Finally another chapter! Sorry for the delay, I've been busy with work. I've also be abnormally tired.
Note: This may be a little mundane to all you readers, I promise to throw a few spices in the next chapter!
Reading & Reviewing is always a nice gesture, it's much appreciated!
Down in the main lobby, some kind of news was traveling fast, as all the major psychiatrists were standing there. Dr. Harrington was standing amongst a group of men when he spotted Samantha.
"Dr. O'Reilly," he called, motioning for her to join them.
"Yes Dr. Harrington?" She asked casually.
"Some of these fine gentlemen are wondering how treatment with the Joker's going?" The men murmured in agreement.
"Well," she started, "quite frankly, it's going. He is uncooperative and shows no interest in anyone helping him. I only hope for the best."
"Have you diagnosed him with any psychological disorders?" One man in tiny glasses asked.
"Honestly? I don't see any except for some sociopathic tendencies. He talks very sanely and interacts as such. At this time, the only thing that makes him a criminal is the murders he's committed. But if you can excuse me, I've got another meeting I'm going to be late for."
"Well, we won't keep you. But I do hope you publish in the psychology journal about your findings, Doctor," another psychiatrist said, eager to know the interworking's of the Joker's mind.
"I may, it may be awhile, but I will consider it. Have a good day, gentlemen," Samantha said as she shook their hands and made her way out the door.
After a few hours of shopping, Samantha finally selected a daring black dress that hugged her curves and fitted her petite height. The shoe stores she went to were more promising; she found a pair of heels that were delicate and added a little height, but not so much that she wouldn't be able to dance or walk. Jewelry wasn't a question; she had more than enough pieces she inherited from her family to choose from. Exhausted, Samantha realized it had been almost two days since she had a substantial meal.
Samantha glanced around to get her bearings, there were several restaurants in walking distance and although she hated dining alone, tonight she would make an exception. The Italian restaurant was full of couples and families dining. The waiter seated her at a two-person table.
"I'll have a glass of Merlot, please," Samantha said, smiling gently to the waiter. He nodded and went off to check on his other tables, in hopes of guaranteeing a tip. Samantha submersed herself in the menu, debating between the chicken parmesan and the chicken Marsalis. Her concentration broke and she began to listen to all the happy people chattering around her. It's so much better to hear happy people than screaming, Samantha thought.
"Here is your merlot, doctor," said a familiar voice. Samantha turned her head to see Bruce standing by her table holding her glass of wine.
"How come you have a knack for showing up everywhere, Bruce?" Samantha said, "Should I start to consider filing harassment charges?"
"I was merely in the same place at the same time," Bruce replied.
"Uh-huh, I'll take that wine off your hands; I think I need it more than you." Bruce placed the glass down and Samantha took a sip.
"I was actually meeting some business men for a drink and I saw you walk in. Busy day?" He asked while eyeing her shopping bags.
"Not very, I figured I should buy something to wear for your fundraiser unless you prefer me to wear nothing."
He laughed at the thought. "Tempting idea, but I doubt my guests would be less than thrilled. Do you mind?" Bruce motioned toward the empty seat across from Samantha.
"Sure, I could use some company," she replied, "well, more sane company."
"I understand, how goes your therapy with your new patient?"
"It's going," she took a sip of her wine, she felt more content than she had in days. "But can we talk about something else? I want to escape the psychiatry and Arkham for a little while."
"Sure, how about we order? I'm starved," Bruce commented while motioning for the waiter.
"Me too, I could almost eat a horse at this point," Samantha replied. Samantha glanced over the menu one more time while the waiter made his way over.
"And what can I get for you, miss?" he inquired.
"The chicken parmesan please," she said modestly, the food that they would bring her would be more than enough leftovers for two more meals.
"And I'll have the veal parmesan," Bruce said, handing the menu to the waiter who rushed off to put in the orders.
"Veal?" Samantha was clearly disgusted.
"Have you never had veal? It's wonderful."
"I have, but have never cared for it. Something's a bit off about eating a baby cow."
"I try to overlook it. Anyways, is there anything you want to talk about? How are you holding up overall?"
That's a loaded question, Samantha thought. "Honestly? I'm surprised I've almost made it through the week. My heart is in what I'm doing, but it's hard not to have someone else around who understands."
"I can only imagine," Bruce said quietly. They muddled through small talk until the meal came, and then ate in silence. Samantha didn't have much conversation to offer. Bruce, on the other hand, carried the conversation. He boasted about his company's expansion; there wasn't a hint of arrogance, just modest conversation. While Bruce talked, Samantha listened and responded in the right places until the check came. She started to pull out her wallet.
"No, Samantha, it's on me," Bruce said, handing a card to the waiter, "you've been good enough to put up with me through a meal, it's the least I can do." He smiled a little.
"Are you sure? It's not like I can't afford it; I don't have your kind of money, but I do pretty well on my own," Samantha said, letting herself grin a little. "I should probably be going; I don't want to hold your evening up." She rose and picked up her bags.
"Do you need a ride home?"
"No, Bruce, I can manage. My car is in the parking garage, only a couple of blocks away."
"I'll walk you, it's dark out and you know how the criminals are out. Considering Batman's an outlaw, they're not that afraid." They walked in silence for a bit, and it wasn't awkward in the least; they enjoyed each other's company and understood each other's purpose. When they reached Samantha's car, she unlocked the doors and instinctively checked the back seat; Bruce smirked a little knowing that she was overly paranoid and that she would be perfectly safe if he was near.
"Thank-you for your company this evening, Bruce, you made my night a little more enjoyable," Samantha said sincerely. The look in his eyes was more than enough for her; she knew that he enjoyed it too.
"Anytime, Samantha, I think we both needed the company," Bruce replied. He held Samantha by her shoulders, looked into her eyes, and embraced her in a hug. She looked at him, puzzled by his actions. "You look like you could use that. Don't let yourself not have any fun, Samantha."
"Thanks Bruce, you really are a good person. But if you can excuse me, I could use some sleep," Samantha said. Bruce nodded and helped her into the car and closed the door.
The drive to her house took about half an hour, almost to the outskirts of Gotham. Samantha had to pass by Wayne mansion and the property looked empty; after the fire, nothing of the mansion remained except a burnt frame. It would be rebuilt, but there was no telling when it would be finished. I hope that it'll look the same, Samantha thought know that she couldn't handle change well. Her house was miniscule compared to the mansion that it resided by, but it was her home.
The house was a simple two-story Victorian house. The house was a beautiful pale yellow and had teal shutters; Samantha had been sold the moment she laid eyes on the house. Crane and she signed the papers the very same day. A week later, she was moved in her dream home with a husband she thought would last forever. Funny how dreams can turn out, Samantha thought. The house was empty when she walked in and out of pure habit she grabbed the baseball bat by the door and walked around the house. She turned every light on and looked in every possible hiding spot.
After checking the first and second floors, Samantha was satisfied she found no one. Making a cup of tea and grabbing a book that sat on the countertop, she retreated to the master bedroom. It was decorated in varying shades of green, her favorite color. When Crane and she moved in, they put slips of paper in a hat and literally drew which room they would decorate. It worked out well; Samantha had to decorate the kitchen, downstairs bath, and the master bedroom while Crane got the living room, office, and master bathroom, while the both of them decorated the guest bedroom. Their unique tastes flowed from one room to the next, giving each room its own persona. The master bedroom had a four-poster queen bed and the dresser was made out of cherry wood. Pictures of Ireland graced the wall, the honeymoon of Samantha's dreams.
Samantha sighed and looked around the room, it felt empty and incomplete, papers sat on the dresser of the realtor she had bought the house from and her intention was to sell it to someone else. Maybe this was supposed to be someone else's dream. She wanted so desperately to move on and start something new. Her goal the following week was to hunt for a suitable apartment in the heart of Gotham. Maybe Bruce has some recommendations, Samantha thought, she made a mental note to call Bruce the next day and ask him about apartments. Stopping her analytical thoughts, Samantha opened her book and threw herself in a world of pure fantasy.
Samantha awoke to find the sunlight beaming in from the windows; she rolled over and looked at the clock. She swore aloud and rushed out of bed.
"8:30, I can't believe I almost overslept," she said to the air. After a quick shower, she pulled on a pair of black Capri pants, and a short-sleeved red blouse. The outfit was sophisticated enough for work and casual enough to keep her comfortable all day. She ran downstairs, grabbed her keys, and rushed out the door, scolding herself the entire way to Arkham.