Warnings: Oh boy. This one deals with treatment/hospitalization (in a sense); violence toward the end; near-sexual situations, some not consensual. Viewer discretion is advised.
A/N: Sorry for not updating for a bit. I slaved and worried over this one a bit; this is me experimenting a little and taking a risk. A very Legion-esq random detour from the main story (the FX show with Dan Stevens–very recommended if you haven't seen it but liked Joker, btw). But I wanted to test myself a tad as a writer and have a way to develop the characters that was a little different. (Also an excuse to bring Carnival back for a bit.) Hopefully you like it and don't hate me. ? The regular story will continue with the next chapter.
And yeah, sorry, this is gonna be long...
...
Everywhere were trees, as the car wound its way up through the hills. Trees, the forest around her home, use to be a comfort to the the girl. They stood sentinel against the outside world, protecting her. Now they were shutting her in, trapping her. A maze through which she'd never be able to find her way out. She wished she could see open fields, a beach…the city. Anything but where she was.
After rounding a turn the car finally arrived at the hospital. It was a six-story, brick and concrete building with two large wings off its main building, which came out and almost looked as if they were spreading their arms, welcoming her home. The closer they got, however, she could see gargoyles, of all things, perched on the roof of the building, glaring down at her.
She hated the place, wanted to spit on it.
The car pulled into the cement car port, in front of the main entrance of the building. It shielded her from the drizzle outside, but it was still cold and damp around her as she tentatively climbed out of the car–she knew if she hadn't done so voluntarily the woman beside her with her pillbox hat and heels and authority would have pulled her out–violently, if necessary. She was practically dragged into it to begin with.
She was ushered inside. Already in the main lobby she saw patients, dressed in their drab hospital garb, most looking lost, some dead-eyed, and a few scared, like she doubtless looked.
"This way," the woman demanded, motioning to a hallway to the right. She traveled down that hallway until they came to a door at the end. In gold lettering on the frosted glass of the door, was printed: HARKWOOD, HEAD ADMINISTRATOR.
The woman opened the door and practically pushed the girl inside. She shut the door, leaving her alone with a tall, bald man behind a desk, wearing a dark suit. "You must be Ms. Cullen. Please sit."
He pulled out a manila file from a stack to his left and opened it up. He studied it a few moments, while the girl looked around. There photos of the hospital, its staff, and various events, from over the years. There were also the severed heads of hunting trophies, staring down at her from the wall behind the man, adding to the feeling she was being judged, sized up, measured. She was also vividly aware of a cuckoo clock on the wall to her right, tick-tocking the time away.
"Do you know why you're here?" the bald man asked gently.
"I don't belong here," the girl said quietly, shaking her head.
The man didn't say anything at first. He looked over the file for another minute.
"I don't know that your history would support that statement."
"What history."
The bald man looked down. "Falling grades, poor attendance, trespassing, vandalism, underage drinking–"
The girl laughed, raised her eyebrows. "Sounds more like I belong in juvie rather than here."
She instantly regretted saying that. She didn't want to be in juvenile hall, either. Suddenly worried whether that remark would give this man ideas.
He said nothing at first. Just flipped to a different page in her file. "Depression, anxiety, delusional psychosis."
"That's all bullshit."
Harkwood looked up at her pointedly. "Is it?"
"I can't–"
"Are your parents dead, Ms. Cullen?"
She looked away sharply. Said not a word.
"You seem to disagree on that fact with some people."
She remained quiet.
Hardwood leaned forward. "You need to acknowledge the truth, Ms. Cullen."
"I just want to go home to my parents…" she muttered into her sweater.
"I don't think that's what you need at this time, Ms. Cullen."
She looked up, tears in her eyes. "Please."
Harkwood closed her file and intertwined his fingers as he leaned forward. "I think you will actually find your time here will help, Ms. Cullen. Help to make you better." He turned around and pushed one of several buttons on a panel behind him. A few minutes later, a middle-aged man with a buzz cut and dressed in an orderly uniform entered the office.
"Charles, if you could escort our new resident to the induction center, then to her quarters."
She wanted to scream, cry, lash out–anything to protest, to try and stop what was happening, but it felt so utterly hopeless at that point. She simply rose, shaking but silent, from her seat, and turned to follow Charles.
The "induction center" was in the basement in the opposite wing of the building, Charles explained.
"So, we got some time to get to know each other."
She looked down, away. Didn't say anything.
"What's your name?" he asked, genuinely curious and friendly-sounding.
"Jen–Jennifer."
Charles nodded. "That's a good name. Where do you come from–what town, I mean? Are you from Kentucky?"
Jennifer couldn't, didn't want to say anything. It would require remembering and sharing of herself, neither of which she wanted to do with this man, in this place.
"How old are you, by the way?"
Jennifer remained quiet.
"You look young…. What, 16, 17?"
Still nothing.
"Yeah…you look around 16."
Mercifully, they had reached their destination, a door that read "Patient Induction." Charles opened the door for her and motioned for her to enter, which she did, slowly. But to the girl's disappointment, he went in with her.
"Got a new one for ya. Jennifer Louise Cullen, date of birth xx/xx/xxxx" Charles told an older, graying woman behind a desk. Jennifer gave Charles a furtive, confused look after hearing her exact details recited aloud by the man.
The older woman stood up and rounded the desk. "My name is Dorothy, but you can call me Dottie." She reached out for Jennifer, but Jennifer didn't move.
The older woman eyed Charles. "I can take it from here."
Charles shrugged before leaving the room.
Dorothy sat back on the edge of her desk. She wore a plain shirt dress, her graying hair was set into a subtle bee-hive, eyes staring at the girl through old cat-eye glasses. She looked like many of Jennifer's teachers back home. There was an air of put-on niceness to this woman as well.
"Let's get you started."
Her regular clothes had been taken away, replaced by a drab uniform dress that all the female patients wore. She hated dresses. She said she was cold and was given a robe with no cinch belt.
She wasn't allowed to keep any of her photos, her jewelry, the one stuffed animal she had brought. It was all taken away and kept in a box "for safe keeping."
There had been some talk of cutting her hair. Since it was on the longer side, she or someone else could use it to hurt her. Jennifer was absolutely terrified of this.
Not my hair.
Luckily, they had decided against it. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.
After she seemed sufficiently devoid of any character or personality, Jennifer was allowed to roam the hospital a bit, maybe meet some people in the recreation hall.
Jennifer didn't want to meet anyone. She was surrounded by people lost in their own world, angry, upset. Mentally unable to process the world around them. People who had had breakdowns, housewives who had talked back to their husbands one too many times, children with developmental problems. Screaming, crying.
She just wanted to go home.
Jennifer kept absolutely silent. Engaged with no one. She moved only when she had to. She thought that, maybe if she stayed very quiet and very still, no one would notice her. Maybe she would even disappear to them. Disappear even to herself.
Still, she would float quietly down the halls. It had also occurred to her that there may be some way to escape this place, to run away.
There had to be some sort of way out.
….
The boy stared down at the sheets of paper before him, the pencil moving in his fingers. He tapped the paper with the pencil, as his legs started to shake.
He didn't know what to write that would get his mother to come back.
He held the pencil between his fingers like he would a cigarette. He missed those. He had a way of getting his hands on some back home. There was no way in hell he would be allowed one here, unless he wanted to resort to some very unpleasant things.
He tried to focus on the letter he'd spent much of his recreation time today trying to write.
He'd written dozens of letters to his mother, since she'd just let someone from social services come and take him away, take him to this retched place. She had never answered. He wondered vaguely why he didn't just give up, but a larger part of him was loathe to even consider doing such a thing.
She would come back and get him, one of these days.
As he scribbled incoherent things onto one of the sheets, he heard a whistle and some mumbling from a corner of the room. He looked up to see what all the commotion was about.
At the far side of the recreation room, he spotted a girl. A girl about his age whom he didn't recognize. She had long, pretty hair, and wore the same standard issue clothes as the other female patients. Her eyes were fixed downward as she pursed her lips and didn't interact with any of the other patients who were trying to get her attention.
She walked slowly deeper into the large room, seemingly without purpose or destination. He kept watching her. Watched as she was headed straight for him.
The boy sat up straighter. Ran a hand through his dark hair to straighten it a bit.
She actually walked straight into his table.
She jumped back a little. "Sorry," she mumbled.
She finally looked up, and they locked eyes. He saw the most beautiful light blue irises he'd ever seen; she was surprised to see his deep green ones.
Neither was sure how many seconds passed before she looked away, mumbled something about not looking where she was going.
"It's okay," he said quietly. "Are you alright?"
She didn't answer. The girl seemed frozen in place. Her eyes darted around, but were still cast downward.
"Do–do you wanna sit?"
Her eyes shot back up to him. "Can I?"
"Of course," he was quick to reply. He pulled out a chair next to him. "Please sit."
Jennifer looked around, unsure for a second. She didn't trust anyone here, but someone her own age who so far seemed as kind and gentle as this boy did seem like the safest bet. "O-okay."
She sat down, but stayed silent.
"My name's Arthur. What's you name?" He held out his hand.
She took it. They shook hands shortly, more like two businessman after closing a deal, rather than new acquaintances.
"My…my name's Jennifer."
"That's a pretty name."
She looked away. "Thanks," she mumbled, barely audible. Maybe, probably, it was his imagination, but he thought he could see the faintest blush come across her face.
"Are you new here?"
"I guess…."
They sat quietly for a while. He realized he was staring at one point, so he returned to writing his letter.
He felt a little happier that she was there, this random girl he just met, sitting next to him and accompanying him. He started to write his letter in earnest.
"What are you doing?" she eventually asked.
Arthur set his pencil down. "Oh. Writing my mother. I write her a couple of times of month."
Jennifer suddenly looked very sad.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly.
She turned away. "Nothing."
Jennifer sat with him all while he wrote out that entire letter, not saying or doing anything herself. Arthur wrote about what he had been doing lately, about whatever news he was aware of at the hospital, about his progress. He even included something at the very end about making a new friend.
Arthur folded the letter and slipped it inside an envelope. He licked the flap and sealed it shut, before addressing it to–as far he knew–what was his mother's most recent address in Gotham. 133st Street, in the Narrows. The same apartment he had been dragged away from.
"Do you wanna come with me to post it?"
The girl looked up. "Yes." She hadn't thought about their being able to send mail before. Maybe this was a possibility.
Arthur smiled widely. "Okay," he rose. "Let's go."
They left the recreation room. She traced their steps carefully, saving it to memory, but was disappointed when Arthur just lead them to Dorothy.
"Here, can you post this, Ms. Sherman?"
"Of course, Arthur."
"Have I gotten anything yet?" Arthur looked hopeful.
"No, I'm afraid not, Arthur."
"Oh…. Alright."
Arthur and Jennifer wandered off.
"I should probably go back to my room. You too, probably?"
Jennifer hesitated. "I–I'm not sure where it is…."
Arthur brightened. "I can help you find it! What number are you?"
"H8."
"I'm J8! I'm right nearby! I'll show you."
They headed for the main wing, where the staircase was, leading up to their floor. They passed nurses and orderlies, who took note of their presence but briefly. Jennifer thought she saw Charles at one point. It scared her enough she reached out for Arthur. "Hold my hand, please."
"Yeah," he took her hand. He wasn't sure he would have reached for it or even asked if he could if he had been given the choice. He was glad she seemed so forward.
They headed upstairs. They reached their floor, and strolled down the wing to their rooms. All the while holding hands.
"Here it is!" Arthur pointed at a door with "H8" stenciled at the top. "Just a couple down from mine." He smiled at her. "Looks like we're neighbors."
For the first time, he saw Jennifer smile, ever so slightly. "Looks like."
"Well…. I'll see you around?"
Jennifer looked around nervously. "Can I…when's dinner served?"
"Oh, around 5 usually."
"Can you find me and take me for dinner?" Jennifer didn't want to be alone, and this boy had been so nice, so warm. She felt she could trust him.
Arthur brightened. "Of course! I'll come get you then."
They entered their respective rooms. They were cold, rectangular spaces with a single, long bed against a corner. There was nothing else in the room except a toilet and sink.
It was a damn prison cell.
Jennifer's heart sank. Sank even further after she heard a lock slide into place in her door behind her. She rushed up to her door, but it was indeed locked tight. She banged her hand against it violently, over and over, but nothing happened. She slipped down to the floor and started crying.
At some point later she heard the bolt slide in the lock. She rose from her bed and approached the door. Reached out a shaky hand and turned the door's knob. It opened.
Jennifer rushed out. She took deep breaths, as if she had just been underwater for so long. She looked over and saw Arthur leaving his room.
"Hey! I found you!"
"Yeah," she sort of laughed. "That was quick."
He looked down. "Can I…." He reached out and suddenly captured her hand.
He was shocked when she didn't take it away. In fact, she she squeezed his hand.
"Where is the dining hall?"
….
Arthur and Jennifer grabbed trays and joined the line of people waiting to serve themselves food. They smiled awkwardly at each other a few times as the line moved along.
The food offerings that day were meatloaf or fish, as well as a few sides to choose from. The fist didn't look like fish, or anything edible, really, so few people took it. By the time they had slid along to the area with the main course offerings, only one meatloaf was left.
Arthur was ahead of Jennifer. He reached forward and snatched up the coveted meat dish, turned around, and plopped it onto Jennifer's tray.
She shook her head. "You don't have to do that." She went to pick it up, move it to his tray, but his hand came over hers.
"No, you have it."
Jennifer glanced up. "Maybe we can share it."
Arthur smiled. "I'd like that."
They actually had dessert. Something Jennifer wouldn't have guessed would be there. It was slices of blueberry or cherry pie. There weren't many of them left, either. Arthur again reached over and snatched up a slice of the cherry pie and placed it on Jennifer's tray. She didn't say anything. Just looked down and smiled.
They found an empty table in the corner of the dining hall and sat close to each other. They shared the slice of meatloaf like it was an ice cream sundae, as they shared some scant details about their lives. How old they were, what grade they would be in if they were in school, where they were from. Arthur had wanted to ask if she had someone she went around with back home, but he couldn't bring himself to ask it.
The food seemed fine, Jennifer thought. Funny, it was like she couldn't really taste it, though she could feel the texture of the meat, the green beans, and the potatoes with butter in her mouth.
Only the pie was left. Jennifer's favorite thing was to dump heaps of whipped cream onto any pie she had at home–or a melty chunk of cheddar, if it was a slice of apple pie–but such toppings weren't an option here. She sighed.
"Is something wrong?" Arthur looked at her concerned.
"Not really." She picked up his spoon and held it out to him. "Please share this with me too."
He waved her off. "Aw, you don't have to do that."
"Please. I'm not sure I could finish it on my own."
"Well…. Okay." They shared the pie as well.
It was back to everyone's room after dinner. Arthur and Jennifer ascended the stairs to their floor.
Charles was definitely there this time, descending the stairs as they were going up. Almost on instinct, Jennifer reached out and hugged Arthur to her. Without missing a beat, he slipped his arm around her. Held her close.
They reached their rooms.
"Will I–can I see you tomorrow?"
Jennifer smiled. "I hope so."
Arthur blushed this time. "Tomorrow they're having the patient talent show in the recreation hall. Me and a few of the other patients put on a show. I hope–if you want–you'll see my act?"
"Your act?"
"Yeah! I do this act, as a clown. My name is Carnival. I…try to be funny. Am…I think?"
"It sounds fun," Jennifer smiled weakly. She was tired. Didn't want to be alone in her room again.
"Well, I'll see you then, then." Arthur chuckled a bit.
Jennifer pursed her lips. She felt dread flood her body. She wanted to do anything other than retire to her room for the night. She felt anxiety paw at her like a bloodthirsty lion. She needed some form of comfort no one else could give in that moment. She looked at Arthur.
"Arthur, can you kiss me?"
Arthur's eyes went wide for a moment. "Uh, are you sure?"
"Yes. Please."
"Um, okay. No—yes—I want to."
They got up close. Both hesitated a moment before wrapping arms around each other. Their eyes flitted between each other's eyes and lips, unsure.
Jennifer was about to dive in, but Arthur beat her to the punch. His lips came down on hers suddenly, but almost just as quickly he drew back.
"Sorry. That probably wasn't very good."
"No…no it was. Do it again."
Arthur chuckled nervously. "Are, are you sure?"
Jennifer leaned in this time. Their lips met, stayed together longer, but eventually parted. The warmth was still there. She rested her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair, slowly, over and over. Ventured to kiss her on her temple.
Sometime later, both eventually drew back. "I'll see you tomorrow, maybe?"
Jennifer rubbed her arms. "Yeah…." She stood up straighter. Nodded. "I will."
Arthur was about to draw away. "Hey," he said, reaching up a hand and touching her cheek, ghosting over her neck. She pursed her lips.
"Don't do that. Don't hide it. You have a beautiful smile."
….
Jennifer slept uneasily. It was cold in her room. Was there even heating in their rooms? In this building at all?
Someone slipped in a tray of food for her breakfast, but she ignored it. She was called for lunch, but she ignored that too. She didn't want to interact with anyone, or anything. Again, if she could stay very still….
But then she remembered what Arthur had said about the talent show down in the recreation hall. She rose from her bed. She found she was able to leave her room, able to find a clock and see she had some time. She was allowed to shower, make herself look as presentable as possible, given the circumstances. She headed downstairs.
….
Arthur had tried to not to think of her all night. Not like he thought of other women when he was alone at night in his room. A part of him certainly wanted to, but there was something so special about this girl who had been so forward with him, accepted him right away. Yet she also seemed so fragile, scared. He couldn't blame her on that front. He supposed he had gotten so used to being in a place like this, it didn't really bother him anymore. Not like that.
He'd also done his best to freshen up earlier morning. To look presentable. Kissable….
The staff trusted Arthur. He had given them no grief in the time he was there, had offered to help where he could. So we was allowed this privilege of dressing up and playing pretend for the others. It was one of his few joys.
He had just started his act when he spotted Jennifer entering the recreation hall. It relieved him but also also sent a thrill through his body that made him stutter, stand still for a moment. But he snapped back into character quickly.
Arthur was dressed in his oversized shoes, baggy pants, colorful shirt, vest, and jacket, and wore a green wig and clown make-up. It almost didn't look like him, Jennifer thought.
She found a seat in the front row. He did have an audience, though not a full one.
For the first part of his act, he was performing various gags with oversized and ridiculous props. It made her and the others laugh.
For the second half, he was performing magic tricks. He would exaggerate, act as surprised as the other person when it was their playing card, a stuffed bunny disappeared, two whole rings were joined….
He brought out a magic wand at one point. After a few flourishes, he pointed it at Jennifer. She looked around, unsure.
He stepped closer to her, moving the wand in circles as he kept it pointed at her. Suddenly Jennifer felt shy; she knew everyone's attention was suddenly on both of them. She looked down, turned away a bit.
She looked up when she heard Arthur gasp. She saw that the magic wand was now limp and curled over in his hand. Arthur himself was frowning in an exaggerated manner, rubbing a fisted hand against one of his eyes to imitate crying.
"Oh," she reached out for him. Like turning a light switch, suddenly Arthur's face was bright, smiling. A flick of the wrist and the wand also went back to being stick straight. Jennifer laughed uncertainly; how'd he do that?
Next thing she knew, with another flick of his wrist, Arthur had made a colorful bouquet of flowers sprout from the top of the wand.
He stepped a little bit closer. He held them out to her with one hand while holding his other arm against his chest and bowed.
Now Jennifer felt even more self-conscious, aware of all the eyes on the both of them. But she was also flattered, giddy.
She took the flowers. "Thank you," she said to him quietly. She could feel her cheeks were hot.
….
"How did you like the show?" Arthur asked Jennifer later when they met for dinner.
"I liked it," she smiled. "I liked a lot."
Arthur grinned. Looked down, pride ghosting across his soft features. He fiddled with the tray in his hands. "I'm happy to hear you enjoyed it."
After they had picked their food and found a table, Jennifer noticed Arthur was shaking, his mouth opening occasionally, lips quivering slightly, about ready to say something, but never actually saying something.
"Is something wrong, Arthur?"
"I just wondered…." His shoulders slumped. Exhaled quickly before asking, "Would you be my girlfriend?"
A smile formed on Jennifer's face. She nodded. "I'd like to. But…only if you'll be my boyfriend."
Arthur's face broke out into a smile, too. "I'd like to, too."
….
After that, every meal that could be had in the dinning hall was shared. When the patients were allowed outside for brief periods, they would venture out together. Would huddle close in the recreation hall, playing cards, drawing, writing, telling each other jokes. Arthur's presence was enough to make Jennifer forget why she was there, and vice versa.
Arthur had actually forgotten to write his mother. He paused when he considered that, but only for a moment or two, before carrying on with his day.
One day, Arthur asked, "Jenny, why did they make you come here?"
She was quiet for a moment. A somber look came over her face. "They told me my parents died." Arthur didn't ask anything else.
Arthur and Jennifer were inseparable, and it made the world more bearable.
For the most part. There were moments they had to be apart. At night, of course. They each also had a psychiatrist they had to see regularly. Arthur was seeing his one day, and Jennifer didn't have much to do besides wander around the place a bit.
She ascended a floor higher than theirs. She was curious; she traveled down unfamiliar corridors and through doorways she probably shouldn't be traversing. She found herself looking out a window set in a locked door–one of dozens that lined one side of this hallway–that had chicken wire covering all of it on the other side. She could see through the wire, out onto a corridor with wide openings built into the brick and cement exterior wall. She could recall hearing someone say that this place had been a tuberculosis hospital years ago. Patients would be brought into "open air" areas of the hospital, the idea being that the fresh air would help fend off the infectious disease assailing their lungs. This must have been one of those areas.
"What are you lookin' at there?" a sickeningly familiar voice said from behind Jennifer. She turned slowly.
"Nothing. I need to go." She tried to pass Charles, but he stuck out a hand, blocking her path.
"Now wait a second there. We haven't really had a chance to talk much since you first got here. I figure we could have a nice chat?"
Jennifer could feel her body and brain seize up in fear. She said nothing.
Charles got a bit closer. "What, cat caught your tongue?"
He reached out and pinched a piece of her hair between his fingers. "Quite soft."
He was subtly getting closer and closer. Some part of Jennifer's conscious was screaming–run away, yell, something–but the only thing her mind and body could manage at that point was to close down, ignore. Wait for the danger to pass.
But he wasn't going to just pass.
Charles moved his hand to her shoulder, let it slide heavily down her arm. "You know, certain things can be easier for you, if you're a bit more…amenable, ya know?"
A thumb brushed up against her left breast. A scream was building up deep down. Before it could escape, two nurses could he heard chatting, their voices growing quickly louder. As they rounded the corner into the area Jennifer and Charles were, Jennifer shoved past Charles, saying nothing. When she was far enough away, she ran.
She hid in the common area. A public place, with other people, seemed like the best protection at that moment. She sat in a chair in a far corner of the large room, folded her legs up against her, and bowed her head, blocking everything out.
She felt a tap on her shoulder some uncounted moments later and jumped.
"Hey, it's just me. Arthur. What's wrong?"
All Jennifer could do was shake her head, tremble in her seat.
Arthur looked around. He bent close to her and whispered in her ear. "Do you want to go to the Space?"
The "Space" was a storage closet on the basement floor that looked hardly ever used. Arthur had found it before Jennifer came to the hospital. Said he would hide there occasionally, when he really couldn't handle any more of the drugs, when he most needed to escape the doctors and nurses and other patients and his own existence in this rotten place. Where he could block everything out. He was careful not to use it too often; he didn't want it to be found.
It was only for the most bad times. Jennifer understood this.
"Yes," Jennifer croaked out.
Even safely inside the storage closet, sitting in darkness, Jennifer still couldn't utter what had happened. Not for some minutes. When it finally spilled out, it was met with what felt like an eternal silence.
"Arthur?" she pleaded.
"I heard, Jenny. I heard you."
After a few moments, she felt his arms come around her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there."
Somehow, they were together even more often after that. Arthur watched over her like a hawk. After Jennifer was able to covertly point out Charles to him, so he knew which orderly this was, he was also constantly watching for the man. Jennifer planned to never be by herself unless she absolutely had to; Arthur urged her to hide in their Space if she needed to.
One day, when they were let outside and were far enough from any of the staff keeping watch over them, he moved close to Jennifer. "One of these days, I'm going to get us both out of here," he whispered into her ear. She turned to him, was about to say something. Something touching on how that could be done, when. But instead she just locked eyes with him and nodded slightly.
….
She had a front row seat to all his performances. Technically, it was the same performance, over and over, but she never tired of it. It always ended with Arthur taking out that wand, making the flowers appear, gifting them to her. Bowing. She played along more, each time. Didn't care if the other patients saw as their feelings toward one another were more and more obvious.
One night, after one of those performances–where he winked at her for the first time, to her surprise–and shortly after they ate dinner, he rose from their table abruptly. "I need to do something. I'll see you tonight, shortly before bed."
"Uh, okay?" He hadn't mentioned anything earlier. Now Jennifer was a bit scared. She hadn't really realized it, but she had become dependent on his presence, feeling like he protected her. A part of her sort of hated realizing that, feeling that way, but an overriding, larger part of her was just more concerned that she didn't have it–have him–at present.
She carefully made her way back to her room when it was time for patients to retire to their rooms for the evenings. She reached her room, but Arthur was nowhere in sight.
Jennifer sighed uneasily. She hated suddenly not knowing where Arthur was.
She entered her room. Heard the lock slide in the door.
"Jenny?"
She jumped at hearing her own name. She looked around. "Who's there?
"It's me," Arthur said, sliding out from underneath her bed.
Jennifer rushed up to him. "Arthur, you can't be in here!" she whispered-hissed to him.
"Do you not want me in here?" He said as got up off the floor, then sat down on the side of her bed.
"I…." Jennifer looked back at the door.
"It's locked, so I can't leave even if you wanted me to."
Jennifer looked back at Arthur. "True," she conceded quietly. "But what…."
Arthur patted the bed beside him.
Jennifer tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. "I donno…."
"I won't do anything to hurt you."
Jennifer took a deep breath, looked around before joining Arthur on the bed. She felt so nervous to have him so close. On her bed. She looked over at him. He was watching her very carefully. Their eyes explored, questioned.
"I can sleep on the floor, if it would make you more comfortable." He chuckled dryly, cynically. "It would be far from the first time for me."
Jennifer shook her head. "Don't do that. It would be painful. Besides," she turned to face him more, "I want you up here."
Arthur nodded. He rose from the bed, so she could move the blankets back. The single beds in these rooms weren't really made for two people, but they made it work. Largely by being so close their bodies were flush against each other, arms around one another, breath intermingling.
He placed a light kiss on her forehead, before hugging her to him and starting to stroke her hair. Jennifer felt calm at first. The first time ever while being in that room. After a while, though, she felt a tension build up inside her. Warm all over.
Arthur felt the same. He looked into her eyes.
His hand moved to caress her cheek, then down to palm her neck. He heard her moan as she closed her eyes.
His hand moved slightly lower. Jennifer opened her eyes.
"Do you…." she started.
"I want to. All the time."
"I want you to, too."
Their lips came together, and didn't part for a long time. He moved over her. "Are you sure?"
Jennifer nodded fervently. His mouth moved down to her neck, as her hand reached up and ran through his shorter hair, grasped some of it. Wasn't it longer once?
….
Jennifer felt like everyone knew, the next day as they walked around together. Even though there was no way anyone could have known, even their immediate neighbors; they had been so quiet. Arthur had been able to slip out of her room that morning with no one noticing. But she felt it, it had hurt even still the next day. Not that she regretted it one iota.
Arthur seemed happier, with a spring in his step. He kissed her repeatedly, not caring who saw.
Including Charles.
Later in the day, a nurse came up to Arthur. "Arthur Fleck? We have a phone call for you from the main office. It's your mother."
Arthur's eyes went wide. "Re–really?"
"Yes. Come with me."
Jennifer tried to join them, but the nurse gave her a look. "Just Arthur. He'll be back."
Arthur looked at her. I'll be back in no time.
She nodded, still unsure. Watched as Arthur walked away. Jennifer stayed in the main hall for a bit, wondering what to do in the mean time. There were some patients around, but no staff. She was about to head for the recreation hall, when she felt a strong hand grasp her arm.
"Come with me," Charles growled. He dragged her into a service elevator she'd never seen before. Pushed the button for the floor where she'd last encountered him.
He turned to her. "You think you can just go around with that little shit boyfriend of yours and not get noticed? Not have everyone notice you? Especially me?"
Jennifer said nothing; she had gone frozen again. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening at all.
The elevator dinged when it reached the called-for floor. The doors slid open and Charles grabbed Jennifer by the arm again, pulled her along.
They weren't running into any other people, a part of Jennifer observed curiously. Wouldn't there be somebody?
He dragged her to that same hallway, with the dozens of doors with windows that looked out onto the open corridor. Charles yanked open one of the doors, and shoved away the chicken wire that had been installed over it. He dragged her outside into the open air corridor.
"You were so curious about this place. I'll give you something so you never forget it."
He kissed her, tried to yank her clothes off of her, and something in Jennifer snapped.
She shoved him back, with a force she didn't know she had. She actually rushed him, kick and hit him. But he was able to grab both of her wrists and shove her back against a brick wall.
Jennifer felt a dull pain as her head hit the brick. Charles used his body to keep her pinned. One hand held both of her wrists, while the other wrapped around her throat.
Jennifer thought, knew, after so much denial, that she was going to die. Probably after being violated. She could feel herself starting to pass out of consciousness.
She was so out of it she couldn't hear the breaking glass. Could barely register when a shard of glass was shoved into Charles' throat, causing his eyes to go wide and his grip on Jennifer to loosen, fall away. He stumbled backwards.
The next thing Jennifer knew, Arthur was coming at Charles, stabbing him with another piece of glass, repeatedly, before shoving him forward, over the concrete sill of one of those wide openings in the exterior brick wall, and pushing him over.
Jennifer was fully aware at that point. She heard the sickening thud as Charles' body hit the muddy ground below. She noticed the rain for the first time then. It was pouring down rain outside.
She looked at Arthur, who had some blood on his hands, spattered across his clothes and face. He looked down at himself, but then looked at her.
They locked eyes. Neither flinched when lightening flashed and almost simultaneously thunder boomed around them.
Something unspoken passed between them, before they slowly moved toward one another.
Then it all stopped.
…..
…..
The rain was pouring down outside. Jennifer could hear it and the wind thrash against her apartment windows, as well as the occasional boom of thunder.
She could smell cigarettes. Saw faintly as a cloud of smoke rose up before her, dissipating into the air.
"You awake?"
"Yeah. You too?"
"Yeah."
She rolled over. She saw Arthur, slightly propped up by some of her pillows, taking a drag in the dark of her bedroom.
She moved close to him. Pressed her naked body to his naked body. He wrapped an arm around her. He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out, before turning back and settling into bed, both arms now wrapped Jennifer.
He kissed her forehead. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Somehow, in the sleepy haziness of the pre-dawn morning, that felt safe to admit for both of them.
….
A/N 2: I'll leave it up to you to decide whose dream that was….