--3rd person POV--

"We can't afford another incident like that. You were all over the place in there." Doctor Stoner, Arkham's chief clinical psychologist argued his point vehemently. "Now personally I wouldn't give a rats ass if Fleck caved his goddamn head in on the door, but things are starting to get messy. And when things get messy people start asking awkward questions. So this has gone far enough. In my professional opinion I say we abort this experiment as of now, sweep it under the rug as best we can, and forget about it once and for all."

(y/n) felt her heart clench, but fought to keep her expression stoic. A mask of clinical professionalism.

"Please, Doctor Stoner, we've come this far. If I give up on Arthur now then it'll have all been for nothing."

The senior man raised a greying eyebrow in cynical interest. "Give up on Arthur?" He parroted, with a humourless laugh. "Arkham's finest psychiatrists gave up on prisoner 23147 years ago. Need I remind you of that, Doctor (y/l/n)?"

She inwardly flinched, hearing her superior refer to Arthur as a prisoner. The inmates were supposed to be referred to as patients.

"There's no helping that man." He continued. "This experiment of yours was merely to perform a clinical study. To try and delve into the workings of his twisted psyche in order to use whatever information we gleaned to further our knowledge. To assist with the assessing process of the criminally insane. Not, I repeat, not, to try and help him. He's a lost cause."

Hearing Arthur referred to as a mere number, to have him written off as a lost cause, incensed her further. It went against everything she believed in as a Doctor.

And admittedly, it pained her on a much more personal level too. Not that she could ever admit it.

Her colleagues were already suspicious. Having questioned her professional integrity after the scandalous kissing incident, which had quickly become common knowledge amongst the staff at the hospital, thanks to the loose-lipped guards who had found her in that compromising position.

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think abandoning the study now is the answer." She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. "Arth--I mean, prisoner 23147 is...volatile.. if I don't conduct any further sessions with him it could prove detrimental to his mental health, therefore possibly endangering the welfare of himself as well as others."

God, she hated talking about Arthur in such a way. As if he were a caged beast. A danger to everyone including himself. But she knew what had to be said if she stood any chance of continuing with her sessions.

"If word was to get out that someone has suffered as a result of our botched attempts at a behavioural study, it would bring the entire reputation of this institution into disrepute. Surely you don't want to risk that? Not when all I need is a little more time. At least just to...to try and smooth things over."

Doctor Stoner scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "You've messed with the head of one of Gotham's most prolific serial killers. Did you honestly think it was going to end well?" He rose from behind his large, mahogany desk, picking up Arthur's hefty file and tossing it towards her. "I'm giving you one week Doctor (y/l/n) to clean up the mess you've made, and then I'm pulling you out. Understand?"

Gathering up the file quickly, she clutched it to her chest and stood, the immense relief easing the tense knots in her shoulders.

"Yes sir, I understand. Thank you."

***

During that meeting, (y/n) had been grateful for the time allocated her. But as she sat in the observation room alone, it hit her with unforgiving clarity that one week wasn't going to be nearly long enough.

"Sorry Doc, Fleck says he doesn't want therapy today." One of the guards informed her, grimly.

She bristled, feeling herself crumple inwardly.

Arthur didn't want to see her.

She shouldn't have been surprised given the circumstances of their last meeting.
But still she had nursed hopes of him wanting to come. Of wanting to see her again.
If truth be told it was those hopes that kept her functioning. Without them she would've lost all sense of purpose. She wouldn't know what to do.
Arthur Fleck had been the focal point of her life for the past two years.
Without him, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.
And to have come so close to understanding him, only to be rejected now after all her efforts and hard work, was more than she could bear.

Perhaps that was part of the problem.
She had come too close.
Too close to the man behind the makeup.

For her he'd gone from being a mere mugshot in a case file, the grainy image from TV footage, a photograph in newspaper clippings, to a living, breathing man in the flesh.
A man who she had fought with. Talked with. Laughed with.
Kissed.

Damn. What an extraordinary man he'd turned out to be. Not to mention an extraordinary kisser.

The line between Doctor and patient had been distorted from the start due to her deception, and it had only become fuzzier after that first heated encounter in Arthur's cell. When she'd impulsively kissed him as a deterrent. To stop him from hurting himself.

After that, the kiss had played on her mind. Creating fevered dreams about his sinewy body, wrapped around hers. Providing her with many unwanted sordid thoughts, in which she'd secretly fantasise about his strong hands holding her in their powerful grasp, as his soft lips devoured her mouth.

But fevered fantasies aside, she needed to see Arthur again. She couldn't stand the thought of him despising her. Of feeling ill used by her.
The very thought of never actually being able to see him again terrified her.

It was then that she realised her obsession may run a lot deeper than she'd first anticipated. She was infatuated. Smitten with the charismatic, yet deadly, former killer clown.

***

The next day when Arthur was a no-show, she felt she had no other option than to exercise her authority.
Yes she had given the Arkham inmate the right to chose if he attended the sessions or not, foolishly believing that if he chose to come then it must mean something.
That he felt something for her, like she did for him.
Clearly she'd been fooling herself.
But she did still want to help him, and that meant every second counted. So his refusal was no longer acceptable.

When the guards brought him forcibly to the room, to say he was unwilling to cooperate, was an understatement.

Sitting slouched in his chair, he sat chain smoking, staring blankly at the ground as if she wasn't even there.

"How are you feeling today, Arthur?" (y/n) asked in the airiest tone she could muster, even though the shallowness of the enquiry almost choked her.

She actually wanted to say she was sorry. To convince him that she'd never deliberately intended to lead him on. It had just happened. And...it wasn't leading on.
Whether she liked it or not, she wanted Arthur Fleck. Even though the unrequited feelings were bound to ruin her.

She sighed hopelessly, eyeing the paper which lay in front of her on the table.
The checklist of banal questions seemed like an insult now. To ask him these questions after they'd already shared so much, seemed futile and laughable.
Just like her having to wear the white lab coat over her clothes. A measure her senior colleague had insisted upon, in order to maintain appearances and remind both Doctor and patient that there was that professional boundary they weren't, under any circumstances, to cross.

"Are there any thoughts you'd like to share with me, Arthur?" She persisted, glancing at his expressionless face, hoping in vain for some reaction, regardless of how small it may be.

But there was none. Not even a quirk of the eyebrow, a flicker of the eyes.
Nothing.

Driven by sheer desperation, (y/n) abandoned the checklist, recklessly casting all protocol aside.

"Arthur, do you remember when you asked me why I was crying?"

She watched him carefully, scrutinising his features with avid interest. For a fleeting moment she thought she saw his forehead crease, but perhaps it was just his healing wound, the stitches in his forehead causing him discomfort, as opposed to her words.

"I promised you an answer...and I feel you deserve the truth, so..." She exhaled shakily, trying to steady her suddenly rapid breathing. "...the truth is, I care about you a great deal, Arthur."

Unable to prevent it, Arthur's green eyes snapped to her face. Her statement catching him off guard. Shit. How could he possibly resist bait like that? He was positively bursting with the need to pour scorn on her proclamation. To cut her to the quick with some snarky remark.

"You're a liar." He stated, simply. Tearing his gaze away once more. "All you care about is your precious study. I'm just another lab rat to you."

As much as his words pained her, it was still wonderful for her to hear his voice. Regardless of the cold, unfeeling tone in which he spoke to her.

"That's not true...and deep down, I think you know it."

Arthur took a generous drag on his cigarette, still refusing to look at her. "I don't know anything. I don't even know who you are."

"I'm still (y/n), Arthur. I'm still the same person."

"No you're not, you're one of them." He growled, crushing his cigarette butt under his white, canvas shoe with excessive force, betraying his irritation.

"You see me as an enemy now? Because I'm a Doctor?"

"D'you think?" He snorted. "And you're even more of an enemy because you tricked me. But guess what, princess? It won't happen again. Nobody makes a fool of Joker twice. Now...are we done here?"

"Joker? What about Arthur?"

"I've already told you. We're one and the same. Two stitches in the same piece of fabric. Shit. You know you really are just like the rest of them, you don't listen--"

"Arthur, look at me."

Begrudgingly he lifted angry eyes to her anxious ones, and the look in them made his traitorous heart twinge painfully.
She was gazing at him beseechingly. Her apparent desperation, alarmingly convincing.

"I'm not your enemy. I still want to help you. Help you in any way that I can."

"Yeah? Well how about you leave me alone, that'll be a big help."

"Is that what you really want?"

Her hand crept across the surface of the table, and he eyed it dubiously, longing to reach out and touch it. To entwine his rough fingers through her delicate ones.

"Yes." He croaked, mentally scolding himself for his weakness. His reply noticeably lacking conviction.

"Are you sure? Because it isn't what I want."

"Yeah I know, you want to help me, you already said."

"Yes...and I think I know how to, Arthur." Her voice dropped suddenly, becoming a barely audible whisper. "But...you have to let me. I-I need to know that you want me to."

Frowning, Arthur leaned forwards, resting his arms on the table. Her hand immediately reached for his bare forearm, creating a tingling sensation across his skin.

"I don't want your help, princess. Don't you get it yet? Being asked the same questions over and over, talking about my past, my thoughts, none of it works. It isn't going to help me."

Her gentle grasp loosened further, and to his astonishment he felt the soft brush of her thumb, stroking his arm.
The contact was so tender, so delicious, he almost groaned with pleasure.
To be shown such simple affection meant such a great deal to him. That is what he was starved of. It was his Achilles heel, and he loathed himself for it.

"That isn't what I had in mind." She chanced a shy smile. "My methods are somewhat more....unconventional."

"Spoken like a true Arkham shrink." Intrigued, Arthur tilted his head, staring at her quizzically. "What you gonna prescribe for me? A bit of the old electroshock therapy? A lobotomy?"

"Love."

Doubting he'd heard correctly, Arthur leaned as far forwards as he possibly could, given the table was in the way.

"What?" He demanded.

She felt her face grow hot beneath the scrutiny of his intense gaze. "L-love, Arthur. Love is what you need."

"I-I'm sorry, for a minute there I thought you said something really stupid."

"And why is it stupid? Hm? What's stupid about love? Empathy? And compassion?"

"What's stupid is you suggesting it." He retorted. "How am I supposed to be loved in here? And who exactly is going to love me, huh? You?"

(y/n)'s face grew an even deeper shade of red. She became noticeably flustered, stammering her words, and hastily removing the hand which had been absently caressing his arm for the past few minutes.

"W-well, I...you see, the thing is--"

With lightening speed, Arthur caught hold of her retreating hand, not wanting to mourn the loss of her touch.

"How?" His voice was low and raspy, tickling her senses like he'd physically run a finger down the length of her spine. "How are you going to love me?" His eyes fleetingly dropped to her lips, making her quiver with barely suppressed excitement. "I'm an inmate. You're a doctor. I'm sorry sweetheart, but I just don't see how that's going to work."

"And what if you weren't an inmate?" She levelled at him, flattening all traces of his playful mockery.

"Well...then I suppose it might work. Possibly."

Her pink lips stretched into a bewitching smile, and she had a peculiar gleam in her eye.
Holy shit, he thought. Perhaps she's just as crazy as me after all.
Either that or she was taking therapy to a whole new level. Perhaps playing some elaborate prank on him. In which case, he'd have to test her. To see if she could put her money where her mouth was.

"So...how exactly do I become a non-inmate? How does that scenario play out?"

"You let me worry about that." She smiled coyly. "I'll figure something out. But I'll need your full cooperation."

He darted an anxious glance towards the surveillance camera. "What about your doctor buddies? Won't they hear this? Aren't they observing us right now?"

She shook her head, glancing down at her watch. "My superior, Doctor Stoner is currently on a conference call to Geneva in his office. There's no way he'll check the video footage. That's only done when there's been an incident. So as long as you don't go smashing your head into the door we should be safe."

"Is that right?" A mischievous smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "I never knew security here was so lax. Especially when you take into consideration what happened to my last therapist."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You don't believe me?"

He shrugged. "Well you have lied to me before. Why should I believe you now?"

"Fine. Then kiss me."

Arthur's eyes widened, almost doubling in size. "W-what?"

She eyed him steadily, her expression never faltering. "Go ahead, kiss me. See what happens."

"You're challenging me again."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It could be."

"Why?"

"Because you might just get what you fucking deserve!" He snarled, and suddenly lunged across the table at her.

She gave a startled yelp as he grasped her roughly by the lapels of her lab coat, pulling her towards him so he could ensnare her lips in a passionate kiss.
(y/n) clutched at his shoulders desperately, not pushing him away, but welcoming his torrid affections.

Shackled in handcuffs, his large hands slid up her neck, so that he was cupping her face. Using the tip of his thumb to ease her lips apart, he slid his tongue into her mouth, making her moan softly against his lips.

Had he finally lost his mind? None of this seemed possible. To be openly kissing his doctor, (y/n), in the room used for observation, seemed utterly insane.
For her to have suggested it, to be reciprocating his actions, made no sense whatsoever.

But this was Arkham. What did make sense here?

"Was that good enough for you?" He panted, breaking for air.

Her eyes gazed up at him, dazed. She could feel his warm saliva on her lips, which still tingled from having been well and truly kissed.

"Y-yes." She breathed, smoothing down the stray strands of hair that had fallen loose.

What was she even doing? She didn't know anymore. It was like she was under some sort of hypnotic spell, but she didn't want it to be broken.
She was losing everything to him.
Her heart, her mind, even her job would be next to go if she wasn't careful.
But what difference did that make, as long as she could be with him?

"So...are you gonna tell me the truth now, princess?" He grinned crookedly, as he reluctantly released her from his passionate clinch and sank back into his chair.

"The truth about what?"

Picking up his cigarette packet from the table, he slipped one out and lit it, his imtrusive gaze never leaving her face.

"The truth about why you're so determined to help me. Because you've definitely taken more of an avid interest in me than any other shrink ever has, that's for sure. And please, don't try and tell me this is all about getting revenge for your dead boyfriend."

"Fiancé."

"Whatever." He said, in a bored voice. Which was all a big show for her benefit. Really he was buzzing with excitement. So much so that his foot began to involuntarily bounce up and down, causing his leg to shake.

"I already told you that at first, I wanted to make you suffer for his death."

His eyes narrowed. "And then? What changed?"

"What changed?" She couldn't refrain from laughing, feeling giddy and invigorated by the sense of danger. The heady thrill of forbidden love. "What changed is I met you, Arthur."

He chuckled gleefully. "And you, what? Fell head over heels for me?"

The nodding of her head was enough to render him silent, speechless. It wasn't often that Arthur was lost for words. But now was one of those rare times. He didn't know what to say, and couldn't trust himself to speak even if he could.

"Pretty much." She grinned, biting her bottom lip. "I just can't help myself. I can't get you out of my head, Arthur."