© Ellie Goodson 2016

Chapter Seven-Getting to know Arabella and meeting Scarecrow

~Arabella Jones~

I dropped Harley's files down on the plastic desk in front of me, falling down onto the seat with a sigh. "Oh Doc, you don't look so good." The jester commented, frowning enthusiastically like a toddler. I shook my head, holding the bridge of my nose for a second.

"Rough night, Harley." I clicked my pen before positioning it so that it hovered over the paper. "Let's talk about your childhood today." I continued, quickly changing the subject.

Harley sat forward, the tails of her red and black jester hat moving about as her head shook. "What's there to say?" She shrugged her shoulders, making her face look overly innocent. "I had stupid aspirations, but I'm glad I became a psychiatrist at Arkham. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have met my Puddin'." I nodded my head, scribbling away.

Before the Joker manipulated Harley, the jester had high expectations for her life. Sad, truly.

I closed the notepad before collecting my things. "I think that's enough for today, Harley. I'll see you whenever." I got up from my seat, pushing it under the desk. We both remained silent as I made my way out, but I felt her watching me the whole time. A shudder ran down my spine as I turned the corner from her cell, fighting the temptation to look back.

My next patient was the Joker, and like I always did, I only had a ten minute gap before seeing him. After yesterday's events, I had no idea what everything would be like between us. Awkward? Or more...intense? On our first meeting, he had told me that he 'has men on the inside', meaning that he would most likely know about what he had pushed me to yesterday. There was a high chance that he'd mention that in today's session.

I didn't even bother to check the time or myself in the mirror, I simply dropped Harley's file and left. I didn't need the Joker's file; it wasn't hard to forget anything about the man. I began the ankle aching walk to his cell, and my thoughts raced at the possibilities of what could happen once I had stepped into the glass cell. Would he attack me again? Or would he remain mutual and calm like in other meetings? Our...relationship would defiantly be different after yesterday's events, it was unavoidable.

Time passed quicker when you were lost in thought, this came to me as I rounded the last corner and came face to glass cell with the Joker. I stopped in my tracks, as what I was seeing was extraordinary. The Joker sat in his usual seat, but instead of staring into space, the clown was scribbling away at the paper. His hands made long swirls as he pulled and pushed the pencil so that it left a mixture of lines and shades on the paper.

I approached quietly, trying to go unnoticed so that the clown didn't stop drawing. I stood outside the cell, just watching. It was clear what the picture was now, a semi-automatic shot gun. What looked like long, graceful glides from afar turned out to be jagged and violent lines. However, it was still fascinating to know that the clown had rather good talent in drawing. That was something that wasn't in his file. "I know you're there, Doll." My heart skipped a beat, but it soon smoothed back into rhythm as the Joker looked up at me.

I decided to make a move into the cell, speaking as soon as the door was opened. "I was...intrigued. I never thought someone like you would draw. Although you have drawn a semi-automatic shot gun, it's still quite fascinating to watch."

"You know your guns, I'm impressed." He chuckled lowly in his throat, a small nod of appreciation barely recognisable, but still there.

I sat in silence for a minute, just taking in the Joker's presence. His make-up was freshly applied today, no runaway trails or skin showing. I wandered how he got his greasepaint, maybe that was the one thing they allowed him? The Joker drummed his fingers on the table, licking his lips every so often. "I heard about what happened yesterday." He said at last, and I felt all the blood drain from my face as my stomach dropped. I knew it; I knew he'd mention it.

"O-oh really?" I stuttered; that wasn't good. Damn my inability to remain calm around the clown.

A minute passed, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat so that my elbows rested on the table. "I feel...bad." My eyes widened, this was new. This was...really unexpected. "I feel bad about making you feel like that. When I heard about you...I felt so sad and mad. At myself though. And then I heard that the Batman rescued you...and I just felt...angry. Really angry. And I don't understand, these are feelings I haven't felt for so many years...I don't understand."

I wanted to reach out, to comfort the psychotic clown. The thought was so...out there that I almost choked. Instead, I sat back calmly and flipped open the notepad. But, before I could write, the paper was shoved off of the table, flying at such force that it hit the only brick wall. My head snapped up to see a not so happy Joker glaring at me. "No!" He shouted, fists trembling. "No, no, no."

I raised my hands in a surrender gesture, and put the pen back down on the desk. "I-I...I don't want anyone else to know. This...this conversation is between you and me, doll." I nodded my head, my whole body stayed rigid in the seat-just like yesterday.

"You know, the events from yesterday should've made me not want to ask this of you again, but I'm curious as to how you'll act knowing the effect your actions had on me. So shoot, ask me questions."

The Joker twirled the pencil in his fingers, his tongue trailing over his red lips. "Tell me, Doc, why work here? Work at Arkham?"

"I'm one of those people. I like exotic, I crave the crazy people. You see, you'll find that I have a not so common interest in people who aren't commonly liked because they're different. Take Poison Ivy, all these 'normals' hate her because she's different, but I gave her a chance because she's different, and she's actually good. You've just got to respect her plants."

"Why do you give people chances?"

I thought this question over, not sure how to word it. "Everyone deserves a chance or two. And that's as complicated as it gets." The Joker nodded his head, obviously satisfied with his new information.

"What do you fear?" I remained silent for a moment, unsure as to why he wanted to know. I decided that I could trust him in the end.

"Ironically, I have an irrational fear of clowns. But I don't fear them the same way I fear you. You're...different."

I left it there, refusing to explain any further.

The Joker tilted his head to the side slightly, as if trying to get a better angle of me. "Arabella, I bet there's more to you than you let on."

"Jack, I bet there's more to you than you let on." I got up from my seat to collect the pad that the clown had thrown across the room. My heart started pounding and stomach twisted as his words played over in my head once more.

I bent down to collect the pad, and carefully stood back up so that I didn't lose my balance. As I turned to face the Joker once again, I found that he was in fact stood up and leaning against the wall next to me instead of sat down. "Sly thing." I muttered under my breath as my heart rate slowed.

"I try my best." That made me laugh, harder than it should have. I caught the Joker looking at me curiously; it was most likely the first time he'd made someone laugh-naturally.

When I reached the cell door, I turned around once more to face the Joker. "Until next time, Joker."

"Until next time, Doll." He replied, now sat back in his seat, staring right at me. Something had changed between the Joker and I, things were different. And the words he had said to me...'I feel bad about making you feel like that. When I heard about you...I felt so sad and mad.' They had sounded foreign coming from his mouth, but still, he had spoken them...to me.

I headed for my final patient of the day, Jonathan Crane. My whole body was still buzzing and my mind was still racing after the session with the Joker, and I had to take a minute to calm myself before entering Scarecrow's cell. A couple questions circled my brain as I approached the cell and showed the guards my badge. What would Scarecrow be like? Would he have any stored fear gas anywhere? I was terrified to enter the cell.

It was deadly silent as the door closed behind me, and I felt Jonathan's heavy gaze shift over and onto me as I sat in my seat. "I was so disappointed that you missed our appointment yesterday. Fancy telling me why?" His voice was cool, calm and classically collected, but I wasn't fooling for it.

"Well, I'm here now. And let's not live in the past, Jonathan." I twirled my pen around in my fingers, my eyebrows raised mockingly at Scarecrow.

Crane leaned in close, face inches from mine. I didn't flinch, as I could see his hands where strapped around him by the mental health, asylum jacket. I wondered why the Joker didn't have his arms strapped so that they were unusable. "Tell me, Doctor, what do you fear?" I sat back in my seat then, unsure whether to answer him or not. He was the second person to ask me that question today.

My mouth opened, but someone else cut me off. "I wouldn't if I was you." I turned to see one of the guards facing us, a mean glare on his face as he concentrated himself and his gun on Scarecrow. "He's...intelligent. Don't tell him what you fear, because you'll end up in here with him." I glanced back at Crane to see him pouting like a little baby.

"You always ruin all my fun." He said, rolling his eyes. "I'm done; I'm bored of you, Doctor. You're not much fun at the moment, but you will be soon." He shot me a playful wink, which I returned with a confused look.

Brushing it off, I got up from my seat and simply walked out of the cell. The session was more...boring and short than I had expected and I was grateful for the guard stepping in a stopping me from making the mistake of telling Scarecrow what I feared most. But what did he mean when he said that I'd be fun soon?

I made my way back to my office, needing to put all my notes into my patient's files before having some time to think and...relax. Not everything would be going into the Joker's file though; a certain conversation would be left out of the Joker's notes. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea of mine, but I felt I owed the Joker at least that, he had trusted me to open up about how he felt and so I was going to repay him by doing what he wanted to so badly avoid, and left the conversation out of the Joker's file. Now, we were even...But were we really?