Day 1- Hello

An overcast sky hovered over Gotham City. Dense fog enveloped the atmosphere, adding to the area's dreary appearance. Buildings of varying heights surrounded the Arkham State Hospital, which is where a young woman was heading.

The girl adjusted the collar of her beige jacket as she looked down at her map.

"Just one more block," she told herself.

As she walked, she looked around to see nearly empty streets. The area was normally crowded with traffic, but the heavy morning fog made it unsafe to drive. It was difficult to see anything in front of her. The girl cautiously stepped around incoming passers along the way.

She eventually spotted the hospital's distinctive pillars, which led her to the front door.

Upon entering the waiting room, the smell of mold lingered in the air. A middle-aged woman with glasses sat behind the front desk. The visitor approached the woman at the desk with a friendly, "Hello."

No response. The receptionist was occupied with the paperwork she was filing.

"Ahem," she tried.

The older lady looked up with a frown. "What do you need?" she asked.

"I'm here for a two-week counseling internship. I have an orientation at 8 o'clock."

"Name?"

"Meredith Sinclair."

The receptionist looked down at her clipboard and browsed through a list of names.

"So, your boss sent you here? Good luck surviving this place."

"I volunteered to come here," Meredith clarified.

The lady scoffed. "Are you crazy?"

Meredith didn't answer. Maybe it was a little foolish to willingly work with the criminally insane. But ever since the outbreak of civil unrest, she knew that Gotham's people needed all the help they could get.

The woman took Meredith's ID and handed her a contract. "Sign here, and here, and one more time at the bottom," she instructed.

Meredith pulled out a pen from her crossover bag. "Um, what am I signing for?"

"You waive the right to sue if you're attacked on the job."

"...Right." She should've seen that coming. She scribbled her signature a couple of times.

"Head down this hall and go all the way back to the break room. Wait there. I'll call someone over to give you your assignment."

"Thanks."

* * *

Meredith sat down at an empty table. She fiddled with her long strands of dark hair as she waited for someone to come in.

A petite blonde woman entered the room and briefly introduced herself as Alison, the lead counselor.

"You're the only one that showed up?" Alison questioned. "I'm not surprised. This place is a hellhole."

Alison gave Meredith a temporary ID to wear around her neck. She also handed the intern a patient's file containing several health records and a picture. The man in the photograph was none other than Arthur Fleck.

"There's no way to sugarcoat this, so I'm going to get right to the point," Alison stated. She had a grim expression on her face. "Surely you've seen this man all over the news."

"Yeah," Meredith confirmed with a nod.

"Arthur is, without a doubt, the most dangerous patient we've ever had. He's the one you'll be helping, so you need to be seriously ready for whatever tricks he might pull."

"Tricks?"

"Mind games. Threats. Sporadic acts of violence."

"Oh," Meredith replied as she skimmed through the documents. "I'm familiar with that stuff."

Alison shook her head. "You don't understand. He already murdered one of our psychiatrists last month. Nobody on my team wants to work with him."

Meredith looked up at her with widened eyes, failing to conceal her surprise. She tensed and felt her heart race a little. She continued to look through the details of Arthur's file and came across something rather concerning.

"He's on seven medications?" she inquired.

"He used to be. But before he was brought here, social services got shut down. We were only able to get him back on four meds because our funding was cut too," the counselor replied.

'That's terrible,' Meredith thought. "What a shame," she muttered to herself.

Meredith came across a list of his diagnosed disorders. It read:

Schizophrenia- Hallucinations and delusions of reality. Direct cause of the disorder is unknown.

Manic-Depressive Illness- Intense moments of extreme emotional highs and lows. Cause unknown.

Existential Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder- Excessive questioning of the purpose of one's own life and existence. Cause unknown.

Dissociative Amnesia- Unconscious repression of memories related to deeply traumatic experiences. Arthur was saved from an abusive home environment when he was a child, but cannot remember this incident.

Pseudobullar Affect- Random episodes of uncontrollable laughter, usually in response to a triggering event. Possibly linked to a severe head injury inflicted upon him before being rescued.

Meredith was especially worried by the last one. "Shit," she whispered in horror.

"We call it PBA for short," Alison said. "He's the only one here with this diagnosis. It's very rare."

"Anything else I should know about him?"

"Well, I do need to mention this. The other inmates are being kept apart from Arthur. They don't even know that he's staying here. Once they discovered what he did on TV, they went wild. The people here worship him and they're all very unstable.

"Our staff does not want to risk having anybody recognize who he is. We don't want Arthur's presence to cause another riot. Because of that, we've scheduled him to eat and shower at different times from the rest of them. He also sleeps in a single dorm."

"So he's isolated every day with no social interaction," Meredith summarized.

"I know how unfortunate that sounds, but our institution has never had to deal with this type of situation. I would have taken care of him myself, but because of staffing shortages I'm already overbooked with too many other patients. But your support could have a positive effect on his recovery. Are you sure you still want to do this?"

"I can handle it."

"Alright. You'll be given one hour each day to visit him. Your goal will obviously be to help him by talking to him. Talk therapy is super important. It'll be essential for him to establish trust with you, and then hopefully that will lead to him trusting other people in the future."

Meredith kept listening, letting her continue.

"Recreational activities will be useful as well. Reading or solving puzzles can promote critical thinking and occupy the mind. Feel free to go about this in any order you like. After your hour of therapy with Arthur is done, you'll move on to the next room and the following ones, helping other people throughout the day. If you need help for any reason, we have security guards patrolling the halls at all times."

"Got it."

"Great. Follow me this way. Good luck."

* * *

Meredith was shown the way to Arthur's room. She went up two flights of stairs to get to the third floor. As she observed the halls, she couldn't help but notice how dull the area looked. White walls and floors matched the garments of the patients she passed.

A security guard stood in front of Arthur's door, so she showed him her temporary badge. He unlocked the door and let her inside. "You've got one hour," he told her. She heard the door shut behind her.

The walls surrounding her were the same plain shade of white, paired with a dusty gray floor. In the corner, Arthur sat on the edge of his bed with slouched shoulders and a downward gaze. He seemed almost unaware of the girl's presence as she pulled a plastic chair over to sit beside him.

"Hello," she spoke. "My name is Meredith. It's nice to meet you," she said with a small smile. She offered him her hand.

His wavy bangs moved to the side of his face as he looked up at her. "You would shake a killer's hand?"

"I don't want to identify you in that way. First and foremost, you are a person; just like me," she emphasized.

Arthur hesitantly reached out as if to accept her gesture, but pulled back at the last second.

"It's okay," she assured him. "You don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm here to help you, Arthur."

"Call me Joker."

"Of course; if that's what you prefer."

"Yes, I do." He looked back down at the ground.

There was so much that Meredith wanted to talk about, especially his infamous new name. But given his distant attitude so far, she knew she had to tread lightly.

She cleared her throat. "So, um, I'm an intern with a counseling program and I'm going to be visiting you for the next two weeks. And the point of this is to guide you with managing your emotions. Hopefully I can help you cope with any feelings of agitation or distress."

Arthur nodded his head.

She continued. "If you ever want to talk to me about anything—anything at all—please let me know. Talking about your thoughts may help you get rid of some tension. I won't tell anyone about what you share with me, so I promise everything will be a secret between us. Okay?"

"Uh-huh," he muttered.

"Does anyone come in to see you during visiting hours?"

Arthur shook his head. "No."

"No friends or family?"

"No."

"That sounds very lonely."

He nodded. "Mhmm."

"I can be your friend now."

He chuckled. "You can?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

She couldn't detect if that was sarcasm or not. Maybe if she kept taking a lighthearted approach, she could get him to ease up a little.

"I saw you on TV," she remarked. "I liked the green hair. It was a nice touch."

He seemed to like that, grinning at her comment. "You really think so?"

Without warning, he suddenly brought a hand very close to her face and pointed his fingers like a gun. "Bang!" he imitated. She flinched.

"Too bad Murray didn't want to be my friend," Arthur mentioned. "We could've been best pals."

Meredith could still replay the episode in her mind. It was all so fast. She never expected to see the famous talk show host die in such a shocking way.

Her curiosity got the best of her, and she couldn't help but ask, "Could you tell me more about that night?"

Instead of answering her question, Arthur burst out laughing.

Clearly, she had just triggered some type of strong emotion. She just wanted to know what exactly it was. Meredith wondered how she was going to effectively get Arthur's take on the incident, if at all.

In addition to that, there was more to uncover. She wanted to hear about his experience on the subway train, why he decided to murder the psychiatrist, and anything else he might have been hiding. But it wasn't like she could just force him to talk.

"I'll drop this topic for now. I don't want to overwhelm you," Meredith said. "We can discuss that at a later time. Anyway, I wanted to know a little more about you before coming in today, so I was informed about your laughing condition. I hope that's alright."

"Yeah."

"I take it you've been battling this for quite a while."

"Since forever," he groaned.

"What kinds of words or terms would you use to describe your laughter?"

"A curse. It's a fucking curse," he hastily replied.

Meredith felt bad for him. She couldn't imagine struggling through daily life with such an embarrassing problem.

"I want to teach you a coping skill to help manage this," she suggested. "It takes a bit of focus, but it shouldn't be too much of an effort. Could you try it with me, please?"

"Mhmm."

"Just follow what I do, and let yourself relax. Let your arms and legs become weightless. Stretch your neck," she demonstrated. He followed suit.

"Now close your eyes. Let them rest for a bit." She kept her eyes closed, but peeked momentarily to see if he was copying her. He was.

"Inhale slowly. Exhale," she instructed, releasing a slow breath of air. She heard him do the same. "This is called intentional breathing. By doing this, you're taking back control of your mind through your breaths. Calming the muscles, slowing down your heart rate..."

His eyes remained closed. Meredith was glad he was trying to participate. They continued for a few minutes.

"And that's it," she concluded. "This should help if you practice it often, but this kind of process takes a bit of patience."

Arthur didn't reply.

"You did well," Meredith told him. "I'll go ahead and cut our session short. I'd like you to focus on this technique today if you can."

"Alright."

She stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said before leaving.