Chapter 2:

When the door to the small, spare room at last opened, Dr. Harkins stood abruptly, bracing himself for what he was about to confront. A large, burley looking man entered, walking over to the table and chairs situated in the center, and began scanning above and below each piece of furniture, feeling his hands along the edges and surfaces. When he appeared satisfied he turned again and left. Dr. Harkins was a bit puzzled and remained standing, watching the door intently. A few moments later, it again swung open, led once more by the same, big man from before, followed closely behind by The Joker and another guard walking directly behind him, his hands pressed against the inmates back.

The Joker was led to the table, a few feet in front of Dr. Harkins, who stared unabashedly at his new patient. The madman's appearance, Harkins had to admit, was striking, something he hadn't exactly prepared for. The contrast of the two, heavily built and muscular guards on either side of his emaciated looking, bony frame added to the affect, as did their moderately tanned skin in comparison to his paper white tone. And he was tall. Extremely tall, hovering above even the 6 foot plus men flanking him, and making Dr. Harkins 5 feet, 11 inches look decidedly short. His hair was a dark green, almost black or blue if seen in the right light, and hung in short, straight strands behind his ears and a little over his forehead, just above his eyes. And what eyes they were. Dr. Harkins was caught momentarily in them; they're pale shade of green reminding him of a lime fruits flesh. They stared back at the psychiatrist with an unusual intensity and concentration, unmoving. What struck Jeremy most though, what really threw him off balance, was that The Joker, despite his unusual coloration, was actually handsome. His nose was long, but straight and not hooked like was often depicted in cartoon representations of him, his cheekbones were high and pronounced, his lips were a dark red but not too large or too thin and his brow ridge seemed to flow seamlessly in to his forehead. It was bizarre.

"Ahem…" the doctor cleared his throat to begin, trying to ignore the feeling of intimidation creeping up on him. "Good morning Mr… uh, Joker." He said, sticking his hand out.

The Joker's hands were shackled together by heavy-duty cuffs with a short chain between either end, and the same linked his feet, with a longer chain connecting the two sets together up the middle.

"That's not really a good idea Sir." One of the two guards suddenly spoke up.

"Hmm?" Dr. Harkins looked up at the man. "I'm sorry?"

The guard nodded his head towards Harkins outreached hand.

"It's probably best you don't make physical contact." He warned one more time.

The psychiatrist looked momentarily bewildered before bringing his hand back slowly. "Oh." He said, absentmindedly, before his eyes flicked back to The Joker, who was now smiling. Harkins was in for another shock as he realized how his new patients grin seemed to completely change his appearance. It seemed to stretch from ear to ear, the corners of his mouth nearly reaching to the center of each cheek, and his face became suddenly menacing. Not like a regular smile, where a person's face might light up or look joyous, no, The Joker's smile made him look mean, cruel even.

Dr. Harkins felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end and he looked away, clearing his throat one more time before quickly taking his seat.

"Let's begin, shall we?" He managed to say.

The two guards sat The Joker down in his seat, further cuffing his arms to the chair before stepping back and standing directly behind him.

"Mr. Joker, my name is…"

"Just Joker." He suddenly spoke.

"… very well." Dr. Harkins answered uneasily. "My name is…"

"I already know who you are." The Joker spoke again.

Dr. Harkins was taken aback by the sound of his patient's voice. It was calm and even, just barley above a whisper. Completely at odds with what the therapist had imagined it would sound like. The voice he heard in his mind had, for some reason, been that of a high pitched, maniacal, jarring sound, not the soft, even relaxing voice he heard now.

"You… do?" The doctor asked.

"Dr. Jeremy Shanning Harkins." The Joker continued. "1999 Harvard Medical graduate, top 2% of your class, former psychiatric residency at two of New York's and Metropolis' more prominent mental institutes."

Dr. Harkins looked dumbstruck. No one had told him that The Joker too would be informed of who his new psychoanalyst was. He tried to remain calm.

"I wasn't aware you were briefed on my credentials." He spoke with measure.

Suddenly The Joker laughed, and it was as terrible as his smile had been. This sound was high pitched and sharp, utterly uncontained and uninhibited, a complete contrast to his speaking voice. It was mad, frightening.

"Oh, dear Doctor, I wasn't briefed on anything. I just simply know!"

Dr. Harkins felt mildly ill. This was no good. They'd been in session less then five minutes and The Joker was already making him look like a jack ass.

"I don't see how you could have known those things unless you were told." Dr. Harkins tried to regain his footing.

Again The Joker laughed.

"I know everything I want to know Dr. Harkins." He answered smoothly.

"And I like to know who it is that is "treating" me." He smiled again.

Dr. Harkins heard Dr. Bartholomew's voice in his mind, telling him not to let The Joker turn the questions on him and to keep his focus on the patient. "Damn it."

"That's all very well Joker." The psychiatrist began again. "But let's talk about something else for a moment."

The Joker didn't respond.

"Do you have a real name?"

The Joker suddenly looked intensely uninterested, his eyes wondering away from Harkins to the light overhead and then behind the therapist.

"Well?" Dr. Harkins pushed.

"It must be some sort of written requirement." The Joker spoke at last. "You always start with the same questions."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Harkins asked.

"Joker."

The doctor looked completely lost.

The Joker rolled his eyes, clearly agitated and impatient.

"My real name…" He offered.

"That can't be the name you were born with." Dr. Harkins countered.

"How does that matter?"

"Well, it matters in a lot of ways." The Doctor began, feeling as though maybe he was finally gaining the upper hand. "By continuing to refer to yourself as "The Joker", you're also continuing to harbor and support the persona you've created to go along with it."

The Joker smiled wide before chuckling in a lower, more subdued register then his previous hysterics.

"Very good, Dr. Harkins. You've managed to come up with the same, drab, predictable diagnosis that every other two-bit hack therapist before you has, only you've done so in record time! My, my, I must be in over my head with such an astute observer. Of course, I suppose studying that voluminous case file you've got there helped you in reaching your ultimate conclusions."

"Its common behavior for individuals suffering from disassociation or MPD to create an alternate na…"

The doctor was cut off by The Joker suddenly lunging forward in his seat, bringing his face mere inches from the psychiatrists. The guard's moved forward, ready to pull the mad man back in to his seat, but Harkins put his hand up, stopping them.

"It's fine." He said. He was determined not to let The Joker intimidate him, or at least not to show he was intimidated.

"Do you really believe there's anything common about me, dear doctor?" The Joker whispered, a subtle smile across his lips.

The therapist swallowed. "You display the classic symptoms of several, well documented mental disorders." He began.

The Joker pulled away, throwing his head back and roaring with laughter.

"Oh, Dr. Harkins, you and I are going to have so much fun together." He finally managed after several minutes, needing to catch his breath. "More fun perhaps then even I previously estimated."

The doctor just stared at him, blankly.

The Joker's demeanor changed just then, suddenly, and his face became very serious.

"Persona is the incorrect terminology doctor. There is no one else inside here." He lifted his hands towards his head. "Just Joker." He stared Harkins in the eyes with immense focus, unblinking.

"Mmhmm." Dr. Harkins looked down and began writing on his fresh note pad.

"Overwhelming, narcissistic, egomaniacal tendencies."

"Excuse me?" The therapist looked up.

"That's what you just wrote on the paper there, isn't it?" The Joker grinned.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Harkins tried to sound calm.

The Joker just continued smiling.

Without really being aware, Dr. Harkins turned the note pad face down.

"How the hell did he know that?"

"Tell me Dr. Harkins, you're an awfully driven man, aren't you? You certainly fought hard to be here. Lobbying to poor, old Dr. Bartholomew day and night. You must be determined to prove something. Maybe to yourself? Maybe to everyone else? Which is it dear doctor?"

Again Harkins was bum rushed, confused as to how The Joker could know about his efforts to land him as a patient. He tried to not show his discomfort.

"I won't play these games with you Joker."

"Some nagging feeling of inadequacy, deep down in your heart perhaps. Despite all you've achieved, you're telling yourself you could have been so much more, that you could have had some private practice to the stars maybe, and lord knows they need it. But instead you've ended up in here, treating a bunch of psychopathic social deviants."

"Shut up. I won't play this game with you." Dr. Harkins cut in sharply.

"Oh, but you're already playing doctor. Don't you realize? You're already part of the game." The Joker responded immediately, not losing any ground. "But don't fret any, I'm your star. I'm as big and as famous as they come, aren't I? Oh yes Dr. Harkins, you and I are going to have a great deal of fun together."