Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ The Dark Knight/ Suicide Squad characters. All other characters are mine.
That last chapter was fun to write, hard, but fun. As an author I love writing really emotional scenes that break my characters, but for future reference, If I apologize before a chapter it means it's going to be emotionally straining. :)
Anyway, thanks for the love, this book has reached more than 5,000 views which is a heck of a lot of love. I'm really glad people are enjoying it.
Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer
Cat paused, breathing hard.
Outside, the wind was pulling at the many trees and cascading golden leaves to the sidewalk. Fall had taken over Gotham, covering everything with thin layers of ice and foggy mornings.
Yvonne found herself staring out the window as well, she had some issue with keeping eye contact with Cat.
The last session.
It was absolutely disgusting, seeing how the light curved around Cat's soft features and broken expression, seeing how absolutely breathtaking she was and how easy it would be for Warden Jaidev to arrange her brutal execution.
"That's it," Cat's voice was low and dripping with melancholy, she quickly wiped a solitary tear from her cheek. "That's the fucking tragedy of it."
Yvonne swallowed a painful lump of emotion and busied herself by scribbling on an empty notepad, she sketched a pair of eyes, a pair of wide green eyes that she had been trying to perfect for days.
Cat had finished her recount with her head hitting the curb after the rooftop fight, and the consultation room was quickly and unexpectedly muted.
"Well?" Cat turned from the window to stare at her, perhaps she was attempting an accusatory glare, but it appeared to be more depressed than anything.
"Surely you've got some sciency shit to lay on me. You know, diagnose me."
Yvonne cleared her throat nervously, and managed to shift her gaze to meet Cat's penetrating stare. It took her a moment to reply, she was wrestling with the words in her mouth.
"I-I can't"
A beat.
Cat laughed hollowly, subconsciously rubbing her forearms with the tip of her index finger. "C'mon doc, what is it? Schizophrenia? Borderline Personality? Don't worry I've heard them all, I can take it."
She shifted in her seat and prayed silently, begged anyone who might be listening to let her have more time with Cat.
'I can fix her, give me a chance to fix her.'
"I can't diagnose you Caterina."
She hung her head, and her small frame began to shake violently. Yvonne reached an arm over in alarm to check her state, she lifted her chin up and found, surprisingly, that Cat was laughing.
Tears streamed from her eyes, and her face was pulled into a smile-like grimace, as deep and wheezy chuckles rung from her throat.
"Y-you can't?" She choked out between her sob-like laughs, her hands were clutching the rim of the wooden desk so sharply that her already pale skin was a few shades lighter. "You fucking can't?"
Yvonne cleared her throat in an attempt to keep the whimper from her throat, or the tears from her eyes.
"No," Her reply was barely above a whisper. "I can't accurately diagnose you. I'm…I'm sorry."
Cat's laugh faded into a despairing sigh, and she stared at Yvonne with her lips barely parted. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her chin quivering. "You have to…I need to know…It's something up here, it's fucking messed up."
She tapped her forehead sharply with her fingertips, before clutching it in sudden and violent misery. "It's gotta be…I need some bitter pills…I need someone to fucking cut into it…I need-"
And she collapsed into the table, this time tears shook her shoulders and she didn't mask the gut-wrenching sobs that escaped her.
"C-cut me up…Fix me…M-make this go away."
Yvonne felt her heart audibly break for the shattered person before her, she could've reassured her, but nothing Yvonne could say would make any real difference.
It was horrible, it was fucking horrible. And yet, it had to be faced.
"You're not sick, Caterina. M-maybe you need to face the thought that it's you…either your madness was a skin for your obsession of Joker, or your sanity was a skin over your love of Bruce. Either way, it's all…it's all cognitive. You did those things, killed those people, loved that…thing, you did it all because…because you wanted to."
She hated herself for saying these words, telling Cat that it was her own doing. Suddenly, Caterina wasn't facing voices in her head, or monsters under her bed. Suddenly, Caterina was the monster.
Yvonne struggled to continue the session, and wanted nothing more than to take Cat into her arms and walk her out of this awful place.
She ran a hand nervously through her long, auburn locks, and smiled at Cat as wholesomely as she could.
"You said something about a letter that you were writing," She paused, cautiously noting Cat's reaction. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Caterina seemed entirely detached from the conversation.
"A letter to a man, someone you didn't know."
Cat nodded slightly, her breathing began to steady. "When they threw me in intensive therapy, the room had been occupied recently. There were weird drawings and scrawls on the mirror in red lipstick, and some seriously creepy smiley-faces. Anyway, I found a bunch of old letters under the bed that were covered in..."
She paused, her face scrunched up in thought.
Yvonne watched as Cat struggled with the same problem every session, sometimes her mind decided not to work with her.
"Uh," She pursed her lips and made a kissing noise, her face still a mask of concentration. "You know?"
"Lipstick stains?"
"Yeah, lipstick stains, and I thought that was weird. The letters were all from a man to a woman who had stayed there. They were absolutely beautiful and poetic, comparing this woman to the moon and other sappy shit like that. Anyway, I had no one to write to, since Joker was...not around."
Cat's face fell, and she cleared her throat uncertainly.
"I was...I am a liability to him, so It's not surprising that he wouldn't...So I had no one to write to, and I just started writing to this man. He never replied, and I didn't even know if he was getting my stupid letters. But It was nice, thinking that someone out there could be thinking of me somehow. I guess it was, for a moment, that I wasn't completely alone and unwanted."
Yvonne managed a sympathetic smile and encouraged Cat to continue with a simple hand wave.
"Well in his letters he mentioned a big promotion that he hoped to get, something about inheritance, like a 'title'. And his last letter was asking this girl a question, something about partnerships? It was all very mysterious, maybe that's why I loved it so much."
The psychiatrist smiled again, pleased by this display of emotional attachment. "And did you ever get a name?"
She shrugged in response, sitting back in the metallic chair and tugging nervously on her hair. "No, not really, I told him who I was and where I was. But all I ever got was the way he signed all his letters."
'Living for you, -J'.
"Beautiful, isn't it? Living for someone, that girl was incredibly lucky to have that."
Yvonne didn't have the heart to tell Cat that she knew who was staying in the ICU before her, that this fantastical woman and Shakespearean-romance was merely a disgraced psychiatrist.
As nice as it would have been to hear Caterina talk all day about this dreamy tale, Yvonne had a few questions burning the back of her mind. She was so enthralled by the way she could approach the next subject, that she didn't realise Cat falling back to the table and continuing her quiet sobs.
"Caterina-" Yvonne paused and watched Cat cry, considering the best way to phrase the next question.
"Why did you try to end your life?"
She looked up from the table, her eyes red-stained and puffy, and yet a small smile played over her chapped and pale lips.
"I hated Batman, I loathed him utterly," Cat responded, her voice low and husky from crying.
"And I thought, for months, that I couldn't hate anyone as much as I hated him. But that night…I discovered that I could, I could hate someone to the point where I wished beyond everything that they didn't exist. I hated myself."
Cat's smile fell like Yvonne's stomach, and she began scratching the table with her thumbs fingernail absentmindedly.
"I disgusted myself, I couldn't care less about the people that I killed, I still don't. I know that's…I know it's wrong…I know something upstairs has to be malfunctioning."
Yvonne found the courage to squeeze Cat's hand reassuringly, rubbing her thumb against her palm in soothing circles.
Cat stared down at the display of affection uncomprehendingly, she was unused to a soft touch, a restraint and caring act.
"Are they gonna kill me?" She blurted suddenly, her eyes still strained on their interlocking hands.
"These guards…every time they beat the shit out of me it feels like their trying to kill me."
Yvonne's heart stopped for a second and she was immobile, her breath hitched in her throat. It took her a moment to remember herself, and remember her duty as a therapist and as a friend.
"Of course not." She smiled cheaply, releasing Cat's grip and sitting back in her chair. "This is an Asylum, we're going to fix you."
"Fix me?" Cat laughed again, shaking her head of blonde locks. "How can they fix me…WHEN THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!"
She jumped forwards suddenly in her chair, her arms outstretched and her hands clawing for Yvonne's neck. The metal chair fell to the ground with a thunderous clutter and Yvonne darted from the table quickly, a scream of fright escaping her. The loud and alarming noises alerted the men waiting outside, who barged in obnoxiously and threw Cat to the other end of the room.
"N-no!"
Yvonne tried to push past the security guards who had Cat's crumpled form surrounded.
"She was just upset, please let her go!"
They proceeded to bash Cat into submission with their batons, causing little yelps of anguish to escape her.
"Please! She's fine, just leave us alone!" But no one was listening to Yvonne's plea, two men restrained Cat heavily and hauled her up by her elbows. She didn't fight back, she didn't attempt to escape, Cat took the beatings with silent tears and stared dejectedly at the ground as she was dragged out of the room.
Yvonne followed them out, willing Cat to look at her, at least for the last time.
Warden Jaidev's stout form came strutting down the hallway, regarding Cat with a snarl of disgust and finally focusing his attention on Yvonne before him.
"Doctor Huntley."
She tried to sidestep him, but he reached out a pudgy arm and firmly grasped her elbow.
"Doctor Huntley!" He repeated, his voice verging on a yell.
When she finally stopped trying to go after Cat and the escorting army, Jaidev half-guided, half-shoved her to the far wall of the corridor where they could talk in private.
"Doctor, let it go, Morgan's going down to solitary."
Yvonne watched in horror as Cat was forced into a white straitjacket, while a dirty and peeling muzzle was secured around her mouth. Both of these items were grossly unnecessary, as she was barely moving a muscle in protest.
What was perhaps more disturbing were the large smiles pasted upon the security guards, they chortled loudly as they pulled Cat, stumbling, down the corridor, her arms tied forcefully around her torso.
"Solitary?" Yvonne stared at Jaidev, her brows furrowed. "Why the hell does she need to go to solitary?"
"Well," Jaidev mopped his shiny head with a navy-blue handkerchief. "She's obviously a danger to herself and others, you saw how violent she was. It's for her own good, Morgan will be safer in a padded cell."
"Pad-" Yvonne broke off in disgust, and pulled herself forcefully from the warden. "You're going to kill her in a week, how can you let her spend that time in a padded cell?"
"Easily." Jaidev's glare hardened, and he lifted his chin indignantly. "We will organise a temporary psychiatrist for her. It's funny, he actually asked to be given time with her, even offered to pay us! What a psycho, but we don't need Morgan anymore so I agreed."
Yvonne opened her mouth to argue, rage fuelling her confidence to stand up to the warden. Jaidev, sensing her coming outburst, grabbed her elbow threateningly.
"Now, now," He tutted, not unlike a disciplining parent.
"You're getting close to Morgan, aren't you? That's a problem around here, I'm sure you've heard the stories. It isn't natural for a stiff to obsess over their client, especially such a psychopathic one. If I suspect, even for a moment, that you are showing signs similar to that of Doctor Quinzel, I will have you locked up in here, and I will have you killed.
He released her arm, a smugness passing over his face as Yvonne recoiled in fear.
"Take the rest of the week off, a paid vacation." He smoothed her shirt casually, running his hand over her shoulder and subtly establishing his complete and utter dominance.
Yvonne could only nod, she was powerless to defy him, and she picked up her bag from the consultation room.
The lady at the front desk nodded at her with a smile, unaware that Yvonne Huntley had decided to never set foot in the Asylum again.
At least, not willingly.
Caterina was thrown roughly through the cell door, landing uncoordinated on the white-padded flooring.
The cell was barely 8 ft wide, and 10 ft from the back wall to the large door. Four white, fluorescent disks of light were inserted into the ceiling, and the time-stained walls were cast in uncomfortable, shadowed lighting.
Cat strained to get to her feet, tugging uselessly on her straitjacket in an attempt to free herself. The muzzle was completely for the amusement of the guards, as they called out offensive slurs as she ambled past, such as 'now you look like the bitch you are' and 'here pussy, kitty cat!' with a few rude and boyish gestures.
The door behind her closed heavily, and a large lock was clicked into place from the outside. Cat stood, frozen in place for a moment as she was finally left alone with her thoughts.
She slowly sank to her knees and stared uncomprehendingly at the door, trying to process all the shit that had happened.
"Yvonne." Cat found herself muttering quietly, feeling a surge of remorse as she recounted Yvonne's terrified expression.
"I'm…I'm sorry Yvonne." Her voice sounded strange and faraway, but she wasn't sure if that was entirely the muzzle's fault.
The door suddenly unbolted again, and opened with a low groan of reinforced steel. Caterina snapped her attention to the person at the door, and her heart surged as she recognised the white lab-coat of a psychiatrist.
"Yvonne?"
"I'm afraid not, Caterina."
The man before her was tall and lean, pale skin was pulled taught over sharp cheek bones. His hair was dark and curly, almost brushing his shoulders. Cat would've called him handsome, if it wasn't for his wide and unsettlingly blue eyes.
"I am Dr Crane, I'll be looking after you for a week." His voice was soft and soothing, hypnotic like the gaze of a cobra.
"And after the week?"
His face broke into a small smile, Cat found herself shiver involuntarily. Crane slowly pulled his eyeglasses down his nose, cleaning them innocently with the hem of his coat as he continued in his dulcet tone.
"I've been looking forward to this for some time, 'the great Cat Morgan herself'."
He glanced up at her, regarding her straitjacket and muzzle almost sympathetically.
"What have they done to you?" Crane muttered, and she was suddenly furious with herself as her heart skipped a beat.
"You are absolutely," He brushed a thumb across her cheek, and his gaze flittered for a second to her deformed earlobe. "Magnificent." He finished and dropped his hand.
Cat laughed, an ugly bark-like sound that bounced around the padded cell. "I'm…I'm nothing. What the hell are you even doing here Dr Crane? I remember you, Joker took me to your old house and I got a dose of your fucked-up 'fear' medicine. If your plan is revenge, or destruction, you should've found me before this place hollowed me out."
Crane cocked his head slightly, his face pulled into a slow and compassionate smile.
"I don't think this place could hollow you. I've seen my share of broken minds, you're still rather whole. And I would be honoured to fix that for you." He reached a spidery hand into the pocket of his long coat, pulling out a long, pen-like device.
"Now then," He removed the cap, and a single, long needle glinted wickedly in the harsh light.
"You might feel a slight pinch."
Hi there, Cat Morgan here. I've been wanting to talk to you guys for ages but SOMEONE (glares at author) said something about four walls or whatever. Just letting all of you know while that I am pretty insane, I really don't condone suicide at all. If you or someone you know is particularly distressed or exhibiting any worries about feeling trapped, fucking help them out. It 'aint hard. I mean, we don't all have a Batman to save us, so go out there, be a fucking queen, and be someone's Batman today.
Just don't accidentally kill their brother, or whatever.