As the psychologist for Gotham's Arkham Asylum, I have seen many patients. None of them captivated me like Jack O'Connor. When he looked me in the eyes, he was staring into my soul.

"Jack, tell me about why you're in here."

"Oh, fuck you," he laughed playfully. "You're not gonna keep tryin' to make talk, are you? Tell me you're not that stupid, Wayne."

"I am," I smiled. "I think it helps to talk. It makes you feel better."

"Okay, then talk to me. Tell me what's wrong with you."

"I like little boys. I'm a pedophile."

"You're so full of shit."

"What if I'm not? Would you think less of me?"

"Yes." He looked into my eyes. I saw that he was uncomfortable, and I smiled at him. It was inappropriate of me, but I enjoyed it. I liked manipulating him.

"I miss my father. He was killed when I was young, and I miss him," I confessed. "You tell me something. We'll trade secrets."

It was as if he couldn't believe me. I was coming right down to his level. "I like boys." He blushed. "Not little ones. Just... boys."

"When I was young, I got a girl pregnant. She was my best friend. She aborted the baby because she didn't want to raise it without me and I didn't want to hurt my chances of taking over my father's company."

"I cut myself while I'm in here on my thighs, where the guards can't see."

"Jack," I paused. "Why don't you get help?"

"It's your turn. This is secret for secret, not question and answer."

I sighed and tried to come up with a secret to tell him. I hadn't planned for this. "I have obsessive compulsive disorder. I want to straighten your tie." This made me blush, too.

"Straighten it," he challenged. Whether meaning to or not, I turned around and checked behind me. There were no guards. They trusted me. They had no reason not to. I did good work in the asylum. I'd helped many inmates get better. "Straighten my tie."

"I can't."

"How long have you wanted to?"

"The moment I met you. I hate it. It makes my skin crawl. I have to focus on writing notes about you and your condition so that I can keep myself from straightening it or leaving the room."

"Straighten my tie."

He was baiting me, and I couldnt' help myself. I moved in cloer to him and leaned across the table. With gentle hands, I straightened his tie. As I moved close to him, his hands, still handcuffed, rested on the sides of my face and pressed his lips on mine. I didn't pull away from him.

"I'm not crazy," he whispered to me, his moist lips close to my ear. "I'm depressed."

"I dream of making love to you."

"I do too."

"I could break you out of here."

"I'd kill again."

"I wouldn't care."

As the secrets started escalating, my heart started to race.

"I've never loved anybody, but I love you."

"I love you too."

"That's not fair. You're cheating. I knew that already. I could see it in your eyes."