A/N

I have the sweetest readers ever! It makes me so happy to hear that you're enjoying this fic so far! That's why I'm taking my time in updating this, because I don't want to rush a chapter and do a half-assed job of it. I'm toying with many ideas at the moment because, with Jerome dead on the show, I don't know where to take this when this story starts to match up with the show's events in about 3 chapters-ish, while maintaining my own take on things.

This chapter is just going to further establish Lacey and Jerome's growing closeness. I have to say though that Jerome is so much fun to write dialogue for; it's tricky sometimes to think of what the character would say in such situations but it's still fun to do because he's just so charming in his way...which is one of the reasons why the fandom loves him I guess.

I have to ask, does anyone have any songs that they think relate to Jerome and his ways? I need to expand my Smile for Me playlist so if anyone has any suggestions, I'll be happy to hear them! I think 'Mad Hatter' by Melanie Martinez and 'Sick Like Me' by In This Moment are two of the most fitting songs on my playlist.

Anyway, please enjoy! All follows/faves/reviews are greatly appreciated x


When Jerome saw Lacey enter the community room the next day, he eagerly waved to her, having saved her a seat next to him.

However Lacey completely blanked this offer and sauntered across the room, joining the likes of Sionis, Helzinger, Greenwood and Dobkins at their usual table.

All Jerome could do was watch with a frown as Lacey sat talking amongst the other men, smiling at their stories. After a while, the girl did indeed feel Jerome's eyes on her and gave him a quick wink before turning back to the group of men and continuing their conversation. She was up to something, but what was it?

Still, at least she seemed livelier than yesterday.

Simply by watching Lacey's interactions with the other inmates, Jerome could gather a few things about her relationship with them. There was a lot of respect there, that much was evident.

After being thrown into Arkham, Jerome had quickly noted that Aaron Helzinger was a man of few words; however he seemed to partake in some of the discussion when Lacey was there – perhaps seeing her as a pillar of support. Even Sionis, who was clearly a shot-caller in the asylum, seemed to appreciate Lacey's company to some extent.

Eventually, Lacey drifted over to where Jerome was sat on his own, begrudgingly watching from afar. She smirked as she sat down before noticing his frown. "What?"

"I hoped you'd come over here sooner. Aren't we friends?" Jerome tilted his head to the side in mock curiosity.

"Of course we are." Lacey nodded. "I just had to sort a few things out that I didn't have the strength or the patience to do yesterday. I was away for a while, I wouldn't want rumours being spread and deals being done behind my back." She smiled and pulled out a small bag of what appeared to be painkillers. "Besides, being friends with Sionis has its benefits. Can you believe it, they pump us full of drugs yet none of them are ones we really need."

Jerome's facial expression was suddenly one of deep concern. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really, but I'll get over it. It's not like I have a choice, right?" A small cynical laugh came from Lacey, similar to the one she had exhibited for him the day before.

Again, it knocked Jerome back and he found himself chuckling too. But it was short-lived as he soon remembered the severity of their conversation. "Which guard hit you?"

"What does it matter?" Lacey's tongue rolled around in her mouth, pushing against her cheek as she appeared to be deep in thought. "I plan to handle it anyway."

Jerome felt a cold shiver run along his skin. He knew Lacey had a dark side – who in Arkham didn't? – but this darkness was mixed with something else…something intriguing. "What should we do?"

"There is no we, Jerome. Not in here." Despite her words, the corners of Lacey's mouth pricked upwards. "But thanks. If I plan another riot you'll be the first to know." She quickly opened the bag of painkillers and slipped a couple under her tongue and swallowed with ease, flashing Jerome a smile afterwards before standing up. "I'll see you later, be good."

Before Jerome could question where Lacey planned to disappear to in such a confined environment, she had sauntered out of the room; although this was after she turned around to wink in Jerome's direction.

He watched her leave with wide eyes; fascinated by the way her personality was constantly changing. Frankly, Jerome was just happy to see Lacey smile after her withdrawn behaviour the day before. He was happy to see her.

At first Jerome had simply assumed his interest in Lacey to have been a result of a lack of female attention. No girl had ever given him so much as a second glance, let alone his own mother, so Lacey's 10 minute interaction with him had been a pleasant occurrence. Then she had hugged him: the shy girl from the circus had touched him. That one moment of close contact had almost made up for the non-existent relationship between him and his mother, the woman who should have loved him unconditionally. But now, one year later in a place as bleak and depressing as Arkham Asylum, Jerome still felt that same warmth every time Lacey talked to him. Every time she laughed.

She was definitely pretty, with her dark hair and deep brown eyes that could almost see right through him. These feelings were frustrating to Jerome but he was also eager to see how things would work out – how this new game would play out. What would the punchline be?

How was he supposed to talk to her? So far they'd only discussed their crimes and the situation in Arkham but Jerome hardly knew anything about Lacey besides her darkest quality. He knew little to nothing about Lacey herself. Lacey, the girl from the circus.

What was her favourite colour? What were her favourite songs? Did she have any hobbies or interests? Had she had any previous lovers?

That was what Jerome wanted to be, wasn't it, Lacey's lover? Arkham was hardly a romance-inspiring environment but it was evident that the more friends you had, the more connections, the easier life in the asylum would be. The more entertaining a life bound within four cold walls would be.


"So Lacey, how are you?" Dr. Tania Roberts smiled as the girl was escorted into the room.

"I just spent another month in solitary, surrounded by white padded walls. I'm hardly feeling great."

"What about the new drugs I prescribed for you?" She enquired, placing her glasses on the edge of her nose. "Would you say that they are helping?" The psychiatrist tapped her pen on her notepad.

Lacey frowned. "No. I don't need any more anti-psychotics. I'm not sick."

"I know you're not, Lacey. But you'll only get better if you allow us to help you."

"That's funny." Lacey laughed sceptically and leaned back onto the sofa. "Maybe it's just me but I don't think dragging me back and forth from solitary is helpful. Of course, let's not forget the fact that the majority of the guards here hate me and take every opportunity they can to take a swing me. And I'm not the only inmate they kick around."

"I believed we addressed this issue the last time we spoke, Lacey." Dr. Roberts' voice was calm, as if her mentality would transfer over to her patient – cleansing her mind of any irregularities. "The guards are merely doing their job. You can't attack them for doing that."

Lacey widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Oh, it all makes sense now. Forgive me for being so crazy…I must be imagining the agonising pain running through my body. Are you seeing this black eye, Tania? Or did I imagine that too?"

"Lacey, it's only natural that you seek someone to blame but—"

"Don't do that. Don't say this is all in my head because it's not." Lacey shot up from her seat, her hands shaking. "I'm not crazy, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm as sane as any other girl my age."

"There's a reason you're here, Lacey. I'm sorry but, from the behaviour you've exhibited over the last year, it's evident that you're beyond help. The only way we can support you is to keep you under our observation."

If looks could kill, Tania Roberts would have been laying in a pool of blood right at that moment.

"Is that psychiatrist talk for you're going to send me for more electroconvulsive therapy? You're going to see how many more volts my mind can take before I go numb for good, aren't you. Then when I become brain dead, you can just tell everyone that I've finally found peace." Lacey laughed out loud, taking a leaf from Jerome's book. It wasn't anything like his infectious chuckle but it was still enough to unnerve the therapist. "That is pretty funny."

"Please sit down. This is no laughing matter, Lacey." Dr. Roberts said suddenly, making sure to watch her patient's movements carefully. Lacey had a tendency to behave very unpredictably; she could easily go from being calm to screaming down the hallway. "And yes, another round of ECT is an option which we are considering. Which your erratic behaviour is causing us to consider."

"I'm erratic because I'm in here. Don't you see that?!" Lacey shuffled to the back of the room, staring at the therapists' desk that had been lined with office supplies and sat herself on the edge, swinging her legs. "If I was out in the real world I'd be much saner."

"Lacey, we both know that wouldn't be the case." The therapist tried to beckon Lacey back over but she refused. "Your mother told me about the incident at the country club. Even you have to admit that that wasn't the behaviour of a healthy teenage girl."

"I was merely recording my observations, isn't that what you're doing right now?"

"Lacey…please come here."

"I was recording my observations. I was trying to figure out why rich people were so adored when they did so many terrible things." Lacey titled her head to the side, deciding to further test her psychiatrist. "Which is actually the opposite of what you're doing. You're watching me, someone who is so despised by everyone including her own mother, and you're trying to figure out why I'm so hated when all I did was rid this world of a terrible bully of a man."

"If you don't want to cooperate now, we can always reschedule this appointment."

"Good thinking, Tania. Don't go getting any more ideas though." Lacey strolled towards the door, but she stopped quickly. "The more I think about it, maybe I am a little crazy. But it wasn't until I came here, in this room with you, telling me that I'm not normal. It's easy enough to doubt my own sanity when nobody believes me." She smiled as she headed out of the room, "but he does. He understands me."


"So gorgeous, where did you run off to?" Jerome's smile widened as he jumped onto the seat besides Lacey, crossing his legs and staring at her with an almost childlike wonder. "Did your mom come to visit?"

Lacey would've burst out laughing at that if she hadn't been to see someone who was turning out to be so much worse. "I had to chat with my psychiatrist."

"Psychiatrist?" Jerome smirked, immediately intrigued. "What's the diagnosis?"

Before Lacey could speak, Jerome held up a hand up to stop her and straightened his back. "Okay, pretend I'm your psychiatrist." He leaned in close, eyeing Lacey up and down. "Well, you don't appear to be showing any physical symptoms of madness…you're insanely gorgeous but that's the only kind of insane you are."

She smiled at Jerome's bold remark. "Where are you going with this?"

"Hang on, I need to completely assess your health." Jerome shushed Lacey with a finger to her lips, before taking her by the wrist to test for a pulse; however he noticed something hidden under the sleeve of her dress. "Are you hiding something?" Jerome felt up her arm in an attempt to work out what was tucked away in the folds of her sleeve.

Lacey rolled her eyes as Jerome continued to pat her arm until he snatched his hands back in surprise, a grin of admiration spreading from ear to ear. "Well, well, Lacey you never stop amazing me. Who were you planning to use that on?"

"Whichever guard lays a hand on me first."

"A letter opener…what a creative weapon." He continued to grin at Lacey's resourcefulness. "But what if your shrink goes to read a letter and realises that such a sharp item is missing?"

"What can they do to me that they haven't done already? They can drag me away but I'll go kicking and screaming, believe me."

"You're so bad, Lacey Monroe." Jerome found himself laughing once again as he sat inches from the young brunette. "I like that."


A/N

Okay it makes me so happy to hear you guys say how much you like Jerome and Lacey's interactions. Their conversations are becoming so amusing to write; especially since Lacey is able to go from like 1-100 on the crazy scale in under a minute. To be fair, that's probably why she and Jerome must get along.

Because psychology is one of the three classes I'm studying at school, I also know that in today's society Electroconvulsive therapy isn't incredibly common and that it is isn't used so cruelly but, with Arkham being the way it is I picture the really painful usage of it since the guards and nurses seem pretty corrupt. I can imagine it being used as more of a punishment than a treatment in Arkham in order to calm down the more erratic and violent patients (as it can can ease stress levels but too much may cause severe memory loss/brain damage as Lacey was referring to); although that is mostly not the case across the world today as times have definitely changed.

I am so excited to carry on writing this story, I'm having a blast creating this for you all! You're all so kind and I hope you continue to like this fic!

I'm hoping to update within the next 10 days, so stay tuned for more madness from Jerome and Lacey! :)