Author's Note: I cannot believe that I've made it this far, usually I start project and drop them halfway through. Thank you so much for reading this. Reviews mean A LOT to me!
"Good-morning Doc," the Joker said. He was overly cheerful in his tone. "You don't look so good. Maybe if you'd invest in a comfortable couch, both of us wouldn't be up."
"You're incorrigible," Samantha muttered. "Would you like something from the snack machine? Oh wait, never mind, they probably don't want to give you anything that good." She spat out the last part.
"There's a little sarcasm, didn't know you had it in you. Run along and see your beau, doc, I hear he's down the hall," the Joker replied, clearly annoyed. He slunk off to his bed and sat down. Samantha shook her head and kept walking. If she had to sprint by Crane's cell she would, but knew in her heart she'd slow down to see him.
As predicted, when she approached cell 204, she looked in. The lights were to be kept dim in all prisoner cells at night and his was no exception. Samantha thought of when they would go to bed at the same time how she fought for her night light to stay on and how he begged for darkness. My, how times had changed; Samantha's heart softened. Asleep on the bed was Crane, covered up to his neck and breathing lightly. Standing there for what seemed an eternity, Crane stirred. She knew he could feel her presence. After all, how could you not know someone was watching you? Especially after the pair of eyes watching used to burn with desire for him? In her heart, she knew that she still felt love and compassion towards him.
There was little chance of rehabilitation; if Crane would get out, he would undoubtedly unleash another attack of fear-based drugs; even more severe than last time. Samantha shuddered, she met the victims, some of them with no hope of recovery; forever stuck in psychopathic nightmares day after day. The only hope for the victims was an assortment of medicines, mostly sedatives to dull their minds and feelings.
Down the hall, prisoners screamed, no doubt having nightmares or facing their reality. Samantha shook her head and walked to the vending machines. After choosing items that contained high amounts of sugar, she made her way back to her office and consumed her miniscule snack.
The next morning, Samantha awoke to a start; someone was furiously knocking on her door. She straightened the clothes she slept in and opened the door. Standing eye to eye with her was the Joker and he grinned; if he had a tail, she was sure it would wag. The guards more or less threw him in the room, unlocked the shackles from his feet and left the room.
"We'll be in the hall, miss," said one guard gruffly, making it clear this was the last place he wanted to be. Samantha was reeling. Who would want to be woken up like that? Having a sociopath knocking on a door was more than enough to wake her up. Frustrated, she sat down across from the Joker.
"Sleep well?" he asked casually; his voice reminded her of someone on a business meeting, friendly but never too personal.
"Shut it," she said grimly. She didn't even have her teeth brushed.
"Oh, wake up on the wrong side of the couch huh? Look, I don't like this more than you do, but here we are. You know, I could take up my sessions with that Harleen Quinzel; sounds like she's better at this than you."
"Are you kidding me? She interned under me and her head is filled with air and pure optimism. You can't get by in this world with that much hope." Samantha knew from experience, after her first year in the field, she learned you couldn't cure everyone. Some people didn't want help.
"Didn't know you were a pessimist, Doc. I kinda pegged you for a complete optimist, hell bent on curing everyone who sits across from you."
"Anything but, sometimes you learn the hard way that there's no such thing as hope. Only a desirable outcome."
"You know, anarchy could be what you're looking for."
"No, that's what you looked for and found. Having no regard for any sort of rule and creating chaos. And I don't need an antisocial killer telling me what I need to look for. And I appreciate some forewarning next time when you decide to have a heart to heart."
"But I look forward to this. Why don't you set up a meeting with Batman, then that would be interesting? I'm dying to meet him." The Joker chuckled slightly.
"Look, let's talk about you; you could tell me about those scars." Samantha figured trying to make some sense of the mad man, although she knew that she probably would get the truth.
"What scars? I don't see any scars," the Joker started, then proceeded to touch his face and gasped, "What the hell have you done to me? I want my lawyer!" He once again chuckled at his own joke. Samantha shook her head and threw up her hands. "What? It doesn't hurt to laugh a little, honestly. How about we go Silence of the Lambs. I tell you something only after you tell me something personal."
"I don't discuss my personal life. Not to my family or friends and especially not to you."
"Fine, you want truth? The most I'll give you is the fact I hated my father." The Joker was oddly sincere about the statement. His demeanor changed entirely after he voiced his thoughts. Samantha was astonished he said something true.
"Why? Hate's an awfully strong word," Samantha replied going into therapist mode. Her body language changed and she leaned forward a little. Eyeing the Joker, she made direct eye contact, something she hardly did with her patients. His eyes were burning with hatred. Had his father cut his face so horrifically?
"Look, I said I'd give you some truth, I never said I'd explain it."
"Didn't hurt to ask. If it's any consolation, I hate mine too," Samantha offered.
"Uh-huh. I doubt you could hate anyone. You can't even hate that ex-husband of yours. He terrorized the entire city of Gotham and you practically melt when he's mentioned. People can't always mask their emotions, Doc, and you can hardly mask yours. And the funny part is right now, you actually care what I have to say."
"I'm supposed to care what my patients say."
"Don't give me that."
"Give you what? Do you want me to sit here and beg you to tell me why you're scarred, why you murdered people? I won't do it. If you're my patient for the next 10 years, I'll wait until you finally crack and start blabbing your thoughts. It will happen. The longer you stay here, the more your sanity leaves you. I've had mass murderers confess their undying thoughts to me because there's no one else to listen to them. I melt because I loved my ex-husband. It's kind of hard to forget a marriage. I doubt you'll ever know what it is to love. You're probably the child of an alcoholic father who abused you after one too many beers and who ultimately cut your face. You then get laughed at and ridiculed at school, girls refuse dates with you because your scars are hideous, and they're so shallow that they won't risk being laughed at. Have I hit a nerve yet, Joker? I don't get the high profile patients because I enjoy staring at them. And contrary to popular belief, I hold no love in my heart for Crane much less for you. Both of you are murderous fiends who deserve to sit behind bars until you rot away." Samantha exhaled. The Joker stared at her, eyes filled with either amusement or contempt, she couldn't tell.
She got up and walked to the window, assuming that her patient wouldn't follow, but she was wrong. She turned around to see the Joker standing up and brushing his legs off. At first, her mind didn't pay attention, but then in a matter of seconds, she realized the handcuffs were sitting on the couch. Fear crept down her spine and her fear rendered Samantha from moving.
"What's wrong, doc? Cat got your tongue?" He walked over to Samantha's desk and started to rummage through it; sifting through papers, picking up pens. "I wouldn't move if I were you. It might get a little messy." He had found a letter open she carelessly had left on her desk instead of locking it up. He moved towards Samantha and in what seemed like an instant, had her face in his hands.
"I wouldn't scream if I were you doc, it'll just make things worse," he growled.
"What? Going to mark me like you? Do it. At this point, I really don't care," Samantha spat through gritted teeth. If she was going to meet her demise at the hands of a sociopath, she should at least accept it. Instead, he dropped the letter opener and continued to force her to look at him. Samantha tried to look through him, but couldn't; she looked directly in the Joker's eyes. If he weren't a mass murderer, she would consider his eyes almost kind; a deep green with flecks of gold.
"You take the fun away from me, you know?" he whispered. "You try so hard, but you will fail." Sincerity filled his voice and Samantha agreed, deep in her heart. There was no helping or getting through to him. Her body felt limp, the adrenaline in her body was returning to its normal state.
"You're right," she whispered. "Just kill me then, and make your escape."
"Kill you? Why would I do such a thing? I told you I'd make you laugh after you're through with my sessions," the Joker giggled and did something out of character. He dropped Samantha like a rag doll and walked over to couch. He held out his hands and looked at her.
"Cuff me, I'm yours," was all he said. Staring in disbelief, she checked to see if her legs still worked. She cautiously walked over and picked up the handcuffs. She stared at him, waiting for the part where she would start hurting, but nothing happened.
"This isn't too tight?" she asked cautiously as she placed the first cuff on his right hand. He just kept staring at her intently. His eye contact was unnerving and it bothered Samantha. He was up to something and she couldn't tell. After putting the handcuffs on him, Samantha continued to sit in the floor looking up at him. Staring in shock at how calm he remained. The Joker leaned forward and looked into Samantha's eyes and grinned.
"Why are you surprised, doc?" He laughed. "You'd think I would waste my escape on you? Don't think you're that special just because you're beautiful." Samantha felt bile rising in her throat and more chills down her spine.
"Gentlemen, you can take him," Samantha called out the door. The men shuffled in and grabbed the Joker by each arm. He didn't put up a fight, but refused to walk so the guards had to resort to dragging him out the door again. He waved casually at Samantha and grinned.
"Good session," he called, "it was a real eye opener." Samantha watched him be dragged down the hall, he was stilling smiling. She turned around and slammed the door. This is all I can take, she thought. Anymore and her heart would bust. She needed to get out and enjoy some part of life before her heart couldn't take anymore. She sat at her desk, pulled out a business card and dialed the number.
"Mr. Wayne's office," the cheery voice was on the other end. "What can I do for you today?"
"Yes, can I please speak to Mr. Wayne? I'm calling from Arkham Asylum," Samantha said knowing she wouldn't be able to get through otherwise.
"One moment please," the secretary said, transferring Samantha to a hold line that was playing classical music. One of Mozart's symphonies began to start when the phone was picked up.
"This is Bruce, what can I do for you?" Bruce Wayne said, overly cordial. He obviously had no idea who was on the other line.
"Mr. Wayne," Samantha started, "this is Samantha O'Reilly over at Arkham."
"Yes, Samantha; it's good to hear from you. Doing well I hope?"
"Could be better; a patient of mine is already running me ragged. I was calling you to take you up on your offer for the dinner?" She prayed the playboy hadn't asked anyone else who would immediately accept.
"Perfect," he replied, a slight note of happiness in his voice. "I'll pick you up around 8pm?"
"Sounds wonderful," Samantha said.
"I'm sorry to rush you off the phone, but I am about to start a business call with some associates in London. I may stop by Arkham and if not, I'll see you soon, Sam." All formalities were gone and it was almost like two friends talking. At his parties, Bruce rarely got to see everyone, and the Cranes were no exception; Samantha had never been this casual around him.
"Ok, Bruce," she replied, using his first name cautiously. "You take care."
"You too. Bye," Bruce finished and hung up the phone. Samantha put down her phone and realized what she had done. It would be her first night out since her and Crane had been together. Suddenly, Samantha realized she didn't have anything to wear, she had gotten rid of most of her clothes in hopes the memories would disappear with them. Sadly, Samantha was very wrong. She got up and picked up her purse.