"Psychiatry: The branch of medicine concerned with the study, treatment, and prevention of disorders of the mind; especially those who are mentally unbalanced or deranged"

Chapter 1

"A man kills his whole family. Mother, father, and two brothers. He stabs each of them multiple times in the neck with a switch blade, ambushing them in different locations; a back alley where one brother bought pot, outside the barber shop where the father's hair was cut, in a favorite park of the mother, you get the gist. His killing spree lasts three and a half hours. After being caught, he claims it was all done in worship of a demon that speaks to the man at night. One question. Answer if you can; is this man insane? And if so in what way? Is it a chemical imbalance in the brain, in which case it might be corrected with medication? Or was this man the subject of some childhood trauma which lead him to seek comfort in wacky delusions? Or was it something else? Something that suggests that his behavior was not crazy but in fact the result of rational thought? The point I'm trying to make is this, madness is relative. Like beauty. One person might say this man is crazy, another might not. That's where I come in. I'm the person who makes the educated guess. I decide what madness is."

A smile crossed the deep red lips of Dr. Harleen Quinzel as she lowered her fork to her plate, her speech finished. She was sitting in La Casa Rosa, a quaint Italian restaurant not two blocks from her apartment, with her closest friend Jamie Farland and his new girlfriend Kaylee Field.

"What is it with you and complicated answers Harley?" said Jamie, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"I'm a complicated person." piped Harleen with a wink, her mouth full of pasta. Kaylee seemed more than satisfied with the answer to her question however, leaning forward, her eyes betraying keen interest.

"Don't be rude Jamie!" she said, playfully slapping him on the arm before turning back to Harleen, "I think that's the most interesting description of psychiatry I've ever heard, and well...I haven't heard many but that one really made me think!"

"Yeah...twas bit bloody for my taste." Said Jamie, yawning as he spoke.

Harleen grinned at him, rolling her eyes. "You were always squeamish."

"And you always had a thing for gore! I still remember your eyes when you told me about your dissections in med school, like cutting up a human brain was Christmas come early to you!" Jamie was grinning and laughing while he spoke.

"Oh come on, what's the big deal, it's not like they were alive!"

"Exactly!"

"You'd prefer they were alive?" Harleen was laughing too now. She felt good, active. She enjoyed going out for dinner with Jamie, and Kaylee seemed amiable enough, if a little dim.

"Well don't listen to him," said Kaylee, putting her hand on Jamie's arm as she spoke, "I think it's terrific to meet a woman as strong as yourself, I'm very happy to know you." That was a bit keen. Harleen raised her eyebrow with a faint smile, weary of condescension. Sensing hostility from her, Jamie changed the subject.

"Hey Harley, any interesting crazies you've treated that you could tell Kaylee about?" Harleen flinched at this.

"One, call anyone that again and I will break your arm, don't you pretend like I couldn't do it! Two you know I can't talk about my patients!" Jamie, aware that he was doing more harm than good to Harley's mood suddenly became focused on his pasta. To the untrained eye it looked like Harleen had remarkably little control over her emotions for a psychiatrist, but he had known her for a long time, and there were very few times he had known her to have an emotional outburst without allowing herself to. Kaylee still didn't seem to get the que though.

"You must have some interesting clients though Harleen. There's got to be some that I'd have heard of? You don't have to tell me anything about them if you don' want to..."

"I specialize in the criminally insane Kaylee, so yeah, sure there'd be people you've heard of, but I really can't tell you who." Harleen was beginning to become exasperated with this woman. But Kaylee wasn't done yet; she still had one last wrench to throw into her mood. Shifting forwards on her seat, her eyes wide with anticipation and apprehension as if about to find out a great secret, she said, "What about the Joker?" Jamie groaned and put his head in his hands.

"No." Said Harleen coldly. "Well, it's been good seeing you Jamie. Speak to you soon." And she left the restaurant. She did not acknowledge Kaylee.

"Holy crap what did I say..?" James sighed with exhaustion before answering.

"She's been petitioning Arkham to allow her to have meeting with the Joker ever since he was caught and sent there. It's been driving her insane. Still...she'll get there eventually, the Joker chews through psychiatrists quicker than you can imagine. She'd probably do well against him; she can be just as childish as that mad man when she feels like it."

"Really? She seemed so serious."

"That's not Harley, she...let's just say she's never herself around people she doesn't know. Trust me; she has a wicked sense of humor."

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Harleen stepped in out of the cold Gotham air and into her modest, apartment, switching on the heating as she went. It was already dark outside and a light snow was falling, leaving her not only in a sour mood but also freezing as well. Kaylee's words still irritated her, enflaming her sense of pride as well as herself doubt. She ought to be the one studying the Joker, she had looked up every article she could find on him, watched every video, she had even attempted to make a preliminary diagnosis, but without meeting him it was impossible. He was simply too complex. Too enigmatic.

She tossed her bag onto the couch as she passed by, its contents falling out and onto the floor. She didn't stop to pick it up as she headed straight to her wardrobe to change out of her formal wear; a yellow shirt under a simple red jacket and matching red skirt, and into something more comfortable so that she could do her stretches. She quickly let her blonde hair down from its bun, took off her glasses, which were just for show, and slipped into a pair of bright blue track shorts and a red singlet. She then moved into the open space in front of the bed, kicking clothes to the side of the room with practiced ease, and began to stretch.

The whole formal outfit had been a show for Kaylee, a game for Harleen. Whenever she met someone new she had a habit of developing a character for them, and being a psychiatrist she knew and understood exactly what it took to develop a complete personality. To an average observer this behavior might look like a defense mechanism born of low self-esteem, but Harley knew herself, and she knew better. As an only child she had developed alone, with few friends. Not because none wanted to be mind you, but because she didn't care for having lots of friends. She just didn't value relationships enough, her own fun was more important. As an adult little changed, she still adored her fun games and personas. At med school she was impetuous and often lazy, some might say emotionally under developed, but her natural intelligence always brought her through into the top five percent of her class.

"Hello gorgeous!" She said, winking playfully at her reflection in the mirror as she stretched, her legs currently splayed in a forward splits and her hands behind her head. Psychiatry had not been her first success; she had gotten into her school on a gymnastics scholarship. She loved gymnastics because of the freedom it had given her, allowing her to move as freely as she wished, as if she had total control over her body. She excelled at it, her small, light and yet compact figure perfect for the demands of the sport. And while she practiced the sport she needed a major, and psychology was the obvious choice to her. Harleen was drawn to psychiatry for the same reason as gymnastics, because of the freedom it gave her. By being able to understand those around her she had been, in her mind, given a leg up over everyone else. Psychiatry to her was little more than a way of feeling strong.

Her stretches finished, she threw herself onto the bed. Despite her best efforts she hadn't managed to wipe Kaylee's reminder out of her head, that the true goldmine of criminal minds was denied to her. She hopped up onto all fours, deciding that the only way to be rid of her pent up frustration was through some good old fashioned aggression. Rearing up like a wild cat, she began to punch and pull at her least comfortable pillow, screaming at it and throwing it across the room. Outbursts are good way to calm an over active mind, she knew that, and she enjoyed it. Then, as if determined to cut out her fun, the phone began to ring. She hissed at it before turning back to her pillow. Whoever it was, they could wait. The answering machine clicked on.

"Doctor Quinzel?" said a tentative male voice, "Terry she's not answering are you sure this is the right number?" "Yes I'm sure, leave a message!" Yelled a muffled voice from further away, barely audible over the line. "Alright, um, Doctor Quinzel my name is Doctor Jacob Benowitz, I'm head of the Psychiatric department here at Arkham Asylum, I'm calling in regards to your request to be allowed to meet with our patient known as the Joker. While we-hello?! What was that..?"

"Good evening Doctor, I apologies, I've just come out of the shower and I dropped the phone." Harleen had thrown herself at it and knocked over the table spilling a pot plant and all of its soil onto her carpet.

"Oh hello, Doctor Quinzel?

"You have me Doctor Benowitz. Now what I do for Arkham?" She said, piling on the charm while attempting to scoop soil back into a pot with her free hand.

"Well, while we cannot grant your request for an unofficial meeting with the Joker, one of our psychiatrists just quit, the one who was assigned to him. You see, to be honest I think he got to him. Joker's a very disturbed person. Well...a sane person doesn't try to hold and entire city hostage so I guess you know that much, ha-ha." He said, referring to the Joker's 'games' he had played with the people of Gotham. Harleen noted that he sounded like a very nervous man, not used to asserting himself. She wondered how a man like that had achieved such a high position at Arkham.

"A sane person can do a lot of strange things Doctor."

"Mmm, yes indeed. Anyway, while we can't give you what you want, I wondered in you might be interested in coming in for an interview with me to become the Joker's permanent psychiatrist?" Harleen stopped scooping, and breathing for a moment. "You'd see him three times a week and you'd be on call in case he does anything. It would make you a permanent member of the Arkham staff and of course you'd be added to the payroll. I understand that this probably doesn't pay as well as your current position, but we're getting a bit desperate he-"

"YES!"

"...Sorry?" Harleen paused to contain herself, trying as hard as she could to put back on her air of professionalism over her hyperactive elation before answering.

"I would love to come in for an interview Doctor, the Joker is a personal interest of mine. Does two-thirty Wednesday fit; give me two days to prepare?" She said, taking a minute to assert her dominance over this nervous little man.

"Really? Um, yes ok that should work, do you know where-"

"Oh I know the way. Is there anything else Doctor"

"I uh, suppose not..."

"I'll be seeing you soon then, ta."

"Oh ok, thank you ver-" She hung up the phone. After two seconds of standing totally still she threw herself in front of the mirror, put on her 'doctor' glasses, and posed as if she were holding a clipboard in front of her.

"Hello mister...Joker? Good evening Joker. Doctor Harleen Quinzel, and you must be the Joker? Joker we meet at last! Well hello, Joker..." She grinned at herself, and giggled. "Joker..."