I have never been more infuriated with another human being in the entirety of my life. Alera found me after lunch, asking how that morning's session had gone. I tried to be as noncommittal as possible while also leaving a positive impression about the experience. I wanted Alera to think I was doing well, but I didn't want to admit that my first session with my patient was spent talking about me.

"Well, I'm glad it went well. Now, if you'll follow me, I'll bring you to the therapy room."

"Therapy room?" I echoed as I matched her stride. She had turned to walk away, expecting me to follow, at the end of her sentence.

"Yes, the Joker's therapy is this afternoon."

But I hadn't prescribed any therapies yet. Alera was moving quickly and I struggled to keep up with her long legs. I didn't recognize the halls she led me down, nor the room she stopped outside of. She pushed the swinging door open and went to step inside but I caught her arm. "Alera, what therapy? I haven't prescribed any therapies –"

"You've read his file, Harleen." She released the door as she turned to me and it slowly swung backwards, but caught partway open. "Strauss ordered five rounds of electroshock, but only administered four."

I recoiled, staring at her in horror. "You know how I feel about electroshock, Alera. I've refused to prescribe it to any of my patients, and that includes this one."

"It's already been ordered." She waved a hand in dismissal and turned to enter the room again.

"No." I shook my head violently. "Alera, I won't do this. There are no benefits to this treatment and even if there were, it wouldn't be right for this patient."

"Are you a doctor at this asylum?" She turned to me coolly with a stone-faced expression. "Do you work here?"

"What do you mean, do I work here? Of course I work here."

"Then you know that doctor's orders are to be followed. A course of treatment was prescribed to this patient. It has yet to be completed. If you would like to continue being a psychiatrist at Arkham, you will follow the treatment plan outlined in his file and complete the therapies that have been prescribed to him."

I stared open mouthed. "Are you saying you'll fire me if I don't do this?"

"You won't have given me any other choice."

"But there's no one else willing to work with him. Would you be taking over his care?"

She snorted. She actually snorted, as if the prospect were ridiculous. "I'm not working with him. I'll find someone else. And until someone else can be found, he will remain in his cell untreated."

I shook with rage. "This is completely unethical."

She swept a hand toward the electroshock room. "The choice is yours, Dr. Quinzel."

My hands trembled as they curled into fists, but I stomped past her to the partially open door. "Dr. Standness," I spat in dismissal and pushed the door open.

Inside was my patient, already strapped to a table. A few guards and nurses milled about the room, chatting with each other as if nothing were wrong. I glared at all of them. How could they act like this was anything but barbaric?

The fury that coursed along with my blood pricked angry tears into the corners of my eyes. I strode over to the instrument of torture, picking up the thick wooden cylinder lying before it and bringing it above the Joker's face. His blue eyes glowered up at me, nonexistent brows knit together in rage. I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes, but only caused one to spill over and slide down my cheek as he opened his mouth and took the dowel between his teeth.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Joker." I whispered. "This goes against everything I believe in."

My only reply was the livid glare of my patient. I picked up the two wands and placed them on either side of his temples.

"I want it on the lowest setting." I told the male nurse to my left.

"Dr. Strauss was building up in the previous sessions. He's meant to be at level 6 for the first round of this one and end on level 10."

"Did I fucking stutter?" My head snapped to the left and I held the man in an infuriated scowl. "Dr. Strauss is dead. I am this man's doctor and if I'm going to have my hands forced into this cruel act of barbarity, it is going to be on the lowest fucking setting."

The nurse shrank back from my rage and nodded silently, adjusting the dial down to 1. I took a breath, apologized again to my patient, and depressed the buttons that activated the electroshock. His body stiffened as electricity coursed, and I saw tiny sparks fly from one tooth to the next. To the count of ten I held down the buttons, and then released. He relaxed, but never tore his eyes from mine. When the nurse moved to raise the level for the second round I broke Joker's gaze and literally growled at the man to my left. "Leave it."

The treatment plan called for five rounds of electricity per session, with each round raising in intensity. Not on my watch.

I looked back down at the man staring up at me, and steeled myself for the second round. Once again, his eyes locked onto mine and I depressed the buttons, this time for a count of fifteen. My hands were shaking by the time I was done. This is wrong. Repeated in my thoughts through both previous rounds, and I could not force myself to do the third. I knew then that I couldn't administer the rest. I pulled the wands away from Joker's skull and shook my head. "He's done."

A female guard on my right stepped forward with a frown. "Three more, Dr. Quinzel."

I glared at her and held the wands in her direction. "You are more than welcome to administer them yourself."

She took another step forward and reached for the wands, but stopped when she caught Joker looking at her. His eyes had taken on a maniacal glint and she recoiled from his gaze. I looked around the room, holding out the wands as an offer. "Anyone else think he requires more treatment?"

No one would meet my eyes. I slammed the wands down on the table and ordered them to untie my patient. As they unbuckled straps and pulled him to his feet, I noticed the tattoos that had previously been hidden by the straightjacket. Three different smiles on his arms, one on the back of each hand and one on his right forearm. A few dozen Ha's over his left pectoral, four aces with a ribbon stating "ALL iN" on his shoulder above them. A skull with a jester hat covering his right pectoral and shoulder. "JOKER" above his navel and another smile curled below it. Batman's symbol with a knife through it on his left bicep. More Ha's on his left forearm. A dead robin lying on its back with an arrow sticking through its chest on his right bicep. The guards began putting the straightjacket back on him, and when they turned him around it revealed a massive oriental dragon tattoo covering his back. They worked the straps and buckles, tightening them far more than I thought was necessary. Then they spun him around to face me.

"Next time you take him from his cell, give him the fucking time to put his shirt on." I glowered at the guards.

The one on the right had the decency to shuffle his feet in embarrassment, "Alera said-"

"Is she his doctor?" I interrupted.

The two guards exchanged a glance and I repeated myself with an added edge to my tone. "Is she his doctor?"

"No, ma'am." Answered the other guard quietly.

"Well then, when it comes to his standard of care, I guess we'll be following his actual doctor's instructions." I huffed.

"Yes, ma'am." Replied both guards.

I stepped forward and gently took the stick from between his teeth and he offered me a wary smile. "See ya, Doc." He said as they pulled him from the room.

It is clear to me that I am the only one in Arkham who truly has his welfare at heart. And I refuse to be bullied again into making the wrong choices. The Joker is in my care, and I'll be damned if I'm about to let someone else make decisions on his treatment. Especially when no one else seems to give a shit about him as a person.