Leland tapped her nails on her desk, wondering which mountain of paperwork to deal with first. The one on the left side of the desk was taller, but composed mostly of individual papers. The one on the right was much shorter, but contained giant budget reports. I wonder who Crane foisted this off on when he was the one getting all of this crap, she wondered idly, glancing at the clock.

Oh joy. The Joker was due for his therapy appointment in roughly two minutes. Despite Leland's vehement protestations-

("He's the Joker, Adams. The Joker. It is beyond our power to help him."

"We should still try."

"Can't we just have him finger paint all day?"

"Dr. Leland, I will make a call to the Board of Ethics."

"Crane had a man locked in the basement of the asylum and you're going to call the Board over me denying the Joker psychological treatment?"

"We're trying to set a better example."

"...I'll be in my office.")

-the Joker was to see a psychologist regularly. Leland was unwilling to inflict him on anyone else, and so the responsibility fell to her. She sighed and wondered if there was still a bottle of Tylenol in the desk. She could already feel a headache coming on. At the sound of a commotion in the hallway, she looked up with a sinking feeling of inevitability. The door to her office burst open, and three guards dragged the Joker in, looking considerably worse for wear.

"Shut up, freak," one of them growled, slamming the Joker down into the chair in front of Leland's desk.

"Where's your sense of humor?" the Joker cackled, his nose bloody.

"Handcuff him to the chair, please," Leland said. It was going to be a long session.

"What, no couch? Is Arkham cutting costs on furniture, Joanie?" Joker ignored the guards for a moment as he gazed at Leland, a wide grin on his face.

A thin line of blood had crept from his nose to his upper lip. As one of the guards leaned down to fasten the cuff on his wrist, Joker turned to him - their faces just inches apart - and ran his tongue slowly over his lip, licking the blood from his mouth. The guard seemed entranced as he watched Joker's tongue - a little too closely perhaps? - and Joker let out a wild burst of laughter that made the guard jump back, hand suddenly on the can of mace in his belt.

Leland was tempted to let the guard go ahead and mace Joker, but she was sure Adams and the Board of Ethics would frown on such a thing.

"Foster - please refrain from macing my patient, thank you."

Joker continued to cackle as the guard's head jerked in Leland direction, his fingers still twitching over the can of mace before one of the other guards took him by the arm and steered him to the door.

The final guard made a show of handing Leland a panic button, which she slipped into her coat pocket. "If you need us, Dr. Leland, you know what to do."

Joker continued to titter and giggle as the guard glared at him, Joker pursing his lips and kissing the air before the guard gave a shudder and shook his head, then left the room, locking the door behind him.

It was then that Leland noticed how quiet Joker had become. He was sitting in the chair, back straight, body completely still. His face had become a blank mask, completely devoid of emotion as his eyes fixed on hers. It was decidedly unnerving.

Leland stared back at the Joker, wondering what he was doing. They sat like that for a full minute, just staring at each other. Then the Joker moved, just a twitch of the lips that stretched into a smile.

She shuddered. Breaking eye contact, Leland returned to the paperwork she was doing. "Actually, this is going well so far. Just sit like that and don't talk for the next hour, and everything will be great."

Joker's smile widened yet and he gave a snorted laugh. "That sounds like some great therapy, Joanie. I just sit here and you do paperwork, is that it?"

He let out a dismissive chuckle and slunk down in his chair, propping his shackled feet on the edge of Leland's desk with a loud thud and a rattle. His slippered feet began to waggle back and forth, the chains of his shackles clanking against the desk, a smug grin on his face.

"So... when do I get to make vases?"

Leland rolled her eyes and started on another budget report. "You are a maximum security patient; you don't get vases. And I'm basically of the opinion the trying to fix whatever is wrong with you would be like trying to de-stripe a zebra. But, if you want therapy, we can have therapy."

She pulled out a pen, clicked it open, and smiled. "Tell me about your mother."

It was Joker's turn to roll his eyes. He shrunk down lower in his seat, his feet moving in a much more agitated fashion. The noise of his leg shackles against the desk made Leland grip tight at her pen in annoyance.

Suddenly, Joker stopped fidgeting and pulled his feet from the desk, sitting up straight in the chair once again.

"Well, you know, she's my mother. She's female, carbon-based, wears glasses. I don't really see what any of that has to do with me, though."

Clicking her pen once or twice to stave off the irritation, Leland jotted down 'Uncooperative. SURPRISE.' on a legal pad and cracked her knuckles.

"Would you say you were close? Did she raise you? Isn't therapy fun?"

He began to laugh, letting out a loud braying sound as he threw back his head, mouth open wide.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to give you vital personal information about how I was neglected or abused as a child and how it led to me becoming the monster that I am today? Oh, really, Joanie. Try a bit harder, please."

'Avoiding the topic of mother? Or just being annoying? Or both?'

"We have to start somewhere," Leland said. "And everyone has parents, who do all sorts of exciting emotional damage. So talk about your parents. Or your childhood. Or the weather, or how the Yankees are doing. I don't care. Just talk."

"Well, Joanie, if you really must know," Joker sighed as the smile slipped from his face and he became resigned and somewhat awkward.

"Mumsy was a drinker and Daddums was just never around. I often came home from the old schoolhouse to find my mother passed out on the floor just reeking of booze. Or carousing around the neighborhood in her girdle, wig all askew. It was a travesty. An embarrassment. I was ridiculed endlessly for her shenanigans. And it was even worse when she was home. Sometimes Mumsy was a nasty drunk and she'd throw bottles at me of I so much as looked at her funny."

Here he dropped his head and closed his eyes, his face scrunched up in pain as though he were reliving some old memory, some long forgotten moment of absolute mortification long suppressed suddenly swimming to the surface. But then he peaked up at her and smirked.

"Is that what you're delving for, Joanie?" He cackled and shrugged at her. "Sorry toots, but I can't oblige. My childhood was rather idyllic, actually."

Leland resisted the urge to snap the pen. She was considering sending a recording of this session to Dr. Adams with a note saying 'Aren't you glad I'm spending my time doing this, Ruth?'

Time for something different. "Fine, let's not talk about your past," Leland said. "At least not that far back. Tell me about the first person you ever killed."

"Oh... oh, yes. Now you're onto something!" Joker began to rock back and forth in his chair as he glanced at the ceiling, a look of utter pleasure on his face as he reminisced.

"Now... who was it... who was it? There have been so many, it gets hard to remember. And one usually tends to remember one's first time, right?" He was beginning to look a bit confused now, seemingly having a hard time remembering the exact person.

"Was it that hench with the weaselly little face? The cop? No... wait... the nun! No... that's not right either. Hmm... The bike messenger, maybe... or the dry cleaner. That waitress in the Narrows?"

His brow creased and his lower lip stuck out in a pout of defeat as he finally regarded Leland.

"Well, darn it all, Joanie! I can't say as I can remember the exact person. Must not have been as monumental an occasion as you'd think, huh? How disappointing this all must be for you."

"Actually, I'm not all that surprised," Leland said, tapping the pen on the pad of paper. "I'd imagine that for someone like you, most of the murders and tortures would just be a kind of pleasant background hum in your memory."

"Mm... yes."

Joker cocked his head to one side as he watched Leland across her desk, his eyes narrowing slightly. She didn't seem very interested in what he had to say. Not at all.

"Do I need to liven things up for you, Joanie? I don't know, you seem a little... disinterested. Have I been dull?"

Smiling politely, Leland swiveled a little in her chair. "I work at Arkham. My job description is hearing about nothing but murder and madness all day long. Why don't you tell me what your most interesting crime was?"

He shrugged his shoulders and let out a sigh. "There have been so very many interesting crimes - how do I pick just one? I'd hurt the others' feelings if I narrowed it down."

He chuckled and grinned at her. "How about my most interesting experiment. Call it a social experiment. One with a very interesting result."

Joker's grin broadened as he leaned forward in his chair. "I took an eager little Psychology student, once an intern here at Arkham, with big dreams of becoming a world-renowned psychologist and made her nutcase. Turned her into a looney. A flunky with bats in her belfry."

He threw back his head as he began to laugh maniacally. "HA HA HA! I t-tell you, Joans, HEE HEE HEE...it's been... HEH... it's b-been abso-toot-ly hilarious!"

She didn't remember getting up, or crossing the distance between the desk and the chair, or even reaching out. All Leland knew was that one minute she was sitting down and the next her hands were wrapped around the Joker's throat, squeezing.

"The day after you took her, when we all realized what you'd done to her, I almost went after you," Leland hissed, squeezing down harder, trying to choke off the wheezes of laughter. "I would have gotten killed by one of your flunkies, but it would have been worth it to try. They stopped me. No one's here to stop me now."

She tightened her grip and remembered Harley, smiling, bright and wonderful and whole. "I've never killed anyone. But you, you would be worth it. I'd be doing Gotham a favor; we'd be free of you. She'd be free of you." Leland felt her nails dig into the Joker's skin, blood welling up. The Joker's hands jerked helplessly in the cuffs and he just kept laughing. "There's not a jury in the world that would convict me. I should do it. I really should."

Now this! This was a punchline!

Joker's eye were bulging from his head as Leland's fingers continued to tighten about his throat. The choked gagging sounds he made clearly indicated that he was still laughing, despite that she might actually have the strength of will to finish him off, no matter what it might cost her.

It was actually quite thrilling to see uptight, face-of-stone Leland exhibiting so much emotion. And it was all because of him. If she did actually kill him, he would have died a happy man.

"I should," Leland said, tightening her fingers. She wondered if she could snap the Joker's neck this way, just squeeze until the bones cracked. "I should."

She bowed her head, arms shaking with effort. This isn't me.

The Joker's lips were turning blue.

I am not that person anymore.

It would be right. Justifiable. No one would blame her.

Let go.

Fingers creaking from the strain they'd been under, Leland let go and staggered back to lean against her desk, feeling drained.

"I should," she said. "But I won't. I'm better than you."

He sat there choking, wheezing, gasping for air as she finally let go of his neck, his face mottled a faint red and streaked with tears. As he got his breath back, he resumed his cackling.

"Oh... oh, Joanie! Heh hee ha! That was... that was ama-amazing. So much... hee hee... rage."

He coughed and swallowed before giggling a little more and getting himself under control. Then he was leering at her as he slyly whispered.

"Do you know how many times I've broken her delicate little bones? She's even held out her hand for me, knowing I was going to snap each of her fingers like kindling. Grinning through the tears because it was me doing it to her. Her Mistah J, touching her, showing her attention - even if it made her want to shriek and vomit and pass out from the pain. Me. I did that to her."

The leer intensified, his eyes sparkling with sick delight. "And she loves me for it."

Leland tightened her grip on her desk. Her throat felt tight and her body was shaking. It had been a long, long time since she'd lost control like that. She had a brief, insane urge to put her hands over her ears to block out the Joker's voice. Instead, Leland straightened and sneered at him.

"You can't get her now." She pushed a loose lock of hair out of her eyes. "You're locked up, and she's walking free." Leland laughed. "One day, you're going to taunt the wrong person, and they are going to kill you. It won't be me, though."

Joker let out a short barking laugh and shook his head. "Oh, no. Of course it won't be you. You don't have it in you, Joanie. No matter how much you threaten you might do it. You came a little close there, for just a tiny second, but no... you really don't have that killer instinct, Joans."

He smirked at her, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter as she glared daggers at him.

"And I wouldn't want it," she sneered. "We're done here." She walked over to the door and opened it, signalling the guards. "Take him to solitary. Keep him from injuring himself further."

"He, ah, strangled himself?" a guard asked, looking at the bruises already blossoming across the Joker's throat as he leaned down to unlock the handcuffs.

"These things happen," Leland shrugged. The Joker just laughed, and she closed her eyes until he was gone.