The cold was what woke her that morning, which was a jarring change from what usually woke her anymore. The screaming had begun around her and it felt as if there were black beetles crawling under her skin. Her fingers itched at a scratch that wasn't there, irritating the scratches all ready red and angry along the underside of her forearm.

The lumpy, thin mattress under her was damp with perspiration. She did not mention to the doctors about her chills or the feverish sweat that beaded on her brow. In fact, she hadn't spoken at all since they locked her away. It felt as if her jaw was wired shut. She refused meals. She sat in the room with the doctors for hours, counting the ticking of the metronome, until it she was escorted back to her cell.

Her eyes shot open as the lock clicked open behind her.

"Time for lunch, princess," a slimey voice said from above her, the snake grinning down at her with yellow teeth.

Two orderlies gripped either of her arms and hauled her from the cot she'd been laying on, pushing her out of the cell and into the line of females waiting for her. Silent and still like the grave, their footsteps echoed in the cold caverns of the asylum as they marched down the hall toward the mess hall. Lunch was watery cabbage and boiled chicken so tough to chew that it turned into a hard knot in her stomach. Her stomach rolled in disgust and she pushed the tray away from herself.

"So how did you do it?"

She looked up slowly when another female took the seat across from her at the table. The girl was probably somewhere around her own age, high cheek bones and deep set chestnut brown eyes. Truth be told, the girl looked like Jessie and it made her heart ache from the fresh wounds she was still nursing.

"Well, are you going to answer or not?" The girl pressed. "How did you do it?"

"How did I do what?" The voice that came from her lips sounded wrong. Foreign.

"How did you start the fire?" The girl smiled, slow. "Your house burned down. Everyone's talking about it. You're that rich girl from the papers, and now you're an orphan. So what's wrong with you? Why did you do it?"

An inhuman shriek ripped through the otherwise silence of the room and she was alarmed to realize that the sound had come from her. She crouched on her chair like a wild animal, her eyes blazing with rage, and then she leapt across the table. Her body collided solidly with the other female's, their bodies crashing to the floor. She climbed on top of the other female, scratching at her face with her nails until the orderlies dragged them apart.

"Take her to The Hole! NOW!"

A cotton kerchief was placed over her mouth and nose, a large hand holding it in place. It smelled like almonds, and it made her eyes heavy immediately. A pair of great, big arms surrounded her body as she fell limp, a black sheet covering her as she slipped from consciousness like sand through fingers.

Everything was still and black.

"This isn't a good idea. We're going to get caught." He wasn't listening again, busy rummaging through desk drawers and filing cabinets. "Spot, are you listening to me or not?"

Spot straightened when he found a silver key on a ring and the file with a familiar name on it. He handed them both to Joker, his mouth set in a grim line. "We only get one shot at this, so don't screw it up," he said, as if that was reassuring. "Bring her downstairs when you find her. You have fifteen minutes before I start the fire."

The word send a thread of ice through her veins. Joker's breath hitched with anxiety, so much that Spot's eyes softened slightly and he reached out to touch her arm.

"Can you do this, Jessie?" he asked her, quiet.

"I have to get her out of here, Spot. I've left her here too long. I don't want her to think I've given up on her," Joker said, just as quiet. "Now go."

"Fifteen minutes, Joker," he reminded her.

Her bottom lip trembled slightly. "Fifteen minutes."

Spot nodded and stole back down the hallway the same way he'd come, slipping down the stairs as quietly as a church mouse. Joker straightened herself up and glanced down at herself, straightened her nun's habit and tucking stray hairs back under her veil. She blew out a quaking breath and then stepped out of the office, tucking the silver key into her sleeve until the moment was right.

She pressed a silver buzzer outside of a set of bars at the far end of the hall and waited. A tall orderlie rounded the corner and smiled at her.

"Sister, to what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked.

Joker swallowed her nerves. "I'm here to see one of your new patients. Cassandra Blythe." His eyes grew round at the mention of her name, so Joker hurried to continue. "The Blythes were good Catholics, you see. I've come to pray with her."

"She isn't taking callers at the moment," the man said, seemingly choosing her words carefully.

"What do you mean?" Joker hoped the anxiety wasn't bleeding through her words. Oh, God, what had she done by leaving Cassie in here so long?

"She attacked another patient two days ago. She's been quite the handful, sister." The man frowned slightly. "I was told of her affluent upbringing. It's not polite of me to say so, but..."

"If it isn't polite to say so, then why say anything at all?" Joker spat before she could bite her tongue. The man looked shocked. "Forgive me, sir. She's been through quite a lot. You couldn't spare me a few minutes to pray with her?"

"I am not permitted to open the door. She must remain in seclusion for seventy-two hours," he said, as if reciting this information directly from memory. Joker deflated, wondering what to do now. She needed him to open the door and take her to Cassie. The minutes were ticking down. Spot would start the fire and they would be found out if all of three of them did not exit this building in time.

"Then allow me to kneel outside her door and pray. Please, sir, we must save her tormented soul." She wasn't sure where the idea had come from, but she was sure glad it had struck her. The man nodded and produced his own silver key, unlocking the door and allowing Joker inside.

"This way, if you please, sister," he said, ushering her through the halls.

The screaming was enough to drive even Joker mad, and they hadn't even been there five minutes. How had Cassie lasted so long in here, she wondered. The man led her down a dismal hallway with only one door at the end of it. A small rectangle had been cut out of it, which Joker assumed was to put a plate of food through.

"Certainly you'd allow us some privacy to speak to our Lord?" Joker turned to look at the man.

His face flushed slightly and nodded. "Of course. I hate being down here anyway..." With that, he turned and retreated the way he'd come quite hastily.

As soon as she was alone, Joker whirled around to face the door. Her anxious fingers fumbled with the key for a moment and she tore the veil off her head. It took her several tries to stick the key into the lock.

Cassie looked awful. There were dark purple bruise-like shadows under her eyes. A flicker of recognition flashed in Cassie's glazed eyes but it passed as quickly as it had come. She was stuck in some awful contraption and her mouth was covered so she couldn't speak.

"Oh, God, what have they done to you?" Joker whispered and then knelt down, ripping the fabric that kept Cassie's mouth closed. "Cassie, it's me." Cassie's head lolled to the side when Joker held her shoulders and her eyes closed. What was wrong with her? Hot tears pricked Joker's eyes. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. Please forgive me."

"I-I-I've missssssssed you." Her voice was hoarse and she had a stutter she'd never had before, but it was something.

"I've missed you, too," Joker said. Relief washed over her like a waterfall. "Can you stand?"

In the end, Joker put most of Cassie's weight on her, almost carrying her down the hallway and down the steps to where she knew Spot was. He hovered near the broken window, his foot tapping on the ground to betray his anxiety.

"Come on! We don't have much time," Spot said quietly.

Cassie yelped at the sound of a male voice, stopping dead in her tracks. "Not ssssssafe," she stammered, her eyes wild with fear.

Joker held fast to her. "He is safe, Cass. His name is Spot, and he's my friend. He's here to help us."

"We can't lift her while she's in a strait jacket." Spot produced a knife from his pocket and cut Cassie free of the fabric.

"How much time do we have left?" Joker asked. Her answer came in the sound of the fire alarm outside and shouting.

Easily, Spot lifted Joker up and she pulled herself through the window. Next was Cassie. Spot pulled himself up through the window as quickly as he could. As they shuttled Cassie through the crowded Brooklyn streets, Joker could only pray that things would be better from now on. They had broken Cassie out of the asylum; one wrong had been righted.

They were all safe. For now.

Author's Note-

Not my best work, but it will have to do. I've missed the Shade universe so very much. All of my characters are so dear to my heart, honestly. I care about them all so much. And I really should probably stop writing about Spot and do something different, but I don't like change. So deal!

Written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition. Circulation Three: Change. And also for my current love object, coveredinbees14, who demanded a continuation of Light from the last circulation. I hope this story answered some of your questions and demands!

Word count (including author's note): 1,826

Task Four: Change means "Controversial" and it is up to a person to decide if it is good or bad.

Carryin' the banner!

xx Wicked