He curled under the hospital-grade blue blanket and rolled over. He kinda figured this might have been an end result of his failed attempt, but so soon? He didn't even get a chance to explain himself to Bruce or the others. Whatever, it didn't matter now. He was in Arkham. He didn't even know Arkham had a children's ward, heck, he didn't think about asylums having children wards.

'I guess there must be other crazy kids out there as well.' That thought made him depressed.

'Perhaps,' he thought to himself, 'there are other kids here as well? Then again, this is Arkham.' He kept rubbing the wristband with his left hand, wishing it wasn't there. The hospital clothes were a light grey blue, baggy and very starchy, like they had never been used before. It irritated his skin and he found himself scratching himself at his ankles, waistband and neck. He finally sat up out of irritation and looked around the room to take his mind off of it. It wasn't like the old Arkham's rooms, at least the ones that held the super criminals. It looked more like an examination room with really expensive looking marble floors, light cream colored walls and really fancy floor and crown moldings. This wasn't going to be his 'room', it was too nice to be. He was about to jump down and look at whatever was in the cupboards but he could hear voices and footsteps outside the room. Their clicking shoes echoed loudly, and even though their voices were hushed he could hear them quite well. His mind started to rapidly think on what to do. Part of him reasoned that even though he was scared, he was safe and this was a good thing; the other half wanted to run out scratching and biting as soon as they opened the door and run for home. The first half won. The door opened and a older doctor he sort of recognized when he was Robin came in, followed by a lady doctor, a nurse, two orderlies, two more doctors that he had no clue who they were and Dr. Thompkins. Thank goodness, someone he did know. He looked at all the people in the room. Why so many; was it necessary for all of them to be here? He could feel their eyes on him and it really bugged him.

"Hello there son," the elder doctor said warmly, "my name is Dr. Bartholomew. This is Dr. Leland," he said gesturing to the lady doctor, "Dr. Jones, Dr. Taylor and I believe you already know Dr. Thompkins." He looked at her desperately in blind hope that she could somehow make them all leave. She slightly shook her head. She wasn't going to give him any leniency on this. Perhaps it was because of the shot he gave her?

"I just want you to know son," Bartholomew said leaning down towards him, "that you're completely safe here."

'Yeah right,' he thought to himself, 'I'm in the nations most dangerous asylum; safe my butt.'

"Doctor Jones and Taylor here," he said warmly again, "need to do an examination. Is that alright with you?" He looked at Leslie, but she gave him a cold look in response. Why was she so mad at him? She was even keeping her distance, but she must have decided to throw him a bone.

"I've given you my previous examination notes," Leslie said, "it has everything I've found in it."

"I understand Doctor," Bartholomew said politely turning towards her, "but we have strict policies here, and they dictate that every new arrival must be examined. Besides, Doctor Jones and Doctor Taylor here are some of the very best pediatricians in Gotham." He turned towards the two doctors and nodded towards them. They washed their hands and talked sweetly to him, but he wasn't paying attention to that. He started to back up on the examination bench to the point that he almost fell off. Doctor Taylor approached him and said:

"It's alright," he spoke softly, "we're not going to hurt you in any way." He went around the bench and gently felt on his neck. It scared him a little and he swallowed hard, the last time someone had their hands on his neck was to strangle him, but the doctor was true to his word and was very gentle. The doctor spoke out loud to what he assumed to be the nurse. He didn't understand most of the terminology and ignored it. Jones was feeling around his feet, legs and knees, saying what he found. This wasn't so bad. Jones then asked him to look strait ahead while he flashed a bright light into his eyes. He flinched for a moment, but other than that he stayed well behaved. This wasn't bad at all he thought as Jones looked into his ears and Taylor felt his back. Just a normal doctor check up. Jones then pulled out a tongue depressor and said:

"You're doing great! Could you open wide for me?" He hesitated at that; a small ball of anxiety started to form in his chest. He felt his hands grip the bedding tightly. Why did that make him nervous? The doctors caught it though and were writing it down as well. He did open his mouth up though, trying to cover up the weird reaction he had. Jones looked inside his mouth, and with years of dealing with children, he said innocently:

"Alright, can you stick your tongue out as far as you can for me?"

He could feel it coming. He fought the urge and stuck his tongue out for the doctor. He wasn't fooling anyone though, the doctors on the side were looking more grim and the orderlies were getting closer. He looked at them in the corners of his eyes.

"Okay now," said Taylor, "lay down on the bench." He did as he was told, he had to stay good or else-

He felt a pair of hands rest on his abdomen. No. No, he didn't like to be touched there. He couldn't contain the small whimpers and giggles as the doctor felt around. He clenched his hands tightly, he tried to stay still. Nope. He couldn't do it. It tickled and hurt too much. He tried to sit back up and move the arms away when he felt the other doctor gently try to hold him in place. It was too much, he couldn't keep it in anymore. The laughter was a loud, barky kind of tittering and he absentmindedly kicked and flailed his arms at what was bothering him away. He felt the hands on his shoulders let go. He wrapped his arms around his sides as he laughed hard, tears welling up in his eyes from it. He couldn't understand what the doctors were saying, but it didn't matter to him anymore. He was completely embarrassed. Eventually the laughter died down and he caught his breath. He looked up and saw that he was left alone with Dr. Thompkins. He didn't move his arms away, only hugged himself tighter. He looked at her. She was being unusually cold towards him. He felt bad and figured he wasn't going to get any sympathy from her. He made a gesture that he wanted a pen and paper. She seemed reluctant at first, but then handed him her clipboard. He wrote something down and handed it back to her:

'I'm trying to be good.'

Her face softened. She looked down at him and she gently pulled him into a hug.

"I know you are," she sighed, "I know you are."

She stroked the back of his head as she held him, but he didn't hug her back. He saw how she hesitated on touching him. He'd just freak her out. He felt bad, he broke her trust in him. He closed his eyes and felt the tears run down his cheeks, could taste them when they went into his mouth. He went to wipe his cheek, and it made her flinch slightly. Now he felt worse. A hiccup-like sob came out. She finally let him go, seeing that he was more calm now.

"I have to go and talk with the other doctors," she said looking back, "I'll see you in a little while. Lie back down and get some rest." She closed the door behind her and he could hear her begin to talk to them. He did as he was told and curled back into the blanket. He really did try. He just didn't feel good there and that's where they always wanted to check. He laid there quietly for some time, trying to push away any thoughts in his head, especially the bad ones. He suddenly heard a knock on the door and he sat up. A nurse and a orderly came into the room with a wheelchair. She smiled sweetly at him with bright bleached teeth.

"Hi sweetie," she said to him, "we're here to take you to another part of the hospital. Jump on down and sit here," she said pointing to the wheelchair. He glared at it. He could walk just fine. He did as he was told, but he was very hesitant about the whole thing. As soon as he sat down, the orderly walked over and he started to put the arm restraints on him. JJ started to squirm, and tried not to grab him to make him stop. His free hand's fingers started to grab at nothing, while his restrained one twitched violently. He wasn't laughing but his breath was starting to sound like it wanted too.

"It's alright buddy," the orderly said gently as he started on the next arm, "it's going to be okay. This is only so you don't fall out." JJ looked at him. He may be a kid but he wasn't stupid. They tied him down so he wouldn't run away. The orderly finished tying his waist down and he nodded at the nurse. She turned the wheelchair around and she started to push him down the hallway. It gave him a chance to finally look around. This place had a lot of money put into it. The marble floors continued on, the walls were just as nice; expensive paintings lined them. He kept looking around and wondered why it was so quiet here, trying his best not to fidget with his restraints. There were some people talking, but it was just staff members that they passed. When they did pass people, they would stop what they were doing and looked at him. After they would pass they would whisper to themselves. He hated this. He really hated this. Is this how the Joker felt after his transformation, or did he enjoy the attention? The nurse would tell him what they were passing:

"Down that hall is where the lunch room is. We're passing the nurses station now. Over here is the Comfort Room; that's where we're going." He wondered what a Comfort Room was but as soon as they entered it, he guessed it was like a large activity room. There were beanbag chairs, other large and small chairs and a large brightly colored rug, a bookshelf, a stereo with music. A desk meant for kids, stuffed animals and so on. The walls were brightly painted with pastel colors and cutesy cartoon animal characters. The doctors from earlier were already in the room sitting on some of the chairs. The one doctor that he had managed to kick had a small goose-egg forming on his forehead.

"Alright now son," Dr. Bartholomew said looking over some notes, "we need to discuss some very important matters. You've been checked into Arkham by Dr. Thompkins and myself. The reason why we have done this is to assess you, that is to watch you for at least 72 hours to monitor your behavior. After that evaluation time, the staff and the state will decide the next steps from there. Dr. Leland is going to be one of your doctors here at Arkham," he said gesturing to her and she smiled sweetly at him, " along with Dr. Williams, however he's away on business today. You'll be meeting him tomorrow in the morning. Now, one of the reasons why you were checked in was that Dr. Thompkins was worried that you were a danger to yourself and others. Do you believe that?" JJ looked down, but shook his head. He didn't want to think he was a danger to anyone, he just...made a mistake. Dr. Bartholomew nodded and said to him:

"Do you have any questions for us?" JJ looked at him and nodded. Bartholomew waited for him to respond, but when nothing was said he meekly smiled and said:

"I'm sorry, I forgot what Dr. Thompkins had told me." He walked over to JJ and held up the clip board while he wrote down his question:

'Where is everyone?'

"Oh," he said a little sadly, "well actually, you're the first to be checked into Arkham that is under eighteen years old." JJ was actually sad when he heard that. It wasn't all that surprising though, considering where he was, but that meant that there wasn't going to be anyone to hang out with even near his age. This was bad, but also good. He didn't really want to be bothered by people anyway.

"I believe you've had quite the day, so we'll let you into your room to rest for a while." he said to him.

"I'll come and visit with you after you've had your lunch," Leland said to him, "and we'll talk more from there." He felt the wheelchair being grabbed and then he was spun around and was escorted down the left hallway.

'This must be the boy's wing,' he thought to himself. It was deathly quiet in there and the nurses shoes clicked really loudly and it started to bug him. She came up to one of the rooms and started to open the door. He looked in, he didn't have to wait for her to open it, because just like the old Arkham, this room's fourth wall was just a large thick glass window. There were only about three rooms with this kind of thing, and he'd bet his life that Leslie told them to make sure to put him in this kind of room. She wheeled him in, and she started to unstrap his waist. Eventually he was free to stand again and as soon as he stood up, the nurse left the room and the door slid back down and he could hear the magnet locks seal the door. He turned and watched her walk away with the chair. He placed his hands on the window and pressed his face on it, trying to see if he could look down the halls. He couldn't see much of anything so he just pressed his forehead on the glass. This was one of the worst things to ever happen to him. He was tired, scared and lonely. He hadn't felt like this since that one night at the old-

'No, no don't go there.'

He backed away from the window and sat down on the bed. He looked over at the corner and there was a small sink and a toilet.

'Nice.'

This was just like a prison cell. He looked at the walls, like the old Arkham they were made of stone, but they had been brightly painted with bright colors and happy animals. He sighed and having nothing better to do laid down to try to "get some rest". He didn't like this at all. He wanted to go home, but he had blown it. If he hadn't lost control of the situation before, he'd be having lunch back at Wayne Manor, surrounded by friends and family. He rolled to his side and curled up, hugging the only pillow that was there. It was better than nothing, and he had a feeling he wouldn't be getting any more hugs from anyone for a long time. He could taste the tears again.

He sat in the dark as the old film projector noisily hummed and clicked as it ran. After a thorough search of Tim's room did he find what was in the old wardrobe. Papers and lists that obviously linked him to Holloway's ring. That wasn't the only thing. He found the loose floorboard, the same one he had used as a boy to hide toys and candy with. He should have known. If he had looked there at night, he would have found it sooner. He found the pictures that Leslie told him about. He found the film. He found the gun.

He watched the black-and-white film as it displayed its' gruesome tale. He forced himself to watch every second of it, no matter how horrifying it got. He sat there sill as a statue, unblinking and expressionless. He had also read the Joker's notes. The notes were diligent and precise, noting of any 'progress' of his subject. He did read notes of how defiant Robin had been, how he boldly would spit blood at him, give a verbal jab here and there. However, those kind of notes stopped around the end of the first month. He watched as the Joker playfully picked up a modified electric cattle prod and begin to lightly jab it at Tim. Pretending that he was going to ram it hard at him, but then not touching him at all. Every time Tim flinched at a fake jab made the Joker silently laugh.

He also found Tim's notes. He had been training and waiting for this "test" the first week they had found him. Tim had been thoroughly convinced that he was testing him, and that he wanted him to do what he had done. He clutched his knees tightly. He was just as much to blame for what happened to Holloway and his men. If he had been more attentive, he would have found it and put an end to it. The film finally came to it's chilling end with one last shot of Tim dressed up in that damned suit and laughing madly, and the film popped out of the projector and spun around and around on the wheel. He stayed sitting there looking at the white wall where the film had been playing. He could still see the images; they were burned into him now, just like his parents murder. He heard a knock on the door and he heard Alfred enter. He could always tell who's footsteps they were, and Alfred seemed to be walking more slowly these days.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you sir," he said gravely, "but you have some guests."

"Tell them that I can't come at the moment Alfred," he said quietly, "I don't feel like seeing anyone right now."

"It's Mr. Kent sir," Alfred said, "and another man I do not recognize." Bruce looked up at him and stood up. He was relieved yet irritated at their arrival.

"We'll be in my private study Alfred," he said to him, "no more calls or visitors today."

"And what if Korbon calls again," Alfred asked, "she's called twice today,"

"Tell her she can go fuck herself," he said angrily as he left the room.

"Very good Master Bruce, however I shall say it in a more, civilized manner."

He walked down the halls, and entered the main entrance of the manor. Clark was standing next to another man. Bruce knew that this 'other man' was J'onn, and he was looking as stiff and ridged as ever. Clark softly smiled and gave a nod in his direction when he approached them.

"Let's take this into my private study gentlemen," he said to them, "I've a feeling we're going to have a long talk about what's happened recently."

"I had heard about it. The rumors even reached Metropolis," Clark said, "some say it's just another gang war thing, others think it's something more that was quickly covered up." Bruce felt himself go ridged at that. He let them pass into the room as he tried to think of a way to explain what happened that night. He locked the door behind him after he entered the room, not wanting anymore interruptions by anyone.

Hours went by, and he hated not having anything to do to pass the time. When he was locked into his room, he at least had his books or some toys to help occupy the time. Now all he had was a blanket and a pillow. Another thing he missed about being in his room was the privacy. Every fifteen minutes a nurse or orderly would walk by to check on him. He knew it was every fifteen minutes because he counted the seconds between the visits three times. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time here. He would watch them pass, and they would watch him as they walked. He must have been a curiosity to them because it was a new person every time. He laid back down and put his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

'If I'm the only kid here,' he thought to himself, 'then why is there so many staff members here?' He decided that he'd ask at the next opportunity. He rolled to his side. How long had he been in here exactly? He couldn't hear or see a clock, and there were no windows down this hall. Perhaps he'd ask for a clock as well. Finally he heard more that one set of footsteps. That was also something that bugged him: the footsteps. They were loud and it sounded like everyone was wearing tapdance shoes. He sat up and looked at the window. As she had promised Dr. Leland was there as well as a orderly. He listened as she typed the password to his door and the magnetic locks. The door raised up swiftly and she and the orderly stepped inside.

"It's time for lunch now," she said to him, "and after lunch we'll have a talk in my office, then you can go to the comfort room if you'd like."

'Finally,' he thought, 'something else to do.' He was sick of just laying down and to move around a new area was better than just sitting here, feeling sorry for himself. He got up and followed her as she led the group to the lunchroom; the orderly trailed behind them. The lunchroom was fairly large, but it was nearly empty. There were some staff members having their own lunch there, and they were talking and laughing with each other. There wasn't anyone in the lunch line at the moment when they arrived; that was nice, they didn't have to wait. The meal for today was some sort of mystery meat, corn and carrots, a roll, a little carton of milk and of course green gelatin. He took his tray and picked a spot to sit, unsurprisingly the orderly sat next to him. He glanced over at Dr. Leland, who was writing down notes. What was with all the note taking? He really didn't feel like eating anything though and started to poke his food with the plastic fork. He turned his attention to some of the staff workers who were talking to each other. The workers voices echoed loudly, and it was very easy to listen to them.

"It's about time we finally have some work to do in this wing," the one man said, "I was starting to worry that they would transfer me to the extensive treatment building."

"No shit," said the other man waving his fork around, "I don't care that they've finally gotten control of those freaks, I still wouldn't work with them if they were offering me a six figure salary a month."

"I knew a guy before they built this place; his name was Joe," said the other guy, "he use to work with several of them," he took a bite of food and continued, "he was on the team for Killer Croc. When they were transferring all the S.C's here, there was an accident."

"What happened?"

"They took their eyes off of Croc for a few seconds," he said taking a sip of milk, "and he killed three of them. Ripped Joe's throat out."

"Christ." said the second man, he'd clearly never worked with any of the rogues.

"Yeah. I'm glad that I've never worked with them."

"I'm more surprised that they actually got someone in the wing," said the first man, "I know doc Williams' been trying desperately to get kids in here. Did you know that they were seriously considering closing the-"

"Are you not hungry right now?" JJ was jarred by the sudden interruption of his eavesdropping, and he looked over at Leland. He quickly looked down at the food, then back up at her and shook his head. No, he really didn't want to eat at the moment. He could always have dinner. She wrote down some notes and then coming closer said:

"Not even a little bit?" He shook his head. He tried to listen to the conversation again, but when he looked back over, the men had noticed him and began to whisper to each other. Clearly the subject had changed. He put the plastic fork down and looked up at her. She wrote down more notes and asked the orderly to take the tray away.

"Alright then," she said to him, "it's time we had that chat then." She stepped aside for him to get up and when he did, she motioned another orderly to come with them; the original orderly followed them as well. He tried to ignore them, but it was still very irritating. Eventually they made their way to a office room that had her name on a wooden plaque and they stepped inside. Inside the room was a desk, some lounge chairs and of course a psychiatrist couch. Other than that the room was bare. Clearly this wasn't her main office, just a temporary hub. She sat behind the desk and picked up a file folder and started to look inside it. He sat in one of the lounge chairs and began to rock his legs that dangled from it. He was nervous and was wishing that this would be over soon. Eventually she looked up at him and said:

"Alright, first off I want to ask you some questions. Are you alright with that?" He shrugged his shoulders, it kinda depended on what those questions were.

"Do you have any parents that we can call, or someone you know and trust?" He quickly shook his head. No, his mom and dad were dead, and he wasn't about to tell her about the people he did know and trust.

"Will you tell me your name?" He narrowed his eyes at that and was half tempted to roll them.

"I understand that you're nervous about it," she said sweetly to him, "but can you be brave and tell me?" He tilted his head at that. She pulled out a small whiteboard and a black whiteboard marker. He took them and figured that she got this in advance for him, it was brand-new. He wrote on the board and flipped it so she could read it:

'Gwynplaine'

She looked up at him and he started to snicker from it. Rather than being upset with him she smiled a little and said:

"I'm surprised, not many children your age would know that. Have you read The Man Who Laughs?" He nodded, and erased what he had written and wrote down:

'Yes, and saw the movie.'

"Which one did you like more?"

'The movie.'

"Why?"

'It has a happy ending.'

"Do you like happy endings?" He nodded at this. He was an optimist, or at least that is what he tried to be. She wrote down more notes and decided to try something else.

"Alright, really though, what is your name?"

'JJ.'

"Is that your real name?"

'It works.'

"Is there a reason why you won't tell me your name?"

'You bet your butt there is,' he thought to himself, but he just stayed still and didn't answer her. She nodded and tried something else.

"Do you have any questions for me?" He nodded and wrote them down and handed her the whiteboard:

Why aren't there any other kids?

Why so many staff members if there isn't any kids?

Were they about to close down this wing?

"Ah," she said after reading them, "I see that you were listening to them at lunch now. Well, for the first one; Arkham, despite our best efforts, doesn't have the best reputation. When the old asylum was torn down", she paused when she heard him make a scoffing like laugh but continued on, "Doctor Williams fought very hard to get a childrens wing added to the new one. He felt that it would do some good, but he's been struggling to convince people that this is a safe place to send their children, let alone having other people check themselves in." JJ nodded, he could see her point.

"Don't you worry though," she said to him with a smile, "this wing is in a separate building from the rest of the facility and you are in no danger from the other inmates, dangerous or not." He attempted to smirk and shake his head a little.

"And to answer your other questions; yes, because there hadn't been one adolescent checked in since the place was built, the head of directors was about to pull the budget for this wing and decommission the building. However, since your admittance, Doctor Williams went out to more or less 'campaign' for the wing and is seeing if he can get more patients transferred here for treatment. We're hoping to have more arriving soon." He nodded again. Okay that did explain some things, but he still didn't want to be here at all. She tried to hand him the whiteboard again, but he just sat there. He was done "talking". She saw this, and seeing that he wasn't going to give her any more answers, set the whiteboard down and said:

"I think that's enough for now," she said standing up, "but if you feel like talking to me, you can tell me or an orderly anytime, day or night. I want to help you," she said putting her hand on his shoulder, "but you're going to have to let me help you." He looked at her and nodded. Although, he already knew that. He already knew he couldn't tell her everything, so there was no point in telling her anything. It'd just waste everyone's time in the long run. As they left the office, she turned to the group and said to him:

"Alright, it's 1:20 right now and visitation hour is at four. You can go into the Comfort Room and do as you wish until then. I'll come see you later tonight before lights out." She waved good bye to him and whispered something to the orderlies on her way out. That didn't matter much to him, what did though was visiting hour. Hopefully someone would come see him, maybe Bruce or Dick. He walked into the room and looked behind him. He was left alone. That was nice. He walked over to the radio and looked at the selection of music. Nothing that he particularly cared about, so he turned it on and left it on a news channel. The radio announcer was dryly reciting the events of the day. He pulled up a chair and sat quietly listening to the news. It seemed to be a boring day elsewhere in the world. No major catastrophe of any kind, no kidnapping of anyone important, nothing. He often wondered; Bruce had told him a story of how some of the Justice League had gone to another dimension, did that mean that perhaps there were other dimensions out there where things were 'normal'? No superheros, no aliens that they knew about, but just everyday boring stuff? He kinda hoped so. He often had read articles relating to all the meta-humans and major political stuff and it made his head spin from it. Things were bad enough as is.

He heard a noise behind him and turned his head, a nurse had walked in, presumably to check on him. She smiled at him and waved. He sort of waved back, but quickly turned back to the radio. She would be back to check on him. He continued to listen to the news. The radio announcer started to talk about the local Gotham news. He was talking about some sort of incident that the GPD was supposedly covering up. It probably was what he had done. He turned off the radio and walked over to the book shelf and looked to see if there were any good books there. He had to get his mind off of what had happened. He didn't want to think about it right now. Most of the books in the shelf ranged from small children books to some adult novels. The more adult books were high up, so he brought over a chair and stood up on it to reach the books he wanted.

When he had three of them, he put the chair back in it's original spot and sat in one of the larger beanbag chairs. He was practically engulfed into it, but it was very comforting. He picked up the first book and started to read it. It was a small book, but he had heard good things about 'The Red Pony' and always wanted to read it but never had the time. He looked up, the nurse was back. Every fifteen minutes, someone would pop their heads in and check in on him. This was going to get annoying very quickly.

Hours had passed, and he had stayed still in the beanbag chair quietly reading his books. He had quickly finished 'The Red Pony' (parts of it made him kinda sad) and had started a new book. He had always been a fast reader for his age. He was about a hundred and fifty pages in 'Great Expectations' when a nurse actually walked up to him and touched his shoulder. He had jumped slightly from it, as he wasn't expecting it, causing her to jump as well. She quickly recovered from it though and said:

"Okay, it's four o'clock now," she said to him quietly; she seemed really nervous around him, "you can either wait in here or you can come with me to the visitation room and wait in there." He closed his book and stood up. Apparently it wasn't what the nurse really had hoped for. She nervously cleared her throat and ushered him to follow her. She was clearly more afraid of him than he was of her. He decided to keep his distance with her, if she freaked out, then he'd be the one in trouble. They eventually reached the room and she let him in. The door closed behind him. He turned around and could hear the nurse walk briskly away, and although it was faint, he could here her say to someone:

"I'm sorry, but I can't do it. Can you take over for me?"

"What's wrong Jessica," another woman asked, "is he giving you trouble?"

"No, he's been perfectly good. It's just," she paused, "it's just...I don't like clowns. Ever since I was a kid I don't do-" he pulled his head away from the door and went to go sit down. He sat down in one of the chairs and looked up at the clock, it ticked rhythmically and was slightly comforting to him. It was only four past the hour. Plenty of time to have a good visit.

He sat in the chair and kept looking at the clock. He kept staring at the clock when the new nurse walked in. He kept watching time. He was under some sort of impression that if he took his eyes off of the clock, the hour would quickly pass and he'd loose any chance for a visit that day. It was now 4:30, still plenty of time.

He kept his eyes on the second hand. Watched it go round and round and round some more. He started to panic when 4:45 came. It was just a test. He was being tested to see if he was...being good or something. Someone would be coming very soon. He kept looking at the time. It ticked down more and more to five. He was starting to sweat at 4:55. The nurse that had been in the room with him was saying something to him, but it didn't matter, someone would be coming very soon. Some sort of joke, it had to be.

He felt her hand try to gently pull him up, but he pointed to the time never taking his eyes off the clock, he still had three more minutes. She sighed and let him go. Suddenly he heard voices outside the room. The nurse walked over to the door and opened it and left him alone for a moment. Finally. Someone had come. There was a commotion outside and he wondered what exactly was going on. He could clearly hear the nurses say that visiting hour was over and that it was dinner time now. The voice on the other end was familiar to him, why didn't he know it? Finally the nurses seemed to relent and let the visitor in.

He could hardly believe it. It wasn't anyone he had even thought about coming to visit. It was Bullock, Harvey Bullock. He sat there blinking daftly at him. He was the very last person he would have ever expected.

"Five minutes detective," the nurse said very annoyed with him, "just five minutes and then you'll have to leave and wait until tomorrow."

"Yeah-yeah, I head ya the first time," he said waving the nurse off, "ya apron-wearing harpy," he muttered under his breath walking away from the door adjusting his hat. JJ didn't quite know what to make of this. Apparently neither did Bullock. He stood there rubbing his neck and looking to the side a lot. Eventually he sat down in the chair across from his and finally said,

"So...how's the food in this dump?" He sat there blinking at him. This was getting to be awkward for both of them.

"Ah the heck with it," he finally said, "I was never good at stepping around no bushes. Look kid, I know who you are and I know why you're here," JJ was slightly taken back, he had to been lying when he said he knew who he was, "and I'm glad that the Commish was able to get you away from," he paused and decided to rethink his words, "your boss." Oh, that's what he had meant by that he 'knew who he was'.

"Hey look kid," he said pulling something out of his coat, "don't go waving this around but I got ya something that might, well...I don't know just take it." JJ got up and took the mystery package from Bullock. This was weird, sure Harvey and him had a few conversations in the past but he guessed that he must have felt bad about everything.

"Listen," he said taking his arm and pulling him very close, "I don't know if they're listenin' to all this but I just want you to know that you've got me as a friend, probably your best friend," he said patting his head very sharply, "and I just want you to know that whatever happens, I'll make sure that you'll be okay."

'Uh...what,' he thought as he tilted his head. Bullock was acting really weird.

"Look, I got to go now," he said standing up and turning away from him, "but I'll give you a call, or if they won't let that happen, give me a call will ya?"

Bullock was fiddling with something as he walked away from him, but he quickly pushed that thought away when he heard the door open and he quickly hid the gift behind his back. The nurses gave glaring looks to Bullock as he walked out. He quickly tucked the gift in his waistband at his back and let his arms fall loose to his sides, hoping that it would stay there.

"I'm so sorry about that," said the nurse, "I hope that he didn't upset you with questions?" He shook his head. No, he really didn't upset him. It was actually really weird, now that he thought about it. However that thought had to be pushed to the side for now and he gently followed the nurse to the lunchroom, trying to adjust the gift from Bullock so it wouldn't be so noticeable.

"-and the next time you come here upsetting my patients detective, I'll be sure to contact Gordon about it!" said Bartholomew in a controlled rage.

"Yeah-yeah I get ya'." Bullock said walking down the steps. He heard the door close behind him and he stopped and turned his head toward the building. He opened his coat and pulled out the folded handkerchief that he had tucked into his pocket and with the other hand pulled out a plastic bag. He opened up the handkerchief to make sure that they were still there.

When he had patted the kids head hard, he had pulled about seven strands of his hair and had put them in the handkerchief. More than enough. He folded it again and put it into the bag. He put that bag into his pocket and adjusted his hat again. All he had to do now was pay that one lab rat he knew a visit to get a DNA profile on the kid. Another step closer in finding out ol' Batbreaths all so important identity.