CHAPTER NINE – CARLTON

Much to Nina's annoyance, a large brown envelope was waiting for her the next morning. Inside she found a schedule and a note from Warden Sharp. Her stomach tightened as she examined the list of dates and times; therapy sessions every Monday and Wednesday, and an hour of visiting time on a Saturday morning. The schedule covered the next two months, although a note at the bottom assured her that this was only 'a preliminary schedule, subject to extension on grounds of any progress made with Patient 29476-JC's case'.

Nina shook her head at the way Crane was referred to by his patient number. While she hated him as much as the next person, the dehumanisation aggravated her. With a frown creasing her brow, she turned to the Warden's note.

Miss Raven,

I have enclosed a schedule of Crane's appointment dates and allotted visiting hours as agreed. It has been arranged for your attendance at these sessions to begin next Monday, and I ask that you call ahead if illness or other circumstances prevent you attending. Please note that I can't guarantee whether Crane will consider any excuses sufficient.

I should like to take this opportunity to point out that, while I have agreed to allow this arrangement of yours, I will revoke your privileges without warning if I feel your presence around Crane puts anyone at risk. I do not appreciate 'fans' of our inmates having access to the facility, and I am reluctant to allow the chance of another Harley Quinn situation.

As such, all your time at Arkham will be monitored and recorded, and you will require a minimum of one staff member – a security officer, doctor or orderly – with you at all times. We ask that you check your bag in at the front desk each time you attend for safety purposes.

Any further requests or queries must go through me.

Yours sincerely,

Warden Q. Sharp.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Nina turned to her father, who was peering over her shoulder at the letter.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," she answered. "It starts on Monday."

"You don't have to go, Nina. He's locked up, he can't get to you," her father tried to reason with her. He hated seeing his daughter so tired, so stressed – after all she had been through, he wanted more than anything to protect her from further troubles.

"He might be locked up, but everyone knows he's got people under his thumb all over Gotham. It's not ideal, but if it's this or the nightmares again, I know which one I'd rather have."

"That bad?"

Nina felt a twinge of guilt when she saw the concern on her father's face. She hadn't been able to bring herself to explain what her poisoned dreams had entailed, and she doubted if she would have the words to convey the depths of terror she had faced.

"Crane's toxin is especially designed to exploit your worst fears; believe me, Dad, when I say it works. I can't tell you any more than that," she explained begrudgingly.

Seeing the pain in her father's expression only intensified the guilt in Nina's stomach. She hated to put her parents through so much worry; hated that there was no way around it. She tried to redirect her hatred at Crane, and at Tyler, but she couldn't help but take the worst of it herself.

She scanned the letter again, her lip curling in distaste at the Warden's pointed comments about 'fans' and Harley Quinn scenarios. Did he truly believe that was what this was about? That Nina was some confused, obsessed young woman desperate to get close to a twisted idol? The nerve of the man!

She paused and forced herself to take a dep, slow breath. Demeaning as it was, the Warden's opinion of her counted for nothing. There was a much more serious matter to focus on; fulfilling her end of Crane's bargain was going to be a significant drain on her wellbeing. The thought of Monday's session loomed over her like a doomsday warning. She had a few days to rest and recover her strength, but she would soon be back in the belly of the beast.


Jonathan lay in his cell, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread of his Arkham uniform while he awaited an escort to his session with Dr Jennings. Having only been assigned to Jonathan's case upon his most recent arrest, she had only had a few sessions with him, but Jonathan already harboured a distinct enmity for the woman.

To give credit where it was due, he had to concede that she was one of Arkham's more competent doctors – she had two decades' experience in treating cases of schizophrenia across the country – but Jonathan found her unbearably condescending. To hear her speak, anyone would think she was talking to a child; or worse, an imbecile. Where his previous doctors had treated him with decided hostility, Dr Jennings was clearly trying to establish some sort of rapport. However, her attempts were frankly embarrassing. He barely tolerated her as his doctor, why would he want to become her acquaintance?

Think she'll be intrigued by your new little friend? Scarecrow jeered, his voice close to Jonathan's right ear.

"I don't recall asking for your input," Jonathan shot back, realising a fraction too late that he was speaking aloud in earshot of the other Rogues.

"And they say that I'm mad," Edward Nygma smirked from his cell. "At least I don't talk to myself."

"For the last time, Edward, Scarecrow and I are not the same person," Jonathan corrected him.

Nygma gave a derisive snort in response, but let the subject drop.

Jonathan was almost relieved to hear the sound of heavy footsteps announcing Officer Cash's arrival. Even he, with his unending hatred towards Jonathan, was better company than the rest of the so-called Rogues' Gallery.

Jonathan waited patiently while Cash applied the compulsory restraints, putting more effort than usual into hiding his discomfort. The both of them ignored the array of taunts and insults thrown in Cash's direction, but Jonathan caught Nygma's mocking words as he was led from the cell block.

"Have fun with your new puzzle, Jon!"

There was some truth to Nygma's taunting, Jonathan realised; Nina Raven was indeed a puzzle, and one that he was determined to unravel.


When they arrived at Dr Jennings' office – decidedly less hostile surroundings than the regular setting for Jonathan's sessions – the object of Jonathan's intrigue was sat in an armchair to one side of the room, exhibiting the same anxious behaviour as when they'd last met. She looked a little less exhausted, but still had something of a sickly pallor to her skin.

"Good morning, Miss Raven," Jonathan greeted her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm somewhere between seasick and hungover, thanks to your antidote," she replied coldly. "When you mentioned side effects I wasn't expecting them to last a week."

A little surprised himself, Jonathan examined the young woman more closely, noticing the thinness of her wrists and the definition of her collarbone. She was more underweight than he had previously realised, meaning he might have slightly miscalculated the dosage of the antitoxin. Not that he was inclined to admit his possible mistake aloud.

"My apologies, Miss Raven."

"Jonathan, if you'd like to take a seat?" Dr Jennings interjected, attempting to bring her session back into focus. "I was hoping to discuss the reason for your most recent internment today, although I hadn't realised who would be joining us. Miss Raven, would you rather we discussed something else?"

Jonathan watched as the young woman's jaw tightened. This was a far more interesting start than he had expected Dr Jennings to make.

"I'm here to observe, not interfere," Miss Raven answered. "And besides, I suspect Crane's nightmares have shown me worse things than he could possibly come out with here."

Jonathan was slightly disappointed with the barely-disguised hostility in Miss Raven's voice; his plan rather relied on her having some inclination to assist him. Conversely, he reminded himself, her feelings were not unfounded. And unfortunately, he doubted that her resentment would be lessened if he were to explain that using his toxin was a matter of pure necessity, as opposed to sadism.

"Well… in that case, we'll make a start," Dr Jennings replied, apparently thrown by Miss Raven's sharpness. "Why perform the 'experiment' on Mr Carlton?"

Jonathan chose to ignore the doctor's dismissive tone. How was she – an inferior intellect – to understand the importance of his work, after all?

"Using the boy as a test subject was not planned," he began. "I rarely choose imbeciles such as him to test my solutions on, as their lower mental capacity can skew results. I administered the serum – a new, potent formula adapted for aerosol dispersal – as means of self-defence."

"Self-defence?" Dr Jennings prompted with a raised eyebrow. Miss Raven, however, gave no indication of surprise. Of course she's not surprised, stupid, Scarecrow taunted. Little Miss Raven knows just how nasty that brainless pig could be, he added with sadistic glee, and Jonathan doubled his efforts at silencing his unseen companion.

"He was drunk when I crossed his path, and grabbed at my coat. When I tried to brush him off, he quickly became aggressive and confrontational, and threw a punch at me. I retaliated in the most efficient way available to me."

"And this attempt to punch you was your only motivation?"

"That, and some of the rather unpleasant language he directed at me. I believe, in hindsight, that a little of it was referencing Miss Raven here. I shan't repeat it, derogatory and entirely false as it was."

Miss Raven's hand clenched into a fist and her eyes flashed angrily. Jonathan wondered momentarily if he had made a mistake in mentioning the Carlton boy's comment – increasing the young woman's hostility towards him was certainly detrimental to his planned use for her.

Dr Jennings cleared her throat when she realised Jonathan's attention was no longer on the discussion at hand. She was aware of Miss Raven's discomfort, and wanted to keep it at a minimum.

"Did you stay to observe the effects of the serum?" she asked pointedly.

"Naturally," Jonathan answered simply. "Even inferior test subjects are worth some studying – and I had time. That particular variation was designed to create short-lived but intense effects, which in the Carlton boy's case lasted no more than a couple of minutes. The long-term result was actually unexpected," he added thoughtfully. He turned to Miss Raven quite suddenly, and she recoiled in her seat.

"I don't suppose you know if the hospital performed a toxicology exam on Mr Carlton? I suspect that he may have ingested some form of recreational drug as well as alcohol; it would have impacted on my formula and might explain the unplanned long-term results."

"I… don't know," Miss Raven answered weakly, much to Jonathan's disappointment. "But he'd try just about any drug he could afford," she continued. "It wouldn't surprise me if he'd been high."

"Thank you, Miss Raven."

Jonathan made a mental note of the young woman's bitter tone – it seemed that in the absence of Carlton as a direct threat, her hatred of him outweighed her fear. At least, it did for the moment.

"Would you also happen to know if he had any phobias relating to bugs, or parasites?"

"Excuse me?" Miss Raven countered, clearly thrown by the questions.

"Jonathan, I feel we're getting a little off-topic here," Dr Jennings intervened, but Jonathan merely shook his head, not taking his gaze off Miss Raven.

"The question is entirely on-topic, actually," he contested. "You see, I only ask because of the reaction Carlton had to the serum – batting and clawing at his skin, screaming something to the effect of 'get them off'. You'd have thought he had something burrowing into his flesh, the way he writhed and howled. He wouldn't be the first to display such hallucinations, of course. One test subject recalled seeing millipedes eating their way into his face and chest – I believe he said he could feel them in his eyes."

Without a word, Miss Raven stood and ran out of the room. Jonathan could hear the sound of her retching emptily in the corridor, followed by the concerned voices of an orderly. He had noticed her increasing pallor as he spoke, but apparently had misjudged the fine line between fear and revulsion. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Scarecrow laughing, and wondered if anything similar had occurred to Miss Raven under the effects of his serum. He hoped not – his aim was to target fear and terror, not disgust. A question for later time, he decided.

"I think that's enough for today," Dr Jennings told him sternly, sounding very much like a disappointed schoolteacher. Jonathan fought the impulse to scoff at her poor attempt to prompt his guilt.

"Very well, Doctor. I assume I shall be seeing you the same time Wednesday?"

"Yes, Jonathan, you shall."

She called the guards in to escort Jonathan back to his cell, at which point Miss Raven reappeared, looking more than a little ill.

"Miss Raven," Jonathan addressed her calmly. "I would like to apologise for upsetting you, and rescind my requirement for you to attend on all my sessions. I think just Mondays will do."

"Thank you," Miss Raven replied suspiciously.

"Although, may remind you of our agreement on a private suite being provided? It appears those arrangements have not yet been made. Sooner would be better than later, if you don't mind – my current cellmates are terrible company."

Jonathan ensured that, while his tone was amicable, his eyes clearly reminded Miss Raven that it was no suggestion. She flinched slightly at the intensity of his gaze, and Jonathan smiled to himself as he was led away. With Miss Raven all too aware of the alternative, he was confident his demands would be met.


I know, I know, I'm shitty at uploading. Thank you so much for sticking with me! I'm really trying to get up and running again with this, so the next gap between chapters shouldn't be so long.

Bless you for your patience! x