-One Shot Fever-

A Clowney Couple. (Episode 1)

3rd Person POV

*Origin of Harley Quinn and The Joker. Retold in my own way. Note: I am a fan of the two but not a comic book fanatic of the series in particular.* [Play song]

Arkham Asylum

The man was being held securely as he was led down the hallway. Patients screaming and banging on doors, announcing their pleads of innocence while others shouted things that proved their insanity.

His head tilted down to the floor in silence as he sighed in annoyance. Turning corner after corner, eventually walking straight down a long hall with a dimly lit room at the end of it. He tilted up his head, smiling at the guards. "You boys sure a therapist will be able to secure my mind?" He snickered.

They shoved him into the room in a way that seemed to quickly discard of him. "Get in there, you sick freak." He heard from the other end. "A little hurtful, pal!" He Said, his face in an exaggerated frown. He then laughed wickedly. A loud and shrill laugh that echoed throughout the room.

"Take a seat." Announced a female voice. The man looked up at the ceiling, glaring. "Mother, is that you?" He asked, a wide smile across his lips revealing his sick sarcasm.

"I won't ask you again. Take a seat." The voice repeated. He slowly turned, approaching the arranged metal chair and table in the middle of the room. A bright light shined onto the top of the table. Looked like an interrogation.

"Well, I'm waiting!" He Announced. He heard heels clicking, and before his very eyes he saw a woman emerge from the shadows. Black hair, tied behind her head, black squared glasses sitting onto her face, and long legs peeking out from beneath her white lab coat.

The mans eyes lit up in a sick way. "Oh..." he whispered darkly. "What do we have here?" He asked. The woman sat down and faced him. "Hello, I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I'm your psychiatrist. It's nice to meet you, Mr-" he put his hand up, stopping her mid sentence. He slowly rested his elbows on the table, examining her face with his eyes. "Joker. Call me Joker." He Said, rather intently.

She felt a vibe radiating off of him that made her feel an emotion she couldn't recognize. She cleared her throat. "Alright, Joker. Well you are now a patient of mine and I am here to help you to cope and express your inner issues to provide a form of therapy." She told him.

"Therapy?" He asked. He tossed his head back, beginning to laugh maniacally once again. He then leaned back up quickly, his demeanor changing to devilishly serious. "No one can help The Joker. No one. The insane and sane always have something in common. They both have trouble deciding which side they are." He Replied, licking his lips.

"You've been convicted of multiple felonies. Rigging Gotham hospital with explosives, as well as Gotham city bank. You've killed more than 25 people since you've been discovered. Do you not feel any remorse?" She Asked.

"You want to know how I'm feeling?" He asked. He stood up quickly, rubbing his green hair, making sure it continued to be slicked to the back of his head.

"How does a predator feel when they capture their prey? They feel content, natural, and only focused on the satisfaction of being fed." He snickered. "It's almost- Instinctual." She Continued.

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, smiling at how she filled in his empty thoughts with what seemed like her own.

"Now you're getting it." He Said. He slowly walked back up to the table. He leaned across it, closer to her face. She began to feel that feeling again, something radiating from him to her. And yet this was only their first encounter.