© Ellie Goodson 2016

Chapter Two-Two Face the two faced man

~Arabella Jones~

After returning to my office after the incident with Harley, I was shocked to find that I had merely an hour before my next appointment. It was with a man I truly feared as well, Two Face. Funnily, the man was insane and two faced because of the Joker. That clown seemed to cause a lot of trouble.

His real name was Harvey Dent, and he used to be one of the most well known and loved men in Gotham. But then the Joker kidnapped him, and Harvey's left side of the face and body got covered in gasoline. There was an explosion, and Harvey got caught on fire. His whole left side was horrifically burned and during his recovery something snapped in him. Harvey turned crazy, and became a cold hearted murderer. He used a coin to decide whether his victims lived or died, and they mostly died.

I carefully picked up the folder that had his name on, expecting it to burst into a ball of flames for some reason. Inside were notes stating the same thing. The man was completely reliant on that silver coin, the coin that decided whether they lived or died. He was obsessed with staying as a two faced monster, even though he could easily afford the surgery.

I collected my things, shoving my badge and a few other bits and bobs in my pockets before making my way to Two Face's cell. I would be ten minutes early, but that was fine. Arriving at the glass cell, I flashed my badge at the guards before entering.

Two Face looked even more terrifying in real life. He was sat in the chair already, staring straight at me with an evil glare. "Harvey Dent, hello." I said politely, taking my seat.

"It's Two Face." He snapped. When he spoke, his mouth twisted oddly.

Harvey looked truly traumatising up close. No eye lid, no lip or cheek or even skin on the left side of his face. It was twisted, raw muscle on show. How was it not painful, or infected? And in his hand, being flipped mindlessly around, was the silver coin. How many lives had that silver coin killed?

I wrote Harvey's name at the top of the pad, like I did for Harley-ignoring his attempt to get me to change it to Two Face. "I am the psychiatrist here Harvey, I am the one in charge." I challenged him with a stern look, of which he returned with a glare. "Let's talk."

"About what?" He replied sarcastically, slouching in his chair.

I decided to take a risk, really pushing the boundaries between us. "How about we have a nice, little chat about the Joker?" I got my pen readied, sitting up in my chair.

"What's there to say, the clown is the bastard behind my disfiguration. He's a nutter, and I'm glad he's locked up here."

"Ah, so they finally got him back in Arkham."

"Delivered by the old Batman himself."

I sighed as I continued writing, my wrist beginning to ache. "You know Harvey, you don't seem too bitter about the Joker."

"You live with it. The Joker killed Rachel, the woman I loved and I'll forever blame him. Batman came for me and not Rachel, and I blame him for that too." I nodded my head, trying to act like I understood.

But there was no way I could understand. I didn't have a disfigured face, I wasn't a murderer and I hadn't lost anyone that I loved like that. "It's time I leave. Nice speaking to you, Harvey." I got up and left the glass cell, unaware whether I had made any progress or not.

I had checked my time table before I left, and so I knew I had another appointment before the end of the day. It wasn't until mid-afternoon-fortunately-and I decided to treat myself to some food. I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since I arrived.

My thoughts wandered to Harvey Dent as I trailed down the corridors. For a man with only half a human face, the love of his life dead, and the person behind all of that being in the same building as him, he seemed quite mutual and calm. Maybe I had just caught him on a good day?

My final appointment for the day was with the one and only Pamela Isley. I was quite thrilled to find that I'd be treating the plant lover. I wondered how she'd act, whether she would be cruel or polite. Whether she would be violent or calm. Whether she was childish like Harley or mature like Harvey.

Some part of me, hidden far away and locked in a cage, wondered if I'd be treating the Joker. A tiny part of that piece of me hoped so, however the rest of the part and the rest of me hoped not. The clown was truly terrifying.

The Joker had sloppy green hair, and a twisted grin that stayed stuck on his face. His lips were blood red, and rumours spoke that he used actual blood. That would be disgusting if true. His skin was pure white, not naturally though-it was grease paint. What forced his mouth into a smile were several scars on each side of his mouth. His eyes were blackened, dripping around his face. It caused his real eyes to look small and dark, and the clown look did seem truly freaky. The thought of seeing it all up close caused my heart to hammer. He'd surely look more horrifying than Harvey.

I collected a basic sandwich and a bottle of water from the food parlour before making my way back to the office. I'd have to bring some things from my apartment to personalise the place I'd be spending a large amount of my time at. Checking the clock on the wall, I saw I had two more hours until my session with Pamela. I was yet to place Harvey's information into his file, and so after I ate the sandwich and drank some water I settled down to do so.

Harvey's file was neatly sorted and filled with quite a bit of information. You could understand him just by reading his notes, but it was quite obvious that the man was mentally ill. In a sane mind, you'd know that you don't have to let a coin make your decisions and you don't have to murder everyone who pisses you off either.

I sighed and closed the file, picking up Ivy's. I would have to get used to the intimidation and frustration of these patients. I was exhausted, and the whole job was mentally and physically exhausting. Poison Ivy's file told me one thing only, all the rumours I had heard were true. She had killed a recent therapist by her kiss and was truly infatuated by plants. She'd kill anyone that harmed a plant of any kind.

Leaving the file where it was, I sat back in my fabric chair and pulled out my phone. I had no messages or calls or anything-nice to know I was popular. There was a soft knock on the door, causing me to jolt in my seat. "Come in." I called politely, wondering who was on the other side.

The door opened, revealing David. I sighed, slouching back into the chair. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I still need to get used to this." I gestured to everything and nothing at the same time, smiling politely at the Doctor. "What brought you here?" There was a moment of hesitation from him, and for a split second I didn't expect an answer.

Doctor Black closed the door, resting his palms on the table. "What I'm about to ask of you is massive, and it's completely fine if you disagree. But I truly believe you can do this. Looking at your grades and...Well you get the point."

"Please, just say what you need to." I said, feeling unable to continue. My session with Pamela was in half an hour, time really flied in the Asylum.

Doctor Black took the pile of folders and began to look through them. I remained silent, truly confused as to what he could possibly want. Maybe he wished to check I was doing what I should? Having found what he needed, David pulled out a file and gently slipped it in front of me.

I glanced down at the folder, and my heart nearly stopped. The Joker-not so commonly known as Jack Napier. What was the Joker's file doing in my pile of patients? "I-I don't understand?" I said with confusion clear in my voice.

"The staff of Arkham believe that you have the potential to take on the Joker. To be a successful psychiatrist and not another Harley Quinn. We have trust in you, Doctor Jones, the trust that you can stay sane and strong against the clown."

I continued to stare from Doctor Black to the file. Me? Be Joker's therapist? But I'd only been working at the Asylum for one day! The man was crazy, how could he know that I was strong enough? Unless..."Doctor Black, I believe we both know the truth here. Arkham needs a therapist for the Joker, who better than the newbie who has no ties to the Asylum? No sentimental needs and values."

Doctor Black was lost for words, simply proving my point that I was right. "And that is exactly why I will take the Joker on as my patient willingly. I'm not that weak, and to be honest I'm offended that you think I am David." I picked up Ivy's file before pushing David out of the door. "Now if you don't mind, I have a patient to see."