A/N: TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of rape.

"According to Dr. Young's notes, she's prescribed the highest dose of Valium and Seroquel RX for you, and you say it's doing nothing for you?"

I was seated on Joker's bed, and he was chained to the bolted chair against the wall opposite of me. He sighed, the sound of his cuffs clinking as he rotated one of his pill bottles in his hands.

"Ritalin this, Ritalin that. If I'd have known it was this easy to get drugs, I'd have done this years ago."

I raised my eyebrows at him as I stared over the rim of my reading glasses at him.

"Are you experiencing any side effects?"

"Like I said, 'nothing,' Doc." He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, fridgeting in his spot.

I smirked at him, knowing he was growing tired of the mundane questions.

"We'll keep you on it for another week to see how things go. If there are still no changes, I'll change your medications. We're running low on options, though."

"What's left then, Doc? Shock therapy?" He lowered his gaze and licked his lips.

"Rarely used now."

"Perhaps a Lobotomy?"

"Illegal, I believe," I said as I took off my glasses and stood up.

He tried to reach out to touch my bare leg, but failed due to the chain length. I snickered at him and slowly approached his chair. His brown orbs were focused on my face, seeming both annoyed and amused at the situation.

"And what brand of therapy is this?" he asked as I lowered myself onto his lap.

"Mmm... Physical therapy. Those guards have been awfully rough with you - I think you need a little TLC to fix things..." My lips brushed against his, making him part his lips immediately at contact.

He rubbed my hips, trying to lower me down to his crotch as closely as possible.

"Problem?" I mumbled as I left a teasing kiss on his mouth.

"Fucking chair," he growled, leaning down in his seat as much as possible. "Say Lainey, you wouldn't happen to have a key for these, would you?"

I smirked at him.

"Why? I rather enjoy you tied up."

"Plan on smacking me around a little?" His voice was low, containing a sort of primal growl.

"I don't hit my patients." I unzipped his jumpsuit and pushed the shoulders off; this time he was bare-chested.

I took a moment to marvel at all the scars he had on his chest and stomach. They seemed to range from gunshots to stabbings. I hated to imagine what he'd been through, and how much of that he could've possibly done to himself.

"Going to stare at my battle scars, or are we going to actually get down to business here, hm?" His gaze was lowered.

"Sorry about that..." I muttered, pulling his already throbbing manhood out of his fly.

"You never address me beyond 'Patient 4479,'" he said, mocking his title at the end. "I told you to call me 'Mr. J' when we first met."

It's impractical, but then again, so is this...

"I'd prefer to know your real name."

He grabbed me by the sides of my face roughly, and jerked my head up, forcing me to look him dead in the eyes.

"Anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat, Lainey?" His eyes were cold and serious, yet his smile widened. It was one of the most eerie things I'd seen.

"R-Right... I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry' ...?"

"Mr. J..." I said quietly, feeling my stomach knotting as discomfort sat in. "I'm sorry, Mr. J."

"That's a good girl," he said, letting one hand go to my head to pat my dark locks.

Don't anger him. I'd bet my life on him being able to slip out of those cuffs and kill you very slowly in at least twelve different ways.

Naturally you'd find this very exciting, since you're a freak yourself.

He grabbed my hips again and pushed me forward.

"Take off your underpants," he demanded, jerking at my skirt.

I obliged, given how short-fused he was that day. Some days he was pretty calm, whether or not it was the medication causing it was beyond me. His hand went up my skirt and rubbed my folds, which grew slick with arousal.

"If I was free right now, I'd have your legs spread on that bed with my face between them," he said as his other hand managed to squeeze my ass.

"What would you want me to do?" I asked quietly, feeling my mind fog with pleasure.

"Enjoy yourself." He lifted my skirt as much as he could and wiggled his head underneath it.

I jumped a little in surprise, especially when his tongue came in contact with my womanhood. He held me by my thighs, keeping me planted. I felt his teeth grazing the lips, causing me to quiver against him. A quiet chuckle vibrated against me, making me want to moan like the desperate, nutty whore I was.

"One of these days we'll have to take this to your place, Lainey," he said with amusement before he sucked on the hood of my clitoris, making me lean forward with my hands on his shoulders for stability.

Like that'll happen.

He probably already knows where you live. Remember L, and how he located Derek with no effort? Don't think he hasn't followed you. Hell, you'd be even easier to find, given that Joker has your whole name.

I tried to quiet the voice in my head and enjoy the pleasure Joker was giving me. Referring to him as "Mr. J" seemed so bizarre, but then again, it did have a slightly better ring to it than "Joker."

My head was rolling when his tongue darted out to lick my outer lips. I rested my cheek on top of his head, breathing heavily into his hair. His hands squeezed my ass hard just as a knock came at the heavy security door.

"Dr. Morgan, is everything alright in there? The session was up five minutes ago," came the voice of Officer Vacante.

I jumped back from Joker and pulled my underpants up. Joker stared at me, cuffed and unable to zip himself.

"Everything's fine," I said in my calmest voice, pulling Joker's zipper up and backing away from him, quickly collecting my paperwork. "I just lost a little track of time. I'll be right out."

"Okay, Doctor," came his friendly reply.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "We'll pick this up later."

"We'd better," he said, his makeup smudged. "Ya gotta little somethin'..." He pointed around his mouth.

I quickly wiped at my face, hoping there wasn't piles of white, black, and red all over me. He gave me the thumbs up.

"A quick kiss for the road?" he asked, licking his lips.

"Of course," I said, leaning down.

He grabbed my face again, and kissed me roughly.

"Mr. J," he muttered.

"Mr. J," I repeated.

That evening, Derek stopped by after work to visit. Maxwell made himself comfortable on my lap, refusing to move to even let Derek get close enough.

"Would you like some coffee? I could start a pot for you." I rubbed Maxwell's head, earning a purr from him.

"No, that's fine," he replied in a distant voice. "I stopped by because we need to talk about the wedding date."

I felt my stomach drop. Maxwell leaned his body back against my torso, trying to get more of my attention.

"What about it?" I asked, staring down at the black cat who claimed me several years ago.

I couldn't look at Derek; I already knew what he was going to say, and I didn't want to hear it. Hell, I didn't even completely know what I wanted. Screw around with Joker, then marry Derek and quit my job and head to Metropolis? That can't end well.

"I know it's set for next month on the 8th, but is there a chance we can bump it to maybe the next day, or the day after that? The band got a job for that night."

"Right... Of course. I mean, we did just agree on it yesterday, so I guess it wasn't enough time to let it be set in stone or anything," I said quietly, feeling bitter over his band still coming first instead of me.

"Elaine," he said in a warning tone. "Don't start. It's a job. You know that you're still important to me, and this wedding means something to me."

"Which is why you're putting it on the backburner to play a night instead of using that day to marry me."

"It's not a big deal. The 10th is still fine, isn't it? It'll be a Monday."

"I'm working that day," I said in an annoyed tone. "People work during the day, Derek. Nobody will be able to show up."

"We'll have the ceremony at night, and we can have the reception the following Friday or Saturday night. How's that?"

I looked up at him, giving him a look of complete disbelief.

"That's not how it even works! People usually do it early in the afternoon, then they wait a few hours before going to the reception in the evening. It's supposed to be fun, Derek. People look forward to the reception for the alcohol and dancing. Nobody's going to want to show up at the wedding, then wait almost a week to get to the best part."

"Well, maybe we don't need a reception," he said in a stubborn, annoyed tone. "Like it or not, I'm still committed to this job."

"Job? It's not a job if you're enjoying it. And what about me, Derek? I'm going to be your wife."

Maxwell got up and leaped to the back of the couch, resting above my head, facing Derek.

Always been the protective little tiger.

"I know that! Jesus Christ, Elaine. It's just one fucking night. Can you do it Monday night or not?"

"Fine," I said after a couple moments of frustrating silence.

I was angry, and he knew it. Part of me believed he liked making me angry. I watched his lips curl into his annoying smile as he nodded.

"Good. Call the Chapel tomorrow and let them know it'll be Monday night. Make it eight, that way we both have time to get back from work and get ready. I'll take care of scheduling the reception."

"Alright..." I grumbled.

"Did you pick your maid of honor?"

"Nicole from work," I said quietly, recalling her excited reaction. Hell, she was more excited about it than me. "Did you pick a best man?"

"Dan," he responded.

"Your brother Dan?" I stared at him, feeling my guts boil in disgust.

"Yes, my brother. He's the only one I've got, and it cheered him up. You work with murderers and God knows what else all day. Y ou can't put up with him at our wedding?"

"Derek, he raped five women and spent six years in prison. He's only been out for a couple years. You think people are going to want to come to our wedding when we have a rapist there? Hell, do you think my security officer friend will want to dance with someone like that?"

"For someone who treats the damn Joker for a living, you sure are judgmental." He paused. "Speaking of him, I don't hear you say too many bad things about him. You rip at me and my band all the time, so why not him? I think he's done a lot worse than me or Dan."

Murder is worse than rape? Murder is lights out - rape is something you have to live with for the rest of your life.

"He never raped anyone," I said, recalling Joker actually talking about the subject before.

"Tying people up and watching that little spark of life leave their eyes? No problem. Mercilessly shoving my dick into someone while they don't want it? A pathetic way to torture someone. Weak - I can't stomach people who do something so pathetic," his voice echoed in my head.

I was shocked to hear something like that come from him, especially since he held such little regard for human life that I assumed he would've raped dozens of women before he got anywhere near me. What made me believe him was the people he targeted at Arkham - the ones who were known to sexually harass some of the staff.

Of course, there was that riot that went down when I was off his case and he was bouncing between doctors... He managed to "accidentally" stab a serial rapist and schizophrenic in the stomach repeatedly, earning him more time in his cell (and isolation for a week after he was seen by a current shrink, and immediately being relieved of that person's services).

"That you know of," was Derek's reply. "I find it funny how you've gone far enough to defend him a couple times when he's probably just feeding you lies."

While he is a known liar, I've yet to actually catch him in a lie. More than I can say for you, Derek.

"It's my job to rehabilitate him. Besides, my sessions with him are confidential. We shouldn't even be discussing him. He's part of my job, and my job stays on Arkham Island."

"Oh, I'm sure." He stood up and straightened his coat. "Anyway, set the date for March 10th. I'll take care of the reception. I'm going to head home."

He stared down at me, expecting me to get up to show him out. I felt Maxwell curl onto my shoulders like a python, his back claws digging into my shoulder to keep me nailed to the couch.

"Alright. Talk to you later," I said, looking up at him.

He stared at me for a few moments before looking away, appearing to be extremely annoyed. He let out a loud sigh.

"See you later. By the way, that might have to go when we move in together," he said, pointing at the black furball around my shoulders. "Text you when I'm home."

He walked out, leaving me to glare after him as I pet Maxwell, who climbed back down into my lap.

After I heard my apartment door shut, I pet Maxwell and stared ahead at the wall.

"I'm not letting him get rid of you, Max," I said quietly, rubbing behind his ear. "And I don't think I'm going to let him separate me from Joker, either."

A/N: I understand that it may be out of character for Joker to loathe rapists/not be a rapist himself. It's never been implied in "The Dark Knight" that Joker would rape someone, but this little make-believer Joker I've concocted is not okay with this. Also, I apologize if I triggered someone during this chapter. That is never my intention.