I wouldn't get to see the Joker today.

That was my first real thought as I woke up that morning. I wouldn't see him and got the distinct feeling that my work day would be dull as a result.

I'll admit that it wasn't a particularly healthy frame of mind. I was a doctor who was charged with helping patients. Plural. Yet as I dressed and gathered my things, I knew that they all paled in comparison with the Joker. There were plenty of violent, intelligent patients in Arkham, plenty of crazies who attached personas to their new lifestyles, but none like him. Not really.

He was wholly unique, completely new, and damnit was he fascinating.

My first session wasn't until 10 that morning, so it gave me time to finish up a bit of paperwork in my office and head down to the employee's lounge for some vending machine wonders. After I'd gotten my chocolate fix, I sat down on the couch at the far end of the room and opened up the thick file on the Joker. I'd read it all multiple times, but I never got tired of it.

"I can't do it anymore!" A shrill female voice tumbled down the hall and into the lounge before I could bolt. Alyce Sinner stormed into the lounge and threw down a file onto one of the many round tables situated throughout the room. She was quickly joined by Dr. Leland who was looking a bit panicked.

"Have you seen those pictures?" Sinner asked. When Leland didn't respond, she flipped open the file and pointed to one. From where I was sitting I got a brief flash of blood, so it meant those were the crime scene photographs of Zsasz's victims. I had seen them.

"Normally he slits their throats, but the newest ones," she flung the pictures around to find the one she wanted, not caring that most ended up on the floor. "Look! It's disgusting, and the way he describes it…" Dr. Sinner slumped down into a chair, starring at the pictures with her head in her hands. "He's a monster."

"He's a serial killer." I corrected, closing my own file and tucking it back into my briefcase. Both doctors turned to me with varying expression of dislike and Leland crossed her arms.

"He kills these people because he thinks he has to. He thinks he's helping them."

"Yes, Quinzel, I've read your diagnosis." Sinner said just a bit too snootily for my taste. "Manic depression, was it? He kills because he's sad?"

She was making fun of me and I had only wanted to consol her, though apparently I'd done a shit job. So, arching a brow I moved to grab the fallen pictures and plop them down right in her line of sight. I won't lie, watching her recoil was almost as satisfying as my chocolate bar had been.

"He kills because he has lost everything and thinks that life is meaningless, so yes, as you so aptly put it, he kills because he's sad." I pointed at one of the women. Zsasz had positioned her in her favorite armchair to make it look as if she had fallen asleep with a book, something she often did according to her husband. When the man had come home from the movies with their three daughters, it had been the youngest who found her, throat cut and gathering flies.

"Victor sees us all as zombies, he thinks that by killing he is saving us from the despair of being alive. The tallies on his body are to mark all the lives he's saved."

Sinner pushed the images away and turned angry eyes on me. "He's delusional, I realize that! He tells me all about the things he's done to women, the way he's 'ended' some of them and it's…I mean he's just so proud of it."

"In his mind, he's helping people. He has every reason to be proud." When she sniffled and turned away I felt a tiny twinge of pity. She was new to this, and didn't quite know how to deal with such violent patients yet. It had been a mistake for Arkham to assign her a case like Victor Zsasz so early.

"Listen, it gets easier." I said, touching her shoulder, "He told me those things too. In fact, he described how he would save me when he got the chance. He's got a special place for my mark when he liberates me."

Dr. Sinner's head snapped up to face me at that and she scowled. It seemed he had done the same to her. "It gets better?" she cried incredulously.

Leland, who had been silent until now, touched her shoulder timidly, "Alyce, why don't we-"

"You're telling me I should just listen to it like the fucking weather?" She laughed harshly and shook her head, "Well, forgive me, Dr. Quinzel, but I'm not that heartless yet. I just haven't reached your level."

That did it. The pity disappeared and was replaced by rage.

"You're right. You're nothing like me." I smiled savagely gripping my briefcase until my fingers went numb, "I realized when I applied here that this was an institute for the criminally insane. Do you know that we house some of the most depraved minds in Gotham? Did you know that Waylon Jones is a cannibal? That Jervis Tetch not only lusts after his Alice character in girls, but has begun dismembering them as well to preserve their innocence? Victor Zsasz is not the last murderer you'll come across by a long shot. He isn't even the most creative, but if you can't handle that doctor then I think you should seriously reconsider your choice in career."

Sinner's mouth opened in shock that I had yelled at her and I stormed passed her to the door. Just before I left however, I turned back to her, noting with a small amount of pleasure the tears in her eyes.

"The reason he is so descriptive with you, is because he knows you can't handle it." I smiled again, "It's a game, Doctor, and you fell right into it."

With that, I left and wasn't surprised to hear something thump against the wall where I had been standing. I didn't regret what I'd said, it was the truth. She had obviously chosen the wrong career and the sooner she realized that, the better off she would be. Until then, let Victor torment her, it would be a good lesson.

I'm not sure where I was walking. It was only 9 and I still had an hour before I saw any of my patients. When I finally focused on my surroundings I was near the cafeteria and it was breakfast time for the general population. (i.e. the non-violent patients) Small groups of orderlies and patients moved through the halls down toward the cafeteria, some shuffling absently, some completely aware of their surroundings and constantly moving. My eyes fell on one rather tall patient and I almost laughed at my good fortune. Feeling the first layer of fury melt off me, I hurried to his side.

"Good morning, Jonathan." I smiled brightly.

The former Dr. Crane paused in his walk down the hall, quirking an eyebrow in question. He didn't smile, Jonathan never really smiled, and when he did it was more of a leer. It meant he was about to do something awful.

"Dr. Quinzel." He said by way of greeting. In the last month, Crane had been allowed more privileges, such as rec-room activities and the occasional, supervised, outdoor excursion. Since he'd stopped attacking the nurses and orderlies, they didn't even make him wear restraints anymore. There were days I pitied him. His life had been this job, in the power he held over the asylum and in his title as doctor. Now he was only Crane, patient 52576. No power, no respect, and honestly, I think being locked in here was doing worse for his psyche then his fear gas had.

"Hey, uh doctor?" The orderly chaperoning smiled nervously; obviously he hadn't been here long. "I gotta get him to the cafeteria, so if you-"

"I will escort him, thank you." I said watching Crane. His cold, blue eyes shifted to the orderly, then back to me wondering if the guy would go for it.

"I don't know doc, I'm not supposed to let him out of my sight till we get to the caff."

"That won't be necessary." I said, "You're not going to hurt me, are you Jonathan?"

He shrugged. "It would delay my eating schedule."

It took him a minute, he obviously wasn't used to Crane's cavalier attitude about violence, but thankfully, he shrugged and stepped back.

"Yeah…um..I'll just be back to pick him up after then?"

"Good for you." I smiled then looped my arm through Crane's and began to lead him down the hall. It was slightly awkward, being that I was little under 5'7" and he was a few inches passed 6 feet.

"You're in a sour mood." He commented, keeping his eyes ahead. "Is there anything you'd like to share?"

I sighed; of course he would see it. Being insane didn't mean he'd lost his knack for the job. Crane was a brilliant psychologist, it was part of the reason he'd been so terrifying when he'd lost it. His ability to read people was uncanny. Dangerously so.

"I had a…disagreement with one of my coworkers." I said with a frown. I really shouldn't have been telling him this, but it was Jonathan. Crazy or not, I'd worked with him and he was just easy to talk to.

On his good days.

"Oh?" Crane replied, finally looking down at me. "Which one?"

"Alyce Sinner," I replied, even her name tasted hateful on my tongue, "Insipid little brat."

Crane chuckled, which meant he was in a rare good mood, or that he'd taken all of his meds today. "Ah yes. The new girl. I take it Mr. Zsasz is not being easy on her. Not that he ever is."

"How did you know she was treating Victor?" I asked stopping in the middle of the hallway and pulling away from him.

Crane gave a rare little half-smile, "There is little else for me to do here. Some of my fellow inmates appreciate sharing with one who can truly understand them."

"You're treating the other patients?" I frowned. That was definitely not a good thing.

"Treating?" Crane repeated, "No, Dr. Quinzel, treating would imply that I have any intention of helping them."

There was a soft sort of amusement in his voice that I didn't understand. Then something occurred to me.

"Wait, Victor is high-security. The two of you have no contact, your schedules are set up to make sure of that. How are you talking with him?"

"How indeed." He replied, his tiny smile turning wicked. He was playing with me. He wanted me to figure it out.

"You know I'll have to report this." I said. Even to myself I sounded less than happy with the fact. "If you've been getting out of your cell, they'll take away your privileges again. They might even put you back in isolation."

Crane sighed, shrugging dispassionately. "I don't mind the quiet."

"But you'll be alone."

At that his cold, cold eyes dropped to mine and a real smile curled his lips, turning his expression wicked and unnerving.

"Oh, doctor. I'm never alone."

I stared at him a long time, trying to see something of the old Crane in him, but it was completely gone now. There had been a time when I'd fancied myself in love with this man. Of course it was only a crush, and Jonathan was not one to be romanced so it had been short-lived, but still, it hurt to see him this way. Treated like something less than human. I shouldn't pity him. Doing so would only give him power over me, and I wasn't naive enough to believe he wouldn't take advantage of that. And yet I did feel for him, I couldn't help it. He had been a reluctant mentor, but a good one. I admired Crane, even now.

"I've spoken with him too, you know." Crane's voice was soft, his gaze steady and unyielding. He was waiting for my reaction.

"Him?" I asked, doing my best to keep my expression blank.

"He seems to like you, Harleen." At that his face went deadly serious, "Stay on your guard. He is manipulative, more than you or any of the others realize."

"Manipulative like you?" I asked with a scowl. The Joker. He was talking about the Joker.

He only chuckled and nodded down the hall. "Shall we, my dear?"

"That's Doctor, Mr. Crane." I said, feeling my anger growing again. It was cruel of me to call him by such a plain title, but he took it in stride. He'd known exactly what he was saying to me and the way I'd react. He deserved it.

After dropping Crane off for his breakfast, I made a note to speak with Arkham about the security around here. Apparently, it sucked.

Ode to the Joker Blogs, for they make me smile. (Cranes number) Apparently the numbers stand for each Nolan-actor's birthday from the films. Don't know why I like that so much, but there you go. 4479...oh Scott McClure I will find you...sexy little beast that you are. -ahem- I mean...what?

Anywho! Jonathan, you handsome devil, why do I love you so much? Again, I couldn't help myself, Crane is one of my favorites along with Eddie and Ivy. (No, Nashton will not be making an appearance here. But did anyone else notice that cute little letter he wrote in the Dark Knight viral marketing thing? He's one of the civilians writing about Harvey dent in the Gotham Times paper, and apparently he doesn't like the guy)

So, back to Jonathan, why did I choose to give them this relationship you ask? Well for one I always loved that episode of the animated series (Harley's Holiday, I believe) where the Bat hauls Crane kicking and screaming into the asylum, but when Harley says hi to him he stops, smiles, and gives her a charming little "hello my dear"…then goes back to screaming.

However, the real reason is because of the interesting little background it gives Harley. Is it coincidence that her mentor and crush turned out to be crazy, and now the love of her life just happenes to also be insane? Both are highly intelligent, manipulative and completely out of their minds…well according to public opinion anyway. I just like the thought of it.

Maybe Harley has always been a little off. Maybe she was just waiting for that little push. You know, the one that's like gravity? Maybe it's not so crazy that she fell in love with a madman.

What do you think?

Also, SIDENOTE! I was cruising around another viral site for the Arkham Asylum game (damn did they go all out for that. The Asylum has a website now , check in out) anyway, on another sight, after ridiculous amounts of work, mind you, I found patient interveiws for Victor Zsasz (and croc/waylon jones and others, even Joker!) that just tickled me. They were so creepy and awesome. I loved it. I think you can probably find them on youtube or google.

But the one where Zsasz describes his theripist's apartment, down to the fact that she forgot to buy cat food...again. Holy Spine-tingling awesomeness, Batman!