed him. That one look, Jonathan thought, explained more about that man than any therapy session ever could.
So he had a weakness after all, Jonathan noted with somewhat of a sense of pride. The Joker was lonely. It didn't surprise Jonathan, not once he thought about it properly. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, possibly the most widely known of all things of its nature, dictated that feeling wanted was incredibly important for the human soul. Maslow, as other psychiatrists at Arkham had argued, had not based this study on those with psychotic symptoms, but rather on brilliant minds such as Albert Einstein, and therefore it could not be applied to someone such as the Joker.
Jonathan knew better. For one, the Joker was brilliant. Clearly, he was incredibly intelligent, not to mention witty. Secondly, and also contrary to the belief of the other psychiatrists at Arkham, the Joker was not psychotic. People assumed, because of all the horrible, depraved things he had done, that he was entirely out of touch with reality. Jonathan, however, had concluded that the Joker was entirely aware, at all times, of what he had been doing, and what's more, he was amused by it.
Jonathan's diagnosis was psychopathy, with possible Sadistic Personality Disorder (as if the first one wasn't enough). It made sense, of course; anyone who had spent more than an hour in the Joker's company could have figured it out. Jonathan, however, was the only person to have done that and lived to tell the tale.
It was clear, though, that like any normal person, the Joker knew exactly what he was doing.
Like any normal person, sometimes he got lonely.
Aww, and he was lonely for you, Dr Crane! The voice Jonathan called Scarecrow cooed.
Jonathan blushed furiously at this. 'It's not like that!'
Who are you trying to convince, Jonny? Scarecrow said, rather patronisingly, and disappeared.
Alone, for once, Jonathan couldn't help but to worry.
Oh god... What was I thinking? I'll never live this down... I mean, it was spontaneous and sweet and lovely and all, and my god, he's so pretty, and he seemed so lonely as well, but... I kissed a patient. That's insane. I must be insane. He's definitely insane.
That makes it worse!
Jonathan considered his own mental condition to be somewhat exempt from normal rules. He was, of course, a doctor, and entirely aware of his 'issues' and their effects. Besides, Scarecrow usually did as he was told. Usually.
He never shuts up, though. God, it's so annoying, being bullied by your own mind. I've half a mind to start taking the anti-psychotics again – pardon the pun. At least it's only us who know what happened. The Joker, Scarecrow and I.
No-one else could ever find out, it's just between him, us and the security camera.
Oh shit.
(Notes: Before writing this story, I did a bit of research. Six hours, a sleepless night and three pages of research notes on abnormal psychology later, I still don't really have the answers. But you can't say I didn't try.
For anyone who wondered, psychopathy and psychosis are different things. Many authors make the mistake of calling the Joker psychotic in the wrong context – while he is indeed immoral, cruel and incredibly impulsive, it appears as if he's aware of it, that is, he's not unaware of the situation he's in, or suffering from hallucinations or delusions. Therefore, psychopathic, not psychotic. Well, that's my diagnosis anyway.
Thanks for reading! It's been said before, but please, please review. Please.)