~(Just a short story on Jonathan's mental health.)~
Scarecrow: *pours two cups of coffee and carries them to a table, giving one to Bane, and sits across from him*
Bane: And how many cups will this make, Espantapájaros?
Scarecrow: At least it's not that cough syrup excuse for an energy drink.
Bane: *sighs* That is cyanide for a person like you.
Scarecrow: More like apple seeds. Those actually have cyanide and it'll take a lot to kill someone.
Bane: Japes aside, how are you feeling today? Did the medication do anything to help?
Scarecrow: As much as I protested taking medication, I will admit that it is helping. It made me fix up my office, make new clothes, a-...wait. Did you give me Adderall?
Bane: No, it's not.
Scarecrow: Good. But this medication is helping me sleep peacefully. Christ, I hate myself. Just confessing that is vomit inducing. I shouldn't be needing medication to keep me calm. There are other ways for me to cope besides taking pills to be reduced to a sedated sack of flesh waiting in line to be slaughtered.
Bane: There you go overthinking everything. Not all medications are like that. They help when you're sick or in severe pain. You can deny and hide it as much as you want, but you're in pain. You even got a broken arm and didn't react to it one bit. You just went to your office like you're fine.
Scarecrow: I'm use to having bruises and broken bones, Bane. I've grown desensitized to it.
Bane: And this medication is to help you have some sort of feeling instead of being an emotionless ragdoll. You can believe that stupid conspiracy that people are purposefully medically sedated to fall in line and work themselves to death, but sometimes therapy can't help.
Scarecrow: I'm not insane, Osito. *drinks coffee* All my doctors said the same. I'm just evil.
Bane: Where in my statement did I ever mention that you're insane? Nowhere. You're mentally killing yourself. The same schedule you follow is draining you. When I saw you 4 months ago, you looked like a corpse. It took hours of convincing you to let me help you. When it comes to progress, you'll have to do things you hate. I had to team up with Penguin once just to-
Scarecrow: *serious but calm tone* Don't mention that damn name.
Bane: Then what am I supposed to call a flightless black and white bird?
Scarecrow:.....*facepalms* You've got to be kidding. *looks at Bane* Are you serious?
Bane: Pretty much.
Scarecrow: I despise that man as much as you do. *takes a sip of coffee*
Bane: Hey, that candle store has autumn scents out. Maybe we can pick up a few later today.
Scarecrow: *zoned out to the point Bane's voice fades to an ear ringing noise*............*looks down at coffee cup*
*A gnarled lanky arm reaches out from the cup and grabs Scarecrow by the face, slowly dragging him into the cup. Scarecrow falls and splashes in*
Scarecrow: *eye is closed*.....I can breathe...but I dare not open my eye.
???: Oohhh Johhhhhnyyyyy.....Johhhnyyy boyyyyy.
Scarecrow: *holds head* Go away!
???: Come here, Jonathan. I have something to show you.
Scarecrow: PISS OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO BACK TO HELL! YOU'RE DEAD AND GONE!
???: I have a gift for you.
Scarecrow: *tries to run away* BANE! HELP ME!
*Mirrors surround Scarecrow, revealing the Scarebeast.*
???: Be the product of fear you claim to be.
Scarecrow: THAT ERA DIED! GO AWAY!
Bane: Scarecrow?! Hey!
Scarecrow:.......*drops coffee cup* It itches.....*scratches forearm* It burns...The irritation burrowed deep in my flesh. I want it to stop. There's no point running from it.
Bane: *rushes to Scarecrow's side* What itches? What are you talking about?!
Scarecrow: *keeps scratching forearm, making the skin turn red* Maybe......*digs fingers in and tears the skin off*
Bane: Espantapájaros!
Scarecrow:.........It still itches....*falls onto the floor*
Bane: Espantapájaros! *lifts him up and rushes him to the infirmary*
*8 hours later*
Riddler: His brain probably fried because he tried to outsmart me in my own game.
Bane: *smacks Riddler upside the head* Cállate, gilipollas egoísta.
Mad Hatter: Hush now, my friends, we must not disrupt. Dear Alice, she's finally waking up.
Scarecrow: *opens eye*
Mad Hatter: Yes! Hoorah! Alice has risen from her sleep! Her precious life isn't for the Jabberwock's to keep.
Riddler: Oh be silent, you naive nonsensical nitwit.
Bane: Espantapájaros, are you ok?
Scarecrow:.....I feel sick.
Riddler: Well it's no big surprise that you grow sick of the fact you can never best me, Jonathan.
Scarecrow: If you keep flapping your mouth, I'll rip your tongue out and sew your mouth shut, Nygma.
Mad Hatter: What did you see? Who did you see? Right through the looking glass, who could it be?
warnings: Descriptions of sexual fantasies and Injury (but it happens out of scene)
Masterlist
CHAPTER 6/ A03
After the fourth try, you finally manage to insert the key in the lock of your front door. Maybe you did in fact have a little more wine than you should during dinner, but you can’t bring yourself to really care right now with all the alcohol flowing through your body.
You push the door open, kicking off your heels and pulling down your coat before throwing yourself in the couch with soft, muffled noise. For a good while all you can do is stare at the ceiling, the whole world spinning until everything comes back into focus. Tonight definitely was a disaster.
It’s been about two weeks since you started having oddly sexual dreams about Edward. At first you tried to not think much about them, after all, everybody has weird dreams sometimes. But then they got worse, more detailed, happening almost every night. The way you decided to put an end to them was by finally breaking your dry spell.
Your searched through a list of options in a few dating sites until you found a good-looking guy with a short, brown hair and cute glasses that was around your age and worked as an accountant.
You weren’t looking for the love your life nor a knight in shining armor. All you wanted was a night of fun, casual sex that could help you alleviate some of your pent-up energy. What you didn’t expect was the guy being just as bland as a piece of white bread.
You were stuck for an hour in a date with someone that would barely talk to you, had no hobbies or interests, and at the end of the night had the audacity to lean in for a kiss. You didn’t have high hopes, but you wouldn’t sleep with a man that made you yawn out of boredom.
God, why was this happening to you? Of all people you could fuck why it has to be Edward?
He is an attractive man, there is no problem in admitting that, but it’s another thing to have an urge to do something about it. It would be a total break of his trust in you as his therapist and the loss of your license for sure. He is a criminal, and more important, your patient.
You try to convince yourself that this is happening because Edward is the only person you have been talking lately, since even Harley is distant from you these past months. So, your sex deprived brain just worked with what you had in store. In this case, Edward.
Flashes of your latest dreams flood your mind. The one that he took you from behind while you laid over the desk of your office, which you don’t have yet. In his cell while there’s no guards around, with his hand covering your mouth. In the therapy room. In any positions you could imagine.
In retrospect, you probably shouldn’t have drank so much. Back then it felt like an easy excuse to busy your mouth with the glass of wine when you didn’t have anything left to say and all you could do was stare awkwardly at your date.
But now you’re left with an aching inside, a warm that spreads from your limbs down to your core. It so tempting to just shove your hand in between your thighs and finally make good use of those fantasies that have been haunting you. Imagine how Edward would sound. Taste. Feel.
The ring echoing through your apartment makes you jump in surprise, cutting your thoughts short. You take a few seconds to sit up, your head light as you make your way to phone with wobbly legs.
Meg comes trotting from your room with a yawn as you answer the call, probably awaken by all the noise.
“Hello?”
“Good evening. Is this Doctor-” Meg lets out a loud meow, making almost impossible to hear the woman on the other side of the line.
You lean down to pet her, shushing her softly before returning to the call.
“Sorry for that. Yes, it’s me. Who am I talking to?”
“This is Arkham’s office. We’re just calling to let you know you that your appointment with the patient Edward Nygma for tomorrow has been cancelled. You can have the day off.”
You have to stop running your fingers through Meg’s fur, standing up straight again.
“Cancelled? What happened?”
“Well, huh… I’m not sure I can-” you can hear her muttering with someone, probably a man, before returning. “I’m sorry, but this information is not available to me.”
“Not available? Edward Nygma is my patient, I have the right to know what happened to him.”
The alcohol on your body feels like a distant memory. All you can feel now is anger and a hit of fear running through you.
The woman starts saying something again, but you cut her mid sentence.
“Since you’re not telling me, I’m going there to find out myself.”
You smash the phone down, not waiting for an answer. You barely register that fact that you still wearing the clothes from your date as you put your heels back on.
You only have time to grab your coat and give Meg a goodbye kiss before closing the front door behind you.
The taxi ride took longer that you expected and the receptionist on the front desk wasn’t much better. She could only look you in sheer shock, probably not expecting that you would actually show up, and especially dressed like this. With your short, red dress, high heels and heavy make up you didn’t look like a usual therapist.
After managing to find out where Edward was located you still had to face two guards on the entrance. They checked your ID card three time while giving you suspicious looks and snarks comments before letting you go through, making sure to call another security guard to escort you to the infirmary.
Your shoes clicked against the tile floors, the sound reverberating through the empty halls since most staff had already left for the day and patients are supposed to be sleeping soundly on their rooms. Arkham is an old building, even after so many renovations and expansions, it still felt eery, and even ghostly at this hour of the night. But you never believed in ghosts, and you wouldn’t start now.
The infirmary lights are dimmed, casting the room in strange shadows. With no nurse in sight, you test a step inside, being engulfed by a strong smell of disinfectant.
You find Edward laid in one of the beds on the corner, his wrist chained to the side rail. The first thing you notice is the dark bruise forming around his right eye, finding his upper lip busted in a deep shade of red as well. He looks pale and frail under the weak light of the room, not at all like himself. His gaze was distant, lost somewhere else until it finally fell on you when he noticed you by the door.
His body flung into a sitting position before he let out a pained grunt. You finally felt able to move again, hurrying to his side so you could help him to lay down.
“Who did this to you?” Your voice came out strained, more than you expected, as you inspect him for any other marks of bruises.
Edward looks at you in silence for a whole second with a stunned expression, like he doesn’t believe you’re actually in front of him.
“What are you doing here?” He asks at last.
“They called me to cancel our appointment, but they wouldn’t tell me why.” You tell him as you pull a chair to sit at his side. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing. I just fell.” He tugs the blanket over his chest as if it can stop you from seeing right through him.
“Fell? Really? I thought we were past lies, Edward.”
You didn’t have to be a genius to see someone attacked him. It was just a matter to find out if a patient did it or a guard. Either way, you’re not leaving until you solve this situation.
Edward sighs, giving you one of his usual condescending tones. “Such a display of altruism won’t lead you anywhere in here, Doctor. The staff don’t care. And neither should you. It’s a waste of time.”
Has this happened before? For a moment your eyes travel down over the shape of Edward’s body under the blanket, wondering if he ever had to hide bruises under his clothes when you two had a session together. The though of someone hurting him makes your blood boil.
“Do you think I would be here on the middle of the night on my day off if I didn’t care?” You ask with a half smile, arching an eyebrow in an attempt to make him humor you.
Edward shoulders shake slightly when he gives you a huff of a laugh. “No. I suppose not. But I fear I’m not in the mood for a therapy session.”
“I didn’t come here as your therapist.” You say, because it’s true. You’re probably breaking a series of rules by being here, but this is the less important of your worries in the moment. “I’m here as a friend.”
A flicker of surprise crosses Edward’s face, his eyebrows rising slightly before his eyes move somewhere else in the room.
“I was… playing cards. Solitude to be more specific. I know I’m not allowed for some ridiculous reason, but I wasn’t bothering anyone. One of the guards saw me and before I knew what was happening two of those cavemen were pining me down on the floor.”
“Oh, Edward.” His words make your heart ache, and you move one hand to touch his face, but Edward flinches away from your touch.
“Please, don’t- … it's too much right now.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” You move your hand back to your side, clenching your fingers around the fabric of your coat. You scoot closer to the edge of the chair, your voice in a hush to make sure the guard by the door doesn’t hear you. “Can you tell me the name of the guards that did this to you?”
A side smile appears on Edward’s lips, and he tilts his head in a curious motion like a cat. “I’d rather talk about what you’re wearing if you don’t mind. I must say, red it’s a lovely color on you, but don’t tell me you pampered yourself just to see me.”
A warm flush runs through your face. The compliment along with the fact that he has been eyeing your body for the past minutes makes something flips inside your belly.
“I didn’t have time to change.” You say simply as you fidget in your chair, your voice coming back to its usual volume.
“If I had to guess I would say you were on a date. A particularly bad one by the looks of it.”
You can’t help but laugh. “How did you know?”
“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” He lets out a chuckle, wincing a bit. “I assume he was boring? But let’s face it, most men in Gotham are.”
Although he wasn’t exactly wrong, you don’t really want to talk about your love life in the moment. “We just didn’t work well together, it happens.”
“Oh, I’m sure. But don’t blame yourself, my dear. It’s a hard task to find someone interesting around here, specially as myself. So, I think you would end up here either way.”
Tonight’s date was bad, but you know you could find a good option eventually if you kept searching. Maybe someone who is not egocentric, with a clean record and no obsessive tendencies. But to be frank, you think Edward is right. You would be here anyway.
You stand up, trying to get your heart to stop beating so fast as you close your fingers around the side rail of the bed and lean closer to him.
“Edward, you need to tell me who did this to you.”
He shakes his head. “It’s ridiculous that you actually think you can change something in here, Doctor. You will only tire yourself.”
“I don’t care. Whoever hurt you has to answer for this. I will be sure of that.”
You sense that Edward doesn’t quite believe in your words, but he still bends forwards and whisper the name of the men to you, his breath on the shell your ear leaving a warm sensation behind. You repeat the names in your mind, making sure you won't forget them.
The guard from the hall sticks his head inside and you have to take a step away from Edward, because you’re way too close from what procedure allows. He warns you that the visit times is over and you have to go. You wish you could stay more, spend the night with Edward to make sure no one would hurt him anymore. But you were already testing the limits by being there.
You give Edward an apologetic look. “I have to go, but I promise I will be here tomorrow.”
He gives you a small huff. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
——————————————
In your way out you catch a glimpse of dark hair and white clothes leaving a room over ahead.
“Doctor Young?” You ask, and for your surprise, the figure that turns in your direction is her.
She is not supposed to be here. Neither of you are. You swear you can see worry in her face before she comes closer and there’s only her usual professional demeanor.
“What are you doing here?” You say as you tug your coat closer around you. Different from you she was dressed accordingly.
“I could ask you the same question. Isn’t it your day off?” She asks, her clear blue eyes studying you with a cautious and curiosity.
Something clicks in your head and you realized Dr. Young can help you; she must know about the incident already. Maybe that’s why she is here. “I had to come see Edward. He was attacked by two guards earlier and-.”
“Attacked? What was he doing?”
You deflate a bit, a noticeable frown crossing your facet. “Does it matter?”
“It depends. Do you have any proof?”
You’re not unfamiliar with the coldness in her voice, but the way she speaks leaves you almost speechless. That’s not how the staff should deal with the patients. Yes, Edward was a criminal, but he was in Arkham to be treated and not used as a punching bag.
“Proof? Doctor Young, he has a black eye and a busted lip. That’s not enough proof?”
She makes a dismissive motion with her hand. “Another patient could have done this to him or even himself. Your worries are appreciated, Doctor. But Edward Nygma has lied before, you shouldn’t take anything he says at face value. We need a witness or another real evidence so we can verify this situation.”
You shallow, noticing how dry your throat suddenly feels. If Edward’s bruises and words aren’t enough you don’t know what else to give her.
Your eyes drift up as you think, finding a security camera on the corner of the wall. That’s it.
“The security cameras. We can check if one of them recorded the attack.”
Doctor Young sighs, her shoulder falling slightly. “It’s late. Im sure this can wait until tomorrow.”
You cross your arms. “As far I’m concerned, the safety of our patients should be a priority.”
The way she glares at you would have made you flinch at few months ago. But now, to your own surprise, you stand your ground, holding her gaze.
Doctor Young is the one to back down first, clicking her tongue in a small show of annoyance.
“I suppose you’re right. Follow me.”
Soon you find yourself inside Arkham’s control room. It’s mostly dark, the only light source being the soft, blue glow of the computer screens as they show a series of different areas of asylum.
Aaron Cash is sat in one the chairs, searching through the security camera videos for the one you’re looking for.
The few things you know about Cash comes from what other doctors have told you. You know he lost his left hand in an accident with Waylon Jones and that he used to be a GCPD officer before becoming Arkham’s security chief. His face holds a stern expression, but the photo of him and his family on the table puts you at easy.
At your side Doctor Young taps her shoe against the floor, clearly impatient with whole ordeal.
Cash rewinds the recording to a few hours earlier, quick images flashing through the screen, before stopping at the moment it was reported Edward’s attack.
The video is a bit grainy, but you can clearly see Edward sitting on the floor of the recreation room, his face turned away from the camera as he plays with the cards.
It stays like this for a few more minutes, until Edward suddenly raises his head and it's possible to see someone walking towards him. The person is wearing a guard's uniform, but before the face can come into view the videos cuts short to a moment later when Edward it’s already being taken away, his poor face bruised and bloody.
Cash seems to be just as confused as you because he rewinds the video again and again, only for the same cut to keep happening.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice nervous in the silence of the room.
“I’m not sure.” His hand clicks at the keypad. “It’s not supposed to be like this. I think the recording got corrupted or…someone could have altered it.”
Doctor Young lets out a scoff. “Altered? Now that’s absurd. Are you implying one of the guards, one of your men, could do such a thing?”
Cash turns on his chair to look at both at you. Although his are eyes tired, he speaks in a firm tone. “I try my best, Miss Young, but I can't be everywhere. The guards are the only ones with access to this room. I’m sure if we look into it, we can-”
“Then we will see this tomorrow. I have an appointment early and, if you excuse me, I’m going home.” Her eyes weight on you as she turns to leave. “I advise you to do the same.”
After the night you had this the last straw to finally make you collapse. Your vision becomes blurry, tears stinging your eyes as an ugly mix of embarrassment and anger fills your chest.
It’s such a childish thing, but you can’t help but feel like a kid again. Being dismissed. Ignored. You tried so hard and yet no one seems to care or even give you a double look.
What about Edward? You are his therapist, you’re the one that should stand up for him. What were you going to tell him tomorrow?
A gentle hand on your shoulder pulls you away from your thoughts and you find officer Cash looking down at you with something close to worry.
“It’s late. Do you have a way to get back home?”
You sniff, shaking your head. “I took a cab here, but I think he must have left.”
“Look, my shift it’s almost over. I could give you a ride home if you want.”
You don’t really know Cash and if it was anyone else, you probably would have hesitated. But the pure sincerity in his voice made you feel like you could trust him. So, you nodded and offered him a grateful smile.
“I… I appreciate it. Thank you.”
Although Gotham never slept, the ride home was quiet; the streets empty save it for a few cars crossing you from time to time. The streetlights were a pale glow in contrast to the darkness of the night, casting their weak light over the car dashboard as Cash drove in silence.
After leaving the Asylum you could sense a change in the way he hold himself. It wasn’t so obvious, but you could tell he looked less tense. Like a weight was lifted of his shoulders.
He has been working on Arkham longer than you, so he definitely had to deal with some heavy shit. You don’t blame him for being so alert, most security in psychiatric hospitals had to deal with average patients, while in Arkham you had figures like the Joker and Waylon Jones.
“Thank you again for the lift, Mr. Cash. I hope it’s not too much trouble.” You say from your place on the passenger seat.
“Don’t worry, it's on my way home. And besides, my wife would have killed me if she knew I didn’t offer you a ride at this hour.”
You let out a small chuckle. “How long have you been together?”
“Thirteen years. Our boy just turned ten last month.” Cash says with a proud smile.
Cash makes a turn to the left, and you know you’re just a few blocks away from home.
He takes his eyes off the road for a quick moment. “Look, don’t let Dr. Young drag you down. I’m sure she’s good in what she does, but she can be a little…”
“Harsh?” You offer.
“I was thinking more like cruel. But harsh works too. What I’m trying to say is don’t worry too much about her. We’re going to find out who attacked Nygma whether she helps us or not.”
Cash brings the car to a full stop in front of your apartment building, turning towards you after you unbuckled your sit belt.
“I understand what you were trying to do back there. I really do. But don’t get too attached.”
You give him a confused look, a dull headache starting to form on the back of your skull. From the stress or the wine, you’re not really sure yet. “What do you mean?”
“It’s my job to make sure everybody is safe on the asylum, especially the patients. And I will keep doing my that. But I’m not sure if any of them has any good left. So don’t expect any of them to change, Doc. You’re only wasting your time.”
You pull you lips, nodding slightly. “Good night, Mr. Cash. Thank you for the ride.”
His words keep running through your head as you make your way upstairs to your apartment.
Even if you tried to deny it, Cash was right about something. You were getting attached.
At some point you stopped seeing Edward only as a patient. The lines were stating to get blurrier and now he was a part of your routine, someone you waited excitedly to meet every week. To talk. To listen. To understand.
You know you should assign him for another therapist, to someone more professional. But you’re afraid that no one will actually care, not like you do.
Maybe that’s the problem. You actually believe he needs you just as much as you need him.
It’s wrong and you should be ashamed, but you don’t want to be, not tonight.
You lay in your bed, Meg at your feet, and you let sleep wash over you in hope you will dream of Edward again.
