Harleen wasn't sure how it was possible to be 'catfished' by a building—but here she was. The first thing she had done after receiving the letter from Arkham was turn to the internet. The second thing was pouring herself a glass of her most expensive wine. Her search had pulled up many photos of a large secluded structure, surrounded by hundreds of beautiful trees.

Her cab was only able to take her up to the second security gate, as was instructed by the security guard at that post. 'Only authorized vehicles after the second checkpoint,' they had said. The cab pulled to a stop by the small security outpost. As she paid her cab driver, Harleen noticed that a lone man, decked out in a familiar grey uniform—Harleen assumed this was the official dress code—making his way to the vehicle. Collecting her bag, she exited the cab. She hadn't stepped fully away from the yellow thing before the driver began driving off.

"Dr. Quinseel?"

She didn't get the chance to analyze her driver's somewhat hasty retreat. Instead, she turned her attention to the man who addresses her. Or, at least, attempted to. He had butchered her name quite badly. Offering him a polite smile, Harleen held out her hand. "It's Quinzel. Dr. Harleen Quinzel." He didn't immediately reach for her hand, something she had expected. "Dr. Joan Leland is expecting me."

Harleen felt his soft hand take hers, but only after she witnessed his ears burning in what she assumed was likely embarrassment with a touch of shame. She was used to people staring. "Y-Yes, I'm Officer Fox. Lionel Fox. I was told, I would be expecting your arrival today." Dropping his hand, he turned and gestured to the golf cart parked just on the other side of the outpost. "I'll escort you to the main campus."

The ride had an air of awkward silence. She could tell from the way that Officer Fox tightened his hold on the steering wheel that the silence was bothering him. "So, how do you like working here?" The question threw him off, but the way his hands eased their grip Harleen could tell he was grateful.

"I've only been here for about 2 months, but the hours and pay are good. I just started at Gotham University this year. My great uncle put in a good word for me." Harleen nodded as she listened to him. Her blue eyes taking in the vegetation around them. Or lack thereof. The closer she got to the main campus the more she realized that the trees looked withered, almost as if they were dead.

"Here we are, just go right up those steps. Once you get in the main doors, there will be an intercom to your right. Push that and Pearl will buzz you in." Stepping out of the cart onto the pebble drive, Harleen was thankful for her foresight to wear sensible shoes. "Thank you, Officer Fox." Harleen didn't look back, but she noticed that she didn't hear the whirling of the mini battery-powered vehicle until after she was inside the doors. She didn't get a chance to push the intercom before she heard the loud buzzing go off. Pearl must have seen her walking up.

Stepping into the lobby, Harleen looked around but stopped when a plump fair-skinned blonde woman waved from behind a glass-enclosed security box. "Dr. Quinzel I presume!" Even with the glass partition, Harleen could clearly hear the woman's southern accent.

Stepping up to the glass, Harleen offered the woman a small smile. "Yes, and you must be Pearl?"

Pearl didn't falter when she addresses Harleen. "The one and only. I just need a valid ID sugar. We'll set you up with a temporary badge an' bout time we're done Dr. Leland will be here."

The process was pretty standard. Pearl made a copy of her ID and handed it back to her along with a temporary visitor's badge. About time she clipped the badge to the small pocket on of her white blouse the heavy security door next to Pearl's booth opened. A woman emerged that Harleen could only assume was Joan. Try as she might Harleen wasn't able to find photos of the woman in question during her search.

"Good morning, nice to formally meet you Dr. Quinzel. I'm Joan Leland." Joan reached out for Harleen's hand, and like Pearl, Joan didn't react either. Harleen assumed that unlike herself Joan's search had been more successful. Clasping her hand with Joan's, Harleen was a little surprised by the strength that accompanied the brief handshake. "Yes nice to meet you as well. Thank you for agreeing to meet me so soon."

Joan offered her a polite smile and gestured back towards the security door. "Come, let's head to my office. Dr. Arkham wanted me to apologize for his absence. He had an urgent matter to attend to."

She nodded in understanding. "Of course. I'm sure as the Director he is a very busy man." Harleen noticed the way Joan's lips twitched in a failed attempt of a smile. There was more to Arkham's absence then she was being told. "Really, Dr. Leland thank you so much again for agreeing to this meeting. I felt that it was better to talk about this matter in person."

"You are quite alright. If you hadn't beat me to it, I would have extended the invitation myself." As they passed through the door, the lack of décor stood out the most to Harleen. And though it was just a short hallway the empty space made it seem that much longer. Joan must have noticed her staring. "With the spike of meta-humans in Gotham, Jeremiah thought it was best to remove anything that wasn't bolted down."

Harleen nodded her head slowly just as the elevator doors opened. "You treat meta-humans?" Harleen immediately backpedaled when she saw a spark that ignited behind Joan's eyes. Meta-humans were widely discriminated against. However, Harleen couldn't blame them, their introduction to this new species wasn't exactly pleasant. "I have nothing against them, but I was under the impression that meta-humans were sent over to Blackgate Penitentiary."

The look disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and Joan laughed off the misunderstanding. "Arkham State Hospital has been housing a small number of meta-humans for about five years now, our facilities are more 'comfortable' for these patients than Blackgate."

Harleen had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Whereas Arkham was classified as a hospital, Blackgate was a prison. They don't believe in rehabilitation. The elevator opened on the third floor. Instead of the white walls like the lobby, these walls although equally as bare, and painted a soft blue.

Joan stopped in front of a door towards the very end of the hall. "Jeremiah's office was more accommodating for the meeting. Please excuse the clutter." Clutter was an extreme overstatement. Joan's office was immaculate. If this was cluttered, then Harleen could never let Joan near her office. Joan gestured to the twin leather armchairs in front of a large stainless steel desk. It seemed that Arkham didn't spare any expense for its doctors.

Instead of sitting behind her desk, Joan decided to take the seat to the left of Harleen. "Now, I'm sure you have questions. Ones that couldn't be asked over the pho—"

Joan wasn't even finished before Harleen answered, "Why me?"

The surprised look on Joan's face might have caused Harleen's ears to burn in embarrassment, but she was never one for beating around the bush. "I'm sure there are more qualified individuals you could have reached out to."

"Straight to business, I admire that about you, Harleen." Joan relaxed back in her chair, her ankles crossing. "But yes, if we were just looking for someone with more years of service, there are plenty of more qualified people." Harleen wasn't going to lie and say hearing this out loud didn't sting a little, but it was the truth. Compared to other Doctors in her field, she was very inexperienced with her seven years. "Jonathan before his…" she watched as Joan struggled to find the right words, "current state of mind, was a brilliant doctor. He handled most of our county and state medical evaluations, but his true passion was phobias. Jonathan believed that mental health always came back to a common denominator. Fear. Cure the fear, and mind will be free."

Harleen looked down at her knees as she listened. She could see value in his line of thinking, she herself had even touched on the subject a few times when she was in school, her own childhood having played a part in her work. "I see, but what does that have to do with—"

Darting her gaze back to Joan, Harleen paused as she was met with a grim smile. "Jonathan referenced several of your articles, that's why we reach out to you."

Harleen sat in stunned silence. Jonathan Crane. The man now known infamously as the Scarecrow knew about her work.

And he liked it.