*EDIT: 24/8/17*

Changed  a piece of dialogue because I was unhappy with it:

(("Who, me?" Joker laughed, "No, no, no, Junie. I'm not the one in danger. Even the dark don't scare me, and neither can whatever's in it."

"Why not?"

He grinned, "Because I'm the monster that lurks there."))

His response was originally "I'm the one with the knife", but I always disliked it. Nothing major, but an improvement to ease my irritation! :)

*

Just wanted to say a quick thanks for the feedback on the first chapter, it means a lot to me! This chapter is again just to set things off and build up character arcs, but don't worry, major plot elements are coming very soon!

Enjoy, don't forget to comment/vote/share!

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Chapter 2: The Dark

Tired, sleepless Juniper Stoltz spent the first hour of her morning in the front desk's office drinking coffee with Mara. She was trying to calm her nerves before another patient interview with Joker, but it proved to be excruciatingly hard, with thoughts of the first session repeating in her mind over and over again. Caffeine, a useless substitute for sleep had been keeping June awake that morning; since, again, she'd been up all night just thinking about him and trying to put the pieces together, all to no avail. She tried to keep her hopes up, after all, they'd only had one interview so far, but she couldn't help but think of how difficult he was, how cryptic and yet at the same time blatant and straightforward. June was just itching at the thought of not knowing which part was the real truth- the secrets he kept bottled up or the jokes he let sit right in front of her nose. It made her wonder if Dr. Arkham was right, if he really was incurable.

Incurable, not unbreakable, June reminded herself. There's still memories up for grabs to look into.

And that was the worst part, resisting the temptation of cracking his head open like an egg and looking at the gooey goodies inside. His memories- just there, waiting to be looked at. It was so easy. All she had to do was look into his eyes for a good minute and his life story would roll out like a red carpet for her to walk all over, and she could do with the information whatever she wanted. However, the rational part of her cried out to good morality, stay true and do it right, do it fair. After all, June was a doctor, not a fortune teller.

Mara's voice brought her back to reality and all the muffled noises became clear again. She was back in the front office, staring behind the pale girl opposite her at a clipping of an old news article reading 'Masked Vigilante Brings Justice to Gotham: Clown-Faced Criminal Brought to Arkham'. June silently chuckled. She had the very same snippet of that article pinned to to the fridge back home.

"It's delusional. How come he's even allowed the makeup?" Mara, June's best (because she was honestly her only) friend asked, sneering to show how annoyed by it all she was. She sipped her coffee with stressed brows, tilted downwards in confusion.

Mara was a peculiar companion. She worked at Arkham too, but as an assistant to Jeanette, the secretary in charge of the office. Mara practically did all the work there since Jeanette was just too old to actually function, which basically made Mara the head of the main office, with Jeanette acting as a figurehead.

Despite not getting enough credit, Mara had quite a lot going for her- young (only four years older than June, which made her twenty-six), bright-eyed and pretty, with short brown chin-length hair that framed her face in a nice, feathery way. She had eyes as cold as ice, grey and eerily transparent, yet they never failed to start flaring hotly whenever she got angry about something, which was usually quite a lot. She also wasn't experienced in any field of medical education besides the basics of first-aid and the use of EpiPens for Jeanette's allergies, so her blatant disregard for most of the patients was quite evident in the way she threw around the occasional slang terms of 'freaks' and 'crazies'. It was rather disappointing for June to see such intelligence be wasted on not wanting to understand people in need, simply because of fear and misconception.

June blinked dazedly, snapping out of her trance and smiled. "What was that? Sorry, I... haven't had much sleep lately."

Mara sighed heavily and drank more of her coffee, pulling her left hand back to admire her neatly filed nails. "I'm just confused. How come the Joker gets special treatment? You ask me, he should be put down."

Wide eyed, June hissed in an attempt to hush Mara and she placed a finger to her lips. "Shh! You can't say things like that in here!"

"Oh, c'mon, it's not like I'm in his cell or anything, he can't hear me," Mara rolled her eyes. "What I mean is, there are killers just like him on death row that are on the waiting list to get the chair, yet he's still here being fed meals and, like, getting to wear that creepy makeup. What makes him so different?"

"He's insane, that's what makes him different. Murderers on death row don't go around in costumes shooting people for kicks. There's usually reason behind their motives," June said, voice suddenly lowering. "The Joker- um, patient 4479, he's sick. Not in the insulting way, I mean, ill, actually sick. And I wanna cure him."

Mara snorted in false laughter, sitting back in her chair with a shake of her head. "Sick is right."

"Mara, c'mon. I could at least use a little bit of encouragement here," June's hands tightened around the coffee cup. "I did not stand around Jeremiah's office and pester him for two months to just give up. I'm gonna at least try."

Mara stood up and placed her empty coffee mug atop a nearby filing cabinet. "Oh, goody for you," She sarcastically clapped, "I suppose you'll be looking for a medal when he strangles you to death."

"He was in a straightjacket yesterday. He could barely even breathe, let alone attack me," June said. Poor thing, she would've said, were she not conscious of the idea that he was a raging maniac.

"Colter said he saw him in his cell this morning without. Oh, and he's on guard duty today too."

June's eyes sunk back into her skull and she internally groaned, "Oh. Great."

Mara laughed again as she sorted through a stack of papers in a drawer, leaning back on the right heel of her black stilettos, "June, I honestly don't get why you hate the guy so much. Have you seen his muscles? They're to die for," She swooned, clueless of his true nature since she'd actually never spoken to him, just admired him from afar. "Just go on a date with him. Just one date. It's the least you owe him."

"I don't owe him anything. I mean, he grabs my ass in line for the vending machine because he takes my refusal as an invitation. It's gross."

"It's romantic! Hell, I'd give my left arm to be in your shoes." She bit her pink lips, suddenly struck by lust. This kind of talk reminded June of the kind she used to have at sleepovers when she was fifteen- and that wasn't to say she was enjoying it.

"Be my guest. I don't want the attention anyway." Eyes drifting to the clock on the wall, June felt relief to realise it was time for that dreaded session- yet it relaxed her to know that she could finally escape the conversation. Picking up her handbag from the floor, she slung it over her arm, holding the coffee cup tightly. "Gotta go, patient interview."

Mara barely even bothered to look at her as she left, still 'busy' with paperwork. "Huh. Good luck curing the crazy, June." June didn't answer her as she took the doorway out of the office. As she left, she sighed to herself- Mara had to be nice deep down, nobody was that needlessly cruel- and it was thoughts like this that kept her out of people's heads. Optimism.

As usual, June went through the brief tedium of scanning her ID keycard at every door, smiling at Aaron Cash, holding her head up and trying to make the most of each moment before she had to deal with Colter outside the therapy room. As if she wasn't having a lousy morning already.

He must've seen her before she saw him, as halfway around the corner June heard a wolf-whistle accompanied by a thick Bronx accent. And cue the corniest pickup line in human history... "Heh, nurse, ya better check on me 'cos I think I got a fever."

Colter, the prick who put the 'ass' in 'asylum' (if it had another S, of course, but he'd be none the wiser unless he had to check the logo on his shirt first just to see how it was actually spelt). She resisted the urge to roll her eyes whilst nearing the 6-foot-something lump of a brute, craning her neck upwards just so she could look past all the muscle to try and spot his godawful face. Surely enough, there it was: the literal square jaw and the fake tanned skin, the thin lips and second day stubble. Classic Colter. "You're late. What's been keepin' ya, June?"

She reduced her most hateful thoughts into a short and disappointed sigh, trying not to just scream at him right then and there. "C'mon, Colter, I've got a patient interview. Just let me in," She said, reaching for her card for the scanner, only for him to step in front of it and block it. June sighed heavily and her grip around the coffee cup tightened. "Colter. Move."

"I like it when you're feisty, June, y'know that?" His laughter rattled around his lungs like stones and was painful for her to even listen to, almost worse than the sound of him saying her name. "Darlin, c'mon. Lemme take you out ta' dinner Saturday night. I'll make ya feel real good, promise."

"I've told you a thousand times, I'm not interested. Now move and let me do my job."

"Why not, sweetheart? Why don'tcha wanna spend the night, huh?"

The doctor grimaced, "Because I'm not interested- and not to brag, way out of your league- now move or I'm calling security." Her face scrunched up in anger and despite her bravery to go so far as to threaten him, her knees were quaking with fear of not knowing what he could do next. Those muscles weren't just for show, and she'd seen in his memories before that he had a girlfriend once. Emphasis on had. And she also had a functional left eye. Emphasis on had.

"Baby, you forget, I am security." He bent his neck down to June's level and she stepped back the instant she smelled the scotch on his breath and the sour stench of cheap cologne.

"Sure, talk big now but once I call Cash over you'll be walking away with your tail between your legs. Remember what happened last time?" She raised a brow quizzically, reminding him of how Cash had left him with a black eye a few months ago- the result of him literally trying to kiss her going into a patient's cell.

Offended, he spluttered in protest and feeble self defence, "That- I- it didn't even hurt that much and besides, you--"

By that time, he'd finally moved and June scanned the card, unlocking the door, "Thanks, Colter," and stepped inside without a moment's hesitation. She heavily sighed in what felt to be relief and almost laughed, realising that she actually felt safer and less vulnerable in a room with a madman than around Colter. Now that was crazy.

As she shut the door, Joker's excited giggle immediately caught the doctor's attention. "Well, look who came to see me," He teased, looking the small girl up and down. Those unforgettable curls, long and shiny. "And five minutes early, too. Eager to, uh, see me, doc?"

June took her seat without hesitation and set her things down, coffee cup still in hand.

"Well, actually, I was just--" Her words were cut off by her own train of thought as she took in his appearance. No straightjacket today, just like Mara said. And for some reason, the sight was so surprising to her that it had completely stolen the words from her mouth, any idea of where her sentence was going just spiralling endlessly into the back of her subconsciousness. Replacing the yellowed straightjacket was a bright orange t-shirt with matching trousers, both with the numbers 4479 sewn onto them in bold black stitching, and although the size was perhaps just a little too big for his lean, athletic physique, he somehow suited the ugly colour in all its luminescence, bringing out the black of his irises and making the green in his hair look fresher and touched-up.

Then came the slow and impending realisation that without a straightjacket nor handcuffs, he was free to move, jump, dance, sing, whatever he wanted, and June had nothing to defend herself with but a mug of coffee and a pen. She exercised slow and deep breaths, trying to stay relaxed as she told herself that he wouldn't do anything so long as she was sat there. In fact, he looked tired and bored out of his mind (as usual). This was just a regular Tuesday morning for him.

Her voice was caught in her own mouth as she felt the way he looked at her, his black eyes trailing up and down as he settled his hands on the table in front of him, as calm and as relaxed as a predator before going in for the kill. She couldn't deny it- it kinda scared her. It excited him.

"I, um... I wanted to try talking today. I mean, now that we've, uh..." She paused as he raised his brows for her to continue. "...introduced ourselves... I thought we could actually try and make some progress today."

He pulled his sleeves up and ran his fingers through green knotted hair. "Progress? I thought we were doing fine."

"Well, you were down in maximum security--"

"Extreme isolation, doc. Much more severe than just, uh... security measures." He hissed out the last letter, stretching out for longer than she'd like to hear it. Snake like and... venomous.

She stared at him blank-faced. "Right... so you were down there for a few months, yet your health is remarkable and your mental stability is on par. I mean, considering." June awkwardly noted, clasping her small and dainty hands around her coffee cup as Joker sat upright, sprawling his legs as he bit his right thumb, nibbling to calm his energy.

"Considering...?"

"Considering you've murdered more people than anyone can bear to count and the fact that you've been diagnosed with countless mental illnesses, only for us to realise that you're jumping from one to the other like a game of leap-frog. H-hah." She laughed worriedly and tapped her fingertips nervously against her clipboard.

He smirked slightly at how she was presenting herself. Not very professionally. "You're funny. In a, uh, self-deprecating, nervous, I'm-too-smart-for-my-job kinda way. Hah." He sarcastically imitated her laugh and cracked his knuckles, making her flinch. She wasn't sure whether he was just teasing her or threatening her, but either way, the gesture didn't do much to make her feel comfortable.

"What I mean is, you're not volatile," She said. "And again, considering you've got this new-found freedom after months of being in a padded cell, it's rather impressive to see you so calm." She almost praised him, as if to say, well done on not killing anyone yet, here's to another year of therapy. It was almost sad, yet it wasn't sympathy that made her feel so. It was the thought that maybe she wouldn't be successful in curing him after all.

Joker shuffled in his seat and stared at her again, giving her that look, the one where it was like he was watching her every move. "Naïve, aren't you?"

"What?"

"There's more to extreme isolation than just the, uh, padded cells and straightjackets. D'you know what goes on down there?"

Almost too afraid to ask, she curiously narrowed her eyes at him, trying to read him. What goes on? She asked herself. He was asking her the question as if suggesting there was something... dangerous happening. But Arkham never did that- never went further than lobotomies and even then they needed permission from higher-ups to carry out such acts. She'd heard rumours about extreme isolation, but that was exactly what they were, just rumours. Nothing more than silly ghost stories about electroshock therapy and medieval methods of curing patients. And as if she'd hear the truth from the Joker of all people. If only she had the guts to look into his memories...

"Anyway, I wanted to try talking today." June avoided the question, looking down at her drink, tiny bubbles circling around the edges of her coffee.

"Well, we're doing plenty'a that already." He joked.

She sighed, "C'mon, seriously." Straightening out the papers on her clipboard, she took a sip of her coffee. "I've been reading through your files last night and... I wanted to try talking about your childhood."

Loudly, he groaned and rolled his eyes, fidgeting like a toddler having a tantrum in his chair. "Ugh, God, I've lost count of how many times I've heard that phrase." He then sighed, slapping his hands on the table with a thud. "So, what'll it be this time, doc? Childhood trauma? Strange dreams? Or, uh, you gonna pull out the old inkblot tests for me to gawk at?" The disinterest for this dull routine was evident as he played sarcastically, "That one's the dead cat we buried when I was seven, that one's an apple and that one's... whoops. That one's naughty." A giggle was caught in his throat as he dipped his head to look for her reaction, and all he saw was her big, round eyes filled with innocuous fascination.

His smile stretched in an almost creepy way and she couldn't help but cross her arms uncomfortably, adjusting her clothes self consciously (it was a nervous reflex to toy with her clothes). She felt ridiculous, letting him poke and prod at her with his words to see what made her squirm; it almost undid all of her studies and three years of experience at Arkham and threw it all down the drain. Think about it: confident and capable Dr. Stoltz, made a complete fool by the Joker. She hated even thinking about it.

"Okay," Dr. Stoltz exhaled softly, patiently, and placed her pen and clipboard aside on the table, then smoothed down her skirt as she tried to muster up the words and the courage to speak them. "I haven't really gone off-script like this before," June first admitted, pursing her lips. "Um. Have you ever heard of a psychologist named Watson? John Watson?"

Joker was confused at the sudden change of subject, but didn't dare to say anything, only played along. This was new, or at least irregular, how she was suddenly breaking tradition by trying to make conversation, which also struck him as strange. He was thinking about strangling her to death and at that same exact moment, his doctor was trying to casually chat with him. Odd girl. Odd, odd girl.

"No," He finally said, "I haven't." His tongue darted out the corner of his mouth in interest.

At least June had something to say now. "Well, he and his wife, Rosalind Rayner, conducted an experiment on a baby they'd named Little Albert. Sound familiar at all?" She asked, head tilted (and then her lips circled to one side in order to blow a curled strand from her eyes, almost subconsciously).

He shook his head but was intrigued, "What kinda experiment? Did they, uh, did they cut off its legs and made it crawl? Please tell me they did."

She grimaced, "Um, no. No, they didn't. It was a psychological experiment."

"Oh." Shame.

"But it was actually kinda cruel," She explained, subconsciously gesturing with her hands, "See, much like Pavlov and the dog- um, do you know about that experiment?"

"Uh, yeah, they conditioned the dog to drool every time he heard a bell or something." Joker remembered Hugo Strange mention how he could do the same to him.

"Well, Watson wanted to see if he could condition a baby to fear."

Joker's tongue lapped at his lips and he leant forward. "Right..."

"The basic gist of it was that first, they gave the baby a rat to play with. The baby liked it and was neutral. However, the next time he was given the rat, Watson used a hammer to--"

"Kill the rat. Oh- uh, kill the baby?"

"--hit a steel pipe--"

"Oh."

"--and it made the baby scream and cry. They repeated the procedure of playing with the rat, once with the noise, then without the noise," June explained, almost eager to share with him her interest in her particular studies. "After a while, they gave him the rat without the sound and the baby started screaming and crying in protest. In fear. Then, the baby started fearing similar things like rabbits, dogs, even fur coats and human hair. All that through scaring him through sounds." She couldn't help but smile, seeing the look of sudden curiosity flash over his face. "They taught a baby to fear something it never did. It wasn't instinct. He was taught to be scared. Isn't that amazing?"

Joker took a moment to lean back in his seat and he chuckled. "Huh. That's, uh, that's pretty... that's pretty cruel." Child's play compared to his handiwork, of course, but it was still trauma.

"The worst part is, they planned to decondition the baby so he wasn't afraid anymore. But the experiment was cut off when the two psychologists were kicked out of the university they worked at."

"Why?"

"They were having an affair while Watson was still married."

Joker's brows shot up and he laughed. "So they never deconditioned the baby?"

"No."

He giggled uncontrollably and held his stomach. "So the kid grew up to be scared of- of like, bunnies and fur coats? Forever?"

"Without extensive therapy, I dunno..." June shrugged. "Probably."

At that, Joker almost lost it, laughing so hard that he doubled over and was gripping his knees, while all June could do was watch on in absolute awe and fascination. There was no consistent rhythm or pattern to his laughter, only the instinctual reverberation of giggles and heaving breaths. She wasn't sure why he found it so funny, but the thing that scared her was that the corners of her mouth ached dully in wanting to smile. His laughter... it was contagious.

She bit the insides of her cheeks and asked him, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, he sat upright and tried to calm down, eyes welled up with tears of elation. "Oh... oh, nothing. Nothing at all."

June played with her hair nervously and felt her smile slowly dissolve. "Then why are you laughing?"

"Why not?" A gruesome smile, discoloured teeth grinning.

June could've lost herself, simply staring, but shook her head and got back on track. "Anyway, I was telling you that story because I wanted to ask..." She bit her lip and he waited before she shyly suggested, "What are you afraid of, Joker?"

The laughing stopped immediately and she nearly froze at the sight of him frowning, going from a toothy smile straight to a glare. It was eerie, as if he were animated, a clockwork machine. Changing at the flick of a switch. The scars and the paint did nothing to help her, of course, the forced scarred smile pulling up on his heavy frown. And again, almost within seconds he snapped out of it and was moving again, eyes shifting to the name tag on the doctor's lab coat.

Head tilted, he mused, "So. Dr. J Stoltz. Uh, June. Junie. Ooh, Junie." He grinned. "I like how that sounds."

It was an indescribable feeling, her name in a killer's mouth. It made her stomach twirl. And Junie... nobody had called her that name for years.

She stammered in protest, "Please don't call me--"

"So, Junie," He emphasised with a narrow of his eyes, as she sank back into her seat, wishing she were as tiny and as inconspicuous as a thumbtack. "What's the excuse for-ah, turning up early, hm? Missed me already? I'm touched."

His now named Junie avoided his gaze and swallowed harshly. "Actually, if you must know, I wanted to make sure that security isn't mistreating you."

He falsely gushed in flattery and cooed, "Aww, didn't pin you as the protective type, Junie--"

"Dr. Stoltz. And I just wanted to check because those bruises--" She motioned to the purple marks on his temples, barely visible under the faded greasepaint, "--came from somewhere. And I happen to know a particular guard who likes to boast that he abuses certain patients." Colter.

Not even acknowledging what she had said, he moved the conversation back to his earlier topic, finishing his interrupted sentence. "--actually, I thought you'd be a lot more delica-te and dainty," and then he pointed towards her with paint-smeared fingers. "But no. No, I like you. Not like the other Mary Sues that've, uh, come and gone. You've got a little fight in ya. Something you've had to train up past the years, I can tell." Joker licked the insides of his scars and by her disheartened expression, he knew he'd hit a nerve. "I ain't blind, Junie. Neither are you. You know why you had to fight so hard to get this position, to sit where you are right now. And we both-ah, know it ain't just 'cos you're a woman." He raised his brows as June looked down at her hands. "Am I right in, uh, saying tha-t?" Again, the letter popped off his tongue like a cork out of a bottle.

"What's your point?" She sighed, pretending not to know what he was getting at.

"Happened to Cash, too." He said, pointing vaguely to his left (as though Cash were somehow there). "I was hearing the inmates down the block talking about how long it took Cash to become head of security. Years, they said, while it only took the guy before a few months. And there was one obvious-ah, difference." With an exaggerated whisper, he cupped his hand next to his mouth and leant forward. "I'll give ya a hint. It's about appearance, toots."

Wide eyed, June blinked. He was aware. He was insane but he was aware.

"I stood up for myself in a world that told me I didn't matter. That I was always destined to sit on the sidelines while everyone else got to succeed, no matter how hard I tried. So what're you saying- that the reason I'm so stubborn is that I'm 'damaged'? That I'm hurt?" June could barely stop to take a breath. "I don't want sympathy. I don't- I don't want special treatment. I want to help people, okay? I want to make a difference, even if that difference is just a signed document that proves another person's sanity. I wanna help you." Her words were so definite that they felt like facts, like she were already there.

"Junie--"

"Dr. Stoltz." She irritably said, jaw clenched. There was a long silence, much too long to ever be comfortable.

Joker chuckled to himself, entertained by her little outburst and leant forward, elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. "Oh, I definitely like you. There's a fire up there in that little head of yours, ain't there?" Upon saying this he clicked his tongue, a spontaneous tock that echoed in the room. "Oh, how it rages. You're angry, Junie, aren't you?"

Huffing sarcastically, she went to reach for her bag and clipboard. "This session is over--"

"Sit. Down." Joker's voice was low and booming, making her jump in shock and immediately, she sat back down. She had every right to leave but at the same time, she knew that this conversation was getting somewhere.

Colter knocked at the door and June almost tensed. "June. Everything a'right in there?"

Turning to look at the door, she called back, "Everything's fine!" and then she looked at Joker, whose eyes were momentarily looking up and down her legs. "Don't shout at me like that, please."

"I wasn't shouting," He sulked, a frown on his face. "You weren't listening to me. It's your-ah, job, after all."

"And I conduct how these sessions go. You can't just up and stop me like that," She told him, shaking her head. "If you keep doing things like that then we're gonna have to restrain you again. And as nice as the safety would feel, I'm not comfortable around the thought of my patient being all strapped up like some... animal," She said, thinking of how uncomfortable he looked in a straightjacket the day before. Part of her felt sympathetic, yet another part reminded herself that no, he was a criminal, he was insane, he was here for a reason. But he was also a human.

"Maybe I like it," Joker hummed lowly, fingers tapping on the table. "Being all tied up and... helpless-ah." He popped his tongue and again, Junie winced. 

"Well..." She cleared her throat dryly. "Well, either way, I'm gonna need you to cooperate. Help me help you."

He grinned widely as if he couldn't help it and raised his brows. "In what ways, sweetheart?"

June sighed distraughtly and looked away, "This is ridiculous--"

"The dark." He abruptly said, his scars crinkling as his smile dropped into a look of seriousness.

At the sudden statement, June turned.

"Earlier, you, uh, asked me what I'm scared of. The dark." He told her, to which she scrambled for her clipboard and pen. He repressed the urge to wickedly laugh at her- gullible little girl.

June stopped herself from giggling like an idiot as her toes scrunched in excitement. "Yes, go on."

Joker played with his hands as he spoke, dark eyes darting around the room. "I mean, most childhood fears are, uh, irrational. Don't make sense. Like the, uh, the boogeyman or the monster in the closet, that's silly. The dark, though? I'd say that's a perfectly rational think to be afraid of."

"Why?"

"It's imbedded in human instinc-t," He said, licking his bottom lip pensively. "We fear, uh, danger because we wanna survive. Think about it- back in the day of throwing spears and sleeping on rocks- nobody just ran into a sabre-tooth's den for the shits and giggles, now did they, huh?" He chuckled, and she shook her head with a pursed smile. "And the dark. Nobody knows what's in the dark. Anything could be, ah... lurking in there." His voice suddenly went quiet and June almost felt a need to keep hers that way too.

She scribbled down quickly, scrawled handwriting unintelligible to his prying eyes. She twiddled her pen and asked him, "So do you think this fear's... stayed with you somehow?"

Joker shook his head confidently and his eyes connected with hers for a moment. "Some fears you grow out of. I'd say it's, uh, worrying to grow out of a fear like the dark. That means you're denying your human instinct."

"So, you're saying now you're in... danger, potentially?"

"Who, me?" Joker laughed, "No, no, no, Junie. I'm not the one in danger. Even the dark don't scare me, and neither can whatever's in it."

"Why not?"

He grinned, "Because I'm the monster that lurks there."

Utter and total spellbound silence, Juniper Stoltz dared to say nothing. A blatantly innocent threat... yet empty, completely void.

"So... you're saying that--"

"What're you afraid of, Junie?" Joker interrupted, the simple question rolling off his tongue with ease. Her discomfort was satisfying to him as he watched how every single muscle of hers shook when she moved.

After a pause, June timidly mumbled, "I don't think that's a suitable question to--"

"That's rather unfair, now, isn't it?" He rhetorically asked. "I, uh, lay all my cards out on the table and get nothing back. At least humour me, doc. Throw me a bone."

"It's personal information."

"Too scared to face your fears? Oughta talk to Jonny Crane about that." He mockingly pouted. He was trying to get a rise out of her.

"Sharing personal information would be unprofessional. I'm your doctor, not a cellmate."

Joker sat back and huffed, looking to the side. "Now that's an interesting statement. I'd say we're all cellmates here."

"What do you mean?" In frustration, the pen fell from her fingers. He spoke in vague statements, rhetorical questions, twisted riddles. What did it mean? What did any of it mean?

"Think about it," He told her, fingers outstretched as he gestured. "One way or another, we all ended up in the same place. Isn't it funny how, uh, both the sanest and the maddest people end up here at the same time? Y'know, you doctors are considered to be the pinnacle of intelligence and sanity while the rest of us crazies are considered... broken. Freaks. A small mishap. You're here to cure us, right? Yet by saying that we're, uh, that we're sick in the first place, that's discouragement from the start. Odd, isn't it? I think it's a rather ar-tis-tic standpoint to have, don't you?"

"So... you're a freak and the doctors and I are not. Is that it?"

Joker chortled, insistently shaking his head. "Now, I never said that, dear. No, what I'm saying is, uh, every freak ends up in Arkham one way or another. Even the ones with, uh, medical degrees," He said, his prophecy somewhat still standing true. "Madness. Attracts. Madness. We all saw what happened to Johnny Crane. Hugo Strange." He pursed his lips and dropped his hands into his lap, like lead weights. "Granted, I-ah, did push his buttons a little, but uh..." He stared through Junie for a moment before blinking. "He's there to prove a point. When pushed to the brink of insanity, people become fragile. They... snap." At his last word, he clicked his fingers and June swore she was hypnotised, because she felt herself jolt and her head felt heavy.

Still, she somehow understood what he was saying and nodded. "Everybody has a limit."

"Nobody's sane in the madhouse. Not even the hired help."

Swallowing dryly, Juniper knew he was right. Every patient here was mad or hurting in one way or another, and the doctors were just as bad, not to mention the security guards. Cash had lost an entire hand and was now obsessed with a mutant crocodile man; Boles was once a sleeper agent; the founder of Arkham himself was once mad; Quincy Sharp was corrupt and disgustingly power hungry. Colter used more brute strength than brains and was the epitome of human harassment. Jeremiah Arkham was a sick and greedy borderline- con-man; Jonathan Crane had fallen from grace long, long ago. So what about June? Her powers? Why, she was the hiccup in a perfect system. A freak occurrence, a naturally unnatural anomaly, something she knew couldn't be cured nor explained. And June didn't want to admit it- nobody did- but the murderer sat in front of her had a point, and boy, did he have a thing or two to say about what was wrong with the system. It was remarkable, how someone as blunt as to not feel remorse for killing could simultaneously spot and point out every tiny detail that made the world tick. Every lose screw that created an unjust society. He saw how the paint began to peel before anyone thought to lather on another coat; so why was he so mad? If he was so attentive and observant, why was he so crazy?

"I... well..." Joker smirked at Junie's loss of words as she began to pack up her clipboard, coffee and pen, slowly standing. "Think it's safe to say we've made some progress here." She told him with a smile, picking up her handbag and looping it around her shoulder.

Joker placed a hand around the back of his neck and stretched, standing up. June almost stumbled back in shock when she realised just how tall he was- a looming figure over six foot, she was sure. Even in heels she felt tiny in comparison. She tried her best to keep some distance as she walked towards the door.

"It's Wednesday tomorrow," June said. "Our session's at one instead of ten."

"I've got lunch at one." He told her with furrowed brows.

"I know. I'm supposed to accompany you."

Joker cooed and smiled. "Ooh, a date, huh? You sure know how to make a guy blush, Junie." He teased, leaning against the edge of the table. "So forward."

June rolled her eyes and resisted giving him even a pity laugh as she explained, "They want me to monitor you, see if a change of environment has any effect on your cooperation."

"You gonna dress up all nice and pretty for me? Because, uh, I hate to break it to ya, doll, but I forgot to rent a suit." Joker's eyes fakely shifted around awkwardly as if to apologise and he bit his lip. It had to be said, he had a rather good sense of humour. Classic and clean. She could see why some people thought he was charismatic.

"Goodbye, patient 4479." June emphasised, pointing out the fact that he was just stalling to waste her time.

Joker chuckled and waved sarcastically, his fingers wiggling as he bade her goodbye. "Goodbye, Dr. Junie Stoltz." He mocked and she finally left, closing the door on that day's session. And did Juniper have a lot to think about that night.