Jolau Kergh – Yes, Riddler/OC fics would be my life if there were more of them, bwahaha!
Super-Nerd-yay – Thank you, I will try to be super speedy. I'm on a roll!
Author's Note: Yeah, sorry for changing the title all up on you guys, but I suddenly remembered that I decided months ago that this is what it should be called. Sorry about that! I know "The Blue Bird" isn't nearly as attractive as "Unbeknownst", but it will serve its purpose in the end…
Getting to her feet slowly, Kit started towards the door. Surely someone outside would know how to help Batman. She could still hear the guards in a frenzy and wondered if they knew he was in there with her.
But just as she was reaching up to undo the locks, a hand covered hers, stopping her in her tracks…
Kit whirled violently, expecting to see the Scarecrow, but instead came face to face with a tired-looking Batman.
He backed up, coughing slightly.
"We need to talk," he said shortly, nothing in his voice betraying the ordeal he just went through. Pulling her desk chair towards them, he gestured for her to sit.
"You're Dr. Whitaker?" he asked, wasting no time in crossing the room to check the doors. As Kit took her seat, he glanced through the opaque glass to the guards outside.
They would not be disturbed.
When Kit didn't respond, Batman turned to look at her and caught her staring at the Scarecrow intently.
"…Dr. Whitaker?"
"Oh, yes. Kit. Kit Whitaker," Kit answered finally, tearing her gaze from the man on the floor. She fidgeted in the chair uncomfortably as if it were painful for her to be sitting.
Stooping, Batman picked up the shattered remains of the Scarecrow's syringe and examined what little of the formula still clung to it.
"How much did he give you?"
"No more than a dose," Kit answered, promptly now, but her face clouded with concern, "…How much did he give you?"
Ignoring the question, the Batman straightened up, reeling slightly from the effects of the formula. Kit shot out of her chair, happy to have an excuse to leave it.
"You should sit," she insisted.
"I'm fine."
"But – "
"Why was he here?" he asked her suddenly. He swiveled his head up, meeting her eyes with his piercing gaze.
Kit felt her walls come up on instinct.
"I-I don't know," she answered – perhaps a little too quickly.
It wasn't a lie.
Kit's eyes flickered back to the Scarecrow.
No, not a complete lie.
", the Scarecrow broke out of his cell not even half an hour ago. He didn't try to escape. He left countless employees untouched, including his own doctor. He stopped for nothing on the way to this office. My question is why you?"
Kit avoided his gaze. Something was off about the way she was looking around the room, Batman thought, as if she were making an effort to look at anything that wasn't the Scarecrow.
"You ask me like you think I should know," she responded at last, her lips pressing into a thin line.
But Batman pulled no punches.
"Eight months ago, Dr. Arkham offered you the Scarecrow as a patient," he stated matter-of-factly.
Kit stiffened, her grey eyes taking on a hard edge.
"…What about it?"
"You turned it down. Why?"
"What did the file say?" she asked in retaliation, "Since you've obviously read it."
"You cited personal reasons."
"Then, I believe, Batman, you already have your answer."
"…"
The Batman never once took his eyes off her, though neither of them said another word.
An uncomfortable silence settled across the room before the Scarecrow groaned and turned in his blacked-out state.
Scooting what was left of the broken syringe out of his path with her foot, Kit went to retrieve a dust pan as the Batman turned to leave.
"…I'm sorry."
Batman stopped, turning at the doctor's words.
She didn't look at him as she busied herself with the mess, but her body language, he noted, was much more open.
"I…I know you won't get any answers from him, but…I honestly don't know."
Tossing the bits of glass into the rubbish bin and dusting off her hands, she finally turned to look at him.
"He's a scientist, Batman," she answered clearly, nodding in his direction, "He does it to see what happens next, to see the results, to see how people are going to react."
When he didn't respond, she dropped her head, her brown hair hanging in a curtain around her face, hiding her expression.
"It's always a test with him," she added finally, her voice quiet, "…always."
"But a test for who?" he asked.
Kit looked up in alarm.
"Well, for you, surely?" she insisted, a look of panic on her face.
But only silence answered her as the Batman stared hard at the unconscious Scarecrow. Taking a deep breath, Kit cleared her throat.
"He killed one of my patients," she explained at last, her eyes, too, falling to the Scarecrow, "Well, not directly, but he…he gave her the fear gas, and…well, that's why—"
She trailed off uneasily, but the Batman only nodded.
He understood.
Placing a hand on her shoulder before he left, he murmured a quick 'Thank you' and then was gone before she could even respond.
So ended Kit's first encounter with the Batman.
The moment Kit walked out of the office, flashes of light burst across her eyes, blinding her painfully. She lifted a hand up to shield her eyes from the attack, wondering what was going on.
Cameras?
"Goddammit, Johnson, didn't I tell you to get those reporters out of here?"
Reporters?
"Get back, all of you!"
"Give the doctor some space!"
"Aaron?" Kit squinted in the direction of the familiar voice. A hand took hold of hers and pulled her to the side, away from the cameras.
"Are you okay?" Aaron asked, sitting her down on a nearby desk.
"What's going on?" she asked, pushing his hand off gently as he fussed over her, "How did the press get here so quickly?"
Anxiety crossed her features, and Aaron stopped rushing for a moment to push a stray lock behind her ear.
"Don't worry about it, Kit, just focus on me and the doctor for a second, okay?"
A man in a lab coat joined them at Aaron's side and slipped a little flashlight out of his pocket, shining it in Kit's eyes.
She turned her head away quickly and stood up.
Before Aaron could protest, the doctor put a hand on his arm.
"It looks like she's fully responsive. No need to fuss over her."
If anything, Kit was more worried about the negative press the asylum would receive in this week's headlines. Just as she had gotten her first criminal patient, wouldn't you know it…
"Kit—" Aaron began as he slipped up beside her.
"How did the press get here so quickly?" Kit interrupted him, repeating her question from earlier.
Aaron sighed.
He knew that look.
"Sharp was holding a Q&A session about the new plans for security when the alarm went off."
While listening, Kit began delegating to nurses on standby. A Q&A session about the new security? Well, wasn't that just perfect timing?
"Brilliant," Kit murmured under her breath before stopping a nurse rushing by, "He may have a concussion…and there was glass – lots of it. Try to –"
Insane laughter interrupted her as the Joker pressed his manic face to the bars of his cell.
"Well, well, handling yourself well after tripping on the ol' fear gas, aren't you, Doc? It's good stuff, isn't it?"
Kit stared him down, her expression unmoving.
"I'll bet Bats was impressed."
"The Batman?" asked a reporter, aiming the question at the Joker.
"The Bat was here?"
As if that were what the Joker needed – more attention.
Surprised inquiries came from all over, but Aaron and his men quickly brought the mob of reporters back in line.
Kit, on the other hand, stepped closer to the cell.
"…How did you know he was here?" she asked quietly, leaning closer to the bars.
She kept her voice low to discourage any eavesdroppers, ignorant of the fact that the next inmate over was watching her intently, keen to learn more about his newest doctor.
In other words…a new puzzle.
The Joker smiled broadly, placing a hand over his heart.
"The Bat? Didn't you know? We have a bond, him and I," he cackled gleefully, "Soul mates, you might say…Speaking of which, how are things between you and Captain Hook over there?"
Kit waved a hand dismissively in his direction and turned back to the doctors.
It was useless trying to get a straight answer from the Joker. No wonder the Batman grilled her so hard for answers. As if he'd ever piece anything together from this motley crew.
…People didn't appreciate him enough.
Trying to ignore the Joker's offended squawks and ensure the Scarecrow's health amidst the calls of the press was starting to wear on her, as well. Aaron could see the stress on her face.
"Kit," he murmured quietly, placing a hand at her back, "Maybe you should go home for the day, huh?"
"No, I promised Humphrey I'd say good-bye today," she insisted, slipping her hand into her pocket to feel for the little present she had brought for him.
The idea of visiting him seemed to relax her, even just a little.
Humphrey…She wouldn't be his doctor anymore.
"Surely it can wait until tomorrow," Aaron reasoned, trying to keep her attention.
"But I promised. It might upset him—"
"Kit, if it upsets him so much, maybe he still needs you as his doctor, don't you think?"
Kit just frowned and shook her head. She and Aaron had been dating for a few months now, but still they never seemed to see eye to eye when it came to the patients.
He had never been able to find much empathy for them – not since the accident.
Swallowing the urge to point out that even "normal" people got upset when somebody stood them up, Kit kissed him swiftly on the cheek and made her way through the crowd of people.
"I'll see you at home, Aaron."
Taking the little eraser gleefully from Kit's hands, Humphrey instantly set to taking it apart on the little desk the asylum provided. It wasn't nearly big enough for a person Humphrey's size, but it was the best their funds could (or would) provide.
She had brought him the little puzzle eraser, which could be taken apart and put back together again, because of his penchant for wanting to fix things.
Though his mind was stunted, leaving him almost child-like even at his age, he excelled at the workings of machines. It was her understanding that, before the incident, he could fix any manner of things. Toy cars, radios, refrigerators…
And now puzzle erasers.
"Humphrey," Kit brought up gently, standing beside him at the desk, "Do you remember what we talked about last Wednesday?"
Humphrey screwed up his face while he worked, his tongue poking out thoughtfully. It was far too simple a puzzle, Kit realized, but it was the only thing she could think of that the warden would allow.
After Dr. Jeremiah Arkham went insane only months ago, the city had seen fit to install Quincy Sharp as his replacement. Unlike Dr. Arkham, he wasn't a psychologist and, Kit thought, certainly more suited for Blackgate.
Obsessed with security, Sharp ran Arkham like a jail, opting to neglect the treatment aspect of the facility. If anything, the incident today would only add more reason for him to continue in that direction.
"Oh goodness, that was fast."
Kit was astonished.
"I did good?"
"Yes, better than I did my first time," Kit assured Humphrey.
It wasn't a lie.
"But Humphrey," Kit began again, tentatively, "Can you remember what I told you last Wednesday? About my promotion?"
"You told me you got a promotion, and I told you 'Congratulations!'" he enthused with a large grin.
A pang dug at Kit's heart.
"Yes, that was very sweet of you."
Humphrey's grandmother abused him from little on up. All those years, until finally one day, obsessed with all things broken, Humphrey wondered why his grandmother didn't work like other little old ladies…
Humphrey beamed at Kit's praise, but then grew quiet.
"I'm not going to be your patient anymore," he said softly, remembering.
"That's right. I have a new patient now who needs my help more than you…since you've improved so much."
Humphrey took his grandmother apart that day, only months ago. He took her apart and tried to put her back together again.
'Almost what we try to do here.' Kit thought bitterly.
"But I'm going to visit you, Humphrey, remember?" Kit reminded him gently as the guards stepped inside to take her to her next appointment.
"Yeah…" Humphrey repeated, pacified, "Yeah…You're going to visit me."
"That's right."
"When?" he asked suddenly, clutching his new eraser.
"In about a week, Humphrey," Kit promised, heading out the door, "in about a week."
As if the day couldn't get any better, Kit passed Gretchen on her way out of the door to Humphrey's cell, and earned a scalding look from the brittle old woman.
Everything Kit did warranted disapproval as far as Gretchen Akers was concerned.
One of the oldest doctors here, Gretchen was as traditionalist as Sharp in her views, forming a quick bond between warden and head doctor.
She had been a favorite under Dr. Arkham, as well.
It was a miracle, really, that Kit had been given a criminal patient at all, considering. Even now, Gretchen was only here to see if Kit's work with Humphrey (or "Humpty-Dumpty" as the other inmates called him) was satisfactory.
"Kit," Gretchen nodded, speaking in her heavily accented voice.
"Hello, Gretchen," Kit replied courteously.
At least Humphrey wouldn't be going to her, Kit thought. No, Gretchen was given only the toughest nuts to crack – nuts like the Joker.
Humphrey really had improved greatly since he was brought in, so, rather than being sent back to intensive treatment, he would be given to an intern fresh out of Gotham University – one who would monitor only the most basic things: his moods, his behavior, his habits.
"I heard you had a run-in with the Scarecrow today," Gretchen remarked – almost casually – as she passed by, "Perhaps you should be more careful about how you present yourself to the patients."
"Gretchen," Kit began, coolly, "I have never initiated contact with the Scarecrow. My patients and I are always professional."
"Of course. Just like Harley, no?" she countered scathingly.
The disdain in her voice was obvious as she turned the corner, disappearing from Kit's sight. Silently fuming, Kit turned and wrenched open the door of her office – the one that she still hadn't finished unpacking.
At least they had cleaned up the unconscious Scarecrow from her floor while she was visiting Humphrey.
Storming in, she stopped short at the sight of the man on the other side of her desk.
He was examining the contents of her desk curiously in his spindly fingers.
Kit's face must have looked particularly stormy because he froze abruptly in his observation of the little spider in its jar and regarded her appraisingly.
Recovering quickly, she smiled and shut the door swiftly behind her, leaving the guards outside.
She had almost forgotten her new patient.
"Oh?" she chided, taking her seat on the side opposite from him, "Didn't think teacher would show?"
Smirking, the Riddler breathed twice on the glass jar before rubbing it on his standard issue jumpsuit and placing it on the corner of her desk like a shiny new apple. Taking his seat, he clasped his hands in front of him innocently.
Then, cheekily:
"I could recite my ABC's if you want…"
Kit's smile broadened.
'A new puzzle.'
Disclaimer: Do not own any of the Batman characters, which include Harley, Aaron, Quincy, Humphrey, the Riddler, Joker, Scarecrow, and Killer Croc. Thank you for reading!
Please R & R.