*Note*:
Yea I saw you skip that introduction chapter. Read it!! Important disclaimers in there!!

Edit: 18/05/17
Added a pic of June!! The model's name is Raven Lyn if anyone's interested, she's also the girl currently on the cover.

Enjoy!!
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Chapter 1: Face Card

It took young determined Juniper Stoltz seven weeks and three days to convince Doctor Jeremiah Arkham to let her work on the Joker's case.

"Please, Dr. Arkham, I'm telling you, I can do this."

This was the last time June had been begging behind his desk, palms grasping the mahogany surface in an attempt to keep calm as her pleas fell on deaf ears. Constant rejection was beginning to make her lose hope- she'd almost lost count of the attempts by now.

"For the last time, Miss Stoltz, I will not allow patient 4479 to speak to any more psychiatrists. It's a lost cause and we've lost too many staff members along the way." Jeremiah Arkham, head of the asylum, was dead-set on getting the Joker locked up in extreme isolation, not ready to give up his pride because this lunatic kept on costing him precious time and money. "Patient 4479 is incurable. We've tried everything, from medicines to hypnotherapy to... well, everything."

Everything. The truth was that they hadn't tried everything- if they'd even tried at all- but Dr. Arkham hated the Joker so much that he was trying to push him toward more electrotherapy, or better yet, the chair.

But the the thing about Dr. June Stoltz was this: like everyone else, she had a secret, and this secret was the ticket to either salvation or madness (although she hadn't known it yet). While tween girls were asking their mothers about why they were growing hair in strange places or why they suddenly began to bleed every month, little June had to ask her mother why she could see into people's heads and relive their memories as clear as the day they happened. Clairvoyance, she eventually supposed; the ability to telepathically gain knowledge about a person without even having to ask. It was like mind-reading, but she could only see things that had happened in the past, never the present or future. Of course, when June had asked her mother that, she had no tangible answer, and they'd both sworn to secrecy to never tell anybody, although it never stopped little June's curiosity from wandering. Since age thirteen she'd been so intrigued and obsessed as to why she could do such things, and how her mind differed from others, that it lead to years of reading books about Psychology which then got her a career as a psychiatrist at Arkham (including studying at University, of course). And that's why she wanted to work on the Joker's case, because with her ability she could find out what happened, to see where it all went wrong, and then, hopefully, cure him.

She pled, hopelessly frowning as Dr. Arkham shuffled through paperwork in order to try and ignore her, but couldn't seem to get her face out of his peripheral vision- her moping expression and unkempt curls, the child. "Dr. Arkham, please, I've been wanting to work on this case for months. You told me, when there was an open opportunity, I could have it, and now that it's available you won't let me," She said, trying not to lose her temper or raise her voice in case he mistook it for a threat. "Please. I can do this, I know I can. You just gotta let me."

Dr. Arkham sighed, placing the paperwork down and began dialling the black telephone on his desk to call security again. He wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed for her or himself as this was the third time this week she'd come here begging. "Miss Stoltz, you're young and frankly, quite inexperienced. You're, what, twenty?"

"Twenty-two."

He interrupted, "I really don't want any more of our staff members to waste their time on this... this deranged psychopath any longer. Besides, I highly doubt that a girl of your, um..." Looking her up and down, he took in her confident stance, how she dared to oppose him, and searched for the right phrase. "...a girl of...your... background-" he cleared his throat, "-could handle a position as high as that."

Taken aback, she raised a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Miss Stoltz," He held the phone to his ear, "That it's time you gave up. So I suggest you get out of my office before I call security to come here and--"

June's finger pressed down against the receiver, ending the phone call before it even had a chance to come through, and the only thing occupying the silence between them was the single-toned beep that lingered from the telephone, like a third presence, an entire entity all on its own. Dr. Arkham did nothing but stare at her, mouth agape in shock, as June tried her best to not break eye contact despite knowing the risk of what she'd done. But she wasn't sure if she could even care anymore. She was tired. She'd had enough. Every other doctor had gotten this job except for her and both of them knew why. Everybody knew why. A girl from her background, as Dr. Arkham put it, could never be worthy of holding such a title- to even think that she could try curing the Joker was laughable in his eyes.

After a deep breath, she broke the silence between them. "Dr. Arkham, I have been the psychiatrist of seven patients and four of that seven have been successful cases. Two PTSD patients, one schizophrenic and a murderer I managed to straighten out and get sent to Blackgate after proving a false insanity plea. I'm the youngest doctor in this institute, I believe, so wouldn't you call that success?" She rhetorically asked, before carrying on, "I've been in this field now for about... four years, and I've been a doctor in this asylum for two. Three if you count the internship when I was nineteen."

"Your point is?"

"I think I can cure the Joker." She repeated it in her head like a mantra- I can, I can, I can- and she stared him right in the eyes as she finally took her finger off the telephone receiver. Dr. Arkham, both intimidated and somewhat impressed by her stubbornness, slowly put the phone down and listened to her for what probably was the first time. After all, if he didn't listen now, she'd only be back tomorrow. June smiled breathlessly when she saw him put the phone down, her stomach in a whirl. This could've been it. "I'm willing to work full time on the Joker's case." She assured him, knotting her hands together in trying to look the least bit respectful.

"Let's refer to the subject as patient 4479, please."

She obediently nodded. "Y-yes, of course. I'd be more than happy to pass my other patients to different doctors and dedicate my whole time to treating the J- patient 4479. I'm sure I can find some... interesting things." And could she indeed.

"What makes you different from the others then, hm? Why should I let you treat it?" Squinting his eyes, he leant forward. God knows he had to retain at least a little of the authority she'd tried snatching from him. And the fact that he called the Joker an it...

In her head, she laughed- don't suppose the other doctors are natural born clairvoyants- but as the humour of the thought started to wear off, she redirected herself back to the main question. It wasn't why she should treat him, but why she wants to treat him. After all, not many people were even willing to work at Arkham, let alone happily take on the Joker's case. It was like running head-first into traffic or waltzing through a minefield. The Joker was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off. Why on earth would she want that?

But for clever Dr. Stoltz, it was easy- she was very much a people person, with a kind of curiosity that wasn't easily sated by just straight answers. She liked to find things out for herself, rarely using her clairvoyant abilities unless absolutely necessary- that was too easy. Ever since the fateful day of the mob bank robbery a year ago, the Joker's face plastered over newspapers and magazines, she had been absolutely obsessed. Not so much with him, but his psyche. Why was he like that? Why did he attack Gotham? What was his motive? How was it that one day he was invisible, completely non-existent, and then the next day, was one of the most powerful forces in the city? This was her chance to answer every question she'd ever asked.

"Well, for one, I've never really seen Psychology as my job. It's more like a hobby, y'know?" She tried explaining, "It's so cliché but... I've never been in this solely for the money. I really do want to help people. Imagine if- if I cured the Joker- imagine everyone being able to live in the city without the fear of--"

"Alright, let's not jump too far ahead of yourself, now." He snapped.

June shrank back. "Sorry."

After a long moment of thought, eyes closed, Dr. Arkham clasped his hands together and swallowed sourly, trying to humour the girl. "It won't be an easy case, you do realise that, don't you?"

"Of course, sir," June smiled. "That's why I want it."

Then, two weeks and three folders worth of paperwork later, Dr. June Stoltz was officially assigned to the Joker as his psychiatrist and was ready to work with him as soon as she signed everything. Night after night she relished in the excitement of the idea, that she, anonymous citizen of Gotham City, would soon become infamous for curing the most dangerous man any cop, doctor or vigilante had ever had the misfortune to meet. She'd spent those weeks studying his case files so religiously that she'd lose sleep most nights, lost in stacks of scribbled notes from Dr. Young and blue folders that littered the coffee table at midnight, trying to decipher the handwriting of almost every doctor she'd come to know at Arkham. And while June thought she'd find some kind of distinct pattern connecting the dots to Joker's insanity, all there was were conflicting information and scattered details that didn't add up.

To Dr. Young he was a sufferer of PTSD, to Dr. Hugo Strange he was a schizophrenic with no fears whatsoever. Dr. Whistler's notes said that he had bipolar disorder while in another psychiatrist's analysis stated he lacked any emotional response whatsoever. He had fabricated multiple stories on how he got his scars, from domestic abuse to jealous ex-partners, and in one report he even said he'd done it to himself. There was nothing to build on, nothing reliable to analyse and pull information from except for one thing: he must've been an impeccable actor, or he had the worst case of a multiple personality disorder the world had ever seen. All the doctors' files came under the same name yet each individual report felt like they were analysing different people. June knew what she was signing up for when she begged for the job, but she'd never expected it to be so... inconsistent. Unless one of his lies were actually true, there was nothing pointing towards who the Joker was before the scars and face paint. Essentially, he was nobody. Perhaps it scared her, the feeling of the unknown. She didn't like to do it, but if nothing worked... she could always just take a peak at his memories.

Eventually the day had finally come- her very first interview with patient 4479. And somehow she still managed to wake up late.

She'd spent most of the morning rushing around her cramped apartment collecting notes together and shoving them all into a handbag, swearing under her breath multiple times, cursing herself for being late. If she was late to the first damn day, there was no way in hell that Dr. Arkham would let her pursue the Joker's case.

Once she'd got in the car, she tried not to run any red lights whilst simultaneously going over standard information for the umpteenth time in an open folder left open on the passenger's seat, repeating little things in her head over and over again and referring to the planned questions written on her clipboard. She could practically recite it all from memory. Inflicted a city-wide attack last year that resulted in the death of Harvey Dent, the disappearance of Batman, the destruction of Gotham General... bla bla bla. As if she hadn't watched it all on the news when it happened.

"Dammit..." She checked the clock in her car, realising that she only had a mere five minutes to get to the asylum, head on over to the therapy room and conduct the interview, which was less than enough time. Sighing in defeat, June slowed her driving down a bit more once she reached the main roads towards the Narrows- if she was going to be late anyway, there was no point risking her life for it.

A thought sparked in her head- diary entry. June rummaged through her handbag looking for something with her free hand, and found it- a voice recorder, her own personal audio diary and keeper of her innermost thoughts. It was like a journal, only without the hassle of having to actually write it all down. She felt that it caught her in the moment, her feelings and emotions forever framed through audio. The device was a little silver rectangle the size of her palm, with a tiny screen that could let her access all of her entries and also show her how long it was recording for. A handy little thing, really.

Setting it atop the dashboard, June pressed the record button and watched as the tiny red bulb in the corner flashed, waiting for her to talk.

She started with a heavy sigh, slumping back into the driver's seat. "Monday, March... something. The first Monday of Spring," She said, steering down a curvier road, peering outside at the vast grey sky, hanging overhead like a gloomy canopy ready to rain. "It's funny. Isn't Spring supposed to signal, like... new beginnings or something? New life? It's gotta be bullshit," She laughed, "Anyway, it's... ten a.m. and I'm already late for my first patient interview with the Joker- uh, 4479. I stayed up late again last night and forgot to set an alarm, and that's definitely not the first time it's happened. Doesn't seem like it's gonna change any time soon."

Up ahead, she caught a glimpse of the top of Arkham Asylum as she crossed the bridge to the Narrows, but it was still quite a while away. She continued, "But maybe things will change. I mean, I finally got assigned to the Joker's case. I'm now officially his psychiatrist," She grinned excitedly at the thought, "Two months of pissing Jeremiah Arkham off really did pay off after all. Although I'm happy, I still feel... well, I feel nervous, that's for sure. I've never dealt with super criminals before, especially the more extreme types. Joker definitely fits into that category. I mean- patient 4479. I'm supposed to call him 4479. The doctors don't like getting attached or first-name friendly." June sheepishly reminded herself and her voice recorder. With the way her stomach was churning and her hands were shaking, she felt like it was the first day all over again. The biting fear of failing, the torturous feeling of anxiousness. Even talking about it didn't make it go away.

Seeing a road sign signalling her approach to the asylum, June pressed her foot down on the acceleration in hopes of making it quicker. You're already late, idiot! It was dangerous along the windy roads but she'd driven there probably over a hundred times, and once more was never going to hurt.

"Well, I'm finally there. Still late. But better late than never. Talk to you later." And she switched the recorder off with a tiny blip, tucking it back into her bag amongst papers and a pack of gum, before driving outside the looming gates of Arkham to be granted access by security. It only took about five seconds, but in those five seconds, every day, June always found herself staring up at those black gothic steel bars and getting lost as she thought how intimidating they were. Arkham Asylum sold you on the false pitch that it was a utopian haven for your family members to seek help and medical care and the first thing they're greeted with are the grotesque gates with five foot tall spikes. It had to be said, it kinda killed the mood.

Once they opened the gate for her, the thought slipped straight into her subconscious and she parked her car somewhere in the centre- Mondays were always busy- and switched off the ignition, but not before she tilted her rearview mirror to try and assess how she looked. The short of it: like shit, athough June knew that a coffee afterwards would wake her up just fine.

After collecting her things and getting out of the car, she set off towards the front doors of the building, big and white and very... institutional. Trying to discreetly jog whilst wearing heels proved to be as difficult as it'd always been, although when she checked her wristwatch to see that she was still five minutes late for the patient interview, she did try to pick up the pace.

June rushed through the lobby and waved at Jeanette, an old woman who worked at the front desk. She wasn't really that useful but Dr. Arkham felt guilty at the thought of making her leave since she'd been working in Arkham long before the majority of the staff arrived. She kept her job here out of pity, to put it simply.

June snatched the signing-in book from the side of the desk and Jeanette looked up at her sourly, steadying her glasses with ageing, shaking hands. "Why, good morning, Dr. Stoltz. It seems you're..." She took a long moment to turn her neck to look at the clock, "Seven minutes late for your patient interview this morning." Her pursed lips tutted softly and June simply sighed in response.

After scribbling down her name and ID number, she tossed down the pen on the desk and said, "If Dr. Arkham asks, I wasn't late."

"But--"

Before she barely even finished her sentence June walked away with a smile, waving goodbye to her. "Thanks, Jeanette!" She could hear her flustered stutters as she hurried away, speeding up again. She passed through the corridor that housed all the doctors' offices, including her own, past the recreational room and the cafeteria until she finally reached the intensive treatment ward, pulling out her ID keycard ready.

At the two main doors leading into the ward stood Aaron Cash, head of security and he smiled at the girl, "Running late again, huh, doc?"

Dr. Stoltz forced a laugh and swiped her card along the scanner to unlock the ward to herself, "Oh, you don't even know. And today, of all days."

"What's today?" He asked.

"New patient." She excitedly replied, although avoided mentioning that it was the Joker, just to spare her the lecture. She'd heard enough from Mara.

Cash used his right hand to adjust the sleeve around his hook hand, bitten off by Killer Croc during a riot at the asylum. This had happened a good few years ago, before June had started working there, but she remembered experiencing this memory in his head and strangely, she felt it all. It was so violent, the way that his hand had been totally engulfed by a frothing wall of teeth, there one second and then gone the next. And the blood... everyone was surprised he'd remained so level-headed after such a traumatic experience.

"Best get in there quick then." And then he suddenly changed the subject, "Oh, by the way, Colter was asking where you were earlier. He swung by your office and I caught him trying to unlock the door with a... I think it was a hairpin? Guess he really needs to talk."

At the mention of the other security guard's name, June internally groaned and rolled her eyes, emotionally exhausted at even the mere reminder of his existence. Colter was another security guard who worked in intensive treatment alongside Cash and a few others, and all he ever did was pester and annoy June. He was the average run-of-the-mill macho guard with a superiority complex, who thought he was as tough as nails simply because he had his own name sewn onto his shirt and owned a walkie-talkie; not to mention he was obliviously racist without realising it. Him and June had history, of sorts, the result of a date gone wrong, and some of the most insulting things she'd had said to her had been his version of a 'compliment'. Since June was biracial, he claimed he liked her because he thought that she was 'exotic' and 'skinny like a white girl but with a black girl's ass'. Of course, there was that one day when he'd found her on her lunch break, that she went through his memories and found out that he used to work as a bouncer for a club in Uptown Gotham until he broke both of a man's arms while he was drunk on the job. It was a wonder they even hired him, but Arkham was quite low on funding, what with the countless break-outs and notorious reputation for screwing up patient treatment every so often. The only reason Colter worked there at all was because they needed the muscle to keep the more unsettled patients in line. And naturally, give a guy with no brains enough power and he abuses it.

June sighed. "He wants to talk, doesn't need to. Like a child, really." She turned to Cash again and awkwardly grit her teeth. "I know it's a pain but if he asks again, could you please tell him to back off a little? He creeps me out."

He chuckled and nodded, "Sure thing, doc. Anyway, it's best you get to your patient now."

She gasped at the reminder, bursting through the doors and quickly waving him goodbye, hurrying her footsteps until she was practically running, each tap of her heels clicking hard on the marble flooring of the corridor. Getting to the patient interviewing room was a breeze.

In her panicked state, she'd almost run past it, but stopped dead in her tracks as she stared at the mahogany door in front of her, fit with a little silver rectangular plate with the words 'Interviewing Room' engraved onto it.

The guard stood outside- whose name she wasn't quite sure of- was towering and muscular and stared at her as he waited for her to go in. Taking a deep breath, June exhaled shakily, not quite sure if she was ready or not. It was strange, she'd been waiting almost an entire year since the Joker had been admitted to Arkham and she'd dreamed of this day for months. All the articles, all the news reports, she could finally sit down with him and ask him why. And of course if that failed, she could look into his mind, into his head and his memories, and see what made him tick. She could have every answer by the end of the month. And yet for a minute, she hesitated. ID card clutched in her hand, she stared at the keycard swiper and wondered if this would all be worth it. Things that happen in dreams and things that happen in reality very seldom play out the same way. Maybe things in there would not be what Dr. Juniper Stoltz expected them to be.

She felt butterflies twirl in her tummy and nodded, showing the security guard that she was ready. She swiped the card across the scanner and he opened the door, holding it open so she could step inside. For some reason, she didn't expect he'd be following her in but he did, plodding over towards the chair on the other side of the table in the middle of the room as she sat down in the chair opposite. She took a moment to look around the room, not expecting anything different than usual- she'd been in here a million times. The therapy room was a whole lot nicer than all the cells, with mahogany furniture and polished flooring, vast windows to let in light but were covered with bars, that sense of freedom dulled at the reminder that everyone was a prisoner at Arkham, even the staff. It was ironic juxtaposition that she thought about almost every time she came here.

And she'd almost forgotten that he was there.

June heard the tightening of restraints and she nervously sat there twiddling her thumbs as the security guard pulled the Joker, who was bound in a straightjacket, over to the chair opposite hers and sat him down with a heavy thud. Her heart dropped and her stomach sank. It was really him.

She didn't know what to expect, as if her mind had somehow convinced her that he couldn't possibly be real, but here he was. The Joker- the Joker- was sat opposite June, slouched in his chair with the fabric of his straightjacket stretching over his broad shoulders and beneath the smudged face paint he bore a lopsided frown, his tired eyes blinking a few times as he came to terms with who exactly he was looking at. On the neck and shoulders of the straightjacket were streaks of white and black and red paint, the top of the neck also bore little torn holes where he'd been biting at it. He sat in a lazy way, his figure almost slipping halfway off the chair and it was obvious that he'd woken up not too long ago, but it also signified his boredom and familiarity with this situation- he'd had doctor after doctor after doctor... and this girl was just another card in the deck of many.

Despite the initial bitterness towards her, the Joker decided anyway to take a closer look. He was certain that he'd never seen her before, and he thought he knew everyone at Arkham. Well, everyone who was worth knowing, anyway. He hadn't had a doctor like her before and he was curious to see who he'd be psychologically abusing for the next month or so before he decided to jump her and choke her to death.

But, despite the distain he felt, this was how the Joker had first ever seen Juniper Stoltz, his Junie, without yet even knowing her name, but he'd always have the image of her like that burned into his mind forever- how he had actually laid eyes upon her and seen her, seen into her, into her big brown doe eyes and had seen every mystery she held... almost. What he couldn't get past his subconscious was the fact that he'd never had a doctor this attractive, this pretty, so plainly put-together and yet at the same time a clumsy mess, with her coffee stained lab coat and torn tights, a ladder stitching holes all the way from her knee down to the tips of her toes, inside her shoe and out of sight... and he was at a lack of words, or even thoughts. He couldn't decide if he hated her or hated the idea of her being his doctor. Her skin- dark and brilliant- had this youthful undertone, a kind of ever-lasting blush that dusted her round cheeks, and her lips were a deep pink that was curved into a frightened frown, trembling ever so slightly as he continued watching her. Her wild head of black hair, long and curly. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. And God, wasn't she a little young to be working here? She couldn't be more than twenty-five, look at her... clutching onto her clipboard, her polish-chipped nails digging into it, shoulders raised almost up to her jaw, her entire figure folding in on itself like a scared fawn trapped in the headlights of his piercing stare. He could smell her fear, practically taste it. Maybe that was what had shocked him to feel this way, her vulnerability. And she volunteered to treat him.

Some of these doctors are crazier than the actual crazies.

"Is the, um... is the straightjacket necessary?" June hesitantly asked the guard, afraid of sounding clueless. She'd never treated a patient so unstable who had to wear a straightjacket before.

"Dr. Arkham requested he wore it for at least the first session. He can be..." The guard coughed, "Uh... aggressive to new people."

She glanced at the Joker who did nothing but stare at her, black eyes following every curve of her shoulders, arms, and back up to her freckled face, round and full of youth, this tawny coloured delight. His gaze seemed quite neutral, there was no hard edge to his stare or anything that suggested he was deliberately trying to make her uncomfortable, but it was only the fact that it felt like he was examining her, sizing her up to see how she'd react, that made her skin crawl. How it made the hairs on her skin rise. How her head spun. What big teeth you have...

In a way, it felt like he was trying to swallow up every detail of her, every stitch that held her clothes together, just to see what she tasted like and then he'd spit her back out without even a sour grimace or any kind of acknowledgement. He knew that look, the one on her face, her great eyes filled with this kind of emptiness, this dull naïvety that came with the partnered curiosity. It only made sense, I mean, why else would she come here?

"Anything else you need?" The guard asked.

Dr. Stoltz shook her head and politely smiled, "No, thank you."

"I'll be outside."

"Alright." And with that he stepped out, the door slamming shut, leaving her alone face to face with the clown. The Joker. It was like no matter how many times she said the name to herself, she couldn't quite get her head around the fact that this was it, she was finally here. Months of begging, and here she was.

Dr. Stoltz almost flinched when he licked his lips and smiled, a smile that wasn't exactly genuine or kind. If she weren't so brave and determined she might've been scared of him, but she knew that he'd been caught red handed too many times to try and hurt her; yet, at least.

Terror had never tasted so bittersweet.

"Well, my day just got a lot better," He mused to himself with a grin, being the first one to speak. "And it ain't even noon yet." As he spoke, she began to notice how exactly his mouth seemed to move, almost closed entirely as he mumbled with a strangely sultry tone, one that was luring and tempting, but not at all seductive. He sounded scary, like every word was a quiet threat. Every word was a different octave, sudden words that pierced and some that were slurred. He spoke like it were an art form.

But the scars. The protruded skin on the sides of his mouth, his scars, were mottled and messily decorated with fresh red paint, and the white paint everywhere else seemed to settle in the lines of his face, where it moved, where it had aged. Somehow, despite the obvious wrinkles and less-than-muscular physique, he looked younger than he might've actually been- about twenty five or so according to doctors' estimations, and Dr. Stoltz wasn't sure whether or not she should underestimate him and his strength, after all, an entire year in an asylum does things to people. Maybe the Joker wasn't quite on parr with how he used to be.

She cleared her throat and clasped her trembling hands together, unsure of how to actually start the interview since it wasn't being recorded. She couldn't just start with 'Dr. Stoltz interviewing patient 4479' anymore; the Joker had too many tapes and failed therapy attempts to even bother filing anymore. Half of them were just him telling terribly morbid jokes and the other half were stubborn lies: 'my father drank a lot, my mother was a prostitute, I was an orphan at six, I had a girlfriend who gave me these scars, there were these guys I saw at a bar.' June knew that they were all lies and yet she still clung onto the hope that he'd open up to her, by some unlikely miracle.

Yet she felt speechless. Like if she dared to open her mouth, no sound would come out, only the breathy remains of a silent scream. All the months of newspaper articles and all the late nights spent reading through his case files, it all mattered, of course, but it didn't help with the fear. Her nerves, they were restless, head throbbing and heart beating so fast that she was sure she'd choke on it.

Dr. Stoltz sat upright, clearing her throat and pushing forward a smile, making sure her confidence didn't falter. She had to assert her control, any sign of weakness was surely of use to him.

"Good morning, 4479. I'm Dr. Stoltz. I'll be your new psychiatrist." She introduced herself, the nervousness slowly dissolving as her words were now out there.

The Joker looked at her for a long time. He wasn't sure what to make of her. These doctors in Arkham had a tendency to be creepy; very clinical, very monotonous and emotionless, plastic puppets who stuck to the rules and were nice, straight, uniformed clones of one another. Obvious that they were a pawn of Jerry Arkham's. There was usually no sign that they were even human at all. But this one, this girl, whoever she was, had shown more emotion in five minutes than the others had shown in their entire careers, this girl was very much an open book, obvious by how her chest shook when she breathed and how she carefully shifted her eyes away from him, and he was almost certain that she simply couldn't look past the Joker persona. All the other doctors had the same excuse not to be afraid of him: he's just a man. He's human too. Just like the rest of us. But he could tell, could see it on her face, that she was just completely wrapped up in the face paint and the scars, the voice she'd heard on the news, the green hair paired with those red lips. And he was not like everyone else.

Dr. Stoltz, upon being met with absolute silence, coughed awkwardly as his eyes bored endlessly into hers, deep black holes in the piercing whites of his eyes. How peculiar. She'd never taken the phrase 'windows to the soul' into literal consideration until now, despite it being the only entry she had into other people's memories. She was positive, so sure that if she stared for long enough she could find what was inside it, what he was, who he was.

"Um. This is where you introduce yourself." She sheepishly mumbled.

The Joker puffed out a single laugh, his chest bouncing once upwards as the buckles on his straightjacket clinked together, but showed no apparent emotion in his eyes. Not a smile. How can someone laugh like that? "Now, uh, why would I do tha-t?" He rhetorically asked. "I know you've been reading my, uh, case files, doll." He mocked her, tongue roaming thoughtfully around the insides of his cheek. He then smirked slightly, leaning back in his chair. "So. Whadd'ya think?"

In the distraction of how his mouth simply moved, she'd almost forgotten his question. "About what?"

"My case files," He said, a spark of delight in his voice like a jolt of electricity. "I worked very hard on them. The, uh, the sad stories about my childhood, the far-fetched answers to all those-uh... ink blot tests. Y'know, the... uh, father who beat me, the mommy who touched me. I was-ah, trying not to be too cliché, but I could tell that Doctor Young likes a good sob story," Joker said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the two were just gossiping over lunch. "That one she wrote about? About me telling her that I worked at Haly's Circus?" He giggled, haha, "That one took me three whole days to come up with. To think- the whole clown get-up- it was right under my nose the whole time! But I took my time. Gotta get every detail-ah... righ-t."

The last letter popped off of his tongue and almost made June flinch, the sound echoing in the room long after he'd said it. It was around then she realised that everything she'd seen of him on the news wasn't an exaggeration. He really was crazy. Two minutes in and she knew... this was gonna be hard work.

"Right..." Dr. Stoltz dejectedly sighed, looking down into her lap with wide, exasperated eyes. Panic. "Uh... I guess I'll just start with the basics then. How are you feeling today?"

Still, he persisted, "I asked, whadd'ya think about my case files?"

June rushed out an impatient answer with another sigh. "Great. How are you feeling?"

"Answer my--"

"I'm sorry, patient 4479, but I need you to cooperate with me if we're going to make any progress. I'll ask again," She said slowly, "How are you today, 4479?" Each number was said with a spiteful spit, four-four-seven-nine, forcing a false smile to grace her lips. Months. She'd waited months. She was not gonna be pushed around.

Joker chewed the insides of his scars, brows raised in defeat and then shrugged, his shoulders the only part of his body that moved in that restrictive straightjacket. "I'm feeling... fine. More than fine, but less than great."

Good, some cooperation, at least. "Well, why is that?" Dr. Stoltz asked, as if she were genuinely curious. Of course, she did care to some degree, but if progress was going to be as slow as it was now, she wasn't entirely looking forward to having to put up with this kind of scenario every day. She wasn't exactly a patient person.

He sighed, fists clenching beneath the fabric restraints by his sides. "Well firstly, I'm-ah, a little bit stuck," He shook his arms as much as he could in an almost violent manner, strings of chartreuse hair falling in his eyes, which caused June to recoil back slowly, "Secondly, I did not sleep well last night because that, uh, Falcone down the hall kept me up with his 'scarecrow' nonsense," He mimicked him in a deep and shaken voice. "And thirdly, I'm not allowed to go and do exercise because last week, I, uh--"

"Broke another patient's hand because he won a running competition you challenged him to." She finished his sentence for him, knowing the story. In Arkham, things like that tended to be gossip amongst the doctors and guards , not that it was a shock to any of them.

"He cheated," Joker insisted, "I said after three, like, one, two, three, go, but he went on three. And anyway, he only got to the finish line first by two seconds." He smugly frowned. "So I won. Because I went after three."

"But you--"

"However," He interrupted, suddenly smiling again. "I woke up to see that I have, uh, new company," Joker said, licking his lips once more. "And I must say, she is quite the looker."

At his somehow straightforward yet cryptic compliment, he watched as the doctor's face heated up in embarrassment, but didn't dare react in a way that'd make it obvious that his comment got to her. Oh, she was too easy. And obviously doesn't get enough compliments. He wasn't blind, he knew that she was... pretty, but nothing memorable. She had that mundane, every-day kind of beauty, like somebody'd slip her their number if she was a waitress or something, but nothing to fawn over. What was also odd was that she had this... air to her, a kind of sadness behind this confident front of hers, that something was just a little bit wrong with Miss-Doctor-whatever-her-name. Just out of a relationship, I'll bet.

"You're... forward, I'll give you that," June said awkwardly, his smile suddenly dropping into a face of irritation. Where's the shy smile? The deep breaths? Tugging of the skirt? "But I'd like to keep this professional. So while I do appreciate a nice compliment, I'd rather not hear it from you. Is that okay?" She feigned a smile, reaching for his files and her clipboard to talk to him about his medication.

Joker clicked his tongue and chuckled spitefully, "Damn. Quite the, uh, mouth you've got there, doll. That kinda talk gets your tongue pulled out where I'm from. D'ya treat all the freaks around here like that? Or am I just that special?"

June found the page that had records of his past medication and the medication he was on now, and kept her eyes on the paper as she answered him. "Oh, you're special alright. That's not the reason, though."

"What is the reason then, sweet cheeks?"

She looked up at him. "The fact that I feel like you're trying to challenge my authority." And again, the doctor beamed, the playful gleam in his eye diminishing almost instantly. While he stayed quiet, June glided a deft finger along the page, passing the names of every prescribed drug he'd been taking for the past year.

With Dr. Hugo Strange, who labelled him as a schizophrenic, he took antipsychotics such as Clozapine and Chlorpromazine, while with Dr. Young, his last doctor, he'd been prescribed drugs that increased his serotonin levels, thinking that he had a form of PTSD. "So Dr. Young's prescribed you... Mirtazapine and... Phenelzine, right?" Anti-depressants? No, that can't be right...

Joker shrugged cluelessly. "How should I know? They just give me a bottle and I swallow whatever's in it."

Dr. Stoltz rephrased, "How about... Prozac?"

"Ah," He nodded, "There's a name I know. One that don't sound like gibberish, at least."

"And how have they been working for you?" She asked, crossing one leg over the other, "Did you notice any changes? Felt any happier?"

Chewing his bottom lip, he looked to the floor in thought with his brows furrowed deeply, before raising his head again and smirking. It was like he'd just thought of a joke. "I, uh, I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a reason I'm called the Joker, sweets," He flashed her a sideways grin, teeth on display behind his red stained lips, yet his eyes still drooped with a kind of exhaustion that didn't seem to go away. "And that's because I'm always happy."

Reading his notes, she replied, "Well, according to Dr. Young you're a sufferer of PTSD after the 'violent and traumatic childhood he experienced after his father attempted to murder him and watched as his mother died before him'." She read aloud from his last doctor's notes, as he exaggeratedly nodded as if he were interested and paying attention. "So? Any elaboration on that?" June tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear as she got her clipboard and pen ready.

Joker noticed this, as he watched the doctor's hands closely with a suspicious eye, almost as if he was daring her to make a move. He looked up and she was looking at him.

He tossed his head to the side in trying to remove the hair from his eyes and finally spoke in a scratchy voice. "What do you think, doc?" He asked, almost interrogating her, testing her. "Hm? Ignore the reports, the, uh, the diagnosed illnesses and the old session tapes. I wanna know what you think." He said, leaning forward so that he was leant over the table, his painted face shadowed ominously below the glare of the harsh white bulbs that buzzed perpetually in the background. "Who am I? Or- or rather, what am I?"

Pursing her lips and looping her fingers around the blue biro in her hands, June tried to detach herself from all the assumptions that his files and the news had given her. Surprisingly, it was a rather tricky question. There were the facts: he was a killer, he was a criminal, he was a psychopath with a lust for chaos; and then there were the theories: he was abused, he was maimed, he was once a man, a mystery. To sum the Joker up in a single word was nigh impossible.

"You're a murderer." She stated.

He shook his head in protest and tutted, "No, no, no, I didn't ask that. I asked what you think I am." His tone was almost insisting in a threatening way, like he wanted her to say whatever came to mind.

After a moment of thought she honestly replied, "Well... I think you're a liar."

It was silent and then the right corner of his mouth raised into a smile, brows raising. "Do you now?" Brave girl. The kind of brave that gets girls like her in trouble.

She nodded. "Yes. I mean, it's obvious. None of your stories correlate with each other, there's the constant switching between what mental illness you're being diagnosed with-"

"Are you claiming I'm faking insanity?"

June swallowed. To put it into words was hard. She didn't buy the fact that he apparently had schizophrenia, the symptoms of delusions and hallucinations just wasn't there. He wasn't paranoid, anyone could tell straight away. What the Joker was, was an intelligent person, the attack he wrought on Gotham last year was too perfectly constructed to just be a random assault, and clever Dr. Stoltz could see that he was a somewhat logical thinker and liked to read people- a little like her really, which was rather scary now she thought about it.

"Perhaps not insanity, but you're definitely faking whatever mental illnesses you claim to have." She concluded.

"Now tha-t," He began with a harsh smack of his lips, "Is a very bold statement to make, don'tcha think? Especially during our first session. Dr., uh, Stoltz." He smiled and shook his head, tongue darting out against his top lip as the name spilled out of his mouth in amusement. "You at all scared of me, doll?"

"Not one bit."

"Then you're curious."

"Not... exactly."

"Your presence here would suggest otherwise."

"What do you mean?"

His arms shuffled uncomfortably in his straightjacket, adjusting his position in the metal chair and he looked off to the side as if in thought. "Well, until last week I spent a good, uh, six months or so downstairs. In the basement. Extreme isolation, y'know, where the real crazies hang out," He explained and June continued listening. "That was, until one of those-ah, monkeys come down and take me back up here, telling me that I've got a new doctor, which was weird, 'cause Jerry Arkham had told me that I wasn't getting any more treatment. Said I was incurable, y'know, preaching to me n' whatnot with that 'you're trapped forever' schtick." With another smack of his lips he groaned and sank into his chair, head lolling to the side. "But now, I'm sat here in the, uh, comfy enclosure of this wonderfully familiar interviewing room and I've got a pretty girl sat in front of me too, a doctor. Dr... J? Dr. J Stoltz," He read aloud from the name tag on the doctor's labcoat, eyes squinted so hard that the black of his eyes melted into the black of his paint. "And Jeremiah said- he said so surely that he, uh, his eyes were all wide and he was yelling and he told me- no, no more doctors, no more therapy. And yet here I am. And I know that Jerry's not the kinda guy to, uh, up and change his mind so fast. So that can only mean one thing."

"Which is?"

He smiled distantly, a ghost of laughter. "You came here willingly."

Defensively, June searched for an explanation, "We thought you deserved a chance."

"No, no, no, no. You, not 'we'. You did this all by yourself. Nobody asked you to do this, now did they? And yet you climbed into the lion's den. Tell me, doc, why'd you come here, huh?" He tilted his head, "What kinda, uh... masochist are you to wanna actually spend your time trying to talk some sense into me, hm? Got a crush on me or something?" He giggled, to which June swallowed hard.

"I... I wanted to prove a point." She quietly said.

"And what point is that, sweet cheeks?"

"That you can be cured," She said it with such confidence that it almost seemed like she'd done it already. "And that I can do it."

At her words, he spluttered up a laugh and doubled over, giggling with glee. Suddenly he threw his head back, reeling from laughter with a weak smile and all June could do was watch with apprehension, wide eyed with both wonder and fear. Nails gripping her knees.

"Your momma ever taught you not to play with fire, sweetheart?" He mocked, every sound that left his mouth was sharp and without sympathy or feeling, just laughter and resentment. He was toying with her. Trying to place her in a way, trying to figure the girl out so that he could see what kind of character he could play himself as this time. Sympathetic? Scary? Tempting...?

Momma. Mama. Her Mama had taught June many things, and yet she always ended up in situations like these. June simply bit down on her lip in a desperate attempt to not retaliate, bending her head downwards, eyes glued to the empty page on her clipboard that was void of any notes. This really wasn't easy. Not at all. But then again, she never expected easy, not from somebody as complicated as the Joker.

June gripped the pen in her hand. So tensely it could've snapped. No, she was going to cure him. She was so sure of it. She didn't spend seven weeks hanging around Jeremiah Arkham's office just to sit in a chair and sulk. He's just a man. Just a man.

As if on cue, a heavy knock came at the door and frightened June jumped in shock, snapping her head towards it. The security guard's deep voice was muffled on the other side, but he clearly said, "The hour's up, doc." Surely enough, when she checked her watch, it was already 11 a.m. The Joker groaned loudly and sighed, almost in disappointment. And we were having so much fun.

"Just when things started to get-ah, interesting." He said, his eyes once more roaming the doctor's slight figure as she stood up to grab her things. She was so small, a little shrinking violet. Maybe she'd disappear into her labcoat and blouse. "I suppose there's always next time, hm?"

June grabbed her bag and smoothed down her skirt. "Yes, and I'll be asking the questions next time. It's only the first session and we've already got off track."

He raised his brows. "Really? I think we made great progress. It was very, uh..." He searched for the words to say and puckered his lips in thought, tapping his foot. "Insightful."

Ignoring his comment, June sighed heavily and with her clipboard and pen in hand, headed towards the door. Despite being slightly irritated, she was ready to walk out with her head held high, knowing that she was finally on the path to curing the Joker, or at least, figuring him out. He was certainly difficult, sure, but that made it so much better. She could somewhat figure him out- the lies and the made up stories, the uncertain mental stability and the constant dodging of questions- Jeremiah Arkham was wrong; he wasn't a lost cause, but a blank canvas! She'd paint her theories and findings on him however she liked, all of her ideas would finally be recognised and her curiosity would thrive from every conversation. Maybe there'd be some progress made after all.

As the door opened and she was ready to leave, June was interrupted by an abrupt shuffling of metal buckles and shoe scrapes, along with the Joker interjecting, "Oh, one more thing."

She stopped and turned her head, a strand of hair falling into her wondrous eyes and she brushed it away swiftly, sending him a curious glance. "What is it?"

Joker nodded his head towards the girl and asked, "That, uh, that J on your name tag- whatsit- what's it stand for?"

After pondering for a few seconds whether or not it really mattered if she told him, she blinked and gazed at him, wondering why he'd even bother to ask. One card in the deck of many... yet Juniper Stoltz wasn't even a face card. Why would he care?

Still, she answered him with a soft calmness, as if she were telling him a secret.

"June." The girl said, and the expression of the clown's face shifted into one that seemed to be of interest, almost as if the single syllable of her name had changed everything, from what he saw in her to what he saw of her; what a plain name for such a plain girl. "It stands for June." And with a sudden conscious shake of her head she turned and carried on walking out of the door, waiting for the guard to lock it shut.

As she walked down the hall, further away from the interviewing room, she hugged the blank clipboard to her chest and headed towards her office, thinking about the different ways that she could bend and open the mysteries hidden within the mind of patient 4479.

---

Daaaaaaamn let's get this show on the roooooooad!! Admittedly, I'm not as happy with this chapter as I'd like to be, but I sorta had to cram in exposition and introduction to save later confusion- so I'm sorry if this doesn't work as well. I am, however, having tons of fun writing as the Joker rn. I hope you liked the first glimpse of this fanfic!

And in case you didn't read the introductory chapter (which you should, it's so so soooo important) chapter 2 WILL take a while, because I'm not that far into the story yet. I just had to share this on Heath's birthday and it's been months since I released the last chapter of AoS. So please, while you wait, please share this story with your friends, or around Wattpad, or whoever you think might enjoy this. I really want this to receive as much recognition as AoS had!!!

Love you all, here's to another fanfic!!

-tkj