By the time soft sunlight peered through the curtains of her bedroom, Harleen Quinzel was already wide awake, lying tangled in her bed sheets.

She couldn't believe the weekend was over so soon.

It had been a beautiful weekend, unusually warm for mid-November. She should had loved it. She should had taken the subway to Gotham Central, bought herself a fresh bagel from that small corner shop just opposite the station and taken a walk in Gotham City park down the road. Brown and red leaves would had framed her path between oak trees. Squirrels might had been hopping around the cold ground on a look-out for nuts to store for winter. Perhaps she would had been lucky and spotted that family of swans gliding gracefully on murky waters of the park's lake...

Instead, she had spent those two precious days crying her eyes out at home.

With a moan, the blonde hid her face behind her pale hands, wishing she could had just stayed in her apartment till her dying day. The events from last Friday afternoon kept replaying in her head like a bad dream. She busted out of Joker's cell like a madwoman, sprinting past her two confused guards, eyes wild and mouth twisted in a silent sob. She remembered one of them calling after her, his deep voice etched with concern. She didn't spare him a second glance, though. She was already in the elevator, hitting a button to the third floor manically.

She made a complete fool of herself. Her only luck was that the asylum was almost empty at that hour. She wouldn't had survived running into someone important in that state. Thinking of how she must had looked, all sweaty and hyperventilating as she stumbled in her office and collapsed on the cold floor, made the doctor shudder in shame even now. You haven't had a panic attack in years, Harls...

Such a mess... What would dad think if he only-...?, she pressed her lips, shakily tracing patterns the sun drew on her bed covers.

At any rate - what a bleeping joke that session had been...

What was she thinking? That she could honestly just pull off a therapy with the most dangerous, bloodthirsty and unhinged mob boss in town without any preparation? She remembered the note pad in her office. Why didn't she bring it? Even those few, botched up questions would had given her some sort of a guideline, some sort of a reference to keep her on track when her mind went completely blank the first time he flashed his grill at her... She was so excited, so desperate to prove she could do it… Prove to whom?

To herself? To him? To Dr Arkham?

Not that it mattered anymore, she thought with her eyes shut. She fucked up and the failure was well-deserved. The worst part was that the news of her disastrous session with the Joker had probably reached her supervisor already. Dr Arkham was on a nightshift on Saturday...

The young psychiatrist let out a shaky breath.

She was going to get taken off his case.

After all the hard work, she would be back to square one, filing reports and treating inmates with adjustment issues - she was sure of that. Blinking away fresh tears that threatened to escape her already red rimmed eyes, the blonde got out of bed and slowly made her way to the bathroom.

She needed a cold shower.

…...

An hour later, she sat by an obnoxiously loud coffee machine, drumming her red-painted fingers on the table in slight anxiety. She'd decided to wear her favourite nail polish again -SU regulations didn't apply to her anymore at any rate. The doctor's gaze wandered around the many tired faces surrounding her in the packed, big-chain café. Businessmen, teachers, nurses, students and lawyers all lined up by the counter, rising on tiptoes as they shouted their orders over the noise of dozens cappuccinos and lattes being prepared by huffing bartenders. It was 7:30 in the morning and they all needed that caffeine hit before yet another gloomy Monday in Gotham City.

The blonde looked down at her now cold espresso. She barely drank any of it. Such a waste, she thought, pushing the cup aside, her hand itching for her mobile phone.

She could call in sick. It was that easy. She could just pick up her phone and ring up the Asylum reception to say she was not coming in for the day.

She could do that. She definitely should do that. With a sigh, the young doctor took out a large black folder from her handbag. She gulped. She took his files home with her. She shouldn't had done it, she knew that. Patient information, especially his information was supposed to stay on-site, safely locked in iron file cabinets. But she couldn't help herself. She knew she was going to say goodbye to them soon and she was just not ready for that yet. She flipped the folder open, forcing herself not to cry at the sight of her empty entry again.

She did consider fabricating the report.

She'd spent most of her weekend just going over the biography section in his file, laughing humourlessly at all the blank pages. She could make it all up. Really, what were the chances of him not being somewhere in his thirties? Early forties? And 'J' could stand equally for Joker as it could for a real name: maybe Jordan. Jack? Jordan. Or James. She could even add another wacky nickname and claim that's what he'd demanded she called him. 'Shakespeare's favourite tragedy' - he would had liked that one for sure, vain as he was. She recalled that particular section in the folder. Oh, he had many names: The Clown, King of Gotham City, God's Only Child….

The blonde snorted.

No.

Whatever she came up with, it sure wouldn't sound weird among that array of bullshit. She could virtually write anything she wanted. Just to have something. Just to show that she got somewhere, anywhere with the Joker. That he had not wiped floors with her, that he had not read her like an open book, pushing her buttons while she, his supposed therapist, the one who was there to make some sense out of his crazy, was utterly clueless, gaping at the man like a fish out of water.

She shut the folder close with an annoyed frown. She couldn't cheat. She had been over it a hundred times and she made her decision.

The blonde crossed the road to her car, carefully avoiding puddles of rain water in the uneven concrete. She would go to work today. She would admit she was unprofessional in her reckless approach to the session. She would admit she lost it a bit (a lot) afterwards. Most importantly, she would stress she was fine now and ready to continue with her internship but that she would put the final decision regarding him into the hands of the man in-charge himself...

It was going to be alright.

She would live through that.

…...

"What do you mean you quit!?"

"I-I mean I overestimated my abilities like you said I did. I accept what you told me last week. I'm not ready to take on any major cases just yet. You were right, Dr Arkham."

She did not anticipate her conversation with the head psychiatrist to go this way. He was not supposed to be trying to talk her out of this!

The black haired man in question stared at her with wild eyes, his hand frozen above a piece of paper he was about to sign. She came to see him straight after her arrival to work, but he had a meeting with sponsors. She sometimes forgot Jeremiah Arkham was not just a doctor - he was also the owner of the place. It was past lunch time when she finally got a minute with him and by then, she was starving. Perhaps she was in luck though: the thought of food in that precise moment made her want to vomit all over Arkham's carpet. She fidgeted in her seat, tugging on her pencil skirt. The silence in the office was deafening.

"What I want to say is that I came to apologize-," her elaboration was cut short by a string of agitated words.

"You can't just quit! Not now and not on him! Dr Quinzel, I gave you the opportunity to prove to me and your colleagues what you've been claiming about yourself ever since you set foot in this facility! That extreme personalities are your interest! That the 'Dark Triad' personality disorders are your speciality and that this freak is 'the puzzle you always hoped to solve'. Those were your exact words! And now you tell me that you want out? Do you even realize what I've been through in order to get you the job? All the contracts I had to sign, the people I had to convince to give you, a fresh-faced doctor, a chance, to have faith in you, to believe that you, with your youth and innovative approach just might be the miracle we've all been waiting for?"

She was cringing in the plush chair by then, swallowing hard. She had never seen Dr Arkham so furious. He was not an easy-going person to begin with and this looked like she'd just pushed his buttons. She stared at the way his spittle landed on the computer keyboard in a trance, his speech a mere white noise in the background.

"…you turn up unprepared for the session and when it doesn't go your way, you just run away like a scared, little girl, begging me to put a stop to this experiment you started yourself! Are you or are you not the same Harleen Quinzel I talked to for the past three months?"

She just gaped at him, not knowing what to say to his outburst.

"I-I..,"

"Well?" he barked, flicking matted hair away from his forehead.

"I-it is me," she croaked finally, feeling more stupid by every second.

Jeremiah Arkham pinched his nose, exhaling soundly.

"Doctor Quinzel,… Harleen," he began as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked her over for the first time since she came knocking on his door that day.

Perhaps he was being too cruel. She was still very young.

Too young.

But it was too late for regrets now.

The man took a deep breath: "You are a smart girl, okay? I remember your application. Outstanding grades, fantastic recommendations, great passion for the job from the very start. Last Friday was…a bad day. Do you understand? Yes, you made a mistake. As long as you work here, never ever come to any session without a plan. It's like… giving a lecture or a presentation! You want to keep some notes on hand to help you in case your mind goes blank. You had presentations at the university, didn't you?"

He really tried to be kinder but the young doctor just stared at him with eyes widened in confusion. Dr Arkham wetted his lips, hands flying to his messy hair for the second time since the awful board meeting.

Staring hard at the young woman in front of him, he gritted his teeth and continued: "Listen to me, Quinzel. These things happen in this profession. Not every session goes the way we want it. It doesn't mean you're doing it wrong. You are new here, you don't have experience under your belt yet. It is understandable you had a bit of a melt-down last week. It's all alright. Really. What is not alright is that you now want to abandon the case you wanted so much! He is a complete monster, we all know that, but you have to last longer than one therapy! How do you think that will look on your record? I thought you wanted to apply for a full-time position next year or am I wrong?"

She gulped, nodding frantically. She still couldn't comprehend why he was being so forgiving regarding her massive blunder but it didn't matter. Slowly but surely, an ecstatic feeling began to flutter in her chest. She had walked through the door ready to give Joker up and she was now going to come out with a personal plea from this legendary doctor to continue with her efforts to treat the untreatable! Could there be any better Monday?

"Just give it one more shot, ok? Try again. I know I protested a lot when you first asked me to grant you a try out session with the clown, but now I know you have a potential. At least he talked to you! Dr Leeland didn't have that luck. He ignored her five sessions in a row and Dr Leeland is someone around here, if you know what I mean." he concluded, giving her a tense but encouraging smile.

Yes, she knew what he meant perfectly well. He was clearly not accepting her failure as a reason to shoo her away from Joker unlike he promised to do a week ago! She was safe! Well, not entirely…

"And what about those things he said to me? All the personal... information he had about me. I mean, I don't feel comfortable knowing-"

"Ah, do not worry about that. Those are the clown's usual scare tactics. I swear he does background checks on everyone he lies his eyes upon. I don't know how he manages that from that shit hole on the underground level but I know it has been like that since ever, unfortunately. I can't find a way to put a stop to it. I tried, believe me. It's just the way things are with Joker - he always knows things we would be all rather he didn't," Dr Arkham added in distaste. He quickly collected himself though, imploring her one last time:

"I don't mean to scare you, Dr Quinzel. Yes, he gets a few special privileges here and there as I'm sure you've noticed by now. He probably even has a some of the staff on his paycheck," he saw the blonde pale at that and added quickly: "But your guards are absolutely reliable, have no fear! Mr Wayne kindly provided the Joker's guards himself this time. They're former marines or special ops agents, something like that... doesn't get better than that, trust me."

Bruce Wayne?

She knew he was a member of the asylum board and its great benefactor but she had no idea the boy billionaire had such a say in safety measures when it came to the asylum's most infamous occupant...
Due to her current situation though, she was very grateful. At least he did something... Others just complained and pointed fingers after every Joker's escape. Donating extra money for security reinforcements at the facility was the least the board members could do in her opinion...

"...what I'm trying to say is that it's our priority to keep Joker as happy as possible, even if it means putting a blind eye on things like this sometimes. For safety reasons. He's unmanageable when cranked up, believe me. There was this one time with poor Dr Godfried when..."

The young doctor felt her eyebrows rise at that. She couldn't imagine a crueller person than the green-haired man from last week...Was that him on his good behaviour?

"...and so while this may all seem a bit unconventional to you, rest assured we at Arkham Asylum do all we can to keep this facility a safe place for everyone, to make it safe for you. Don't let his words scare you, Harleen. There is no real danger to that deranged clown as long as you stick to your job. The safety of Gotham City is now in your hands too," said the black haired man while clasping his hands in front of himself, clearly pleased with his pacifying monologue. Staring down on her in expectation, the senior psychiatrist awaited her response.

The young blonde cleared her throat. She was still stunned by the incredible turn of events. All her worries, all those weekend blues – gone! She felt a warm, victorious smile spreading across her features, dissolving any remaining shades of doubt. It was truly happening and in that one moment Harleen Quinzel was the epitome of sunshine.

"Dr Arkham. I-I don't even know what to say. Thank you so, so much for being so patient and encouraging. You have no idea how much I appreciate this second chance with Joker!"

Visibly relieved, the dark haired man waved her off with a flick of his wrist. The young doctor walked out of his office with a new spring in her step. He watched her slender back with a solemn expression until the white doors closed behind her.

Poor, silly girl. She has no idea what she's gotten herself into...

He sighed heavily. That entire conversation was a close call.

His gaze anxiously wandered to the bottom drawer of his desk where a scrap of paper laid hidden beneath a stack of old patient records...

He had found it clipped to his notes that very morning. Just a small reminder of a very unwelcome conversation he had to suffer through the previous night.

And the girl was worried about the guards being paid off...

Seven words written in a child-like scrawl were the reason why he barely recalled anything from that damned board meeting.

Remember: suicide blonde.

Don't let me down.

–J

Dr Arkham shuddered involuntarily.

That man really knew how to fuck up his Monday.

...

New chapter's up! I apologize again for the less frequent update… I can't say anything without it sounding like an excuse, but you know what I mean when I say I juggle a lot of things at once! Especially the uni "ain't easy".

So thank you so much for reading and for all the follows, favourites and especially: the reviews! I am interested in what you think, how could I improve this story or my writing in general. Suggestions and opinions are therefore very welcome, so please send a feedback! Other than that, have a great Wednesday!

ZeldaK