Disclaimer: All Dc characters obviously belong to DC, not me. I own only Ragady and her brother Stitches.
((Author's note: It's known that Ragady has an older brother, Stitches. What I felt like doing here is showing a bit of their interactions, focusing more on his view point. This takes place some time after he has returned.))
He often times watched them, the pretty little people walking by the window. Too busy to look inside the dark, too busy to see him there. Not that Stitches minded. He sat back in his chair, glancing from form to form, scanning the passing crowds with his single unstitched eye.
A hand placed itself on his shoulder, though he knew only because he saw it from the corner of his eye. He felt no physical sensation, but he knew who it was. A warm smile stretched across his stitched lips before she could even speak.
"Are you watching the littel humans, mein bruder?" she leaned forward to peer out the window, her floor length hair falling forward over her shoulder as she moved.
"Ich wartete für Du." He smiled, placing his likewise stitched hand on hers instinctively, admiring how much color her skin had retained compared to his own, which was a sickly gray-almost green.
"That one would make a good doll..." she spoke casually, pointing out the window at a woman with a bob cut, wearing a business suit and talking fast on a phone.
"Ze face leaves something zu be desired, ja? Ich vould haben zu vork on it…"
"There's always something wrong with them, isn't there?"
"Vith zem, ja."
Her eyes drifted back to look at him, though he could not decipher what they said. They were empty. Over the years his sister, who had always been considerably colder than the other children, had grown to become even less. But he didn't say this too her, he remained silent, returning to her the careful lack of emotion she gave.
"Are you taking care of yourself?" he asked instead, turning her to face him.
He searched over her stitched-together body for any new bruises, cuts, any signs of illness, anything untrained eyes would miss. He instinctively reached for the stethoscope around his neck, rising from the chair to check her heart beat, but she took a step back and withdrew her hand from his.
"Are these check ups really needed?" she asked, voice hinting at annoyance though her face showed nothing.
"Vith our...condition, ja, it ist." He responded, motioning for her to take a seat on the table by the lighted section in the dark room. She complied, but not without a mild sigh.
"I check over meinself several times a day, I survived just fine-" he paused from placing his bag down on the table to glance at her, but she had already stopped short. She didn't need to finish the sentence, he knew what she was going to say.
"I'm very careful..." she chose to say instead, looking away. She knew the sting behind her words.
He stared at her, counting to ten in his head, and then took a deep breath, let it out slowly. She did just fine for the years he was gone, she was going to say. For the years that he was trapped, the years he exchanged for her life. Her words placed an unseen weight on his chest, so that it was difficult for him to speak again.
"Ist it so bat fur me to vant to make sure you are all right?" he whispered.
"Most brothers simply ask."
"Most sisters feel physical sensation und do not vork vith psychopaths." He turned his eye to her and instinctively gripped the edges of the table tightly, not nearly as good at hiding his emotions as she was.
"Psychopath? That's a new one for you to call my Master Scarecrow. Tell me, how are your patients doing, herr Doktor? The ones who didn't sign consent forms?" she asked, still just as calmly, somehow without an ounce of bitterness behind her voice.
He opened his mouth to retort, but swiftly closed it again. He tried to think of a response, and failed. In his head, there were several justifications he could have given, or several biting remarks, but he realized that wouldn't help matters in the least. He let out a defeated sigh instead.
"Ist it too much fur me to vorry about you?"
Silence. Then her turn to give a sigh.
"I appreciate the thought, but I'm not a child. I can take care of meinself."
"Nein! Du können nicht! You do not notice your own vounds, you do not tend to zem in time, you ignore vhat's wrong vith you until you neet ein hospital, und even zen you kill your nurse und leave too early!"
"It's not my fault if the humans can't fix a form as well as you can." She gave a gentle smile in the face of his temper, trying to change the subject with a compliment. She wouldn't admit her fault. Still, it was hard for him to ignore her smile, when she so rarely gave one.
"At least let mich check your temperature und fur any broken bones, ja? Ze last thing ve neet ist fur you to run around vith ein nother fever, ja?" he offered his last ditch effort, and she graciously gave a nod.
So he took her temperature, had her wiggle all of her toes and fingers, moved her arms and legs and checked her back neck and ribs for any broken bones, finding none. At the same time he checked on the bruises and scabs, the few burn marks, making sure they were healing properly. Everything seemed to be checking out just fine, and her temperature was normal. He breathed a sigh of relief on the inside, offering a smile on the outside.
"Everything seems fine," He smiled, documenting the results as always, "But you shoult really consider keeping varmer, just because you do not feel kalt does not mean you von't get hypothermia." He suggested, pausing from the clipboard to glance at her. Her attention already seemed to have flown out the door, back to her job and her "master".
"Of course, I know that." She smiled, sliding from the table and smoothing her dress, which could certainly use some more length to it. Perhaps he could talk that Scarecrow-creep into convincing her to wear something longer, in the very least with the weather growing colder. She would listened to that man at least. One of these days he was going to cut into that Scarecrow man and stuff him full of straw, turn him into a real scarecrow. Then his sister would listen to him again. Then his sister would-
"What are you planning?" her question interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced down at her with a fake smile.
"Nichts." But she raised an eye brow and obviously didn't believe him.
"I'm going now..."
"Ah, zen take care, meine liebste Schwester. See you again soon..." he smiled, setting the clipboard down to walk her to the door. They hugged shortly, and she went on her way out the door, bare feet trotting carelessly on the concrete. He really wished she would wear shoes sometimes, what if she stepped on something sharp? She wouldn't even notice unless someone pointed out that she was bleeding. He closed the door with a shake of his head, moving back into the dark. Such a short visit, and already his sister was off. Returning to that...human. Just the thought made his chest feel tight, his head swim, as if he could be sick any moment. He gripped his head and stumbled back to the table, leaning on it for support. His eyes glanced down at the bag. Reaching in, he withdrew one of his scalpels. He liked the way they looked, and held it up to the light. Admiring the way it gleamed, a twisted smile curved his face as a plan began to form in his head...