"So," Paris Beckett, one of Arkham's newest therapists and psychiatrists clicked her pen as she stared straight into Jerome Valeska's eyes, "Why did you do it?" she leaned back in her chair as the crazy eyed ginger, wiggling in his restraints, smirked. This wasn't the first time these two have met...

6 months ago...

Paris was watching the circus with her niece that calm Sunday evening, not much was going on that night, just the regular acrobats and clowns. That was until a fight ensued between the clowns and acrobats. "Oh dear," Paris muttered as her niece grimaced and looked away, "I don't think this is supposed to happen..."

"GCPD!" A voice rang out through the circus tent, a cop, "Everybody freeze!" The string of events that happened next caught Paris off guard, she was hoping for a relaxing evening but instead she got a case placed on her hands. Sadly, her "people" skills wouldn't be needed until later.

"C'mon kiddo," Paris picked up the child, "Let's get you back home before your dad scolds me for getting you involved in my work." as the two of them left the tent a young ginger, no older than Paris bumped into them- literally- and dropped his bag of cherry flavoured candies. "Oh," Paris muttered as she knelt down to pick it up, "I'm terribly sorry, sir, I wasn't looking where I was-"

"No, no," the ginger man replied as he knelt down at the same time, "It was my fault-" their hands collided and their eyes locked onto each others. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Paris felt the warmth of his fingers brush against hers as he blindly fumbled for the bag, until the scene before her finally began to process fully.

"Oh shit!" she jerked her hand away suddenly, her niece yelping at the random movement, "I'm so so sorry... again... I didn't mean-" she stuttered as her face flushed red, rising to her feet as her niece glanced around curiously. The ginger smiled awkwardly, that smile brought butterflies to Paris's torso, it was then did the man's features jump out at her. He was kind of cute...

"Again," he chuckled grabbing the bag and hopping to his feet as well, he was a few inches taller than Paris, "It was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." Paris was about to say more but the pressure of her niece gently banging her head against her shoulder stopped her.

"I- uh," Paris muttered shyly, "Sorry again- crap!"

"No worries, sweets," the ginger chuckled, "I'm Jerome, by the way."

"Paris," she smiled with a slight bow, "Nice to meet you." Jerome smiled back at her before taking his leave, her eyes followed him until he faded into the darkness. A smile still on her face.

"Aunt Paris," the small voice of her niece broke through her thoughts, "Can we go home now? I'm sleepy." Paris finally remembered why she was outside, she hummed in compliance and headed to her car. The trip to Paris's brother's house was 15 minutes, it was a quiet 15 minutes, time seemed to fly by without a moment's notice.

The next thing Paris knew was that she was pulling into her brother's driveway, she shuffled out of the car with her niece in her arms, "Paris," her brother smiled as he opened the door, "Thanks for taking care of her."

"It was no trouble at all, Jack," Paris replied softly, "We had fun." she placed the young girl in her brother's arms. She could see he wanted to say more but she quickly nodded a goodbye and rushed to her car.

"Paris!" Jack called out before she could leave, "Take care of yourself, kid." Paris stared at him before flashing him a smile and driving off...

The next day Paris was called to the scene, her job was to evaluate people's mental state after a crime as well as help out the detectives gather evidence. She pulled up to the circus parking with no knowledge of what happened after she left the previous night. When she got out of her car, a detective by the name of Gordon approached her, "Ms. Beckett?" he stopped her in her tracks.

"Yes?" she replied flatly as she took a sip of her coffee.

"I'm detective Gordon with the GCPD, you were here when the commotion started correct?"

"Yes sir." Gordon looked much older than Paris, maybe around his late 20s to early 30s, "One of the circus members attacked a fellow circus member." the two of them began walking.

"That," the detective said through gritted teeth, "And we happened to stumble across a dead body." Paris nearly tripped over her own feet. Turns out that the body they found was the mother of Jerome, Paris could feel her heart plummet to her stomach. She couldn't imagine the pain that sweet boy was going through.

"So..." Gordon focused his gaze on the girl, "We want you to talk to him..." his tone was cold and blank.

"That's my job, detective," Paris replied, "But something in your tone says that you don't think I can do my job." Gordon scoffed and bit his cheek.

"How old are you again?" he cocked his head skeptically.

"18," she replied with confidence, "Should that matter?"

"Look, I have no problem with you- really- I just think you're a bit-"

"-Too young to be a psychiatrist and therapist?" she smirked, "I assure you, sir, I scored the top of my class." and with that she walked off, leaving the detective dumbfounded, a smirk crawling across her face.

Paris made her way to find Jerome, asking here and there about his whereabouts, he was sitting outside of his trailer hugging his knees with his face buried. The poor thing must've been crying all night. She approached him gently and quietly, "Jerome?" she chirped softly, causing him to jolt in his seat, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you-" she noticed that his eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying, she gazed at him warmly with a small smile.

All the boy did was sniffle and look away in shame and grief, "What do you want?" he grumbled, aware of the girl taking a small step closer to him.

"Mind if I sit by you...?" she tilted her head quizzically. Jerome just scowled in response, yet she still sat by him anyway. The boy didn't protest or argue, he just scooted over a bit to make room for the girl.

"Why are you here?" Jerome finally spoke, "You don't look like a cop..."

"That is true," Paris shrugged, "But I do evaluate people."

"What? So you're like a shrink?" he scoffed.

"I guess. But I'd also like to be your friend."

"Did they tell you to say that?"

"No," Paris chuckled, "I actually do want to be your friend."

"What's in it for you?" Jerome muttered.

"Another person to share jokes with and eat icecream with?" Paris noticed a change in Jerome's postrue, she smiled softly. The two of them sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Paris spoke again. "You doing okay? With all that happened?" Jerome sniffled and shrugged, rubbing his eyes against his sleeve.

Paris shifted to give him a hug but he jerked as if he was expecting her to smack him in the face. Her eyes met with his, once he saw no malicious intentions he calmed down and allowed her to gently hug him. Jerome cried into her shoulder for what seemed like hours, Paris rubbed his back soothingly and rocked back and forth softly. When he finished crying Paris hopped to her feet and extended a hand out to him.

"Walk with me?" she asked with a childlike wonder in her tone, Jerome couldn't refuse. The ginger took her hand in his and was quickly yanked to his feet and dragged away. The two of them weaved their way around the circus, Paris taking in the scene around her.

"Were you two close?" she asked, Jerome tilted his head in confusion, "You and your mother?" Jerome hissed in disgust as she mentioned his mother, that hiss was enough to answer Paris's question. Jerome began to tell the girl about his relationship with his mother and how she would always beat him, he told her about how he would often find his mother in bed with another man, about how she would get drunk and hit him again and again for no reason at all. Paris jotting down notes as a therapist would.

"'Jerome'," he mocked, "'Go take out the trash!' Or 'Jerome, it's always your fault!' followed by her banging a clown in the other room. I'm sorry, I'm rambling again."

"It's quite alright," Paris reassured him, "As a friend, and a therapist, it's my job to listen." Jerome stopped and smiled at her, she was quite different than the others he had met.

"My mother's love life never really bothered me at all," Jerome continued, "I mean, it's the reason I exist."

"True." Paris shrugged in agreement.

"I just hope that they find whoever did this..."

"I do as well..." Paris's voice grew quiet, Jerome noticed that her gaze darkened so he quickly changed the subject.

"I gotta go run some errands soon," he scratched his neck, "But I kinda wanna talk to you more."

"Thank you." Paris beamed at this comment.

"Mind if I get your number, sweets?" Paris didn't refuse, she quickly scribbled her number on a fresh page in her notebook before tearing it out and handing it to the ginger. Jerome said his thanks as he shoved the piece of paper into his jeans pocket, "When's a good time to call you?" he asked before he left.

"Around 5:30-6ish," Paris hummed, "Weekends I'm free to talk all day."

"You wanna go out to dinner with me tonight?" Jerome asked before she left.

"Sure, surpirse me!"

"I'll call you later tonight."

And with that the two said their goodbyes and headed their separate ways...

Back to present day, in Arkham...

Paris waited patiently for an answer, Jerome's frenzied gaze burning a hole through her composure and confidence. The silence was suffocating.

"Well?" she urged, "I'm waiting for your answer." Jerome only laughed, if it were during other circumstances Paris would've adored that laugh of his. But in that moment his laugh brought fear.

"You remember the time I took you out for dinner," Jerome started, "Right, sweets?"