Appointment #1: "Joker"

[Doctor Jeremiah Arkham]

With hair pulled back into a short pony-tail, Doctor Jeremiah Arkham definitely didn't look the part of a psychiatrist. Maybe.. a psychopath, sorta.

Since he was a child, Jeremiah had a distinct look in his eye that made it seem like he was constantly living on the edge of sanity. As intelligent as he was, people questioned his character simply because of the look in his eyes.. or the lack thereof.

After inheriting the "Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane," from his great Uncle Amadeus- Jeremiah has at times unsuccessfully kept his inmates under captivity. Gotham was one of the most corrupt cities in the nation- the same ran for the correctional facilities that it housed. Multiple times inmates leaked through the cracks which was why Mayor Anthony Garcia tried to close Arkham and cut it's funding.

Nevertheless- it was a few hours after the run-in Joker had with one of Arkham's staff- it ended with violence, something Jeremiah was opposed to. Despite displaying the classical acts of a paranoid schizophrenic with D.I.D [dissociative identity disorder] Arkham refused that the man known only as "Joker" was incurable of the 'sickness' of the mind- Doctor Jeremiah Arkham believed he could cure him, with proper treatment.

Sitting behind a steel desk with the lights turned low, the man known as Jeremiah Arkham sat- he had his reading glasses propped on his nose and his head down. With paperwork sitting in front of him on the desk, Arkaham's eyes scanned the text before a light knock was heard at his door. Clearing his throat he looked up-

"Yes?" Arkham's tone was mellow, definitely.. not very comforting. Despite looking to be a calm man, his voice alone- especially in the setting of Arkham Asylum was creepy.

"Doctor Arkham, we've got Joker in isolation and he's currently.. Well.. Laughing?"

That quirked Arkham's attention as he raised a brow.

"Laughing?"

The nurse dressed in a traditional white dress nodded as Arkham scratched at his head once more. "That's interesting. Didn't we give him a sedatitve?"

The nurse again nodded at Arkham's words.

"Then how is he still conscious? This is most definitely interesting. Well, I'll check on our guest.. Give me a brief second and please tell Doctor Quinzel to up the dosage next time around."

It seemed as if the nurse was intimidated of Doctor Arkham's presence and couldn't bring herself to answer him verbally.. Only through a nod of her head. Closing the door lightly, she turned and walked off as Arkham placed the ball-pointed pen down on the paperwork and pushed himself out of his seat.

"Laughing.. The man is supposed to be resting.."

Not believing his words either, he needed to see this for himself. In recent times Arkham has fallen under strict criticism for their 'lack' of proper care- or so advocate for 'mental health.' Arkham believed that to truly find the cause- and cure 'sickness of the mind,' sedatives were needed to observe the patient to full extent and slowly ween the same patient to see how his or her true self acted during their most 'truest of times,' during withdrawal.

Turning, Arkham reached and grabbed hold of the white lab-coat hanging on a small hook, placing it on, he stuck the same pen into the front pocket and headed out of the room and through the narrow- dark halls. Another one of Arkham's.. stranger policies of the Asylum was the lack of light- apparently, Jeremiah felt that light agitated his patients and a dim environment would keep them peaceful and subsided.

Upon making a left turn, Arkham had an interesting set-up- one that also was questionable in design. Doctor Arkham's office was on the same level with those in solitary, who at the moment.. Just happened to be Joker at the time. Multiple 'sick' patients came through these halls, but Arkham knew Joker was bad.. He needed to heal the 'sickness' and took pride in knowing if any doctor could full off such a task, it was he and the staff he assembled. He hand picked them from the masses, they all shared the same quality that Arkham himself had; the will to want to change lives and do so by all means necessary.

Peering through the single-sided glass- Arkham saw the patient known as Joker strapped to a gurney. The man's face still wore the 'paint' that he was checked in with, he had no straight-jacket as Arkham condemned them. A smile was crafted over Joker's face as Arkham adjusted the hair out of his eye and pressed the black button on the door which let off a light 'buzz,' causing the door to open. Stepping into the solitary cell, Arkham reached for a chair pressed up against the wall to the back and placed it a good few feet from Joker- a distance much closer than any other in his profession would attempt.

"Hello.. Let me introduce myse-"

Arkham was cut off by Joker's slightly slurred speech.

".. I know who you are.. Good doctor."

Fixing himself in his seat, Arkham nodded and continued.

"Great. I understand Doctor Westwood had an interesting encounter with you earlier-" with a pause, Arkham scoffed. "Well, interesting is not quite the word I'm looking for, but it works for the moment. I reviewed the interview, I understand the history on your scars.. Do they bother you?"

Joker's eyes were closed for a brief second- only to flutter open as the smile that was once absent? It reappeared. Nodding his head, Joker- despite being groggy replied.

".. These scars? These scars are memories of a better time. A time where.. I was a father of a sweet.. sweet girl. Daddy's little princess could do no wrong but one day.. One day daddy's little princess didn't come home- So I went looking for her. I looked high and low until I was told that my beautiful little girl? That my daughter? She was.. well in a 'better place.' A place that I couldn't see her smile- so these scars? I put them on my face. I grabbed a knife doc.. And I carved a smile into my face.. All for.. daddy's.. little.. girl.. hoo-ha-ha-ha."

Arkham.. Was perplexed. He listened to the tape from earlier and Joker's ability to recall a different story regarding the 'Glascow grin' on his, a very distinguishing trait.

"But you earlier recalled the story of bullies."

"But? But what, doc? Can't understand that you can't crack me? That unlike the other kooks that's come through here, you can't help me? I don't want to be helped, I'm perfect just the way I am and it's YOU that needs help. The world, it's meant to be burnt.. Chaos is necessary. Without it, what'd we have? A bunch of gum-drop filled rainbows and.. and people hopping and skipping around. I, doctor? Me? The guy people call a 'freak?' I'm thee most normal individual to step through these doors and will continue to be so. I have full control over my actions- can.. you.. say.. the same?"

Firing off that grin again, Joker fluttered his eyes, this time seeming like on purpose. Arkham got all the information he needed as he stood up and placed the chair back where he had got it originally- but before he stepped out, he turned.

"Joker.. I will help you. The first step towards being cured is accepting that there's something wrong, you need to admit wrong."

"Wrong? I'm- not, I'm not wrong. I'm not crazy."

"You're right, you're not crazy. You're sick and it's my job to fix that."

Speaking to himself, Joker continued to ramble but Arkham had seen it all before and he understood the game Joker played with him. Walking out of the room, Arkham closed the door behind him and peered through the glass window again where Joker had burst into hysterical laughter.

"FIX THAT?! YOU NEED TO FIX YOURSELF DOCTOR! HA-HA-HA- HOOO.. HEE.. HA- HA- HA!"

Whipping his body violently, Joker failed to get loose from the gurney as Arkham sighed lightly.

".. I cure the sick, that is my job.." trailing his words off, he walked off to leave Joker behind in solitary confinement to struggle trying to get loose and to the entertainment of himself. Arkham had his hands full with this one, he knew that Joker COULD be cured, but for that to be of essence- Joker first needed to WANT to be cured. Until that, the 'sickness' would remain- Joker would remain terribly.. terribly.. ill.

[Joker]

The Joker... the Joker was strapped in, Jeremiah left Joker to his lonesome whilst he laughed hysterically. The thought of being locked up amused the Joker because in all retrospect there was nothing that was going to be able to hold Joker back from doing what it was that he ultimately wanted to do. Rumors were even circulating around the asylum that Joker was just pushing Batman only to get put in Arkham on purpose. Of course all rumors... but with the Joker who knows what is really going on in his mind. He had his own science down to a tee and right when you think that you know everything there is to know about the Joker, when you think you've gotten all the tricks up his sleeves there's always one in the shoes and it was proven during the interview session with Doctor Westwood. Jeremiah thinks he can cure Joker... but how can you cure that which doesn't have a disease? Joker in his room isolated and strapped to the gurney looking at the glass door that enclosed the chamber. It had been a few hours since Jeremiah left the cell.

Joker: He-he-he-ha-ha-ha Tell me, Doc, what made you find your interest in curing the mentally unstable? Was it... that... that what you wanted to do more with your life was help people? Or is it because you felt so neglected as a child that you wanted to assume the reigns of the family so that the lime light could all be on you... or maybe it's because talking about cures is really your excuse for abusing those with a different mindset to make you feel better about the life that you never got to have? Your dear old uncle dies from insanity, and you have to secretly think if you're going to fall down the same path. Ha-ha-ha You see, Doc, I know more about you than you give me credit for.

Joker knew he was watching the security cameras, keeping an eye on him. Arkham wanted Joker to crack under the pressure. He wanted Joker to want to be 'cured' of what he never saw as an illness. That is one thing that makes Joker so dangerous is he knows what he's doing and he doesn't see anything wrong with it; it's just who he is and what he does.

Joker: What, you seem... surprised Jer Jer... I don't make you... nervous do I? I sure hope not because if you got nervous then how could I be cured? I see the light, Doc... (He licked his lips just a little bit, making a smacking type of a sound with his mouth from the saliva) I understand the problem Jer Jer. He-he-ha-ha-hoo-hoo-he I'd like my phone call now. HA-HA-HA!

[Doctor Jeremiah Arkham]

Observing Joker's reaction to their meeting from beyond the walls of his personal office, Jeremiah had a monitor situated to the right of his desk which allowed him to flip through the different cells available. Everything Joker had said, from the taunting of the information regarding his great Uncle Amadeus who was driven insane and blamed the Asylum itself for his failures down to saying he's incurable, Jeremiah wasn't thrilled.

"Could you please send Doctor Quinzel to my office?" the well-mannered Jeremiah Arkham spoke into a small receiver set up as an up to date technological intercom.

"Yes sir." said the voice on the other end, a woman.

Within minutes a knock was heard on Arkham's door which then opened and in stepped a young doctor- in her 20's. She had golden blonde hair and sported therapeutic, corrective lenses pressed across her face.

"Doctor Arkham you requested my presence?"

The golden haired blonde was a graduate student that was shadowing Doctor Arkham. Hand selected by Arkham himself, he saw a lot of promise in Quinzel regarding her work and ability to understand the mind. Not a lot could impress Arkham, especially with how strict he was regarding one's ability to understand the concept of sickness of the mind.

"Indeed I did Harleen. I understand that you're looking to taking a bigger role within the hospital, right?" Scribbling his name on a few pieces of paper, once finished he gazed up at the young doctor. "I don't usually allow it but I think you have a lot to offer and you could be a big help to our cause."

It was an honor, especially coming from a doctor of Jeremiah Arkham's stature. Miss Quinzel put her right hand over her mouth as her eyes welled up-

"Y- Yes! Yes, I accept the offer! Thank you doctor, thank you!"

The excitement in Quinzel's voice was enough to bring a vague smile across the face of Arkham.

"Yes- Yes. no problem. In order to have my hospital running as smooth as possible I need great minds like yours." as Arkham fired off a professional compliment in the young woman's way, her cheeks glowed with red as he continued. "It's not all a celebration however- your first case? It's working with me in curing our latest patient.."

Now the test would be to see if she would stick around, learning of her first task..

"The man with the scars?"

Arkham silently agreed with Quinzel's remark as she exhaled sharply- sharply enough to cause Arkham to raise a brow.

"If you're not interested Miss Quinzel.." before Jeremiah could push the topic any further, Quinzel spoke up.

".. No doctor, absolutely not. In our field, there is zero room to be selective in who you can- and can't help. Everyone is sick that's here at this hospital, and it's our job as humans as well as professionals to cure them, to ensure a suitable life."

It was as if he was looking in the mirror 30 or so years ago after hearing her speak. It's that same will and determination he had that got him placed so high on the totem pole, and it was that kind of thinking that would allow Quinzel to get places.

"You're one-hundred percent correct. Many don't understand how important our job is, what we contribute to society. Without our help, the sick would be prosecuted and put away for crimes they cannot control- which is absolutely horrible. The judicial system, especially in Gotham City is awfully hard on those that aren't of proper mind-set, something we need to fix. Sooner or later everyone will be trialed as a criminal without the defense of being sick."

The term "sick" was one he picked up from Amadeus Arkham. Amadeus refused to believe that one was evil, he believed that evil was a disease and it could be cured with proper time and care. Being 'sick' was more than just committing crimes, being 'sick' almost meant not being able to control impulses that just so happened to go against the law- or what society deemed as correct.' From a long line of humanitarian activists, Jeremiah Arkham refused to buy into what people thought regarding the 'insane.' He wouldn't buy into what they were selling because the ideaolgy cast down to him blocked that.

"We'll start our sessions soon, I want you in the cell when I conduct our next interview. I know I had you on medicinal outlet, but you're better than that. I'll page you when we're ready Harleen, once again.. thank you for accepting the offer."

With another nod, Arkham turned his attention from his new accomplice to his paperwork once more and picked the pen up. Looking through different pages he begun to scribble initials and signatures once more as Harleen stepped out of the office, closing the door behind her. With a whole new doctor to study the man known as Joker, Arkham would be able to get an alternative look on the man, if anything he missed would most certainly be picked up by Quinzel's sharp mind. As he sat in his office- no matter how hard he tried to block out the words of the clown in solitary, it wasn't working. One phrase especially, one bit of his rant kept bouncing off the walls of his mind, causing him to grip the pen harder.. and harder..

"Your dear old uncle dies from insanity, and you have to secretly think if you're going to fall down the same path."

That bit of information was hard to swallow, old memories that he managed to put away to allow him a successful run as a psychiatrist. When Amadeus went insane and was admitted into his own asylum, it was a family secret- one that he locked away to protect both himself and the Arkham name. Records were sealed, Amadeus' disappearance from Gotham City was attributed to him 'moving away,' something very easy to explain rather than try to tell people a psychologist, probably one of the best in history had lost his mind. As Jeremiah twiddled the pen between his fingers, the face of Joker kept popping up- the offensive statement he made wouldn't fade. Figuring out how to cure Joker wasn't just a job anymore, it was a task. It wasn't an option, it was a necessity..

.. Or maybe.. an obsession?

[Joker]

Believe it or not The Joker actually got some sleep. It was peaceful for Jeremiah I'm sure. But Joker has already gotten into his head and that is what he wanted. If Joker could get into Jeremiah's head then it could make the escape easier. There was something... peaceful about the walls of Arkham for Joker but The Bat was still out there and he was just so much fun to mess with. So the ultimate agenda was get into Arkham's head, let him think he's winning this battle of whits and escape or maybe Jeremiah will fall for it and let Joker go on his own. Joker awakens from his slumber and there was one thing... one thing only that echoed through the slightly quiet halls of Arkham Asylum...

"HEH-HEH-HEH-AHE-AHE-HAHAHAHAHA"[/i]

That laugh... that insane sickening laugh of the Joker. It just rang through the Arkham halls and you could just know it wasn't very peaceful for Jeremiah.

"OH JER JER I'M READY FOR MY CLOSE UP! Come on now Doc, don't leave me hangin'. I GET IT I do! I'm sick but aren't we ALL a little sick? Come on Jer jer, come talk to your old pal Joker. He's a great listener! Maybe... maybe you can bring a friend along too! I enjoy some company. But I get it, Doc! So let's say I'm just a little bit... ill. Let's just say that there's a slight... glimmer of hope that all of this... madness... that all of the voices can just... go away. Oh didn't I tell you about the voices, Jer? They like to tell jokes and (Joker's tone of voice for the next statement was almost a condescending tone. The natural tone of his voice dropped and he said it slower, as if you're having sarcastic sympathy with somebody) they're not very funny. Come on Doc I'd just love to chat some more. It gets kinda lonely here all by my lonesome, nobody to talk to, being strapped to this contraption and I have to pee! You're not going to make me pee myself are you Jer Jer Heh-heh-he-hahahahaha[/color]"[/color]

[Doctor Jeremiah Arkham]

Jeremiah lived out of Arkham, he spent every last second there. Sleep was a thing of the past, especially with the sudden emergence of his latest patient; the man known simply as "Joker."

It baffled Jeremiah how a man like Joker could feel absolutely no sense of empathy- how he had zero sense of humanity in him. Being 'sick' was one thing, but Doctor Arkham was beginning to question if Joker was.. evil. Jeremiah's mentality was that all sick could be cured but the Joker wasn't an ordinary man. How he scoffed in the face of being cured, how he constantly pushed buttons. Several men through the years stepped through Arkham's halls- from former psychologist himself; Jonathan Crane who emerged as "Scarecrow" on the streets of Gotham- to Carmine Falcone, made man.. the number one in ALL of organized crime on the East Coast.

"Doctor Arkham, don't you think you should take a break- or at least go and get something to eat? You look exhausted!" echoed a voice from the corner- completely breaking Arkham's train of thought. Slipping back into reality, Jeremiah gazed to the corner to see his young assistant; Harleen Quinzel with a clipboard in her hands looking his way.

"Eat? Ah, the glory of being young. No Doctor Quinzel.." Arkham paused for a second as he moved a strand of salt-and-pepper colored hair out of his eyes. "I don't eat much these days.. Call it me being a 'work-a-holic' as some say, but I like to think of it as me showing passion for my profession."

Opening her mouth just a bit, Quinzel soon covered it with her left as she slowly shook her head.

".. Do- Doctor Arkham! That's definitely not healthy, you can't be staying up to wee parts of the morning without properly eating! Not only could that affect your thinking, but it could also limit your ability- make you think.. wrong."

Jeremiah knew Quinzel had a point, it was something he knew he was doing wrong. Since the arrival of Joker- Arkham's appetite disappeared and instead the constant need to work replaced it. Things started to change before the Joker though, right around the time Arkham figured out that Jonathan Crane was using the Asylum as a front to develop his fear toxin, Arkham was hurt by this. He was an honest man trying to run an honest business but things constantly went wrong for him- this was just another step in his already challenging life.

"Yes.. Yes.. I know. I've grown accustomed to it though. Plus, fitting into clothes from my wonder years has felt phenomenal, I can't lie about that!"

His attempt at humor- which was far and between.. went over well with his young assistant as she laughed knowing it would lighten the mood. Since Joker and Jeremiah's first encounter- Quinzel noticed a distinctive change in Jeremiah's all around attitude. He was hard working- she knew this, but he seemed to have applied all his time and energy into cracking Joker's code- which.. she felt was fascinating as well. It wasn't everyday that an individual as complicated as Joker was was placed into Arkham, usually- especially recently since Mayor Garcia's frown on Arkham, criminals have been heading directly to Blackgate.. But they didn't want him there.

"Are you ready for our interview with patient J?"

Arkham had decided to abbreviate Joker's name- he felt if he could break away piece by piece of who Joker portrayed himself as, he'd be able to have better understanding of what he was dealing with.

"Indeed, Doctor Arkham."

Situated outside of Patient J's solitary cell- Arkham peered through the glass as by now- Patient J was wearing the standard white hospital shirt and pair of white hospital pants. The walls were a darker shade of gray, which was padded for patient's safety. Patient J had been quiet for the past few hours, Arkham figured he had run out of things to say for the moment at least. Men like Patient J, he fed off of the fear and deluded thought of power and carnage they could bring. Arkham, at least physically needed to put on a front that spoke volumes of his confidence- even if psychologically he was questioning if this was all worth it.

".. Doctor Arkham? Did you hear me?"

With a sigh, Arkham shook his head- he hadn't heard Quinzel's voice- he was too busy trying to deduce Patient J's mind.

"I'm sorry Doctor Quinzel I spaced out for a second.. What did you ask?" replied Arkham with that refined, gentlemen nature he was gifted with from childhood.

"Patient Carmine, should I alert Doctor Westwood of his recurring nightmares- the side effect of the fear toxin?"

"Yes.. Yes. Please do. Patient Carmine's mind is beginning to disintegrate, there's not much more we can do for him."

Admitting defeat, especially when it dealt with the mind was a massive blow for Arkham- especially when he had a man with scars for a smile on his face refusing to answer questions and pretending to know Arkham's family secrets.

"Also, please have Doctor Westwood contact Patient Falcone's son.. Alberto I believe and update him on his father's condition. think Falcone will be a lifer here at Arkham, proper procedures must be made to accommodate his extended stay."

With a nod, Quinzel made a note of it on a piece of paper attached to her clipboard as Jeremiah turned and looked towards Patient J once more through the glass before lifting his hand and placing his thumb on the black buzzer.

"Alright, are you ready?"

Quinzel once again nodded as Arkham's thumb pressed on the button causing the security latch to unlock. Pushing forward, he stepped into the room and pointed towards the chair in the corner, signaling for Quinzel to place it a few feet aside of him. Patient J was still locked in the contraption that rendered him motionless- there wasn't much wiggle room for him to get free, something people found solace in as they were pretty intimidated by his presence.

"Hellllllooooooooo.. Doccccctooooooooor."

Patient J's eyes opened slowly as his eyes shot through Arkham and onto Quinzel who had yet to turn towards him.

"I see you brought a friend.. How nice of you. Now.. all we need is the animal balloons and we've got ourselves a good ol' time!"

With as much sarcasm as possible laced within his tone, Arkham managed to look through the nonsense Patient J brought to the table and instead pressed his corrective lenses up against his face and cleared his throat, allowing his raspy voice to air.

"Doctor Jeremiah Arkham and it is currently 12:50PM. I am here with Doctor Harleen Quinzel, currently my assistant in an attempt to breach through Patient J's psyche."

Cocking his head back as far as possible, Patient J's laugh sounded through the room as Quinzel turned.

"Ha-Ha-Hoooo-Heeeeeeeeee. The jokes in this town never end! I mean.. I thought Gamble was bad.. You.. You take the cake. As if blowing up Gotham General was bad, you 'breaking through my psyche..' whatever that's even supposed to mean will top it. Quality.. Entertainment!"[/i][/color]

Doctor Quinzel approached Patient J, managing to keep her head down to not allow him the honor of seeing her face.

"Seems like our guest isn't to keen on introductions.. Quite the shame, I'm sure behind those glasses is the face of an angel." muttered Patient J as he cracked his neck to the left.

"How are we feeling today? Any progress?"

Such a simple question- Arkham already knew the answer to it. Patient J looked on with a blank stare before sighing.

".. Progress? The only progress that's being made is you showing me how much of a freak you are. I mean you've got me locked up in- uh.." moving a bit to illustrate his point, Patient J continued. "Whatever this is, trying to crack me? There's nothing to crack doctor, I'm not an ordinary egg. You can't scramble me, I'm damaged goods."

"Nonsense. You're curable."

Once again Patient J cocked his head back this time closing his eyes as he did so. Letting off a deep exhale, he shook his head- which proceeded to then shake his entire body.

"No.. No.. NO.. NO.. NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" shouted Patient J at the top of his lungs as he continued to throw his body into a fit. "THERE IS NO CURE, I'M- I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M NOT SICK! I'M NO- I'M NOT THE MAN I WAS, I'M CHANGED, HA-HA-HA-HA-HAHAHAHAHA!"

Bursting into hysterical laughter, Arkham sighed as he looked towards Quinzel who was taken back by what he seen. Knowing this could definitely scar her in the future, he pushed himself up and turned her around while moving towards the door. She had trouble keeping her eyes off of Patient J though- she was too fascinated with who he was.

"Let me out- LETTTTT ME OUT OF HEEEEEEEREEEEEEEE!" growled Patient J- the laughter had concluded as his eyes opened and he stared in Arkham and Quinzel's direction. ".. There's nothing- NOTHING- you can do to change who I am, Arkham! There's no cure- there's no medication- I.. AM.. CHAOS! I LIVE IT, I BREATH IT, I LLLOVEEEEEEEEEE IT! HA-HEEEEE-HOOOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOO- HAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Opening the door, Arkham stepped out with Quinzel as he closed it behind them. Looking at her, he could tell she was still not back into reality yet as he tapped her forehead with his index and middle finger that was pressed together.

"Doctor Quinzel.. Doctor Quinzel.. Harleen.. HARLEEN..!" exclaimed Arkham as he continued to get through to Quinzel. "HARLEEN, ANSWER ME!"

As if she was snapped out of a trance, her eyes sputtered as she removed the glasses from her face and shook her head.

".. Wow.. Wh- What ha- ha- happened?.. I lost track of where I was and who I am for a second.."

Allowing her a few seconds to get her head back into the game, Arkham chuckled lightly and nodded.

"I call that.. 'A Psychosis Second,' you lose touch with reality when hit with sudden shock.. We've all been there Harleen, don't worry about it." Harleen sighed lightly as Jeremiah smiled. "You know.. I could use a bite right now, you know any places that's got a good burger? I haven't been out in town for ages.. I don't know whats what anymore.."

This was a trick- well, a ploy to get Harleen's mind off of what she saw. Arkham saw the lost look in her eye- he vulnerability that she let off was like blood in the water to a man like Patient J. He continued to shout in his cell- blabbering about nonsensical conspiracies and theories that he found to be true, nothing that tied in directly with Jeremiah or Harleen.

"Umm.. Sure Doctor.. Let me.. Get my stuff from the locker and we can go check out a few places.." replied Quinzel as she turned off and with a slow walk, moved forward. When she had turned the corner and was out of sight, Jeremiah turned to the cell- looked through the one-sided glasses and sighed.

"Deny it all you want, curing you is inevitable.. I don't care if I die in the process. I will save you Joker, I promise.. I promise."

.. Yep, it was an obsession, a full fledged obsession. Jeremiah Arkham would die before curing Patient J, this he was certain of, but with the way his life was going? That release would be a relief.. So embracing the obsession, it was underway.

".. Doctor Arkham, you ready?!"

Quinzel's voice sounded from across the hall as Jeremiah turned towards her and nodded. "Sure, let's head out."

As the two disappeared down the hall- Patient J's shouting continued, it wouldn't stop. Was he crazy? Maybe.. But did he have a way of getting into people's heads and turning their thoughts on them? Absolutely. This was nothing short of a spectacular performance on behalf of Patient J.. But Arkham had tricks up his sleeve as well- this battle wasn't done- an obsession was NEVER over.. EVER.