AN: This story means an awful lot to me. These topics are not to be taken lightly. Hence the M rating. This story has Intimacy (the good kind), Struggles with mental illness, Suicidal thoughts, Rape, and Domestic Violence. Some of the inspiration for this story comes from personal experiences I have faced in my life with domestic abuse.
Arthur's inner thoughts are in BOLD.
Abby's inner thoughts are in ITALIC.
Please read, and enjoy :)
Pain resonated like a reflection of fear as Arthur laid in the alley way. He was just trying to do the right thing and get the sign back. They didn't need to take his sign. They didn't need to beat him in the alley way. He was harassed then jumped. These kids didn't have to do this. Why were people so dark and cruel to him? Why couldn't people be decent to each other? Surprise became that of a victory when Randall gave him the gun. To protect yourself, he said. How was he to protect himself from himself? Arthur knew better than to have a gun on him. But Randall was right, it was becoming mayhem out there. Gotham was becoming more of a jungle with wild animals that ran on rampages. It was no longer a safe city.
Is the glass half empty or half full? Is it all a matter of perspective or are people just in denial of the madness of the world? Abby questioned herself as she checked Penny and Arthur's mailbox. Penny had asked her after work to check. That poor woman clung to her delusional expectation that Thomas Wayne was a good person. Thomas Wayne is the rich. Abby knew he didn't give a damn about Gotham's lower class citizens. He would be a great politician. Politician is just a fancy world for political liar walking on empty promises. Turning to head back to the elevator, Abby catches Arthur's green sweater out of the corner of her eye. She can see him limping slightly into the building. Looking at him a little longer, she can see the bruises on this face. They cause a surge of alarm to roll over her flesh, "Oh my gosh, Arthur." she says, pulling him close. A moment of silent awkwardness passes before she pulls away, "What happened?"
"I got jumped. Kids took my sign. I didn't want to get in trouble. It's my fault. I should have just left it alone." Deflated, Arthur steps into the elevator with Abby. As the doors close, Abby turns to Arthur. Brushing her fingertips against the bruise on his cheek. Her fingers were small and delicate. Too many nights she had spent hunched over a piano till her back was sore. Pulling back, she put her fingers to the corners of her mouth. She pulled them wide and in an upward motion, forcing a fake smile. Arthur glanced up and sighed.
"Fake a smile for the people," she told him. She doubted Arthur knew how often she told herself that. Fighting her own depression after a year of David's abuse, Fake a smile for the people. They are watching. Ready? Lights, camera, action.
The elevator doors open and Abby steps into the empty hallway. As Arthur and her reach his apartment door, he stops her. "There's something I need to tell you." he pauses for a moment before continuing, "Randall gave me something to protect myself."
Abby looked at him, puzzled, "What do you mean?" His head turned to look down either side of the hallway. The coast was clear. Arthur pulled out a brown paper bag and opened it to Abby. Looking into it, Abby quickly closed the bag, "Arthur, no." her brown eyes echoed many fears of possible scenarios. "You aren't supposed to have this. You have to get rid of it." She whispered but her voice was no less adamant.
"It's fucked up out there, Abby. What if I get jumped again? Or someone breaks in or worse-"
"Alright," She agreed, but only because Gotham was a mess right now.
"I promise," his green eyes pleading, begging for her to understand, "I'll be careful with it." Arthur gave Abby a reassuring glance. He could see in her eyes, she was worried about him getting caught with it. Worried that he'd lose his job, worried that they'd take him away. That was the last thing Arthur wanted right now, was to be taken away from her.
Abby leaned forward, kissing Arthur's cheek, "Shit.. I forgot to fill your mother's prescriptions on my way home from work. Do.. do you want to go with me?" As if she needed to ask. He would have followed her anywhere.
"That's fine, I have my own to fill."
Out in the open, on the cusp of twilight and nightfall, Arthur stared at Abby as she walked beside him to the drug store. How he wished she would be his lover. He was growing accustom to having her around. The open flame of her deep red hair, the smell of her rose shampoo, the way she cradled her head to his chest as they fell asleep. How she'd tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear whenever she read Homer's Iliad. Shaking his head gently, she must have read it over a thousand times, yet it still intrigued her. Still after all this time, it still brought her happiness. His might drifted to their friendship. He wondered if it could ever be more. He wondered if that's why she watched his comedy joke routine every night; because he made her happy...Thoughts drifted like memories at sea. Floating like promises back to shore:
It was another long, bitter day at HA-HA's. Although sick of it Arthur did find some solace in the routine. Other than rain, nothing was different about today. Until he saw her. She was standing two doors down from his apartment. Her skin was pale, porcelain like that of an antique doll; her lips were a natural petal pink. The softest roses in the spring. Hair dark, reflecting his deepest desires of the night but when the light hit it, sparks of red emerged. She looked up at him. The deepest and darkest brown eyes he had ever seen. Shades of new earth and honey beckoned him near. They pleaded for help as she lost her grip on the box. She was struggling to get it through the doorway. Walking over, Arthur picked it up off the floor and handed it to her. She smiled at him, "Thank you. At least someone in this shithole is helpful." It was a cynical, direct and to the point. Inside the apartment, she glared at a young man. He was much younger than Arthur. "Get off your ass and help me." The man got up, towering over her.
"Watch what you say to me, bitch!" With that, he walked right out the door, passed where Arthur stood. She let out a frustrated sigh as she flashed Arthur a smiled.
"I could tell you he's not always a jerk like that but then I'd be lying." Unable to control himself, Arthur's nervous tic of sickening laughter kicked up. Long skinny fingers clawed at his throat to force him to stop. Quickly, he handed her a card from his sweater pocket, his eyes giving her a silent apology. Her brown eyes scanned the card before she herself started laughing, "This is great." she said with a smile.
"H-how is this great?" he asked, his nervous tic, finally calming down.
"It makes you unique. Besides, life is one big joke, what's not to laugh at? I'm Abigail Willows, by the way. Abby for short."
The rain began to pour as Abby and Arthur boarded the bus to head back to the apartment. Finding a small bit of happiness convincing him to take the bus over walking by having him play rock-paper-scissors, brought a smile to her face. His green eyes had lit up, as if they were the sunlight rising over the bay in the morning. She wondered if it was because she asked him or because some cared enough to include him. The bus ride seemed peaceful, as peaceful as a bus ride through Gotham could be during a garbage strike. Nevermind that her and Arthur both had bruises that seemed to move on every bump. She chose a seat towards the back; a woman and her three or four year old son sat in front of them, Arthur leaned his head against the window while Abby had her head on his shoulder. She lived for these moments. Bein a librarian or a literature organizer, which was her actual job title, was boring. Having Arthur in her life made things exciting. Living in the city didn't seem so dark and empty with him around.
The bus ride was longer than expected and probably longer for the woman in front of them as her toddler became disgruntled. Abby smiled at him, hoping her glimmer of kindness would calm the boy. And for a moment, it did. But the boy then looked to his mother for the same comfort and found none. For she only ignored him and stared forward. Arthur looked at Abby while she shifted uncomfortably as the child began to cry. Abby's instinct was to pick him up and cradle him from the loneliness of being ignored, from being told how unimportant he was by his own mother's body language. A small giggle gave her some hope. Looking up, she saw Arthur making funny faces at the boy. The toddler smiled and began to laugh more. Abby watched him. She was in awe of Arthur; this man just got beaten up today for trying to do the right thing and here he was trying to make a small child's life a little less dark. She loved how the skin around his green eyes wrinkled in the corners as he smiled at the boy. A warmth spread over Abby while she slow began to realize how lucky she was to have him.
"Stop bothering my kid!" The woman snapped at Arthur. Her tone was filled with anger and defiance. As if she could not stand that someone else was making her child happy. Heaven forbid he be less miserable than the rest of us. She thought as she watched Arthur raise his eyebrows in shock and disgust at the woman.
"I wasn't bothering him." Arthur spoke in defense, "I was making him smile."
"Just stop okay?" She was annoyed at him. Furrowing her eyebrows, Abby glared at the woman. She then glanced at Arthur. Oh no... She could see his hand rising to his neck. Pressing down on the flesh in an attempt to silence what he couldn't control. The laughter came out with a mocking high pitch. Abby glanced at Arthur, his eyes pleading at his reflection in the window. His face turned away in shame. The little boy who sat in front of them wasn't smiling, in fact, he looked confused. How could someone look so sad and in pain while laughing? "Does that seem funny to you?!" The woman barked. Reaching out, Abby grabbed Arthur's hand, lacing her fingers with his. The woman was staring at Arthur but stopped when she noticed Abby glaring at her.
"He can't control it." she told her, the fire in Abby's eyes practically roasting this woman. "What I find funny is you're more concerned and upset about a man making a child laugh than a neglectful parent who sits there while her child sits and cries while over tired making everyone else one the bus miserable." The woman looked at Abby stunned as Abby squeezed Arthur's hand. His laughing fit continued as he looked at her. "Come on, Arthur." standing, she moved to the front of the bus with Arthur. "There's nothing wrong with your laugh." She squeezed his hand, their fingers still laced together.
Arthur smiled, she stood up for him. No one stood up for him. Looking down at their hands, he smiled but realized they were now out of earshot from others. "Abby?" he asked as his laughter subsided. "Where did David go?" he watched her shift uncomfortably before she answered.
"Does it matter?"
"I just want to know." he honestly didn't care where he was. Hopefully, he's dead. He thought to himself. For over a month he watched the aftermath of David's abuse. For over a month, he was there for her; when she bled, when she cried, when she needed a laugh. He was there for her through it all. He would be there for her through it all. She sighed then gave his hand a squeeze.
"An anonymous call came to the rival gang of his about his whereabouts last Thursday. I haven't seen him since. I honestly don't know." The bus came to a stop, their stop. Getting up and off, Arthur paused before they entered the building. "Please don't tell anyone," she whispered, "He almost killed me last time. And I don't want to die."
Arthur drew a deep breath before pulling her by her hand into his arms. Wrapping them around her, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I promise, Abigail." He wanted to protect her from the whole world of he could. He held her as he cleansed her wounds, he walked nurtured her back to health. Her existence was a gift to him.
Penny was fed and falling asleep or at least Abby hoped. In the kitchen, she pulled out the ointment to treat Arthur's cuts and bruises. Penny barely noticed anything was different with 'Happy.' Abby loathed when his mother called him that. It was clear that the majority of time Arthur was anything but happy. Yet, he sat on the couch, writing in his joke book, waiting for the Murray Franklin show to start. "I've been thinking of increasing my medication." he chimed up as she came and sat down beside him.
Staring at the array of pill bottles, Abby shook her head. "If anything, you should stop." Arthur looked at her, listening. "You're on seven different medications. And nothing is helping. The doctors don't care about you, if they did they'd try something new instead of just giving you more drugs to shut you up." She leaned in, her fingers grazing the bruise on his face, " I have my own depression from everything with David. Doctors didn't care. If they cared, they would have given me a good therapist instead of giving me the you're crazy look. They don't care. The cops didn't care either, they believed him over me all because of David's status versus mine. No one cares."
Arthur's eyes settled on her softly as she treated his wounds. "Do you care?"
Brown eyes met green with protection and love as Abby paused, hearing the Murray Franklin show start. "Yes, Arthur, I care about you." Arthur leaned back against the couch as she snuggled into him. "I care about you an awful lot." she whispered.
Hopeful but unaware that he heard her, smiling he held her closer. Rubbing her back as she fell asleep. And for the first time in his life, Arthur felt whole.