Predator. Prey.

I could hear the thunder roaring in the sky as a knock at my office door woke me up from my trance. I had been updating Joker's case study, but my heart fluttered in excitement as I set my work aside and called for the guards to come in.

Joker's green hair and white skin electrified my senses; I feel as if I've known him forever, as if I have already saved him. He was flashing a huge smile, his red lipstick smeared around his full lips.

"Thank you!" I happily dismissed the guards and looked Joker in the eyes,

"And good morning to you, Mr. J!"

I was trying to contain my excitement but I was failing miserably. I could tell my eyes were too wide and my smile was too big. But I was so overwhelmed with emotions when I stared at him: I was his protector, I was his savior. I could already see his future a year from now:

The Arkham Asylum Board of Trustees would ask me to sign the bright yellow release form. Joker would have revealed his real name by now to me, and Dr. Arkham and I would both sign under 'declared mentally sane'. Joker would grab the pen from my hand, and sign it next to my name. And he would look at me, with a real smile, and he'd have real emotion in his eyes. And I would smile back, genuinely content and elated. He'd grab my hand and shake it, overcome with joy as he would say for the first time, 'Thank you, Dr. Quinzel.'

"Knock knock, Harleen, Is anyone home?"

His deep voice grounded me from my fantasy world and I straightened the collar of my blouse.

"Hello, yes, sorry."

"Where'd you go just then?"

I smiled and folded my hands in my lap, ready to quickly change the conversation.

"A little birdy told me you've escaped from Arkham thirteen times."

"Someone's been putting their nose where it shouldn't be." His voice was hoarse and low.

"I think as your psychologist I have a right to know that."

"But you're not coming to me as a psychologist, doctor. You're here as my friend."

I bit my lip and nodded,

"That's right."

He leaned forward, his hands motioning outward,

"You know sweets, I have a couple of birdys that love to tell me secrets, too."

"They should tell you how to apply lipstick properly."

His laughter filled my body with joy and happiness. Our conversations were beginning to feel more and more comfortable and less forced. He cocked his head to one side,

"They tell me important secrets, like the code to get into your apartment."

My smile dropped and the air around me plummeted thirty degrees. The image of the rose flashed through my mind, and the memory of my screams reverberated through my ears. I wanted to run, and get away from him. I wanted to sprint home and change my locks and curl into bed. I wanted to hide.

But I can't. I won't.

Every minute I'm silent in his presence, the more our connection fades. I cannot be scared of him. He's not a monster. He is human. I could see him eyeing me the way a lion watches a zebra from a distance; he was ready to pounce if I showed a hint of weakness. My breath hitched in my throat for only a moment, but I forced a smile to return to my face,

"That's right. Thank you for the flower, it was beautiful."

I watched in triumph as his eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. For the first time since I've met him, I noticed his pretentious demeanor wash away and he looked at me with a sense of respect. He purred quietly, leaning closer and closer over the thin steel desk separating us. I knew I should be scared shitless, but even if I was, I was not going to show it. His eyes were glimmering with amusement and focus as he studied my face, desperately trying to read me. He licked his lips, his face less than six inches away from mine.

"Aren't you going to ask who put it there?"

"Are you going to tell me anyway?"

He smiled, and his fingers pointed to his face,

"I did."

His eyes widened again and he smiled, showing his gold teeth arranged in a perfectly straight row. I raised one eyebrow, determined not to let my surprise show,

"I bet the guards would be interested to know you've been out of your cell."

"Tell on me, baby."

"I'm not going to."

I felt absolutely fearless as I leaned in closer to him, letting him see the confidence on my face as I whispered,

"And you want to know why?"

He leaned in again, eyes glued to mine. He locked me in his gaze, and I felt trapped, but calm,

His voice was dripping in amusement, as he breathed,

"Why?"

"Because if you wanted me dead, or if you planned to escape, you already would've done it."

Our faces were inches away from each other, our breathing synchronized. My eyes were hopelessly entangled in his as he whispered,

"I can leave whenever I want, Harleen. I'm a free bird. I don't need birdys gathering my secrets for me."

"Then why are you still here?"

Closer and closer his face inched to mine, to the point where our noses were almost touching. My mind was completely numb. Dr. Quinzel had disappeared, and all that was left was a hypnotized, endlessly hopeful Harleen. His voice was barely audible,

"I'm not leaving here till I get what I want."

"And what's that?"

His left hand touched the bottom of my chin, lifting my head up further and closer to the point where he was either going to try to kiss me or kill me. I was ready for both. His eyes darkened as he breathed,

"Satisfaction."

He leaned back in his seat too quickly, and the trance was broken as my breathing became erratic and I fell back into my chair. My mind returned to normal and I fumbled with my notes, writing and writing and making up random shit and writing. Eventually I looked up at the bridge of his nose to see him glaring at me, staring into me and through me, as if he had already ensnared me and was preparing to devour me.

I cleared my throat,

"End of session."