He could never actually control himself; not when he rampaged Gotham, not when his knives were so joyfully sharp, not when Batman made killing sprees so fun, and certainly not when Doctor Harleen Quinzel let her gaze linger on him a second too long.

The self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham was once again behind the thick walls of Arkham Asylum, the only place in the city where all evil-minded criminals gathered together. Separated from their victims, followers and toys, in the hopes that one day they could be cleansed or just simply stored until death.

Damp dripping bricks lined three walls in his cell, and the light from an old hanging lamp barely showed the rusted metal cot shoved in the corner. Screw size holes showed in the legs of the bed where it could once secure into the ground, now left empty for the safety of the staff rather than the patient. The fourth wall was completely sealed into the brick with a thick pane of plastic that gave staff and patient a clear view of one another.

A slender tanned hand, neatly manicured, gripped the black handle that latched onto the panes sliding mechanism. A golden halo seemed to radiate from her head spilling glossy sunbeams down her shoulders to rest upon her plumped bosom. Eyes of the purest blue crystal graced past his darkened figure, while luscious lips colored like freshly spilled blood spoke unimportant words to a faceless cretin behind this angel of hell.

"Mister Joker? Can you hear me? Hank, has he spoken anything this morning?" Doctor Harleen Quinzel took her hand off the door to patient 0801 and glanced over her shoulder to the burly guard behind her. Reaching up to scratch a constant itch from under his brown hat, the security guard Hank gave a shrug and rifled through a manila folder with the corresponding number. "Honestly Doctor Quinzel, the sick bastard doesn't really talk. It's mainly laughing or singing." Hank let out a dry cough and passed the folder to Doctor Quinzel, "Use to be the weirdest thing about him, but if he started talking now, I'd reckon we'd want to be a bit more worried." The guard tugged at his heavy utility belt that somehow managed to hold a pistol, radio, flashlight and Taser all the while holding his pants up.

"I see. Alright, let's get him out and escorted to my office so I can begin his new sessions." Doctor Quinzel nodded towards the cell, plucking a key from her stark white lab coat and simultaneously twisting it into the lock while tugging open the only thing separating them, from him. The guard hustled forward, hoping to give the nightmare locked inside no chance for an attack, but there was no resistance from the subdued patient.

Doctor Quinzel took a step back to give Hank room to bring her patient out into the light; it was unnerving to her that she couldn't see his face back in the cell. Of course, she had heard the story, and seen a mug shot picture, but a grainy black and white photo couldn't have prepared her for what the lamp light exposed. Grunting with an effort to ensure plenty of space between patient 0801 and one of Arkham's top Doctors, Hank held the Joker by worn leather straps that laced firmly into a dirty white straight jacket. His head was hung down; greasy strands of neon green hair covered his face, and the appearance of futility etched into the way he let himself be held.

"Hello Mister Joker, I'm Doctor Quinzel and today is day one of your in-depth rehabilitation sessions." Doctor Quinzel's voice seemed to echo the walls of the chamber and for a moment she thought her words were wasted on deaf ears. Just when the guard was about to shake some response into the patient, Joker rolled his neck to the right and lifted his head up slightly to take in the blinding image of her.

The light flooded over his features as he gazed slightly down at her. His skin was a bloodless white occasionally spotted with rich black ink tattoos placed in odd, deliberate, but random, spots on his face. His lips were stained a faded red as if someone had tried to rub all color off of them but was left with remnants of his claim to humanity. Silver glinted from his parted lips, the source of painfully implanted metal teeth and the sparse bit of light almost seemed to warm his ghost-like features. But what was truly shocking was the way his eyes seemed to flourish in the light, giving a fractal-like explosion of blue hues to his widening eyes.

There was only silence, but it seemed as if knives flowed from his eyes intent on shredding the facade he saw of her. Doctor Quinzel only waited, and watched as her patient lift his head in recognition. As the light painted his features into her mind there he saw it, it was the tiniest of reactions, but the pupils of her eyes slightly widened soaking in his image.

It was but a moment that passed from when the words left her lips and the silent, watchful, exchange between them. "You awake Joker? Doctor Quinzel is addressing you!" Hank pulled on the leather straps, jerking Joker's constricted body back and forth as if he wasn't awake. "Sorry Doctor, you know what they say about the crazy ones." The guard chuckled, slapping a strong hand onto the padded shoulder of the patient.

Pulling air through his metallic teeth, and seeming to fight an urge to smash his head into the bloated guards head, Joker slowly straightened his posture and raised his head up, hanging it back to peer across at Doctor Quinzel.

He had seen it. He had seen what the cretin hadn't, he had seen what no other man had noticed, and he had seen what Doctor Quinzel could not even see for herself.

A wide slick grin overtook patient 0801's washed-out face, and as his stained lips parted, a low, guttural cackle of laughter erupted from his throat. It grew with a force and soon consumed the dark, damp cell and matching hallway which within they stood.

Hank's face dropped from a mocking grin, beads of sweat formed on his brow as the cackle rose from the lunatic's throat. Doctor Quinzel watched on, not in horror but intrigue mixed with nervous warnings shooting through her stomach.

Finally. The Joker had found his Princess; she just didn't know it yet.