Gotham was growing sicker by the day. Mia just wanted to help - she was a psychiatrist after all. But was it really the best idea to get involved in the chaotic mess that was Arkham Asylum? How did this one, simple man have the ability to bring her life crashing down around her? Joker/OC. Dark fic, all the trigger warnings: violence, sexual content, non/dubious consent.
Hi all! I watched the Joker a few weeks ago and absolutely loved it - this story quickly formed in my head so I needed to get it down on paper. The Joker in this story is mainly based on Joaquin Phoenix's Joker, but also some of of Heath's version. This is somewhat like a version of Harley for JP's Joker but only really to the extent that Mia is a psychiatrist and they meet working in Arkham; the dynamic will be very different. As for timeline this is set after the events of the Joker movie but I'm fudging things a bit to have this be set in the present day, and for Arthur to be around 35-39. The main character is around 27. As mentioned in the summary this will get dark, and will probably have a hint of mary sue. It'll probably vaguely follow the storylines of BB/TDK but as & when it works for the story
Chapter 1 - Arkham
It was 7am. We were mid-summer so dawn had already broken. I caught a glimpse of my nervous reflection in a puddle as I walked towards the large, white brick hospital. The giant metal letters adorning the side of the building flew out at me.
Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.
I was approaching the huge arching entrance when I stopped for a second, taking the sight in. It was dark and gloomy, as was the norm in Gotham, but this building seemed to have an even darker aura around it, as if it was shrouded in evil.
That's dumb. It's just a building. It's a hospital. Get it together.
I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath before heading inside.
The waiting room in the atrium was entirely empty, and if it hadn't been for the balding man sitting behind a metal cage at the reception booth I would've thought the place was abandoned. The chairs were strewn clumsily throughout the room, instead of sitting in neat rows, the paint was peeling on all four walls and anything made of metal looked like it had started rusting long ago. The man didn't greet me, but I approached the reception desk all the same.
"Hi... I'm starting here today - I'm the new psychiatrist."
The man took a long drag from his cigarette, staring at me for a few seconds with hooded eyes as if he was irritated that I was making him do any work.
"Name?" He barked.
"Mia Lawson."
Lazily, he pushed his chair over to the filing cabinet behind him and rifled through the contents, before pulling out a few pieces of paper. He scanned them with disinterest after slapping them down on the desk.
"Brentwood huh?" He snorted. "So how'd you wind up here? Your old boss hate you that much?"
I frowned. "No... I chose to transfer here."
The man guffawed. "Sure, whatever lady. I ain't gonna judge you for getting fired y'know."
"I didn't-"
"Sign here." He thrust the papers in my face, clearly more interested in taking another drag on his cigarette. When I was done he pressed a button that triggered a loud buzzer; the door to the right of him slid open. "You can head in."
"Um... where do I go?" I'd been expecting a bit more of a welcome.
He sighed with irritation. "Just go straight ahead. You're looking for a nurse called Helen Strong."
"Thank you, uh, Stanley." I smiled, reading his name badge.
"Yeah, yeah, hurry up." He grunted. I scurried through the door.
A long corridor stretched out in front of me, and to my surprise I saw signs of life in the rooms shooting off the sides. This seemed like the offices for the doctors and nurses. Most of the doorways I passed had someone sitting at the desk inside, stamping paperwork or talking on the phone.
"Can I help you?" I hadn't noticed a woman walking down the corridor towards me. Her dark, tightly curled hair bounced with each step.
"Oh- yes, I'm looking for-" I noticed her name tag. "You, actually. I'm Mia."
"Helen." She held out a hand absently for a handshake which I shook enthusiastically. My excitement did not translate; I could tell she was over this a long time ago. "You're the new Doctor? I'll be showing you to your office..." She was examining her nails, which were long and pink, embellished with crystals. "This way."
"Thanks." I followed her.
"So you're from Brentwood huh?" She raised an eyebrow at me. "Don't think we've ever had a transfer from over there. Between you and me, what's the real reason? Did you get fired?"
I wondered how many people were going to ask me that. Sure, Brentwood was a wonderful place to work, but... I hadn't felt like I was really doing enough. It was something, untangling the minds of Gotham's rich and famous - those who had the money or the connections to be rehabilitated in the famous Brentwood Sanctuary. But what about everyone else? What about the people who couldn't afford the suite-like rooms, the spa-style facilities & unrivalled treatment provided by the monthly five figure price tag? The downtrodden, the poor, the really sick people with no family to provide for them - they all ended up in places like Arkham. I wanted to help those people.
"No, I'm just looking for a new challenge." I smiled.
"Pft, okay." Helen snorted disbelievingly.
Why was everyone so damn cynical here?
We turned into the final doorway in the corridor. "This my office." Helen explained. "And through there -" She pointed at a door near her desk. "That's yours."
I was still holding my own belongings when she dumped a pile of folders into my arms. "As you know we're pretty short-handed, so we need you to jump in as soon as possible. These are the patients you'll be seeing today."
"Ok. Sure." I tried to inject some confidence in my voice, but it was a LOT of files. I thought I'd be eased into things a bit more.
"We're just going to slot you in wherever you're needed this week but hopefully from next week we'll be able to establish you a regular rota of patients."
"Sounds great, thank you Helen." I stumbled slightly under the weight of all the paper. "I'll let you know if I have any questions."
She shrugged in vague agreement as I wobbled over to my office door, pleased when I managed not to drop anything when turning the door handle.
The office was nothing to write home about; it wasn't particularly spacious, and didn't have the nicest decor - but it had a big window and a generously sized desk, as well as plenty of storage.
I wonder if I can order a more comfortable chair.
I thought, sitting down in the rigid wooden one and thinking of my previous cushioned, ergonomic model.
"By the way, your first appointment is in an hour." Helen informed me, poking her head around the door.
Better get started then.
I picked the first file up off the top of the pile.
When Helen said jump in, she really meant thrown in the deep end. At the end of my first day I'd spoken to several serial killers, rapists, a woman absolutely obsessed with puzzles and a man who had bombed all of the bridges in Gotham as well as several banks, hospitals and schools. Despite this, it didn't take me too long to fall into the rhythm; schedules and logistics were pretty similar to my previous job, even if the appointments themselves were a world away.
The week passed in a blur.
"Morning Helen." I smiled, pushing the door open with the tip of my foot as I precariously balanced the tray of coffee. "Happy Friday!"
Helen raised an eyebrow at me. "Happy Friday?"
"Sorry, habit. I know it's a stupid phrase." I grimaced sympathetically. "People at Brentwood always used to say it. And Happy Monday on Mondays. Well we said it pretty much every day actually..." I laughed but I could tell she wasn't listening to me any more. "Anyway I- uh- got you a coffee!" I brandished the paper cup at her and her eyes lit up.
"You're kidding! Thanks doll!"
"I wasn't sure what you wanted so I had to guess, but I pass Starbucks on my way to work so let me know for next time."
She took a sip and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. "I usually like a shot of vanilla but this is close enough. God this is just what I needed... I'm so sick of that instant shit from the coffee machines."
I smiled to myself as I entered my office. I knew her unfriendly manner wasn't because she had a problem with me but because she just didn't care about this job - but I was determined to get on her good side. I was always determined to get on everyone's good side. My Dad always said with a laugh that that was my big problem - I couldn't bear the idea of someone disliking me even slightly. "You can't make everyone like you Mia." He'd say. Well, I could certainly try.
"Your first patient is pretty early this morning." Helen appeared at the door. "He's usually more docile earlier in the day. Here's his file." She handed a thick yellow folder to me before running to be reunited with her coffee. I took a sip of my own before pulling the file towards me noting the name on the front.
Arthur Fleck it read. (Joker) was also scrawled in brackets next to this. I gasped in recognition.
This is that guy who killed the talk show host... the man dressed as a clown...
Everybody knew the Joker. Even those who hadn't been watching Murray Franklin when it aired, had soon watched a recording after word got around. There had been riots around that time too; people donning clown masks and taking him as inspiration for their anarchy. That was over seven years ago; I remembered it happening just as I reached my twenties. Things had settled down a little since then but it seemed only temporary; there was just a thin seal over the anger and chaos bubbling throughout Gotham.
There were pages and pages of case notes, but the first was a list of his apparent crimes. My eyes travelled down the page slowly and my breath hitched in my throat. This wasn't the first person with murder on their 'resume' that I'd seen in Arkham but his was by far the most... colourful.
Killed three Wayne Enterprises employees in subway shooting
Killed colleague in brutal apartment attack
Suspected of killing his Mother
Killed talk show host Murray Franklin on live TV
At least 23 other murders linked to Fleck in some way
I breathed out. In Brentwood there were a few high profile criminals, but most of the patients were there for suicide attempts, severe eating disorders or other conditions that only harmed themselves. It was another world.
Arthur's diagnoses section was littered with a mess of possibilities; clearly nobody had stuck with him long enough to figure it out properly. Psychopathy, Schitzophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, ADHD... it looked like a kid with a medical textbook had just copied every word they saw in the mental health section. I wondered if any of them were correct.
I wouldn't admit it to myself, but I was nervous when I stepped out to head to the appointment. Who wouldn't be nervous to meet a man like that?
"Oh, I need to show you the way don't I?" Helen said absently, catching up with me on the way out.
"Oh I think I-" I stopped when she directed me away from where I thought I was going. We headed instead to the elevator, taking it up to the twelfth level. The floor was eerily quiet and Helen walked quickly - I wondered if she was eager to get out of there.
"Why aren't we heading to the therapy rooms?" I asked, keeping pace with her.
"The more dangerous patients are on the higher floors. The therapy rooms are attached to their cell so we can avoid moving them around too much."
I swallowed. I should've expected as much. I'd read his file. I knew what he was capable of.
"I don't think I'm going to remember the way we came next time... is it possible to get a map or something...?"
"It'll only be this week anyway, so don't worry too much about it." Helen shrugged, guiding me down the corridor.
"Oh, are you moving him to a normal room?"
"Girl, what?" She rolled her eyes. "You crazy? Of course not. I'm just sayin' you'll have scratched him off your patient list before next week. That's if you haven't quit before then. Nobody sees Arthur Fleck twice. Why'd you think we had so many openings?"
"So... who gives him therapy?"
"Every time someone new rolls in they give it a try, so he gets one session every couple months if he's lucky. Most of the time there's just no-one to do it."
"So he doesn't get real therapy? Even though he probably needs it more than anyone here?"
"Look, if you wanna step up, be my guest." She interjected. "It ain't my fault the system sucks."
I sighed. She was right. The system, society really did screw people like Arthur Fleck.
Well, maybe I will step up.
"Here we are." Helen stopped at a reinforced steel door. It towered over both of us, reaching from floor to ceiling with criss cross metal beams riveted every few inches. It stood next to a large window made from what I assumed was bulletproof glass, that looked into an all white room with a single table and two chairs. Cuffed to one of the two was a tall, wiry looking man. He sat casually with one ankle resting on his other knee, and a cigarette so loosely between his fingers that it looked as though it was about to fall to the ground. He was wearing the regulation Arkham gown but his face... It was mostly white - he'd painted right into the roots of his greasy, badly dyed hair - but his eyes were framed in blue diamonds and the tip of his nose and his eyebrows were red. Most terrifyingly though, he had a big red smile painted across his mouth, which didn't match the frown he was wearing that moment. He was quite still except for the occasional puff of his cigarette.
"All yours." Helen gave a fake smile, as if she knew exactly what was running through my head right now. She gestured to the orderlies standing by to unlock the door. Despite the loud clunking, the man inside didn't flinch.
"We'll be right outside Miss." The orderlies assured her. "He's fully restrained, so you'll be perfectly safe."
"Thank you." I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
The door made a loud thud as it closed behind me.
Chill out Mia.
I took the seat opposite him.
The man didn't look at me. He was smiling to himself, staring at the ground.
"H-Hi." I cleared my throat, snarling internally at myself to get a grip. "Hello. Your name is Arthur, right? It's nice to meet you, Arthur. My name is Mia."
He looked up as if only just having noticed me, and began to laugh. I'd read about his compulsive laughter in his case files but it was truly chilling to hear it in person; the laughter didn't meet his eyes and it sounded like he was unable to breath and laugh at the same time, choking on his own guffaws. His face returned to a blank expression so immediately after it died down which only heightened the eeriness of it. He fumbled in his pocket and lit another cigarette, flicking the old one away and sticking the new one clumsily into his mouth before looking to the ground again.
"Maybe I'll tell you a bit about myself first Arthur? I want you to feel comfortable around me, so I'll tell you anything you want to know. After that I'd like to hear a bit about you, if that's okay?"
Silence.
I continued. "So like I said, my name is Mia. I just transferred here from across the city - I was at Brentwood - near Gotham Heights if you know it. I've lived in Gotham all my life so I know this area pretty well too, so it wasn't too much of a change. Did you grow up in Gotham too, Arthur?"
He murmured something that I couldn't quite catch.
"Sorry, can you repeat that?"
"Joker." It was barely audible.
"I'm sorry-"
"JOKER!" He yelled the word and brought his palms down onto the table with a deafening slam. "Call. Me. Joker."
I hoped he hadn't seen me flinch. A few days here was already proving to be more eventful than all my years at Brentwood.
"Joker - of course, I'm sorry." I remembered this was how he'd been introduced on Murray Franklin's show, it was noted in his files but just the name itself - nothing about the meaning behind it. "This name, Joker; can you tell me a bit about where it came from?"
He smirked, looking at the wall.
"I assume it's related to your... make-up?" I probed. I suddenly thought how he must've been asked these questions a million times. "I'm sorry if I'm making you repeat yourself; I know it's frustrating starting with a new therapist. I just prefer to hear about my patients from their own voices, instead of, you know, the judgements somebody else has made." I gestured to his file and smiled.
"Do you like jokes, Mia?" He asked.
It wasn't quite on topic, but I was glad he was finally responding to me.
"Jokes? Oh - yes. I do, very much." I shifted forward in my seat a little.
"Would you like... to hear one?" He asked slowly.
"Definitely."
"What do you get - when you cross a naive psychiatrist... with a mentally ill murderer who hasn't been restrained properly?"
"Who hasn't..." His words set alarms off in my brain but I'd never had the quickest reflexes; I was still registering what he'd said when I felt his bony hands close around my throat. "Ugh-"
Arthur's eyes were shining as they stared straight back at me. He was smiling, pleasantly, as if he was giving me a handshake and greeting rather than throttling my windpipe.
"A-Arth-" I attempted to choke out his name as I pulled at his hands, which just made his smile widen and his grip tighten. My ears were ringing. Darkness creeped into the edges of my vision. I was going to die and I hadn't even made it a week.
"HEY! HANDS ON THE TABLE! NOW!" Sirens were going off. Two orderlies scrambled into the room, throwing the Joker off me. "HANDS ON THE TABLE!" His hands were wrenched off my neck and jerked behind his back. He stared at me the entire time he was being restrained, still wearing the same creepy smile.
"You alright?" Another orderly placed a hand on my back, leading me out of the room.
"I-I think so..." I trembled slightly, massaging my neck.
"That fucking clown. How the fuck did he get out of those handcuffs? Sorry we couldn't been quicker, did Helen not give you a panic alarm?"
"N-No..." I shivered at the thought of what would've happened if the orderlies weren't there. Helen's words echoed in my head. "Nobody sees Arthur Fleck twice."
Man-up Mia. This is what you signed up for. You wanted to help people like him.
I straightened up. "It's fine. I'm fine, thank you." The orderly nodded, stashing his baton and heading back to his post.
And that was my first encounter with the Joker.