--3rd person POV--

After five days in isolation Arthur was finally released.

Time spent in isolation always dragged but those past five days had felt like an eternity to him. He was anxious to see (y/n) again. To make sure that her own time in isolation hadn't been too unbearable for her.

For good or bad, happily or unhappily, he was forced to acknowledge that he cared about her. Worried for her well being and state of mind.
And he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.

Initially he'd liked the way she'd made him feel...something...again, rather than him feeing numb and hollow on the inside.
But that feeling he'd experienced wasn't just lust as he'd originally imagined.
His time alone had provided him with ample opportunity for quiet reflection. And what he'd found himself thinking shook him to the very core.

Yes (y/n) had made him feel lustful, but she had also triggered feelings of jealousy, protectiveness, concern, and even sadness. Sadness brought on by him missing her. Missing her after just five days.

Shit. I've really got it bad, he realised.

He was also about to soon find himself experiencing another emotion too, but as yet he was still blissfully ignorant.

Searching the communal room and lunch room, the new object of his affections was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps she was still in isolation.

Arthur set about questioning fellow inmates but none of them had seen her.
Perplexed, he had no choice other than to wait it out, and try to be patient.
Patience wasn't exactly one of his strongpoints, but there was nothing else he could do.

However, after several days passed by his patience was all but diminished and his anxiety was making him fractious.

It had been well over a week now. No one had ever been put in isolation for so long.
Something just didn't seem right.

"Denny, I need you to do something for me." He said to his friend during lunch. "I need you to ask your buddy, Boles, what's happened to (y/n)"

Denny looked up from his food, shrewdly observing the slight tightening of Arthur's jaw, and the deep frown that drew his brows downward. That and the way he incessantly drummed his fingers on the tabletop, told Denny everything he needed to know...

Arthur was worried.

Actually worried, for this girl.

"No problem Artie. Leave it with me my brother, I'll have words with the man later and let you know tomorrow."

Exhaling a gust of smoke, Arthur nodded, taking another drag on his cigarette. "Thanks man. And if he's reluctant to talk, tell him Joker wants to know."

When the following day came Arthur hastily located his friend again, this time in the lunch queue.

"Well? What did he say?" He asked, forgetting to even greet him properly.

Denny's expression alone was enough to put Arthur on edge. The friendly black man was renown for his winning smile and joviality. But right now his face looked bleak, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Artie...." He took a deep breath, reluctant to be the bearer of bad news. Arthur was his friend, but he was also still a bit of a loose canon to say the least. So he wasn't entirely sure how he was going to react. "...shit, I don't know how to tell you this, man..."

"What? What is it?"

"She ain't here no more."

Arthur blinked. "What? What you mean she....she's been moved upstairs now?"

Denny shook his head sadly. "I asked that, but no. According to Frank she's been released."

Arthur felt his stomach drop to the floor, creating the feeling one might feel in an elevator that was hurtling downwards at great speed. It made him feel nauseous.
He wanted to be violently ill.

"She...she's been released?" He retorted, barely able to force the words passed his constricting throat.

Denny nodded, then tried to cushion the blow by saying, "At least she ain't stuck in this hell hole no more. She's lucky that she got out before she lost her fuckin' mind, know what I'm saying?"

He gave a barely perceptible nod of the head but didn't speak.
He couldn't. The disappointment was choking him.

Cautiously, Denny placed a reassuring hand on his friends shoulder. "You really liked the girl, hey Artie?"

Arthur fought to regain his composure. He sniffed loudly, straightening his slouched posture. "Y-yeah, I mean, she was...okay...you know?" He managed to force a fake smile, which clearly didn't meet his eyes. "But hey, I'll get over it. It's not like she was even here that long."

Denny nodded understandingly, silently breathing a sigh of relief.

That night as Arthur lay awake in his cell, chain smoking, his mind turned on a continuous, never-ending loop. Replaying all of the exchanges he'd had with (y/n).
Their brief 'friendship' had been tempestuous and unpredictable.
But then their apparent perpetual discord had evolved into a friendly sort of challenge. A challenge which had soon become tempered with something almost romantic.

Was he a fool for thinking that she'd felt the same? That she'd cared about him in some way? Wanted him like he wanted her?

There was a time, before Joker, when he was just plain old Arthur Fleck, he wouldn't have even entertained the notion of a woman reciprocating his feelings. But Joker had liberated him. Given him confidence.
Now he was starting to wish the evolution hadn't taken place. If it hadn't he wouldn't be torturing himself with such fanciful thoughts, and the loss of (y/n)'s company wouldn't be so hard to withstand.

Shit. He was starting to remember how much it sucked experiencing such emotions.

***

The following Monday morning Arthur had just finished dressing after his shower, when two guards came to escort him to the observation room.

He was bewildered at first, then fleetingly amused.
The observation room was where therapy sessions took place, and Arthur hadn't been to one of those in a very very long time.
Given that he'd killed his last therapist, it was hardly surprising. Since then the doctors deemed him too volatile to even attempt a therapy session with him.
They must have found some other gullible fool who was willing to risk their life just to try and psychoanalyse him.

He considered this as he was led along the winding, sterile corridors. Never realising all his preconceptions were about to be blown wide apart.
That his emtire world would be blown wide apart.

As the door to the room was opened for him nothing, absolutely nothing on earth, could've prepared him for the sight of (y/n) sitting there at the table.
Dressed smartly in a white shirt and black pencil skirt. Her (y/h/c) hair swept up efficiently in a high ponytail.

There was a briefcase on the floor by her chair, and a folder in front of her on the table.

His mind was spinning. He didn't have a clue what was going on.
Reaching up he pulled hard on the small hairs st the nape of his neck.
It hurt.
He wasn't asleep, and he wasn't imagining this.
It was really happening.

So why was she here, like this?
As elated as he was to see her again, dread was gathering in the pit of his stomach. This entire situation was decidedly wrong.

She raised her apprehensive gaze to his face, chancing a small smile.
His beautiful eyes were swimming with confusion. Drowning in bewilderment.

Beneath the fabric of her shirt, her heart was hammering against her breastbone. Her palms had grown clammy. Fine beads of perspiration formed on her delicate brow.
She was so unprepared for this.
She had thought she was ready, but she knew now that she really wasn't, and more than likely never would've been.
Prior to him entering the room she'd felt composed. Relatively confident.
But now they were face to face she felt her nerves unravelling like a ball of twine.

"Hello Arthur." She managed shakily.

"Hey." He muttered, his usual low voice making goosebumps rise on her arms. "What's going on?"

She faked a cough, hoping to rid all traces of a tremor from her voice, but it didn't keep her from stuttering. "I-I....I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" His dark brows furrowed. "Well...you could help me by explaining what the hell's going on."

Drawing in an unsteady breath, (y/n) motioned to the chair opposite her. "I will. Please...have  a seat."

Dubiously he pulled the chair out and sat. His stomach shifted uneasily. His anxiety caused him to fidget due to his growing trepidation. She watched as his large hands clasped and unclasped each other as if in constant need of touch and reassurance.

But what they needed was to be able to touch her.

"Arthur, I'm Doctor (y/l/n). I'm with the department of mental health--"

"Wait, what?"

She swallowed hard. "I've been studying your case for years and finally I managed to convince my superior to assign you to me as a patient."

Arthur felt his jaw slacken, and he had to touch it to ensure it hadn't dropped off completely.

"Are you..." He sucked in a deep, calming breath then tried again. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

She shook her head, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

His head lowered, his chin sinking into his chest. His head felt suddenly heavy, weighed down by her confession, to the point where his neck didn't feel strong enough to support it.

"Arthur I want to help you."

"Fuck you!" He spat.

The venom dripping in his voice made her flinch slightly.
She had been expecting this. Of course he was bound to be angry. But she couldn't help thinking it would've been easier if she hadn't....

Well, if she'd acted more professionally.

On the one hand, a part of her was expecting to attack her.
If he assumed she'd gotten as close to him as she had purely for her own, selfish reasons then he would be furious, and most definitely wrong.
On the other hand, the whole messy affair was wrong.

(y/n) knew what kind of man he was. What he had done. She had a job to do and yet, she had kissed him back, had wanted to taste whatever strange desire she had been feeling for him. If the guards hadn't interrupted when they did, she didn't know how far she would have let him go.
If the kiss hadn't been stopped, what would she have been willing to let him do to her? The answer was something that kept her awake at night. Something she couldn't admit to herself just yet. It was too much to think about and she knew the answer would make these strange feelings inside her amplify.

"I understand that you're upset, Arthur. But if you just allow me to explain--"

"Why? So you can tell me more lies?"

He lifted his handcuffed hands so that he could rummage in his tunic pocket for his pack of cigarettes. (y/n) watched him closely as he slipped one between his lips, lit it with a lighter, then slouched down into the chair with all the flair of a sulking, petulant child.

"I...I haven't lied to you."

"Yeah? What about all that bullshit about working at the Wayne estate?"

"I did. I was appointed as a councillor for Bruce Wayne. Needless to say he has issues as a result of losing his parents."

At that Arthur let out a wild burst of sadistic laughter.

She waited for him to quieten down before  asking, "Do you find that funny?"

"Yes. I. Do." Cigarette smoke curled in the air around him as he exhaled. "Poor little rich boy, has everything in the world except parents." He smirked vindictively, emerald eyes glistening with barely suppressed fury. "Well now he knows how it feels."

"How what feels exactly?"

"To have your life fall apart."

She tilted her head, intrigued. "You mean like yours did?"

"Wait, wait a minute. I'm not doing this. If you think I'm going to sit here and answer your questions then you're even crazier than I am."

Slipping some papers from the folder (y/n) hastily began scribbling down notes. An action which infuriated Arthur all the more.

"Stop fucking writing about me!" He yelled, leaping to his feet and slamming his fists down hard on the table.

Papers scattered onto the floor, but she didn't dare try and retrieve them. Her eyes grew wide as she looked up into his handsome face. His angry handsome face.
His expression was murderous. Was he capable of murdering her? Just like his last therapist?

"A-Arthur, please calm down."

"Don't tell me what to fucking do. You're not the boss of me." He blustered, nostrils flaring in indignation.

"Arthur, please...if you just calm down and let me explain properly--"

"Two minutes."

"Sorry, what?"

Lowering himself back down into his seat he affixed her with a cold, hard, unsettling stare.

"I'm giving you two minutes to explain." He said with eerie calmness. "Then I'll decide whether or not I'm going to kill you."

Cold sweat glistened on her furrowed brow. She clasped her trembling hands tightly in front of her on the table.  Nervously fiddling with her knuckles, weaving her fingers in and out of each other.

But her hands at least remained on the table, he noticed, rather than creeping beneath the table to where the panic button was situated.

"I...I'm not afraid of you Arthur."

"You should be."

"You're not going to kill me."

"What makes you think that?" He scoffed. "You're forgetting something, princess. I only ever kill people who hurt me."

She felt an icy chill race over her skin, his words wrenching firmly on her heartstrings.

She had hurt him. The deception had hurt him.
He felt betrayed and foolish, and she could easily understand why.

But when she had proposed her risky, highly unorthodox plan to her superiors, to go undercover in order to try and earn the trust of Joker, to gain insight into the workings of his disturbed psyche, she hadn't anticipated that she'd find herself falling head over heels. Indeed, it had been the very last thing she'd anticipated.

But by the time she'd realised and acknowledged the extent of her spiralling obsession, the obsession she'd had for two years now, and what it meant, it had been far too late.

She'd been unwittingly fooling herself, him, and her superiors.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you. That wasn't my intention." Her gaze lowered to the desk in an attempt to hide her eyes, which were brimming with tears. "When I volunteered to become an inmate here it was purely to conduct a behavioural study."

Smoke billowed from his nostrils as he dropped his cigarette butt on the floor, crushing it beneath the heel of his canvas shoe.

"You tricked me. You actually made me believe that you were..a friend! When really, all I was to you was an experiment."

She shook her head, no. "That's not true, Arthur. I do care about you."

"No, all you care about is psychoanalysing me!"

"In order to help you."

"Yeah, well I don't want your help. D'you hear me, doctor? I don't want your pity, your therapy, or your company. We're done here."

Pushing his chair back abruptly he made his way over to the door, kicking it with the toe of his shoe.  "Guards? I want out now. Come on!"

When the door wasn't opened he responded by violently hitting his head against it with excessive force, an action which made (y/n) recoil in horror.

"Stop it, Arthur! You'll hurt yourself!"

Ignoring her, he stubbornly slammed his head into the metal door again. "It doesn't hurt as much as I'm going to hurt you." He threatened.

"Why would you want to hurt me?" She demanded, knowing it was a pretty stupid question but she needed a defined answer to it nonetheless.

"Because..." He hit his head one final time, then rested it against the hard, cold surface, unwilling to face her. "....you actually made me care about you."

She felt like she could pinpoint that exact moment as the one in which her heart broke. Shattering painfully into a million pieces. Yet she was obliged to maintain her air of calm professionalism. Which was damn near impossible at this point.

"Arthur, will you please sit down for me? I need to take a look at your head."

"You're not looking at anything. I want to leave."

"But you're not permitted to leave until the session is over."

"Did you not hear me, princess?" He hurled at her. He could feel the slow trickle of blood running down his forehead to his nose, but paid it no attention. "I said, we're done. End of session. End of fucking discussion."

"Joker, please. Sit down."

Arthur spun around to glare at her. "W-why did you call me that?"

Her large eyes settled on the bloodied gash on his forehead. In the next instant she was on her feet, desperately wanting to tend to him.

"Your head! Arthur you--"

"Forget my head, why did you just call me Joker?"

She wasn't able to keep her tone from wavering. "Because that's who I believe I'm talking to right now. Joker is an outlet for your anger and frustration." She paused, trying to find the right words, but they didn't seem to be any. "And right now...I want to talk to Arthur."

Her proclamation evoked a peculiar reaction. First he began to laugh. It was his pained, anxious laugh, the one that he couldn't control. The one that sounded unsettling and bizarre. It burnt his throat, made his eyes water, turned his face red, and made his ribs ache.

(y/n) furiously tried to blink tears away that were clouding her vision, but they forced their way out, wetting her cheeks.

Arthur was doubled over, coughing and gasping and choking as he struggled for breath, all the while strained laughter racked his frail body, causing him to shake violently.

Then suddenly he became acutely aware of (y/n) at his side, stroking his hair and gently rubbing slow circles on his back.

"It's okay, Arthur." She soothed, her warm body leaning into him. "Just breath, slowly."

God how he hated himself for his weakness. For finding her attentions comforting. For welcoming her gentle caress. He revelled in the sensations created by her tender touch, allowing himself to be temporarily distracted.

And (y/n) breathed a deep sigh of relief as the laughter gradually died down, dissolving into strained, ragged breaths.

As Joker the laughing condition all but disappeared. When it returned due to anxiety, that was when she knew she was dealing with Arthur Fleck. Surprisingly gentle, disarmingly sweet, Arthur.

"C-careful princess." He husked, his voice sounding raspier and rough. "Remember, your colleagues will be watching on the monitors." He nodded in the direction of the security camera high up in the corner of the room. "And behind the one-way glass, right?"

She automatically shot a look to the mirrored, shatter-proof glass on the wall.

"So what if they are? You deserve to be comforted. It's basic human decency. Something that has always been lacking in your life."

"Look, just stop would you?" He growled. "I'm getting tired of this whole doctor routine. Let me go."

"No. Arthur I--"

He silenced her by suddenly lurching forwards towards her, startling her into jumping backwards, lightly bumping her head against the wall.
Her eyes had closed instinctively.

If he was going to hurt her then surely she would've felt something by now.

Apprehensively she cracked open one eye, then the other.

She gulped.

His face was just a few inches from hers. His mouth so enticingly close to her own.

"So much for not being afraid of me." He said, voice cracking with emotion. "Now, let me go. Please. I don't want to hurt you, but I can't trust myself not to."

Feeling flattened by his words and the indifferent coldness of their delivery, (y/n) sighed heavily in defeat. Warily she stepped around him, fearing for her life, and was just about to enter the code to unlock the door when Arthur suddenly interrupted...

"Are you....crying?" He asked, incredulously.

Hastily she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "It...it doesn't matter."

"Why are you crying? Tell me."

"Why?"

"'Cause I wanna know." He persisted, his body now crowding her into the corner behind the door.

"I'll tell you...next time."

Arthur's expression darkened. Growing so black she half expected him to strangle her then and there with his bare hands.

"There won't be a next time. I don't want to do this. There's no point in us talking."

"Oh I think you'll find it worth your while." She gazed up at him, his gaze practically piercing hers. "Please Arthur...I-I want to...I want to keep seeing you."

Shit, he wanted to believe it. He really did. But how could he trust anything she said now? The humiliation still stung, burning his cheeks like he'd been physically slapped. But he longed to go on seeing her regardless of whatever capacity that might be in.
He ached for her with a desperate, burning need he'd never known.

He sucked in his cheeks, torn between his turbulent, conflicting emotions.

"I'll think about it." He responded after the longest pause of her life. "But you have to let me go now. I...I want to go now."

Her heart lifted cautiously, filling with anxious hope.

Perhaps, if she crossed all of her fingers, and toes even, he would agree to go ahead with the sessions. The sessions she'd specifically designed to help try and fix him.
He hadn't refused flatly by saying no. So there was still a small chance that she hadn't completely blown it. With any luck she might be able to salvage what remained of their tattered, extremely fragile friendship.

But for now, she begrudgingly had to let him go. Fearing that he would walk out of that room, and walk out of her life, forever.