"Good morning, Dr Quinzel."

The blonde flinched with her hand outstretched to grab a grape soda from a vending machine.

"Morning, Tiffany!"

She was getting the drink for the sixth time that day and it wasn't even past noon time.

The pretty receptionist must had thought she was crazy.

Letting out a nervous giggle, she waved at the girl behind the printer before making her escape back to her office. So what? She really needed the sugar rush that day.

The young doctor let out a sigh as she shrugged off her white lab coat and approached her writing desk with slow, deliberate steps.

They were still there.

The roses.

Deep crimson roses of the colour of blood. There had to be at least 50 of them, their large, blossoming heads touching each other's petals gently as their stems were bounded together with a shiny purple-and-gold bow.

They arrived in the morning while she was making herself a cup of coffee in the staff kitchen. She was certain she locked the door before leaving. Harleen nearly spilled the hot beverage all over her legs when she saw the enormous bouquet sitting there proudly in the middle of her office. Someone had already put it in a glass vase too.

Of course, she knew exactly who would had had the nerve to send her flowers so recklessly in broad daylight. The ridiculously coloured ribbon was a tell-tale sign.

She felt her fingertips tremble again.

If any of her colleagues would come to her office in her absence, if anyone witnessed the delivery…

She would be screwed.

Her legs felt like jell-o as she moved around the table, slumping into the black leather chair with a moan.

Scratch that. She already was screwed.

She hid the gift card in the lowest drawer underneath stacks of old newspapers. Taking it out again carefully, she couldn't help but admire the glamorous design.

On the finest gold paper engraved with a black diamond pattern stood the words:

For: The Hottest Doc in the Block

Thanks for the good laughs last week.

I knew you would be fun!

I'll see you soon.

-J

She stared at the elegant handwriting in wonder. It sure wasn't his. She couldn't imagine the Joker of all people sitting there with a nice black pen, practicing cursive letters. He just obviously lacked the patience.

But then again, she never would had guessed he'd send her flowers in the first place.

And what's with how he knew she would be fun?! Didn't he actually accuse her of being a prude on that very session? He literally pushed her into confessing that stupid story with the car dealer!

The young psychiatrist tugged on her hair in frustration. It wasn't entirely that way, no matter how much she pretended otherwise.

He never pushed her. It was her who decided to divulge such sensitive information to the clown-psychopath.

She amazed herself sometimes.

Ever since starting at the Arkham Asylum, she was so concerned with doing everything right. She religiously followed the safety measures with all her other patients, and yet whenever she was with him, her caution went out of the window.

She had no logical explanation for her behaviour. She just knew that for her, the best sessions were the ones when his cold blue eyes came to life with a little spark of interest. A spark that would turn into wildfire with every outrageous word she spoke.

She sighed, dejectedly popping the soda can open. Telling Joker about a petty theft at a car repair she committed in her teenage years was a pretty dumb decision. But it didn't erase the fact that being fascinating to him felt pretty good…

That's what Dr Arkham told you, Harls. He is different. He is to be handled differently.

She didn't do anything wrong, did she? Just getting information out of her patient. Thanks to her decision, Dr Arkham could now feast his eyes on a brand new, exciting entry in Joker's files. He confessed to Robin's murder! He had never done that! No matter how much Commissioner Gordon pressed, how much Batman fumed and punched, he remained silent. But he told her. He told her because she told him her little story. Such a big step in the therapy was sure worth a bit of special treatment.

Her eyes fell back on the extravagant bouquet. It was very risky to have them there. But he clearly put a lot of thought into this gesture…

The young doctor pressed her pink lips.

She loved flowers. She especially loved roses: their sweet, delicate yet potent smell, the softness of their petals and this vivid red shade in particular was absolutely captivating! And in any case, she couldn't remember the last time someone gave her flowers…

No. It was decided.

She won't throw them away.

They were special, they meant too much.

They were her medal, her proof that she made some progress with her infamous patient. She, irrelevant Harleen Quinzel from Brooklyn, Canarsie, was distinguished from all the other professionals, she was chosen over the snobbish doctors with Harvard diplomas and hefty research grants. It was her. Not them.

And as soon as she reached this conclusion, she felt the pressure fall from her tiny shoulders like a heavy stone. Smiling, the blonde doctor opened her laptop and began to type her reports on patients from that day.

The world made sense again.

…..

"You cannot do that, Mr Joker."

"What do you mean, Doc-tor? Didn't you like your little gift?"

He was looking at her with a devious smile on his thin, parched lips. She was sure he knew just how much trouble he could had gotten her into.

She lowered herself into the chair with a sigh.

"I did. The flowers were beautiful. Thank you." He nodded, satisfied with her answer, before leaning back into his new chair. She managed to persuade the guards to get him a wooden one. It was hard exactly like the metal chair, but at least it was less cold.

"However," she continued with emphasis, "it doesn't mean that you should had sent them. What were you thinking? They could take you away from me."

That seemed to fully grab his attention. Pushing his lips back, he let out a deep growl: "They? Who are 'they'?"

She blinked a few times.

"The committee? The people who are actually responsible for who gets to treat who?"

"Jerry would-"

"Dr Arkham has no power over them. Their decisions are independent and final. One report of indecent incident, one shadow of doubt casted on my person and these afternoons are over. You will never see me again," she heaved, throwing her hands up in frustration. She had to make him understand.

Joker just stared at her with white hot rage blazing in his eyes. The only sound in the damp cell was his laboured breathing.

"Let them try to do that. I dare them."

The blonde's mouth fell open. She felt a mixture of excitement and pride surge through her veins. He wanted her for real. He wanted her and no one else!

With shaky fingers, she adjusted her glasses and smiled broadly at her patient.

"I don't want to lose you either, Mr Joker."

He shifted his merciless gaze to look her straight in the eye. It was a terrifying sensation, yet she could not look away from that hypnotic shade of blue.

"Really?" he hummed, a slight grin tugging on his lips.

"Of course. Ever since I came here, I only wanted to treat you."

She cringed inwardly. 'Dumb confessions' time again. No, not dumb. Just special treatment. Arkham would approve.

Taking a deep breath, she continued with urgency: "I can help you. I told you so before. I can do it, only if you let me."

He stared at her in silence, poking his tongue against his cheek. He didn't seem furious anymore. Just thoughtful. Contemplating.

"What I mean is…our last session was amazing. When you told me about Robin…, I- I finally had something substantial for the report. Something the committee and the doctors here could approve of. I need more of such information, Mr Joker, please. We have to keep them happy. Do it. Do it for me."

She had no idea what prompted her to say the last words. Perhaps she was drunk on optimism after his reaction to the possibility of her being taken off his case. Perhaps she just wanted to know how far he would go to prevent that. If their time together really meant something to him. And when she saw the pale man lean forward again, her breath hitched and her fingers felt cold.

After what seemed like an eternity, he groaned: "Alright. I'll do it."

Just that. Just those four words and her world went spinning. She blindly fished out some personality evaluation tests and began to ask questions, listening only partially, unbelieving of what had just transpired.

Before she knew it, the stopwatch buzzed, signalling an end to their session. She didn't want to leave just yet. She wanted him to know she was grateful for his cooperation. She just couldn't find the right words…

Fumbling with her clipboard and the various checklists, she avoided looking at him although she could feel his piercing gaze on her skin.

"Thank you, Mr Joker. I really appreciate what you did today," she tried to speak as clearly as possible, but her words probably came out as a mumble. He didn't reply.

Slowly, the doctor stood up and made her way for the door.

"Wait," groaned a harsh voice from the table.

She stopped in her tracks to look at him. The bright light coming from the tiny window on the wall behind him made it seem like he had a halo.

"You didn't tell me anything about yourself today."

She blinked.

"Is that the game you want to play now?"

"It is just fair, doctor. I wanna know who's prying my mind open."

She hesitated for a moment. Joker was right. It was only fair. Special treatment. It was just special treatment.

"I love cotton candy."

He chuckled, "Which one?"

"Doesn't matter. Baby blue or pink, they are both sweet."

It was a neutral enough answer. Nothing too personal, but it ticked the boxes.

"Anything you hate? Except for horny car repair dealers?" he added, flashing her his silver grin with eyes alight with pure amusement.

She frowned, tugging on her lab coat self-consciously. He would probably never let that one go. She slowly replied.

"Pools and beaches."

"Huh?"

"I can't swim."

He let out a high pitched cackle: "Are you serious? You've passed a med school but couldn't learn how to swim?"

She threw him a look from across the room as he shook his head.

"I got it, I got it. Sorry."

The young blonde gave him a half smile before turning to signal to the guards outside to lift the bar locks.

"See you next week, Mr Joker."

"See you, sweet-tooth," he replied with a smirk in his voice.

With her hand on the intercom, she spoke softly from above her shoulder.

"Please. Do not send me any cotton candy."

Fastest update yet! Thank you for all the follows/favourites and reviews guys. They mean a lot. I hope you liked this one, please let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading!

ZeldaK