I shut the door behind me, and braced myself against it, my breathing rapid as if I just sprinted. The file fell and scattered, its contents fanning around my feet. My heart was beating out of my chest and I had adrenaline pumping through my veins as if I just jumped off a cliff.

I suppose I had, in a way.

The session went completely off the rails, and I had been a fool to think that I'd be in control the entire time. I knew I had to debrief the director, but I needed to be alone. My mind was racing. If I had brought any paper, I surely wouldn't have had the ability to write anything down.

The only "analysis" that I could muster from my session with the clown, was that he was utterly mesmerizing. His mind was not only a quintessential labyrinth, but its passageways were gushing with a flood of neon paint, drowning any visitors. He was extremely dangerous, he was extremely intelligent, and it was all extremely enticing. To be in his company was terrifying, but exciting, and I couldn't believe how quickly the time flew while I was in there. The knocking on the door from the orderlies awaiting to escort the clown to his cell was the most upsetting noise I had ever heard. I didn't want it to end.

I fell to my knees and began to organize the the mess I had made, my eyes grazing over the information that I had barely skimmed through earlier. That felt like a million hours ago.

I had to collect my thoughts, the director would storm in any second, demanding to know what happened. I couldn't tell him how utterly intrigued I was by the clown's psychological profile, and how desperate I was to see him again. Hopefully, I did my job well enough for him to refuse to see anyone but me. Only time would tell.

An hour had passed more or less before the director finally came storming into my office, demanding answers. I told him that I had asked the clown basic questions and that he refused to say much, except for the occasional cackle or short retort.

The director looked furious for a few seconds, but when his face softened I knew his next sentence before he even said it,

I told you so…

Although the childish statement wounded my pride, I knew that I had to play along in case I had a chance at seeing the clown again. I agreed that the director had in fact told me so, and even though I thought that I was breaking through to him by the end of the session, I supposed it was a rather fruitless effort. The director seemed to pity me, as one would a small child that dropped an ice cream cone. I dug my fingernails into my palms and I gritted my teeth into what I hoped was a pleasant smile, as I said good night upon his exit, newly resorted file in hand. Asshole.

I wondered how long until I'd have that wonderfully heavy file back into my eager hands, waiting for me to properly tear into it. I glanced at my watch and began to gather my things, it was almost time to leave anyway.

When I arrived home, I practically ran into my shower, more eager to sink into bed with a bottle of wine, but I needed to be completely clean. My nervous energy felt like dirt all over my body and I was anxious to feel refreshed. When I had finally sunk into bed, glass of wine in hand, I started searching for any news channel that was recapping the incident with the clown. Desperate for a fix, I found a clip of Batman throwing the Joker into police hands before taking off on some sort of grappling hook that zip-lined him into the darkness. I'd know that streak of lime green anywhere now. I almost squealed like a teenager upon seeing him, somewhat surprising me at how excitable I was. I wasn't normally like this, I had no idea what was getting into me, wether it be the excitement of landing a huge case like this, or the fact that he was so…utterly fascinating.

It took a great deal of time for me to actually fall asleep, my giddiness keeping me awake as I waited for the next day to begin and see if the clown would reject his new doctor.

By the time that I had gotten to work the next morning, I was practically holding my breath every time I'd bump into someone. I wanted someone to tell me that the clown had requested me, that he refused treatment until he met with me again, but time and time again I was let down when all I received were good morning's and hi's.

When lunch finally rolled around, I had nearly resigned from my position a million times in my head, the stress of the situation turning me highly erratic and illogical. I grabbed my purse and walked out my office and down the corridor, desperate for a cream soda but knowing that I'd be stuck with only a root beer at the vending machine. I needed some sort of sugar fix if I was going to stand another minute in this place, I could barely get any work done all morning and I wasn't looking forward to the second half of my day. Grumbling to myself, I thought about that shining grill that blared at me the day before, and however annoyed I was, a smile spread across my face at the thought.

I walked back to my office with renewed vigor. I had to write up my analysis of the time spent with the clown and hand it to the director, something that I had only thought about. To put it in writing would.. not cheapen it.. but would basically finalize my experience with him. After I turn in that analysis, there would be no further connection to him. Still, it had to be done. I opened the door and stopped short when I noticed a figure sitting in my chair.

"Doctor," the director greeted me, his eyes lingering on the scattered papers and my lifeless laptop. Then I noticed the file, he must have just placed it back onto my desk.

"Good morning," I responded, the condensation from the drink forming in my hand only adding to the perspiration that started to form on my palms as I looked at him.

"Did you finish that analysis yet?" he asked, standing up and walking to where I remained frozen in the threshold.

"About that, I need-"

"Never mind, looks like you'll be seeing more of the Joker wether you want to or not," he said, almost challenging me in a way by his tone.

"Pardon?" I asked, my heart pounding away as I waited for him to clarify.

"Doctor Wallace graciously took the clown's case, he met with him early this morning," he paused, as if waiting for my curiosity to get the better of me. It did.

"Was he able to get any information out of him?" I swallowed, painfully aware of how dry my lips and mouth were.

The director smiled, and gestured to my desk.

"He was not. Gather your things for your next session, he refuses to see anyone but the 'blonde'," he did his best to look amused, but I knew that he absolutely fuming that this had worked out so well for me.

My heart was nearly leaping out of my chest each time it contracted, I quickly grabbed my note pad and my good pen, tucking my soda under my arm as I picked up the file and made my way out the office with the director.

"I don't know what you did or said to him, but I need you to take precautions in there. He is extremely dangerous, Doctor Wallace seemed extremely disturbed after only three minutes with him," he said, pushing the button to the elevator.

"I am aware of his capabilities, to treat him as if he is anything but the most intellectually capable criminal we have ever seen, would do everyone injustice," I responded in what I prayed came across as a relaxed manner. I was doing somersaults in my head, and if I was alone I'd be squealing with joy. The chime alerted us to the doors opening and I peered in cautiously before stepping in. No monsters or anything ready to pounce at me today either.

"See what you can get out of him, any leads on his most current incident is the priority here," he pressed the button too slowly for my liking. I was anxious to get into that room and speak with the Joker, although I had no idea how I'd be able to keep up my facade from yesterday. I managed to keep it together, but I had no control for a majority of that session.

I nodded blankly, adjusting the file in order to seem preoccupied. The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence, there was nothing more to be said since we were both brewing about the same man. When the doors opened, he bid me good luck before setting off to his office.

My hands were trembling as I breathed deeply before feeling the cool metal in my hand, everything I wanted to happen was coming to fruition.

"There you are! What, did I scare you away yesterday?" he cheesed, barely waiting for me to enter the room before he had started talking to me.

"Afternoon, Mr. J," I walked over to the desk and placed my things down. I remembered the soda still tucked in my arm, and realized that I had made yet another error.

Oral fixation.

I had mentally noted that yesterday, and although I was jonesing for a sip, he'd make it extremely uncomfortable to do so. Still, I was thirsty and needed the sugar so I cracked it open and took a swig as quickly as possible.

"You know, I don't like being ignored," he growled. I looked up, and his frown quickly became a smile once more.

"What's your poison, sugar?" his eyes glinting at me expectantly.

"Well, I wanted a cream soda, ended up with root beer," I said, turning the bottle around and showing him the label.

"Gotta sweet tooth? Or did you just need a fix cause you've had a stressful day?" he feigned concerned before the smile creeped innocently back onto his face.

"Are you conducting this session or am I?" I said rather sternly, although the small grin on my face said otherwise.

"I asked you firrrrsssssssstttt," he practically sang.

I sighed, knowing that he was already in control of the session and less than a minute had passed.

"Let's say a little bit of both," I raised an eyebrow, letting him know that I was in on this game he was playing.

"You're a smartie!" he cackled.

"Like the candy," I smiled, knowing full well of the multiples jokes he had rolled into that single statement.

"I like you toots, but you still haven't answered my first question-" he leaned forward, I could hear his restraints straining under the amount of force he was using, "Did I scare you away?" a few strands of green hair fell into his face as he stared at me. His disheveled appearance suddenly giving me more anxiety than I thought was possible. I had to answer him truthfully.

"On the contrary, the director felt as though you'd be more open to someone more experienced than myself. Doctor Wallace comes highly recommended, whereas I am not. My looks don't give me a great deal of credibility, even you are guilty of judging me on that," I said rather smugly. I took another swig of my soda, inadvertently licking my lips after.

ORAL FIXATION, HARLEY!

His laugh pulled me from my thoughts, he relaxed back into his seat as he threw his head back.

"You got me there, doll. But I solemnly swear that I will never, ever underestimate you again, kay?" his voice had found that rough quality once more, he sounded like he hadn't had anything to drink in a few days and I was surprised that it took until now for me to notice it.

"How have the conditions been since your arrival?" I pressed, eager to gain some semblance of control.

His grill dazzled me, as if to distract me from the question. He shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the side.

"Worried about me?" his cheshire grin digging painfully into me.

"As my patient, I'd like to see that you are in a acceptable state to answer my questions. It does not do me any good if you're so thirsty you can barely speak," I stated plainly, opening my pad and beginning to write a few words down. I glanced up at him before taking a longer sip of my soda. I rubbed the condensation in between my hands once I set the can back down, painfully aware of how hot my hands were. I wasn't shaking anymore, almost as if I was relieved to be near him. However, I was curious to see where the rest of the session would lead us, and that curiosity was knotting my stomach agonizingly.

"If you're fine to answer questions I won't mention it again," I said, writing a few more things down before I met his gaze once more.

"I'd be more open to asking questions if I could get out of this jacket," he said slyly, before he made a series of erratic movements to show how calm he had remained thus far. The jacket was bothering him a great deal, I made a mental note to see what I could do about it for the next session.

"I'll work on it for you. In the mean time, I would like to prove to the director that you are willing to cooperate, and capable of being trusted without the jacket. Are you willing, Mr. J?"

"Ohhhhh, I'm willing…"