What have you done, Elaine? What even is this situation you're in?

I held my head in my hands as I stared at the clock on the wall - 2AM. It was Tuesday, the day I was supposed to see Joker. Derek and I spoke a little over the past couple of days, both of us contributing very little to any conversation. I felt like he was caring less (which I'd been feeling, and fearing, for months), and I felt torn. Part of me was angry and disgusted with him for what he did, part of me was angry and disgusted with myself for what I did.

What a mess.

I never replied to L, whoever he was. There were no other emails from him, but I did make it a point to check my email a little more often after I received those photos...

Your best bet is to break things off with Derek and quit Arkham. Leave Gotham and start over somewhere else.

But there was the demented part of me that wanted to stick around. There was never a dull moment in Gotham, and I couldn't just abandon my patients. Ivy needed me, since she was responding so well to treatments. My numerous Level One patients were making progress. And Joker...

I managed to get a few hours of sleep before my alarm went off. I left early because of the snow from the previous night, and because the citizens of Gotham act like they've never driven a fucking car before... A lot of the staff at work were decorating the hallways and nurses' stations with wreaths, lights, and tinsel. I felt a mixture of rotting and anxiety in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Christmas approaching and how things were going to be different compared to the previous year.

Derek texted me shortly after I arrived at work, and I told him I'd talk to him after my shift was over. He probably didn't care, anyway - maybe he was relieved. He might have started a routine with Kaylee, for all I knew.

I approached the interview room around two, only to be stopped by Nicole.

"There you are!" she said as she caught me by the arm. "Here - it'll give you access to Joker's cell. There was a big ordeal last night, and Dr. Arkham gave the okay for you to treat Joker in his cell."

I stared at her with a blank expression.

"Um... Why?"

"He shot one of the guards in the foot and said he'd do worse if he has to keep attending his sessions in the therapy center." She smirked a little. "It was Officer Morrison, so that's okay. He's been sexually harassing me for months now."

I bit back a laugh.

"Morrison tried to get me to come out to the North Wing to 'have a smoke with him' one night. He's a creep."

"I noticed Joker's been getting the creeps," she said thoughtfully. "He's a piece of shit, but at least he's giving what other pieces of shit deserve."

At least I'm not the only one who thinks that...

"I noticed that, too." I checked my watch, noting that I was already two minutes late. "I'd better run. Want to get the appointment over with."

Okay, that was a lie.

She gave me a sympathetic look.

"Good luck with him, Elaine. He wasn't in a very good mood this morning when there was a cell block check."

"Thanks, Nicole."

I scanned my badge and entered the code to get past the privacy door to Joker's cell. I unlocked his cell and stepped in, jumping a little as the doors slammed shut behind me.

"Ahh... You're late," Joker said from a chair that was leaned against the wall. He was shackled to the chair and was in a straightjacket again.

"I believe we might have talked about harming other patients," I said as I sat down in a chair that was placed a few feet from him.

"It got you back into my cell, didn't it?" His grin widened as he let his arms out of their restraints. "Y'know, for a hospital, they sure make it a point to treat you like a prisoner instead of a patient."

I stared at him dully; he kept his eyes locked on me.

"Are my jokes really that bad, Doc?"

"Yes," I said as I opened his chart.

"So... Want to pick up where we left off? Y'know... I bet you'd look great sitting here on my lap. Give me a proper treatment..." He licked his lips.

He really needs to stop that. I really need to stop thinking about him like this...

"What we did a few days ago was just... It was out of frustration and it was incredibly inappropriate. It will not happen again, I can assure you."

"Right... Like I said, Lainey - I get to people. You want to be on my lap right now, but you're scared. Why hold yourself back? I can give you want you need, what you want - what you deserve," his voice deepened at the end, sending a shiver up my spine.

"Have you been having any negative side effects from your medication?" I asked, trying my best to ignore my feelings of arousal.

"Mmm... No. Haven't felt a thing!" He shifted in his seat, leaning back as much as he can. "On second thought, I have been experiencing a little pain."

I looked up from his chart.

"Pain? What kind of pain?"

"Well, it's in my mouth, Doc. I think I should really be examined to make sure I don't have any sort of bizarre side effects." I stared at him dully, making him grin.

Fuck, why do you have to look so good when you're tied up like that?

"How about I put myself back in my restraints, hmmm? Would you come to me then?" He lowered his gaze.

I said nothing. He looked annoyed.

"Y'know, I figured you finding out the truth about the swine would help you along here."

"We're working through it," I lied.

"No, you're not," he said in an angry, quickened tone. "I'm willing to bet that you two have barely spoken. What's there to say during a relationship that's falling apart?"

I remained silent, feeling my blood boil. The bastard was getting to me, and I already felt tense that day anyway. Lack of sleep and lack of sexual gratification while finding out your boyfriend was cheating on you really wasn't the greatest mix in the world.

"Have I touched a nerve, Doc?" He laughed, throwing his head back in the process.

"No, you have not," I said through gritted teeth.

Then things were suddenly silent. There was a long pause, and things felt awkward. I really didn't know what to say, and to be honest, I didn't know what to think with Joker staring at me with those piercing eyes.

"I've been doing some thinking about how we could progress with your treatment," I said as I made a note for Dr. Arkham.

"Me too. Hopefully we're on the same page here," he said as he leaned forward a bit in his seat. "You, naked, and on top of me would speed things up marvelously."

I ignored him and continued, "I think art therapy could help you. I've made a note for Dr. Arkham to have some supplies brought in for you. Painting would be a good start."

"Painting?" He squinted his eyes at me. "And what do you supposed I'd paint, Doc? A vase of flowers, a bowl of fruit... a self portrait?"

"Whatever you want. The canvas is your gateway to a world you create. I think it could help with any pent-up rage, any anxiety, and sorrow you feel."

He laughed.

"Why would I feel any of that? Besides the rage - have you seen some of the bozos who work here? Here I thought the ape was bad..."

"Why don't you tell me a little more about that?" I felt a little hopeful as I prepared to copy any of his statements.

He licked his lips, his body language shifting to a relaxed state. I sometimes got the feeling that he wanted me to pry for information, so maybe there was a reason for him to lose his temper.

"You've seen how rough they are with me."

"Well, you did cut off one guard's finger, and shoot another in the foot."

"They had it coming," came that quickened, angry tone. "You think I just waltzed in here and started causing chaos? No, no... no. That would be offending my host and just plain rude." He let out an insane-sounding "hoo-hoo" sound, which was hard to call a giggle.

What do I even see in this guy? He's nuttier than a fruit cake.

Come on... This city worships a man who dresses up like a bat and fights criminals at night. This really isn't that nuts.

"Those fleas put their grubby hands on me. The guy I shot last night? He performed a very rough cavity search on me before our last session. I'm sure he was going to do it again today."

"Why don't you tell me or another staff member when these things happen?" I asked with sympathy.

He could be lying.

Maybe he isn't!

He shrugged, breaking the straightjacket pose to stretch his arms above his head.

"Because... who would believe a guy like me?" He licked his lips as he rested his arms behind his head.

"Well... I believe you," I said hesitantly.

He smirked. "I knew we'd start to build a trusting relationship."

Or something.

Three days passed without any more trouble from Joker. It was Friday, and my shift ended around five, and I was home by quarter to six. Maxwell and I ate our dinner in silence, and Derek texted afterwards to ask about my day. Our conversation flowed better, but I still felt the burning jealousy and anxiety over the photographs.

My jaw nearly hit the floor when he brought up the topic of marriage. The conversation was short, but (as far as I could tell) he insinuated that it was a possibility in the future. It was very confusing and random - here's a man I'd been with for several years, who told me he didn't love me, and here he was talking about marriage. The universe must have been scrambled that day.

I was asleep by eleven, and was woken a little after midnight by a phone call from Officer Jacob Bryant.

"Dr. Morgan, I'm terribly sorry to call at this hour, but you need to come in," he said, voice full of urgency.

"What's the matter?" I asked as I wiped the sleep from my eyes, already guessing who was behind it.

"The janitor was doing his nightly rounds when he found a body in your office. It was Dr. Paul Murray."

My stomach dropped as I sat up in bed.

"H... How? Do they know who did it?"

You already know.

"He was stabbed in the neck with a pencil, which hit his carotid artery. There was a red smile painted across his lips, and there's a very large red bow on top of him. What appears to be a Christmas card was left next to his body."

"Does it say who it's from?" I swung my legs over the bed, and got up to get ready to leave for the asylum.

"Patient 4479."