Harley Quinn + Joker OneShots

Patient #42540

(A/N: Well, hello there. It sure has been awhile lol. I'm guessing you didn't expect for me to update ever, but alas, here we are. I hope you enjoy.)

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Harleen Quinzel POV
I've been working at Arkham Asylum for less than year now and yet, here I am, about to add the 'clown prince of crime' himself as one my patients.

On one hand, I see this as a great accomplishment for myself, given my age and to put it frankly, my lack of experience. However, on the other hand, I'm under no illusion of my current predicament. The Joker is the most unruly, difficult and not to mention, most dangerous individual behind these cold, stone walls.

I'm no stranger to the tales of what has happened to the other psychiatrists, psychologists and security guards before me that have had the unfortunate endeavor of crossing his path.
I'm chosen out of necessity. Out of desperation. Not from the skill or talent I possess.
I know everyone expects me to fail. I mean, why wouldn't they? It's not like anyone has ever been successful in understanding the innermost workings of Joker's mind, let alone made any sort of progress whatsoever. Hell, based on the stories I've heard, I'll be lucky if I have all my limbs attached after our first session.
I think it would be silly to say that I'm not afraid, but I'm honestly more afraid of failing than anything else.
This is my chance to prove myself and show that I'm capable.

~~~

I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

He's just a person. At the end of the day, he is just another person.

I open my eyes as a calmness washes over me.

I can do this.

I gather my files and pencils and make my way out of my office. My heels click loudly against the gloomily colored tile floor that I don't think has ever seen better days.
As I turn the corner, I see two security guards are lined up outside the door. This isn't exactly atypical at Arkham, but I can tell they're more heavily armed than usual.

"Harleen!"

I stopped walking and turned around to see Dr. Bartholomew, the head psychiatrist of Arkham, or plainly put, my boss, bustling his way towards me with sweat beading down his face and papers flying out of his hands.

"Yes, Dr. Bartholomew?"

He finally caught up to where I was standing, clearly out of breath, "Harleen I-"

"Dr. Quinzel," I corrected.

He wheezed softly in response. It probably would have come out as more of a chuckle if he wasn't trying desperately to catch his breath.

"I wanted to speak with you," he said, finally getting his breathing under control. For the most part at least.

"I figured. Could you make it quick? I have a session with my new patient and I don't want to be late," I replied.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about actually," he continued. "I know you've had other patients here and everything, but you need to be extremely careful with him. If there's ever a point where it's too much for you, tell me right away. There'll be a panic button in the room if you ever feel unsafe and a security guard will be present in the room with you during your sessions."

"I wasn't told about a guard being present during my sessions", I asked confused.

He sighed, "Harleen, he's not like the other patients. This is for your safety."

"Regarding confidentiality, I can't allow that. How am I supposed to get anywhere with him and gain his trust if there's a guard there the whole time?"