(3rd person POV)
Arthur had been transferred back upstairs, to maximum security. The place he'd spent well over a year of his time since being incarcerated at Arkham.
As much as (y/n) wanted to rip the page from the book and crumple it into her trembling fists, she returned it exactly how she found it; partially buried beneath a stack of files and paperwork. It wasn't that the office was off-limits to her, but rather her presence could be deemed suspicious, seeing as how she was off duty, and never worked the graveyard shift.
The nauseas feeling settled once more in her gut. She took several breaths in through her nose and let them out her mouth, trying to calm her anxiety. The annoying urge to cry was almost overwhelming, and she buried her face in the bend of her elbow as she fled the room; hastily locking it behind her.
Why was Arthur back in maximum security? Had something happened? If it had then by rights it should've been recorded as an incident.
But she knew only too well that this was Arkham. Many things went on that weren't talked about or reported.
She needed to know. Wanted to know, but at the same time she was afraid of what she might find.
Well, her mind was made up. She would see Arthur regardless. She had to know that he was okay.
Determined, she marched passed the elevators and pushed open the door leading to the stairwell instead. The seven flights of stairs were gruelling, but she knew the chances of running into someone who'd question her being here so late was less likely. No one ever took the stairs if they could help it.
As she climbed, (f/n)'s past words of warning resounded in (y/n)'s head. The playful teasing that had eventually led to full-blown lectures now seemed completely justified and relevant. Now that she was having to face how her obsession with Arthur had changed her, she didn't want to think about it, but it was impossible to deny.
Panting, she reached the door and shoved her shoulder into it, throwing it open with an unintentional bang as it hit the wall behind it. The guard on duty jumped up from the stool he'd been perched on; a classic car magazine that had lay open on his lap, fell to the floor.
"Is there a problem, Doc?" The puzzled man asked, as he quickly retrieved his magazine.
"No no, just...need to check on a patient of mine." She forced a wide, bright smile. "Arthur Fleck?"
The guard's expression perceptibly altered, as he wrinkled his nose in contempt. "Oh him. Cell nine, last door on the left."
"Thank you." She called behind her, already speed-walking down the length of the room.
He nodded and took a seat back on the stool, returning to his magazine; clearly disinterested in her unexpected arrival.
A low, incoherent murmuring sounded from the cell she walked by and she glanced in, seeing a middle aged man making signs in the air; his eyes fixed up on a corner of the ceiling.
In the next cell a young man lay flat on his back, eyes wide open but his body unmoving due to the straightjacket and ankle restraints that held him immobile on the bed.
(y/n)'s heart pinched painfully. The inmates here had been certified as clinically insane, and were that doped-up on meds they'd lost whatever frail grip on reality they'd once had.
Overhead the dim lighting intensified the lead, greyness of the chipped, tiled walls.
It was as if no colour could survive in such a place. The only shocking splash of colour; the large, round panic buttons situated on the walls.
Upon reaching cell 9, she stepped cautiously up to the small, shatterproof glass window in the heavy, steel door.
Inside, Arthur was shirtless as he had a tendency to be at bedtime, not that he ever slept. The sharp contours of his shoulder blades stuck out like bony wings.
He stood statue-like with his back turned towards the door; gazing up at the tiny window set high-up in the wall.
She wondered what he might be thinking. Was he trying to picture the outside world which lay beyond it? The murky, trepidatious streets of Gotham; isolating and scary, but still offering some semblance of freedom; the likes of which he would never have again..
"A-Arthur."
He immediately spun around on his heel, his wide eyes meeting hers through the glass.
"(y/n)! How thoughtful of you to pay me a visit." The smile he reserved only for her, softened the angular features of his face. "I thought I heard your voice, but I figured I was imagining it. Either that or going crazy."
She wasn't able to muster a smile. He noticed immediately, his own smile fading as he approached the door, pressing his hand to the glass.
"What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? Did you seriously just ask me that?"
"Is this about the whole panties-thing? Because I--"
"No Arthur, it isn't. What are you doing here?"
"Didn't you hear? I killed a bunch of people and got caught." He joked clumsily.
"That's not funny."
"It is a little funny. To me at least." He gave a shrug of his bare shoulder. "But I guess that's why I'm in here."
"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, so they say."
"Yeah. They say a lot of things don't they."
"Like, comedy is subjective?" She managed a weak smile at last.
"I do love how you can quote me, Doctor (l/n). It kinda makes me believe that you are a fan, regardless of you denying it."
"You know....I think you might just be right."
Without thinking she rested her forehead against the glass, Arthur immediately mirroring her position on the other side.
"Why have they put you up here, Arthur? You don't belong here."
"It's for safety reasons apparently. They're worried I might flip out or try to escape because of the trial."
Letting his words sink in, she sighed in defeat, feeling tears burn the back of her eyelids. There was no escaping this. Arthur was even more trapped than she was. Nothing could be done now; his treatment would be handed over to another therapist. He was being taken away from her -- quite possibly -- forever.
"Princess..." He spoke softly in his low, scratchy voice. "What's wrong, hm? Tell me, why are you so sad?"
Unable to prevent a humourless laugh escaping her lips, she raised her head and roughly dashed her tears away.
"What's wrong? You know, Arthur, for one so perceptive you sure as hell can be a bit of a dumbass at times."
His intense eyes scrutinised her face closely. They were filled with cautious hope.
Oh god, as much as he indulged himself with fantasies of her being equally smitten, he didn't dare allow himself to believe it.
Something about her, since the very first day they had met, had captivated him. In her own way (y/n) was just as much an anomaly to him as he was to her.
The way she interacted with him, the lengths she had gone to to seek him out, whether her initial intentions had been hostile or not, it made him feel special.
Her affections made him feel like a human being. Not like an exhibit at a freak show, or a trapped creature. He actually felt like he could make sense of his life again.
She made him feel like he could be loved, like he could be cured of his incessant need to belong, of the loneliness and the rage that accompanied it. The hunger for true love and acceptance.
Neither Penny could love him nor Sophie. But deep down he felt as if (y/n) could.
"(y/n)...?" He croaked. "Are you saying you're upset.......for me? Because of my trial? And me being up here?"
She nodded. "Why so surprised, Arthur? I told you I care about you."
His jaw tightened in frustration. He wanted more than that. Arthur needed her to clarify just exactly how much she cared for him.
"I'll be okay. I'm used to it up here. It could be worse, last time I was in a jacket for months."
"But you don't deserve to be locked away up here."
"You really don't think so?"
"No! And I won't be able to see you. There's no way I'll be permitted to carry on our sessions anymore." Her voice came out much more shrill than she intended, though her proclamation alone was enough to alarm him.
His dark brows furrowed and his mouth turned down into a scowl. "They're going to try and keep us apart?"
"Yes." Her lip quivered with emotion, and she hadn't even registered just how crazy she would sound to the rest of her peers.
"If they try they'll live to regret it."
"No, Arthur! You mustn't do anything that will get you into trouble. Not on the run-up to your trial. Promise you won't."
"Princess, I--"
"Please, promise me!"
(y/n) slid open the metal compartment used for passing meals and medication through the door, and reached in without giving a second moments' consideration to the guard at the other end of the room.
Arthur found her hand instantly, and laced his fingers in the spaces between hers. "Okay, I promise. But I'm not letting them come between us."
She'd never seen him look at her with such wounded, frantic desperation in his eyes before, and she could feel her heart breaking. She'd been agonising over what to say. How could she possibly even begin to describe what she felt?
And yet now, all at once, the words came spilling from her freely;
"Oh god, Arthur I wish there was a way. It was stupid and reckless me even coming to see you tonight, but I just had to. I couldn't help it. I had to see you. I feel crazy when I'm not close to you. I don't know what's happening to me. You're all I can think about, and it makes me smile. It's like I'm losing my mind!"
Arthur's heart lurched, and he brushed his thumb tenderly across the back of her hand. "You're not losing your mind. Perhaps........perhaps you're losing your heart."
Blinking up at him, she swallowed tightly. "A-Arthur--"
"I think about you all the time, and I feel crazy too when I can't see you. That is, crazier than usual."
His mouth lifted into a slow smile, both mischievous and coy, and her lips parted on a soundless gasp in return.
His hand closed around hers protectively, almost possessively. And she didn't dislike it.
"Don't look so shocked, princess. You're amazing, who wouldn't fall for you? I may be crazy but I'm not that fucking crazy."
She felt heat flood her face, his weighty compliment making her heart soar; as if it had sprouted wings. It suddenly felt so light, flooding with renewed hope, happiness and warmth, and she couldn't ever recall having felt so utterly enamoured by a man before.
She was crazy about him.
"Arthur, you're not off your meds are you?" She teased, with a wistful smile.
"No, even though everyone is too afraid to come close, so I could probably get away with it up here. Nobody checks that I've taken it." He chuckled, then his tone grew serious. His green gaze even more intense. "But no, I take them, and I've never felt more like myself than I do right now. This is the real me, and you're the only person who has treated me like a human since I've been in this place. This isn't the pills working, princess, it's down to you."
It was the truth, and Arthur wasn't able to contain himself anymore.
After he'd killed Munray on TV, the body of the man named Arthur Fleck has been occupied by a destroyed mind. He wasn't Joker and he wasn't Arthur. He was somewhere in between; existing in the darkness, living on the borderlands of insanity and pain.
(y/n) had been his ray of light.
Lowering his head, he brought the back of her knuckles up to his lips, kissing them gently.
"Oh, Arthur. I.......I've spent so long studying you, learning your case, your history...and now I know you, now that I...feel for you, I can't lose you. I just can't."
Through the narrow opening in the door, he took her hand in both of his. "There's no way I'll let that happen, (y/n). We'll be together, no mater what I have to do."
"We." She corrected, rather than warn him off whatever potentially dangerous and wicked ideas may have been formulating in his mind. "Whatever we have to do, sweetheart. Were in this together. You're not alone anymore."
(y/n)'s words made his signature grin reappear, and she let out a small giggle at the sight of it.
God, what she wouldn't give to be on the other side of his door in that moment. To have a key that could unlock it.
Despite feeling physically so far from one another, neither her or Arthur had ever felt so emotionally close to someone. Maybe that was crazy to think, who knew. Maybe they were both just crazy.
***
"A tribunal?"
Doctor Stoner's voice was laced with contempt, not even attempting to conceal his disdain. His expression was almost comical. As though he wasn't convinced that what he was hearing could possibly be true.
"Yes Doctor, my client is entitled to a fair trial and given that he has been undergoing further psychiatric evaluation of late, he's well within his rights. I am acting on his behalf to request that those findings be presented to the judge." Coleman Reese, Arthur's attorney, stated calmly.
Doctor Stoner turned his furious glare towards (y/n), who fought the urge to shift uneasily in her seat.
She knew she was taking an enormous risk, dropping this enormous bombshell. She was well aware that Doctor Stoner would perceive her having gone to Mister Reese directly as traitorous conduct, but it was a risk she had been willing to take.
She was prepared to fight for Arthur's rights, regardless of how it might jeopardise her position within her profession. Regardless of how many feathers she ruffled amongst the clinical hierarchy at Arkham.
To say she was rocking the boat was a monumental understatement. Her superior would more than likely much prefer Arthur to stand trial without having been reevaluated.
"And what findings are these?" Stoner demanded.
"Well...." She cleared her throat nervously, as she began thumbing through her paperwork. "Prior to my assessment of Mister Fleck, there had been no official diagnosis--"
"Prisoner 23147 is a homicidal maniac!" He interrupted her, gruffly. "Need I remind you he killed your predecessor? The man is a psychopath."
"I disagree." (y/n) countered, defiantly. "My patient does not score high enough on the Hare psychopathy test. Granted he exhibited brief delusions of grandiose during the Murray Franklin interview, and his actions showed callousness and impulsivity. But he has no difficulty accepting personal responsibility for his actions. He has no history of juvenile delinquency, or sexual promiscuity, he's never led a parasitic lifestyle and he is not a pathological liar."
"You're overlooking cunning and manipulativeness, not to mention glib and superficial charm."
"He has not displayed any of those characteristics in my professional opinion." She argued. "He has shown signs of remorse, empathy, and good behavioural controls. None of which are attributes of a sociopath or someone suffering with psychopathy."
"He's taken you in with his flattery as he?" He scoffed. "You can't trust a man like Fleck. He's clearly been manipulating you with his false charm."
Ignoring the rising heat in her face, she turned her head slightly towards Mister Reese; presenting him with a sheet from her case study notes.
"Arthur has shown genuine signs of remorse whilst I was carrying out my studies undercover. He had nothing to gain by trying to manipulate me. As far as he was aware at the time I was just another inmate. His laughing episodes reoccur when he's vulnerable. His Joker persona was a coping mechanism. His body's response to the intense mental and emotional pressure he was under."
Coleman Reese took the paper and studied it closely, the action eliciting a rude snort from Doctor Stoner.
"Arthur also exhibits signs of severe PTSD. I'm assuming as a result from the abuse he suffered as a child. The trauma affected him so deeply he suppressed the memories, and each time he was attacked in adulthood he would simply shut down. Mimicking the foetal position--"
"So it's Arthur again is it. How very familiar you are with your patient." Doctor Stoner leaned forwards, his square hands resting on the desk. A vein throbbed violently in his neck; betraying his own struggle to control his temper. "Very well Doctor (l/n). Seeing as your findings are proving to be so insightful...what precisely is your diagnosis of the prisoner, hm?"
Taking a deep breath, (y/n) flipped through the file one last time, before raising her eyes to meet her superior, and now, apparent adversary.
"It is my belief that Arthur Fleck suffers from Bipolar Type Schizoaffective Disorder. Along of course, with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Pseudobulbar-affect.."
A deafening silence settled over the room, as Doctor Stoner took a moment to process her statement.
But she wasn't yet done.
"Also....due to his recurrent head injuries, I'm convinced Arthur is inflicted by some form of Traumatic Brain Injury. That in itself can cause Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. CTE is a degenerative brain disease found in individuals with a history of repetitive brain trauma. Therefore I would strongly recommend steps be taken for him to see a neurologist and have the necessary brain imaging carried out."
"Have you done?" Stoner snapped; his face having now turned a startling shade of puce. "For christ sake, you sound as if you sympathise with the damn clown!"
She scowled at him. "With all due respect Doctor Stoner, I'm simply doing my job. Arthur is my patient, so naturally I'm going to act within his best interests. The symptoms of CTE alone fit perfectly with the behaviour he exhibited for years prior to his incarceration. Aggression, impulse control problems, impaired judgement, suicidality, depression, confusion, anxiety....need I go on?"
"No, I've heard more than enough already." He threw his hands up dramatically and whirled around, pacing over to the window. No doubt incensed by having been made to look so incompetent; not to mention the vast amount of paperwork he would now be obliged to fill in.
Coleman, who had been hastily scribbling down notes, smiled ruefully at her.
"Thank you, Doctor (y/n), your clinical diagnosis will undoubtedly prove to be most helpful. I shall undertake the necessary steps to ensure all of your findings are submitted to the judge."
He rose, picking up his briefcase, and (y/n) automatically rose too.
"Am I to understand then, that my client can be....cured?"
"With the correct medication and on-going therapy, his conditions can be managed without further episodes of violence." She proclaimed, boldly. "The issue is entirely dangerousness. Arthur is not unintelligent, and given the circumstances I don't believe he was of sound mind when he committed those offences. I would argue that the jury ought to show leniency on the grounds of diminished responsibility."
With that, Mister Reese shook (y/n)'s hand and thanked her once again, before leaving her to face the music.
The wrath of Doctor Stoner.
No sooner had the office door closed, and he was facing her again; his face a mask of barely-suppressed fury.
"I hope you're pleased with yourself, Doctor." He snarled. "You haven't just opened up a can of worms, you've opened up Pandora's goddamn box! Fleck's trial would've been cut and dried, but now....now there's even the possibility of him being acquitted, I hope you realise that!"
"I am just doing my job, sir."
"Well consider it done, as of now!" He raged.
Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, what--?"
"As of now, you are no longer assigned to prisoner 23147! You've done your job, now I don't want you anywhere near that inmate again, do I make myself clear?"
"His name is ARTHUR!" She couldn't stop it. The words now came pouring from her mouth. Spilling out in a rush of anger and pent-up emotion. "He isn't just a number, or a case study, he's a human being with thoughts and feelings. And so far I've witnessed more empathy, more compassion from him, than you have ever shown."
"Right, that's it. Give me your I.D badge!" He held out his hand expectantly. It was, she noted, trembling in temper. "You're hereby suspended (l/n), pending disciplinary action. I don't know who in the hell you think you are, going to Fleck's attorney behind my back, stirring up shit....I've a good mind to launch an enquiry to get to the bottom of your shady dealings with that freak."
Tears, hot, angry tears of frustration welled-up in her eyes as she slammed the plastic I.D card onto the desk.
"And your security pass! I want you escorted off the premises immediately."
"Here, you can shove your security pass!" Furiously, She rifled through the pocket of her lab coat until she found it, and tossed it onto the table in triumph. "You've no idea what your actions have unleashed, Stoner."
Dismissively, he picked up the phone to call for security, but (y/n) was already heading for the door.
She paused briefly; hurling her parting shot before slamming it shut........
"I hope you get what you fucking deserve!"