I do not own any part of the Batman franchise, just simply a fan with some sort of plan c: So Please Enjoy! 3

When morning dawned through the wall of glass, scaled with the ever-present humour of endless rain, it was as if I had never fallen asleep at all. The diseased cloud cover that sheltered the city from the omnipresent white of the sun far above had seemingly engorged itself on the night's open bar of petty crime and grown several layers thicker in a mere few hours. It would not have been at all surprising if news had broken that the center star had all together succumb to super nova, for in this nauseating metropolis life holds so fast to sin the sun turns its face from shame and condemns all citizens to the hatred of cumulonimbus stalagmites.

Gotham City remains its own paranormal dimension.

Gazing about the room proved difficult but I didn't need light to remember instantly where I was and what I had taken part in the evening before. It was like a silent film. Everything was being played back through the view of my own eyes; drowning, bleeding, burning, and finally ending within the soft grasp of pure white, myself drowning in silent ecstasy as foreign warmth invaded my pale skin and reawakened the dormancy that was my stale heart. It was as though I was the only item that boasted a difference in the entire scape of décor. The expanse of the bed was still as overly grand as ever and, indeed, the lapis lazuli night tables had not regained any of their former non-existent beauty. Looking out through the reptilian windows my height was beckoned to come closer and examine just what I already knew so well. The skyline of towers beyond the shag of ramshackle tin dens and brownstone abominations soared ever upwards as picket fencing from the asphalt paths, a wall of trophies symbolizing the power of deception and the rewards this city betroths to those who come fast and with their diseased oration in toll. It was a taste of amnesty to be sheltered within the only still standing fortress of industry left in this part of town, but simply being a multi million dollar corporation was not enough to rid the building of the constant air of depression which seeped in through the air ducts and out from the laboratory holdings as it tried diligently to scale the stories and take hold of the man at the top, much like King Kong would, seizing hold of Andrew Ryan in drag and mercilessly shaking him about in the dwindling oxygen.

Down below, almost removed from sight, the olive green smog, which caused the Ryan building to sprout from a nightmarish cloud, became slightly more orange with the early morning belch of sulfur bacterium from the open sewer capillaries. It was one of the only ways to keep track of the hour in a place where clocks had been taken apart decades ago to try and create make shift stove tops for the denizens to cook their mangy rodents upon. Manic-depressive nature was common here but high above the ground it was as though I was removed from the mania; protected, not from the reinforced steel but by a simple woman who was still behind me sans clothes.

Nervousness took hold as my brain went wild spinning about within its casing and turning my non cooperative skeleton round with its centrifugal force. It was my greatest worry to happen upon a sight I was not meant to see and be accused of actually setting out the less than gentlemanly tasks already raging within my thoughts, a proverbial lay-over from last night. I hoped that when she awoke there would be no need for continued awkward tendencies but there was no sure guarantee that she would even recall her actions, or if they had even really taken place at all. Vivid details and line-by-line recollection of conversation never proved that anything had actually taken place. It just simply acted as a grotesque child's plaything, wildly dispensing comfort as a back alley dealer distributes tampered lysergic acid; unbeknown to the user that the foul high soon falls through.

A few paces along the chilled wooden expanse was a swift reminder that I had no idea what to expect once I retrieved my glasses from the side table and judged the scene for what I assumed it to be, it was entirely possible that Eleanor had not stayed with me at all, that out of extreme loss and pining desire she was simply a fantastical figment. Naturally… I hoped that was just a bit of nonsense dreamt up by fleeting abandonment.

The calm sea of linen, which had serenely covered the oversized bed, looked as though a cyclone had passed through, for everything was waved with high folds and twisted inward at the center beside a small inhaling escalation. Absent of command from my blank slate the tips of my fingers slightly grazed over the arm of my glasses atop the gorgon-like side table and centered them over my rapidly blinking eyes. Disbelief mounted my back like a small bratty child and weighed my height down prone, forcing my nervous hand to uncover what I did not wholly believe to be there in reality; that I myself was not essentially part of this all too unfamiliar set.

I could see myself acting out the scene for it was as though I was not completely apart of my own characteristics. There was no possible way I would be so foolish as to willingly fall victim to my own mind's playful entanglement of the eye's ability to perceive. After all I was not a lunatic, just… rather bewildered at what I had set up for myself. At least with myself fully clothed there was no question about certain actions but as my hand took hold of the edge of this stormed duvet I had no clear thought as to what the next move could possibly be. It became a feverish consultation with the audience of myself as to what I was even doing in the bleak light that found itself able to penetrate the fortressing cloud cover. Except there was never an answer. Irritatingly enough there wasn't the possibility of a straight answer. Despair had wriggled inward through my ear canals and seeded itself deep within my temporal lobes, hatching its eggs and claiming my head for its own personal palace. It was new to be so doubtful but I could not deny a swift lash of anxiety at the thought that I was indeed all alone except for a mere bout of wild whimsy.

As my mind tried relentlessly to escape from behind my eyes, a warning from a ghostly imagination, observing me from the desolate chair, halted attention. It had switched seats to gain a better view of what it… I could feel approaching. "Watch out," was all that was said before the spectre vaporized into the streaming rain pelting the window and down the side into the doldrums, which barked hungrily below. It was with a slight ruffle of linen that my expression was seized and twisted back away from the melting glass, straight into the gaping mouth of a white beast that swallowed me back into darkness. That was it. I had to be asleep still, dreaming up the sallow glow that shown timidly through the woven threads and ever so slightly illuminated the claustrophobic surroundings of cascading folds from within the duvet. In a panic I remained still trying to gage the penitentiary of soft fabric for a way out, but to no avail. It was as though I was within a giant chrysalis, wrapped tightly in every direction with only a miniscule opening for air. An opening! A welcome sight to escape was all I could think of until a slight weight fell upon my stomach. The drifting scent of eucalyptus shut down every joint and cemented each synapse. If, indeed, this was a dream it had just become significantly greater.

"E-Eleanor?" All that could sprout from behind bars of teeth was a quickly hesitant question answered even sharper with a thin hand, which scaled the ladder of my ribs and settled a plot just lower than its cranial counterpart. It was as though I needed the veil of despair and abandonment to shield my nerves from the searing pain that accumulated beneath her weight, unease that was not prevalent previously. Try as I may there was no ceasing in sight for the slowed production of carbon dioxide. Perhaps subconsciously there was a thought that rapid shallow breathing would persuade her to remove her ear from its close embrace with my raw sternum, but to no avail.

"You," she spoke with air that slowly heated with unease, "You're heart beats irregularly." In truth she had no idea how obvious her comment rang as it reverberated off the linen and rounded up within my ears. I felt badly but it was nothing like that which followed when she said she could fix it and gingerly lifted my shirt just enough for her left index finger to pierce itself at the apex of my naval. The excruciating details I wouldn't share with my own thoughts but upon flipping her underneath my pinning height two sharp realizations prodded my forehead much like syringes. Even though I had already seen her form before, in my miniscule immaturity, I felt a bit guilty for being able to take it in again without a dire reason. The skin taught over her rather pronounced cage begged a great similarity to the pure lack of pigment, which I knew encased the two of us beyond dim light. There was no reason to deny the attraction of monotonous colour for the only words that raced across my eyesight were the components of a sentence most cliché, although in truth it was all that I really wanted to say, to watch her blush and glance away smiling.

Having Eleanor beneath my still silently quaking self only reminded me of two things: one being how much I loathed Lucas for interrupting before the events of last night could achieve this setting and the other being a tasteless conversation I once had with Jervis over a cup of rather unamusing tea. Although a bit difficult to recall, seeing as how I had tried so hard to forget it, I could still vaguely remember his coarse uncut nails raking through his young companion's blonde curls as she sat beside him pseudo-happily grinning in a most repulsive way which was unquestionable evidence of her habitual vomiting and ingestion of Vibrio cholerae. With a cup perched ever precariously between the very tips of my untrusting fingers he tousled his golden arousal and pulled it playfully, entrusting to me with such bravado his trade secret. "You see, the undeniable fact that they aren't the least bit intelligent makes getting them to remove their clothes elementary. The real challenge is to persuade them into wanting it, otherwise its just annoyingly difficult and only sporting fun the first few times," he took hold of his ailing companions sunken face and dragged his brassy thumb down her cheek, "All you have to do is make them blush and they'll become unbelievably pliable and a more enticing place to wet your excitement."

Still, even after years the visual was as unwelcomingly prevalent as it had been when my eyes first recorded it, and having to thwart nauseating images of myself in his place with a choleric Eleanor on a leash beside my prone lounging repeatedly stabbed any thoughts of arousal that had previously conjured a fortress within my… head.

After coming to realization of the fact that I had just escaped into my own thoughts for who knows how long above my own patiently waiting companion I slowly brought my own sight down to meet with hers, a nonphysical contact, which caused her expression to fold into a nervous smile. No doubt it was endearing, but what I really longed to know is what she had to be so afraid of. Surely apart from the somewhat large detail of exposure I had more of a reason to be nervous? Watching her chest scale upward and down again as she breathed life into her laying form was hypnotizing and was as though with the aid of my animalistic hindbrain the two broke through a concrete arm and trailed my unresponsive hand from her collar, down between her breasts and off to the side where I found rest at her protruding hip. How I wanted to get into her mind and know what she was thinking right then; but it seemed telepathy was unnecessary for with one hand supporting my own weight and the other trapped at her side the opportunity was left open for her soft touch to hook a stretched finger about the base of the V, which clung about my neck, terrified of being separated from its host, and bring her upward ever closer to a space of exposed skin covering my now severely racing heart rate.

Interestingly enough the difference between observing intimacy and being apart of it is incredibly large and dwarfed my every available reaction, only to allow my sternum to vibrate against the contact of her small kiss. Bittersweet ecstasy ran through my veins and mounted within my abdomen, trying to break free from its skeletal prison through the windows in between ribs. There was no denying that this is exactly where I had expected the two of us to be only hours ago, before that parasitic lush made his less than admirable existence known, but I suppose the fact that it did not happen then the idea was embedded in my mind that it would, in fact, never happen at all. Thus this less than desirable situation of being caught embarrassingly off guard on top of my companion, who I really would have enjoyed to be on top of in any other situation, created the reaction opposite of arousal. Sadly. Devastatingly. … Annoyingly.

I wanted so badly to let her continue but the thought that allowing her to be so open with my metaphorically dead self only made me think of being swallowed down a dark esophagus ending in a perverted pond of pseudo necrophilia and gnawing bile. I was thoroughly convinced dead bodies still held no sexual attraction…still very much convinced that was a special award reserved for victims of mania, not myself.

"Eleanor," my hand quietly slithering up to her chin, "you should get dressed." Naturally I could have stabbed myself for that daring bout of anxious word vomit, and as her expression erupted with piteous apology I wished for any plans, A…B…Q it didn't matter, to sprout from my ripped Limbic system and tell me how to fix this horribly wrenching moment. Painfully, she bore into the center of my eyes with a devastated stare then smiled as if nothing had happened at all. A charming smile no doubt, but one I could not wholly believe and as I was spat out from the twisted linen into the more comforting surroundings of the bathroom the rustle of her height springing to life and traveling by caused my irregular heart rate to irregularly stop.

Running into the pedestal sink a few paces in front my groping hand finally found the illumination and introduced me to myself. Still I had my distressing eyes, all the more so given the great stress. My reflection, which stared right back at my chest, folded its arms in accusation and smirked wickedly. "My my," it spat back from beyond its glass enclosure, "are you scared?" Indeed, I would have placed my actions at anxious more so than frightened but I guess, ironically enough, I could scare even myself out of my mind. Rubbing my eyelids in disbelief the reflection continued to mock me with glares, reaching down to grab hold of the V at my collar, much as Eleanor had, its transparent finger jolting downward to reveal a ruby red lipstick stain not mirrored on my own skin. Within the confines of the embossed view my reflection seemed to tease me for not seeing this mark, which he wore with such a smug confidence, going so far as to exhale on its glass and spell out 'IDIOT… LOOK HARDER' with an excruciatingly slow pace and violent underlining. If it was so vibrant within this vision than why was it that I could not hope to see it myself? Granted she didn't wear such a loud shade, or any lipstick at all, but surely it was more metaphorical than that, something I just couldn't understand right off as clear as it was to my subconscious. "My god," it spoke again as it found comfort leaning against the stressed borders of its casing, "what would you do without me?" It was almost like throwing a glove down in challenge as I watched this vile smirking individual reach out of sight and return with my all too familiar mask. "Stop acting like you didn't want it," the reflection spoke while moving the mouth of my mask much like a puppeteer, "you loved the control of being on top, the thrill that you could make her your own, own her and take hold of everything she has to offer you."

With ears perked like a puppy I continued to listen to this figment spout out ridiculous claims of self-importance all the while still trying to find this bright red stain that I still couldn't see, underneath the searing gaze of displeased eyes. "I can't believe I'm stuck with you," it said with a rolled stare, "Listen… stop acting like a sniveling school boy and admit that you liked it, that you want more of it, a lot more," both of our gazes fell to my own depressingly blank and red-less skin. My stomach used a crass ice pick to soar up through my esophagus and out revealing itself to be a bubbling yellow acid that sat, lounging, within the white of the basin. Much to the chagrin of my reflection I simply kept my head hung out of view as this stinging bitter yellow filled every space under my tongue and between my teeth, decaying the gum line all the while. "Unbelievable," my reflection sighed in pity as I watched the shadow of its arm reach out and seize hold of my inflamed throat, "I have to save you every time."

A resounding shove tossed me backward against the colorless tiles of the shower and back into the reality of the scene at hand. There I was sitting on the floor with Gotham City's greater water supply streaming out of the corner of my mouth and soaking my clothes all the way through to my chilled skin. "He was right," I whispered aloud bringing my knees up to rest underneath my folded arms. I didn't understand why I denied myself what I wanted most in that moment. Never before had I encountered a personal gesture with such emotion behind it. The fact was beyond me that she felt so strongly for who I was beyond what this City had named me and my life had made me. Releasing the strain in my joints my head fell back against the subzero granite and my feet stretched out beyond the drain where the water swirled centripetally, trying its hardest to hypnotize me into impolite behaviour. I wasn't sure as to what the next move would be, but later on I was supposed to meet Jack at the Penguin's less than savoury establishment for a drink. What to wear wasn't up for discussion, the accessory however most certainly was. And as I sat there, depressed in dark wet cloth, all I wanted was for Eleanor to open the door and come join me down in this mausoleum, talking about being sorry and nude upon me once again.

She did not.

The late night journey to the sadistically shivering establishment was not as bad as I expected it would be, although I would have preferred it if Lucas had driven us so I could have concentrated on my companion rather than the disdainful roads flooded with anti-freeze and umbrellas. It was befitting for a club so distasteful to be housed in one of the slurb parts of town, but to tell the proprietor that would only result in a merciless tongue lashing of annoyingly apocalyptic means, of which no one really paid any mind to. More so I'm sure it was only meant to inconvenience. It was a quiet ride, but far from somber, as though Eleanor had completely forgotten the details of early morning and kept me within a higher esteem than ever. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her legs cross lazily beneath her dress fashioned from merlot lace, her sight steadfastly fixated upon the blurred images beyond the window. There wasn't much that could be done with her short espresso hair but once we set foot across the threshold into the garage she swiftly pushed the left side back behind a flowering crystal barrette I never knew she had, let alone where she had sheathed it during the ride down in the lift. Of course I never knew when she would surprise me with some other characteristic cleverly hidden beneath her waif appearance; it was always best to just pretend to be expecting every one.

"I can't imagine this lasting too terribly long," I said aloud more to myself than to her whilst Libiam ne' lieti calici set us in the proper frame for what was to take place, "seeing as how I'm quite positive neither of us would care for a repeat of the last venture." Inside my stomach twisted at the memory but at the same time laughed and how pathetic the two of us must have looked with my being bright red and her intoxicated self sprawled over my lap. Although I had said we shouldn't have a repeat performance I won't lie when I say a part of me was, in all truth, considering it as her legs untied themselves and her face rested gingerly on her curled fingers. How I simply wanted to violently turn the car and place the two of us elsewhere when I caught sight of her amused eyes accessing my selection in wear. "Is something wrong?" Sudden apology reflected back towards the steering column as a small voice pleaded forgiveness. "Of course not," she blurted out nervously, "y-you look very handsome."

My hold on the wheel adopted an even paler tone for I did not wholly believe that what I heard was truly what had sprung from her mouth. It was so unlike her, yet the opaque crimson arising in her cheek was evidence in support that, indeed, what I heard was what she had thought. Keeping my eyes fixed upon the endangered neon entrance vastly approaching ahead of us I could not hope to hide the boyish happiness, which swung back and forth upon my liver in utter ecstasy. How I loathed the designer of her well-tailored lace, for it hid that which I longed to have sooner rather than later. And as rain droplets enlarged the polar cotton glove stretching out to grasp hold of the European handle I had no hope to contain myself any longer. "Is there anything you would like to do after this?" Her expression was one of surprise at my sudden outburst of questioning but it was easy to see she was honestly excited as her height awaited my exit on the other side of the car.

Pain always struck whenever valets forced themselves into the mouth of my poor BMW and struggled with the fact that everything was exactly the same as an American car just reversed to be superior. The exterior was pristine but with the day-glow colours of the lurid Iceberg sign above it felt as though I needed to send Lucas to clean it yet again.

On edge, all too suddenly, after a nightmarish ordeal with the palette of the car I had absolutely no feelings but rage at the sight of a slimy patron trying to convince Eleanor to accompany him inside to the bar. Her body said everything this aggravating lush didn't understand as I stepped lively up the curb and buttoned my stark black Boss. Through widened eyes she followed my meaningful height and winced at the sharp removal of her bejeweled accessory. "Would you like to have dinner with me?" I asked with my attention anxiously awaiting her answer, of which I was most confident I already knew. Her tightly laced arms relaxed in front of her, collected together in clutched hands below her chin reflecting her politely subdued happiness. With her beaming smile nothing else mattered. The persistent whining of the man behind me simply buzzed about, no more audible than the hum of the surging neon, and only became noticeable when his gaudy cufflink poked around and seized a hold of Eleanor by her flaccid wrist, stretching her snowdrift skin foreword with her resistance. "I promise," I whispered while prying the diseased fist from her, "no orchid throwing this time."

She inhaled sharply in gasp as I pulled the intoxicated annoyance's arm forward, turning about, and thrusting Eleanor's fashionable hairpin deep into the meaningless drunk's now punctured trachea. The most enjoyable part was not the slow toiling death of this hateful male but the beloved lack of surprise, borderline relief, shared by every valet and host under the Penguin's employment. With the cause of the scene now being dragged down a nearby alley, courtesy of two large menservants bestowed in coat tails, I held my arm aloft. Waiting all of 2 seconds for Eleanor to stop smiling and slip her long fingers about my humerus a host quickly approached us with mandatory waddled steps. "We're most pleased to see you again Dr. Crane," he spurted through lips tightly shut below a soaring nose, "I would compliment your lady friend's lovely dress if not for great fear of my impending doom."

I found the liberty to laugh ever so slightly at the man's quick wit. It reminded me of Nigma, whether that be good or bad, and as he put out his gloved fin towards the entrance the small weight of Eleanor's head fell against my sharp shoulder. "I would love to join you for dinner Dr. Crane," she said lightly while nuzzling as close as physics would permit. It was the remark about what, if anything, I had in mind for post dining that put anxious desire back into the forefront of my thoughts and made me curse the obsession with mannerisms housed inside my being that forced the two of us inside.