< couples_therapy - Chance - Second Chances >
Nadine Lewis
Batman (OC)
1313 words
(gothams_dent) [RP]
The sound of a police siren woke the woman. It struck her as extremely unusual. Sirens never sounded here. No one played loud music. The loudest sound heard in the quiet suburban neighborhood the doctor's house overlooked was a lawnmower or two when the sun was out and the weather was decent. The siren was extremely unusual, and it frightened her.
As she came to her senses completely, her fear increased. Nothing around her was familiar. The room was smaller, the bed only large enough for one person. The sheets were mismatched, but they felt more comfortable than she was used to. They hadn't been starched, and they lacked any decorative stitching or ribbons. They had a distinct scent, too. She couldn't place it, and she didn't mind it, but it was notably different than the sheets at the doctor's home. These sheets were... were what? They reminded her of something, the smell. A beeping noise, a reluctance to get up... What was that smell? There was something else, too. Something like-- like when she stood near the window when it rained. Something fresh. Something comforting. Before she could lose herself completely in the scent and feel of the sheets, she looked around the room further.
The closet door was open-- she didn't know where her bureau was-- and empty. The room lacked a vanity table, and no mirror hung anywhere. She sat up in the bed, looking around again and again, waiting for this dream to fade into reality. She noticed the room had a window, but a sheet was tacked over the glass to keep out the sun and let her sleep.
Where was she? Had the doctor brought her here? Had it been the Scarecrow? Had she done something wrong? Did one-- or both-- of them have no more use for her? Would she live here now? Would she be left alone? Or--
A thought occurred to her. A memory stirred. She remembered screaming. Why? She felt like she was always screaming. Something made her scream, and someone came to her room. It hadn't been the doctor or the Scarecrow. It had been another man. Something had been wrong with him. What? She tried to think, tried to remember. It came to her. Half his face had been burned away. She had screamed again, and her memory went no further.
She gasped when a knock came from the other side of the door. She bit her lip, pressing her knees to her chest. A second knock came, and she tried to ignore it. Maybe whoever it was would go away. She wasn't used to the idea. Someone asking permission to see her. Despite her silence, the door opened anyway.
“You're awake.” The man stood in the doorway. The woman stared at him, not daring to speak. His face, scarred as it was, did not bother her. She was frightened, but not of how he looked. After years of the Scarecrow and the distant child she was sure it had fathered and made her carry, such scars were not able to truly scare her. Not knowing what his intentions were, not knowing what he wanted from her, not knowing if she had left one nightmare for another terrified her.
“Would you like something to eat?” the man asked. “I can only offer water to drink, but I can fix you toast or get something at the gas station up the street.” He looked at her and sighed when she nodded. She bit her lip at his expression. She hadn't meant to annoy him. He kept himself from getting angry, perhaps because a few tears had escaped her eyes as she gave a quiet, involuntary whimper. “Toast?” She gave a careful nod and watched him leave.
Left alone, the woman relaxed a small bit. Perhaps this man was a friend of the doctor's, rather than in league with the Scarecrow.
The man did not take long to return. He approached her and set the plate of toast on the end of the bed. He offered the glass of ice water to her. When she looked ready to cry again, he set the glass on the floor near the bed and stepped away. “Don't worry. I won't hurt you.”
He took a few more steps back, standing in the doorway once more and she slowly moved down on the bed, claiming a piece of bread. She took a small bite as the man nodded to her. The doctor never gave her room like this. He always had to be close, had to touch her. He never looked at her like that either. The doctor always looked sure and pleased, sometimes curious. This man looked concerned, or half his face did at least. Better than the impassive expression the Scarecrow's daughter always gave her.
“What the hell did he do to you?” the man said. He didn't seem surprised when she only looked at him. She returned her attention to the food before she could start crying again. She saw him, out of the corner of her eye, turn something small over in his hand. “Guess I should have asked you and not this, though.” By the time she looked at him again, the glass of water in hand and a drink taken, he had pocketed whatever he'd held. He made eye contact and did not break it. Gently, he asked, “Do you want to go back?”
Her eyes widened, and she dropped the glass she was holding. She pulled her knees to her chest again and shook her head violently. He held up his hands, but she was not looking at him. Her body trembled, and she buried her face in her hands, her forehead coming to rest against her knees.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered as he took a step closer to her. “I won't take you back if you don't want to go.” She looked up, and he sighed at the sight of tears staining her cheeks. He studied her for several moments. “I have to decide what to do with you.” Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. He did not come closer, but he showed her a coin after drawing it from his pocket. “You stay,” he said as he showed her the coin's head. He turned it over to show a blackened, damaged side and said, “You have to find somewhere else.”
The woman watched the coin as it flipped in the air. She had no preference on the outcome. If she had to leave, she would either die or be found by the Scarecrow again. If she stayed here, he might kill her or decide to give her back to the Scarecrow. Those were the only options she could see. Death or the Scarecrow. She knew she'd rather die than go back, but she had proven over and over again that she didn't have the nerve to kill herself. The result of the coin toss mattered little to her, but she still waited patiently to hear it. The man caught the coin and checked it. He looked at the woman.
“Get some rest,” he told her, pocketing the coin again. “If you need anything, come and get me. I have to go out later, but I'll tell you before you leave.” The woman managed to nod, and she reached down to pick up the pieces of the broken glass. “Don't worry about that. I'll get it and the plate later. You just get some rest.”
The woman managed a nod before the man left and closed the door behind himself. She set the plate on the floor near the glass. She laid down and pulled the sheets around her, curling up beneath them. Everything was still a mystery. She did not know where she was, why she was here, what would become or her, whether this man would hurt her.
She did not know that this was a second chance for them both.