I only wondered if Patel had sent me to the wrong room for about a second, before I remembered who I was talking about.

It was Patel, firstly. He never got anything wrong. Especially not when it involved the Joker.

So that left me with the only other explanation: He had sent me in here on purpose.

As I pressed my back against the door and tried to sort through my thoughts (which was quite hard, at the moment. It was like my brain was in overdrive), the Joker was being quite considerate.

He stared up at me, his lips pressed together tightly, the corners tugging slightly upwards. He drummed his cuffed hands on the table erratically, not actually having any beat but there was still something rhythmic about it.

I didn't dare look at him again. I needed to think, and it was easier to stare at the wall and pretend he wasn't there.

So, this is what everything had been leading up to? This was why Patel and Leland had seemed so guilty?

I wasn't scared anymore, oh no. Now, now I was angry.

I wouldn't have denied a chance to work with The Joker, no matter how crazy it was for someone like me. What I would have liked, however, was a little bit of heads up. Most people like to be warned when they're about to walk into a room with a deranged killer.

But why didn't anybody tell me I was to be given the Joker? Was I the last person they could turn to, and thought I would say no if they were to offer it to me?

I quickly dismissed it. No way. These people were psychologists and psychiatrists—there's no way they didn't see how much I wanted to prove myself to them. They must have known I would jump on the chance to get the Joker.

So then…why?

I didn't have any more time to ponder, however, for it seemed the Joker's patience had a limit.

He leaned back easily in his chair, smacking his lips a few times and waving his arm through the air, offering me to take the seat across from him.

I cleared my throat and hastily pushed up my glasses, attempting to regain my composure, and most importantly, authority. After backing away in fear upon sight of him, though, any chance of authority I may have had was probably gone.

The chair creaked beneath my weight and I crossed my legs, shaking the foot of my top leg.

I had nothing prepared for him. What should I say? Talk about? If everybody else had such a hard time with him, why would I succeed? Was this why Patel sent me in? Did he think my inexperience might be an advantage?

I cleared my throat, ready to speak, but the Joker beat me to it.

"Sooo," He drawled, picking up his hand and waving it at me lazily. "Yet another one of, uh,—" He let his eyes rake over me, and started to draw circles with his index finger as he pointed at me. "—you?"

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. I didn't know if he was playing with me this early into the game, but I took the bait anyhow.

"Another one of me? I'm guessing you mean another doctor? Well, I understand seeing multiple doctors as you have can be tiring, b—"

The Joker shut me up by slamming one hand on the table, followed by a hasty string of "shh, sh, shh" 's.

He looked up at me again, and even though he wasn't wearing his greasepaint, his eyes were still oddly…dark—as if the greasepaint had soaked into his skin and left a permanent mark. It almost looked like he was wearing a small touch of eyeliner around his eyes, not to mention the dark circles under them as well.

"Now, now, now. Don't just go…assuming stuff. I wasn't done talking yet, doc." Then he watched me to see If I would continue talking, and when it was clear I was willing to let him finish, he leaned forward, suddenly full of energy.

"See, I'm talking about you. You as a person. Did you know, doc, that you're the third young and bee-utiful lady they've sent in to, uh, cure me?" Then he looked at me, raising his eyebrows as if it was obvious what was going on, and shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he licked his lips.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at. Are you saying I'm only being assigned to you because I'm a woman?" I wasn't really all that offended, I was more curious as to if this was true or not, and why he thought that.

He chuckled then and rocked in his chair, sitting up straight once again. "Oh, I'm not saying anything, Doc. Just making a simple, ah, observation. But enough about me. Why do you think you're here?"

I'll let you know when I find out.

Yeah, right. I straightened up too, then, looking him straight in those dark eyes. "I'm your psychologist. My purpose is to help you; nothing more, nothing less."

"Nothing more?" He drawled, licking his lips as he looked up in thought. The next second, though, they snapped back to me. "Are ya sure?"

I knew his lip licking was nothing perverted, for I'd seen him in various news clips and photos; it seemed to be a tick, probably due to the scars. Even now, I could see his tongue moving along the insides of his cheeks, tracing his mutilated skin.

I didn't say anything. I still didn't fully grasp what he was saying. What, did he think Patel sent me in here to fulfill whatever the Joker's needs may be? That was ridiculous.

But then again, the look of guilt on their faces…I banished the thought. Mr. Patel was professional, and that was strictly against protocol. Not to mention I'd never agree to it, and this madman was more likely to kill me than anything.

"Now, don't get offended, Doc, but how's a guy supposed to take his doctor seriously…When she was only sent to, ah, be nice on the eyes?"

I realized how closely he was watching me, but I still let some sort of emotion slip, and it clearly reached my face, judging by his reaction.

"They don't take you…seriously, do they?" He leaned back, shaking his head slightly and letting his black eyes drift over to the orderly.

"Don't worry about it, doc. All these, uh, people, in here? They just can't handle someone a little different looking, y'know? How old are you, twenty-four? Five? Blonde hair, blue eyes, and not brain-dead like the rest of 'em. Of course they're not gonna take you seriously."

His analysis almost scared me. He got all that just because I reacted a tiny bit when he said he couldn't take me seriously? What was Patel thinking when he thought I could handle him?

Despite how nervous his assumption had made me, I made sure not to let it show this time.

"The business between my colleagues and I is none of your business, Mr. Joker. I'm here to talk about you." And then he got this look on his face—a sly one, and I could tell I wasn't going to like what came out of his mouth next.

"Is that so, doc? You looked pr-etty shocked when you first came in. Something…" And he leaned in further—the furthest he had so far, and I could see the decay on his teeth and a slight tint of brown in his black eyes. "…wrong?"

All of the saliva seemed to have abandoned my mouth, and I licked my dry lips, but my equally as dry tongue did nothing to help. I was scared of him, certainly, but that wasn't what scared me the most. What scared me the most was that I wanted to tell him.

And I wasn't even sure why.

"Nothing's wrong, I assure you. Now, if you'll let me do my job…"

The Joker raised his eyebrows once, his eyes half lidded as he looked at me. He leaned back in his chair, licking his lips as he did so, and held his hands out, as if to say 'go ahead'.

I doubted I'd get anywhere with it, but I went with the basics.

"Name?" I asked, positioning the clipboard on my lap, pen in hand as I waited for his response.

I waited, and when he didn't respond, I looked up at him. He just gave me a slight shrug, as if he didn't know either, and I sighed. "The Joker it is."

I was about to read the next question, but was swiftly interrupted by him.

"As much fun as 20 questions is, doc, I'm a give and take kind of guy. So, Doc. Name?"

I inwardly kicked myself. I had completely forgotten to give my name, which was supposed to be done first off. I quickly shook off the blame though, considering this was the Joker, and I could already tell things were just going to get more and more abnormal as we continued on.

But if he wasn't going to follow the rules, why should I?

"Harlequin," I said, smirking afterwards.

To my delight, the answer caused him to look up in surprise, his right eyebrow raised, but he soon lowered it and let out a deranged giggle as he rocked back and forth. I saw the orderly tense.

As his laughter died down, I began to speak again. "As you can tell, it's not my real name, but I've been called it before, so I think it will suffice. You're in no position to complain, however. Isn't that right, Joker?"

He didn't laugh this time—in fact, any trace of amusement was gone from his face. He leaned forward, rapidly licking his lips, and smiled. "You only get what you give, huh? I like ya, Doc. Yes I do."

I would never admit it, but part of me was glad to hear it. Someone as powerful, as crazy, as psychopathic as him hadn't declared me dead yet, and it was a start. I continued on with the questions.

My eyes scanned over the questions, and only now did I realize how robotic they were. Name. Age. Hobbies. Any childhood trauma. Etc.

I put the clipboard on the table and asked what I really wanted to ask.

I took a deep breath, and this time, it was my turn to lean forward. Our eyes met: his inky black polluting my ocean blue.
"Why do you do what you do?"

He made no move to answer, but only continued staring at me to the point where it was becoming uncomfortable.

Then, very suddenly, he shot up out of his chair and I flinched back so violently my chair almost fell backwards.

The orderly was already on his way over, but I held out a shaky hand to stop him, and when he continued coming, I shouted "Stop!"

The orderly was torn between listening to me, and obeying his duties. After a few moments, however, he retreated back to the wall, and the Joker was seated once more.

I regained my composure and tucked my seat back in, looking at him cautiously, but more than that, curiously.

"Everyone, they all think that I…feed, off of their fear. That I, uh, how did you word it? Do what I do? Because I like to see their fear." He smacked his lips and looked at me, unimpressed, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Fear is…Fear, is too easy. You were scared just now, little Harlequin, so if I really wanted to scare people…to, as they put it, feed off of their fear, why don't I just go around popping up in people's faces?"

My heart was still racing from his earlier scare, but I pondered what he was saying. Guilty, I had been one of those people who thought he did what he did to instill fear into people, but I knew there was more to it than that.

And now I was about to find out just what it was.

"I like…chaos. If money makes the world go 'round, then chaos brings it to a screeching halt. People, they can't believe when their predictably scheduled lives are thrown out of order! They don't live, they just exist. Like that gentleman over there."

and the Joker flicked his thumb over at the orderly pressed against the wall, whose jaw was now clenched due to the clowns attention. "He's a living being, like you, like me, but he's just…there. And that's how everyone is. I like to wrench them out of that order, out of their routine existence. And their, uh, fear? That's their own deal. Chaos breeds fear, and me? I breed Chaos. That's why, Doc, I'm here, sitting in front of you."

I didn't realize we were both leaning into each other until he held up his finger and poked me harshly in the forehead. I shot back, staring at him like an idiot.

He was charismatic, that was for sure. I used to wonder howhe even had henchmen. Now, it was clear.

I sat back up, recovering from his poke, and twirled the pen in my hand.
"So you admit that what you do is wrong? You understand why you're here?" I breathed, getting out a question just for the sake of questioning him. I couldn't just sit like a kid at story time.

"Wrong?" The Joker smacked his lips, smiling as he rested his crossed arms on the table. "There is no right or wrong. There's only what people think is right and wrong. Would you say killing people is bad, doc? Well, what if it's planned by the government? What about when it's people who deserve to die? Where does right end and wrong begin? What I'm doing isn't right or wrong, because, uh, those concepts you hold onto so dearly? They're just there to keep order, to keep civilization. And that's where I come in, little Harlequin. What I do isn't right or wrong, I just…do."

Any resentment I had for Patel assigning me the Joker was completely gone. In fact, I wanted to hug him for it.

Anybody who said the Joker was crazy, I saw now, was just wrong. The difference between him and most of the people here, I was beginning to see, wasn't that he was crazy, he just had different ideas.

I wasn't siding with him, but I saw where he was coming from, and his mind was so complex, I wouldn't be able to grasp all of his ideas if I tried.

"So, now, doc Harlequin, time for the million dollar question…" And the Joker placed his hands flat on the table, leaning forward and looking at me. "Am I…crazy?" He said, sounding so amused and serious at the same time.

"I don't think you're crazy, no. You just have different ideas." I answered honestly.

The Joker seemed surprised, lifting his hand to the left side of his chest in a show of mock appreciation, but I quickly went on: "The way you go about proving your ideas, however, is extreme, to say the least, and I do think it's best to have you locked up."

The Joker took his hand off of his heart and shrugged, giving me a 'to each his own' look, and I almost smiled. I wasn't done talking, however.

"If you're trying to make a point, or to make your voice heard, why do you go about it how you have been? As you said, the population assumes you only want to see their fear. Why not go about it in a more civilized way—"

and then I cut myself off, and the Joker looked amused when I did so. I had just put my foot in my mouth.

One of the things he stood for was that civilization and order is a joke. So holding a civilized protest wouldn't make much sense, would it? I laughed quietly to myself, and when I looked up, the Joker was looking at me through half lidded eyes.

Before either of us could say anything more, the buzzer went off, indicating that our time was up, and I stood, gathering up the clipboard of questions and lined papers (neither of which I used) and tucked in my chair.

The Joker was still sitting, waiting for the orderly to come get him, and then the other entered both of them heaving him up and un-attaching him from the chair, but keeping him restrained.

When they stood him up, I noticed just how tall he was. I was only 5''5, so his height from my view was probably exaggerated, but he was taller than the orderlies, as well, who had to be at least 5''11.

As they passed, he clicked his tongue at me, chuckling as he turned away. He was out of sight in seconds, the orderlies hastily carrying him through the halls. Dr. Patel wasn't outside of the door like I thought he'd be, and so I went to my office, knowing he'd be there.

On the walk to my office I wasn't sure what to think. I had a right to be angry, certainly, since he shoved the Joker onto me without telling me. There had to be some rule against that, and I could get him into shit if I was really that petty, but I wasn't.

If anything, I should be grateful to him. He may have assigned me the Joker because of the reasons the man himself had said, or because he really did think my inexperience would be an advantage.

As much as I hated to admit it, I knew for a fact that it wasn't my skills in psychology that had landed me the Joker, but whatever it was, I was grateful I had it.

I burst into my office then, and Patel was pacing, his hands clasped and in front of his mouth. His nostrils were flared and he was staring at nothing—he looked just about ready to explode.

And explode he did.

"Harley!" He said upon seeing me, and turned, fast walking over to me. I closed the door behind me as he came up to me.

Despite my earlier thoughts, the stubborn part of me still wanted to be mad at him. It wasn't everyday you could snap at the Director—and with reason.

"What happened to me not being ready for him?" I demanded, and Patel looked shocked to see that I was mad and bringing this up. I was suddenly very glad I did.

"You want to talk about this? Harley, you ju—"

I cut him off, the rage I felt from earlier coming back earnestly now.

"So that's why you and Joan were acting so weird? I can't believe you sent me in there unknowingly! No time to prepare, not only for the session, but mentally! You probably didn't see me when I first walked in, since I doubt you had time to run to the surveillance room in that short time, but I was petrified. And he saw it. Do you think he'll ever take me seriously now?"

Patel's hands were balled up into fists and he held them up in front of him as he spoke, "That's not the issue here, Quinzel. The issue is that he's talking to you! I've tried everything, and the Joker was right, I had been sending in young women like you, in hopes that he might talk to them. But he didn't! Nothing I try has—"

"What?" I exclaimed. "He was right? I didn't get mad at the time because I didn't think you, out of all people, would—"

"Quinzel!" Patel barked, and I realized how heated it was getting. We were both leaning into each other, and my hands were balled into fists at my side. I loosened up, realizing how tense my shoulders were, and crossed my arms instead, looking at him.

"It's true that I had sent in some young women previously just to see if it would have a different affect on him, but It didn't. That's not why I sent you in, though. I swear."

My arms were still crossed firmly across my chest. "So? Why did you send me in? We both know it's not because of my exceptional skills as a psychologist." I said bitterly, gaining some distance and leaning against the wall.

Patel sighed, and him not being one to worry about hurting feelings, didn't sugarcoat anything. "You're right," he said, and I didn't react. "Before you were at the asylum, we had people sent in from all over the world, trying different techniques on him, different methods, but nothings worked. He has talked before, like he did today, but not in quite some time."

I looked him in the eyes, uncrossing my arms. My curiosity was dominating my anger. "If he's talked to a Doctor well enough before, why not just send in the same type of person as last time?"

Patel scratched his stubble, staring at the floor, his mouth pressed into a tight line. "I'm not proud of it, but I've tried. The only other time the Joker has talked this much was when we assigned him an…elderly doctor, in his late seventies, and he was in one of the final stages of his illness. He was due to die in two weeks, and I think that's why the Joker spoke to him so much. Something about his mortality, maybe."

Patel sighed deeply, and put his hand on his forehead, looking exactly like a little kid who had just disobeyed his mother. "I'm not proud of it, but after that, when things got desperate, I searched for other individuals who's…time, was running out. Psychologist or not."

He looked up at me then, and when he was met with my blank face, he was surprised. Almost as if he were expecting a look of disgust or horror on my face.

"It was no use, though," he continued, smiling bitterly. "Turns out, most people, in their final days don't want to spend it in a small room for an hour, accompanied by The Joker."

Patel took off his glasses and put them in his pocket, and I bit the inside of my cheek. Call me a sucker, but now whatever anger I held was gone.

"I'm not dying, am I, Doctor Patel?" I asked airily, trying to lighten the mood, or at least the heavy atmosphere. "So why me?"

"I apologize, Quinzel. It's not that you aren't a gifted psychologist, but you were correct when you presumed I didn't send you in for your skills."

I didn't react. That much I already knew.

"It was a gamble," He continued, suddenly sounding very tired. "The Joker's seen the best of the best, psychiatrists and psychologists who are world renowned, and still they do nothing for him. So why you? Like I said, it was a gamble, but I did a complete 180. Instead of sending in the best of the best, I decided to send in you, a young lady fresh out of college."

He looked at me then, and I just shrugged. I had been expecting this. No offense taken.

"You're not as refined as the rest of us, not as professional, and that's what he likes about you. That's why he spoke to you. The world renowned psychologists go in thinking they have it all in the bag, and he hates that. He see's you…" Patel waved his hand at me, looking me up and down. "And he sees a person. Not a robot."

I opened my mouth to respond, but then closed it. Judging by what the Joker had said in our session today, Patel's theory made sense.

"And even though you're worried about him not thinking of you as an authority figure, or being able to take you seriously due to your display of fear, that most likely gave you an advantage. He likes the fact that you're not as professional as the rest of us."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, what? Should I go into our sessions in sweats and eating potato chips from now on?"

That managed to wipe the solemn, serious look off of Patel's face, but he still didn't smile.

"No, He most likely likes the fact that you're trying to be serious, to be professional; like a little kid wearing a suit, trying to be on par with the grown-ups."

I felt a bit offended at that, and my face must have mirrored that, because Patel quickly waved his hands. "Just putting myself in the mind of the patient, Quinzel. No harm done."

"Speaking of Quinzel, Quinzel…" Patel continued, eyeing me and rubbing his stubble again. "You gave him a fake name. Luckily you're not wearing your identification tag today. I'll tell the others to refer to you as Harlequin from now on if the Joker is nearby."

I smirked at that, happy I had something against him, something that he didn't know about me since he seemed to know everything, and nodded.

"Well then, if that's all, I'll be leaving. If you have any questions, I'm in my office. I advise you not to prepare for any of your sessions together, and your next one will be on Thursday, two days from now. Sessions with him will be two days a week, and although today's was half an hour, the rest will be an hour."

I only nodded as Patel spat out all of the information hastily, and once he saw my confirmation, he was out the door. Probably to go look over the footage of our session and make his own notes, since I sure as hell didn't make any.

I made my way over to my desk and plopped down on the side of it, and after a few minutes, I laid down all the way.

If I thought that being a psychologist was tiring before, it was much more tiring now. The way The Joker spoke totally sucked you up, captivated you, and that half hour passed like it was nothing.

I almost fell asleep lying on my desk when an idea suddenly popped into my head, and I shot up, pulling open the top drawer of my desk and looking for the name tags.

Everybody at the asylum had a professional identification tag, and I luckily didn't have mine on today—it must have fallen off in the car—but I couldn't very well wear it for the time being.

I rummaged around in my desk drawer, searching for the dollar store name tags I had bought as a joke, and grinned when I found them, grabbing one and throwing it on the desk. I reached for the nearest pen and bent down, writing hastily on it.

I held it up and pinned it onto my lab coat when I was done, my smile growing wider, and stood in front of my black computer screen, studying my reflection.

My blonde hair was in a messy bun, my useless glasses perched on my nose, granting me an air of false professionalism. My lips were stretched into a satisfied grin, and a piece of paper was pinned onto my left breast.

Hello
my name is
 Harlequin

Thanks to the people who reviewed and told me you were interested—this chapters here thanks to you.

haha but wow something totally possessed me during this chapter. Their session was originally supposed to end when the joker suddenly shot up out of his chair, the reason being he saw the clock and that time was up, but then suddenly it just turned into…well, what you read.

This chapter was a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to writing more of their sessions together and what happens from there. And as always, reviews are greatly appreciated~