THE BEST MEDICINE
Chapter One: Counting Sheep
***
Disclaimer: The people and places in this fiction belong to Bob Kane, DC Comics and Warner Brothers. The sources are Batman I, Batman: The Animated Series, The New Batman Adventures series and Batman: Mask of the Phantasm.
A/N: This story ignores the comic "Batman and Robin Adventures - Annual Issue #1." This story will have lots of characters, so there should be something for everyone. It'll be interesting to see how quickly you figure the concept out. (I'm using the character looks from Batman: The Animated Series, expect Poison Ivy and Scarecrow, because I prefer them in The New Batman Adventures.)
***
Giggling softly in his sleep, he dreamed. Tossing and turning, the giggling grew gradually louder…
A large pasture of adorable little lambs lay before him. Black, white and gray, they warmed his heart. As a toddler he had apparently loved lambs. His nursery had been trimmed with little sheep hopping fences upon green grass. A stuffed sheep called Baabaa had seen the tot through scarlet fever only to be burned and lost forever for its loyalty. Bedtime after bedtime he had squealed with the joys of learning speech, sucking his fist, clapping as picture books filled with darling sheep were pointed out by his mother. True, he had loved sheep because she had put them there - his sisters had loved kittens and ponies for the same reason - but he had loved them all the same.
However, his memories went back to about four or five, earlier years lost in the sleep that surrounds life. Therefore, the nursery of lambs was forgotten. In later life he had visited a sheep farm in shades and trench coat as a councilor, annoyed and somewhat disgusted. They looked and sounded nothing like the sheep of imagination. No, they were ugly, smelly and made frightening, near aggressive noises. They weren't round and cute, nor did they baa pleasantly. However, the small experience had come and gone and was forgotten. Lost with the nursery. Sheep meant nothing to him. He scarcely remembered they were in the world, yet, here they were in his dreams. For, though the councilman had forgotten them on the surface, the nursery and toddler time lined with lambs was subconsciously within him, buried deeply in his character - only visible when slumber came calling.
Watching over dozens of adorable lambs, the very sort that had trimmed his first room, he actually smiled. The Councilman rarely smiled, but the sight of the tiny lambs unleashed warmth and joy not experienced since his baby squeals. They were so adorable and innocent. Just like human babies. Their world was nothing more than baby giggles. It was beautiful.
Sitting on a large rock he realized he was in his best suit, but holding a shepherd's crook. Understanding his responsibility, he enjoyed the warm sun and watched the little ones play. He wanted to touch them, scoop them up in his arms, but knew he couldn't. Their perfection was not to be tampered with. Never. They were so cute they didn't seem real!
Hours seemed to pass, but he didn't mind. He could watch them forever. His smile grew as he watched, humming softly. This place brought out things uncharacteristic of him - smiling, humming, sincere happiness - and he loved it. Little black, white and gray lambs hopping and playing and brightening what was left of his world… wide awake he would find it ludicrous. Fast asleep, however, he'd never been more happy since Baabaa. It felt as though he was smiling on the inside. His heart was singing. He was so filled with bliss he felt he might burst. Eventually, he realized… he was staring at his soul.
Glancing about the field, he was suddenly thunderstruck. He saw it and was absolutely petrified. His heart froze… his inner smile ice… his joy screeching to a startled halt. For there… in the field… stood evil.
An enormous black wolf.
Startled and shaken, he stared at the handsome hunter. It's body was perfectly toned… it's coat glossy, it's expression cold. For a moment, he sat and they shared gaze… silent and beautiful. It was beautiful. Perhaps it would pass… perhaps… everything would be alright… Though it was cold and intimidating, it showed no sign of aggression. It just stood silently meeting his eyes. Dark eyes for dark eyes.
Without warning, it's face changed. It's muzzle wrinkled up to fierce eyes, it's white fangs revealed. Without warning, it sprang upon the lambs. Killing them.
The pain struck the councilor hard. The pain of a soul being torn to shreds… Stumbling, he started to run for help. "WOLF! WOLF!" he shrieked while he still could, crossing the pasture and reaching a small house. "WOLF!" he found a man cleaning his gun. "Please… help me… a wolf…"
Glancing up from his weapon, the huntsman was shockingly familiar. He smiled, almost chuckling, "Very funny, Arthur. The joke's growing old though…"
It was Beaumont.
His eyes widened in terror, stumbling… the pain was overwhelming… the agony racked through him… so unbearable he withered to his knees. "Sir… please… help me…"
"Relax, Arthur… you're angel of death awaits…"
A second figure approached. "A wolf is serious business. These false alarms have to stop. It's garbage, Mr. Reeves!"
It was Commissioner Gordon.
Behind Gordon, townspeople were gathering. Familiar faces. People Arthur knew. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled towards them. Before them. Into them. "Someone! Help me, please! WOLF!"
No one believed. No one would help…
Collapsing to his knees again, he began screaming… yet, no one would listen… he began to bleed heavily from the mouth…
"How's the bat bashing?" Bruce Wayne smiled over him.
Unexpectedly, Batman hit kicked him hard. "Afraid to die, Councilman?" he seethed, kicking him again.
Arthur screeched an almost inhuman screech, that kept his attacker at bay. He screamed again and again, the sound of smashing glass somewhere within him. He screeched until he began to giggle… he tried to scream further, but began to break up into laughter. Screaming laughter. Blood continued to flow him his mouth, more than ever… everywhere… blood… pouring out… absolutely everywhere… Shrieking through laughter he managed, "SOMEONE, ANYONE, HELP ME! HELP ME!! PLEASE GOD - I'M DYING!! I'M DYING!!!"
***
Arthur Reeves slammed awake, screech-laughing hysterically. Tears streamed his cheeks, his hair unkempt, as he slammed about his bed, out of control. Two doctors were trying to restrain him…
"Councilman, please!" one was trying to ready a needle. "PLEASE!"
After several days, Arthur was beyond talking - beyond anything. The toxin had taken over. He could do nothing but laugh and sleep now. He couldn't eat or drink, not even through tubes, without choking. The sedatives just weren't strong enough anymore. Now, he was either under all together or shrieking with laughter.
"Councilman!"
He was exhausted and starving, yet the toxin raged on. They'd promised it would run it's course and he'd be fine. They'd promised…
Finally, the injection was successfully given. Most of it, anyway. He slammed a few moments longer, before gradually calming and drifting to sleep… only to dream of wolves again…
Stepping into the hall, the doctor's hit the light and began to confer… the younger sounding uneasy, "I've never seen a case like this. Never. The laughing gas wears off and the Smilex kills within a minute…"
The other sighed heavily, rubbing his face, "I'm know my Joker chem, son… He was given laughing gas… only… it should have run it's course days ago… something went wrong…"
"Biologically?"
"The lab suspects a serious allergic reaction. The toxin just won't let go…"
"Then…" the younger hesitated before concluding. "We can't save him."
The other shook his head. "No, we can't…"
"We were his last chance… we specialize in…"
"We have to send him to Arkham. They have the strongest sedatives in the business. They can buy him time."
Surprised, the young man protested, "Arkham? But he's not a criminal. We-"
"He's not the first special case we've had to send to them. They have the facilities to keep him alive while we bring in specialists. We'll do the work here and keep him breathing there. I'll make some calls. For you, it's just a matter of paperwork."
Sighing, the young man glanced at his patient, "Where do I sign?"
***
Chapter One: Counting Sheep
***
Disclaimer: The people and places in this fiction belong to Bob Kane, DC Comics and Warner Brothers. The sources are Batman I, Batman: The Animated Series, The New Batman Adventures series and Batman: Mask of the Phantasm.
A/N: This story ignores the comic "Batman and Robin Adventures - Annual Issue #1." This story will have lots of characters, so there should be something for everyone. It'll be interesting to see how quickly you figure the concept out. (I'm using the character looks from Batman: The Animated Series, expect Poison Ivy and Scarecrow, because I prefer them in The New Batman Adventures.)
***
Giggling softly in his sleep, he dreamed. Tossing and turning, the giggling grew gradually louder…
A large pasture of adorable little lambs lay before him. Black, white and gray, they warmed his heart. As a toddler he had apparently loved lambs. His nursery had been trimmed with little sheep hopping fences upon green grass. A stuffed sheep called Baabaa had seen the tot through scarlet fever only to be burned and lost forever for its loyalty. Bedtime after bedtime he had squealed with the joys of learning speech, sucking his fist, clapping as picture books filled with darling sheep were pointed out by his mother. True, he had loved sheep because she had put them there - his sisters had loved kittens and ponies for the same reason - but he had loved them all the same.
However, his memories went back to about four or five, earlier years lost in the sleep that surrounds life. Therefore, the nursery of lambs was forgotten. In later life he had visited a sheep farm in shades and trench coat as a councilor, annoyed and somewhat disgusted. They looked and sounded nothing like the sheep of imagination. No, they were ugly, smelly and made frightening, near aggressive noises. They weren't round and cute, nor did they baa pleasantly. However, the small experience had come and gone and was forgotten. Lost with the nursery. Sheep meant nothing to him. He scarcely remembered they were in the world, yet, here they were in his dreams. For, though the councilman had forgotten them on the surface, the nursery and toddler time lined with lambs was subconsciously within him, buried deeply in his character - only visible when slumber came calling.
Watching over dozens of adorable lambs, the very sort that had trimmed his first room, he actually smiled. The Councilman rarely smiled, but the sight of the tiny lambs unleashed warmth and joy not experienced since his baby squeals. They were so adorable and innocent. Just like human babies. Their world was nothing more than baby giggles. It was beautiful.
Sitting on a large rock he realized he was in his best suit, but holding a shepherd's crook. Understanding his responsibility, he enjoyed the warm sun and watched the little ones play. He wanted to touch them, scoop them up in his arms, but knew he couldn't. Their perfection was not to be tampered with. Never. They were so cute they didn't seem real!
Hours seemed to pass, but he didn't mind. He could watch them forever. His smile grew as he watched, humming softly. This place brought out things uncharacteristic of him - smiling, humming, sincere happiness - and he loved it. Little black, white and gray lambs hopping and playing and brightening what was left of his world… wide awake he would find it ludicrous. Fast asleep, however, he'd never been more happy since Baabaa. It felt as though he was smiling on the inside. His heart was singing. He was so filled with bliss he felt he might burst. Eventually, he realized… he was staring at his soul.
Glancing about the field, he was suddenly thunderstruck. He saw it and was absolutely petrified. His heart froze… his inner smile ice… his joy screeching to a startled halt. For there… in the field… stood evil.
An enormous black wolf.
Startled and shaken, he stared at the handsome hunter. It's body was perfectly toned… it's coat glossy, it's expression cold. For a moment, he sat and they shared gaze… silent and beautiful. It was beautiful. Perhaps it would pass… perhaps… everything would be alright… Though it was cold and intimidating, it showed no sign of aggression. It just stood silently meeting his eyes. Dark eyes for dark eyes.
Without warning, it's face changed. It's muzzle wrinkled up to fierce eyes, it's white fangs revealed. Without warning, it sprang upon the lambs. Killing them.
The pain struck the councilor hard. The pain of a soul being torn to shreds… Stumbling, he started to run for help. "WOLF! WOLF!" he shrieked while he still could, crossing the pasture and reaching a small house. "WOLF!" he found a man cleaning his gun. "Please… help me… a wolf…"
Glancing up from his weapon, the huntsman was shockingly familiar. He smiled, almost chuckling, "Very funny, Arthur. The joke's growing old though…"
It was Beaumont.
His eyes widened in terror, stumbling… the pain was overwhelming… the agony racked through him… so unbearable he withered to his knees. "Sir… please… help me…"
"Relax, Arthur… you're angel of death awaits…"
A second figure approached. "A wolf is serious business. These false alarms have to stop. It's garbage, Mr. Reeves!"
It was Commissioner Gordon.
Behind Gordon, townspeople were gathering. Familiar faces. People Arthur knew. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled towards them. Before them. Into them. "Someone! Help me, please! WOLF!"
No one believed. No one would help…
Collapsing to his knees again, he began screaming… yet, no one would listen… he began to bleed heavily from the mouth…
"How's the bat bashing?" Bruce Wayne smiled over him.
Unexpectedly, Batman hit kicked him hard. "Afraid to die, Councilman?" he seethed, kicking him again.
Arthur screeched an almost inhuman screech, that kept his attacker at bay. He screamed again and again, the sound of smashing glass somewhere within him. He screeched until he began to giggle… he tried to scream further, but began to break up into laughter. Screaming laughter. Blood continued to flow him his mouth, more than ever… everywhere… blood… pouring out… absolutely everywhere… Shrieking through laughter he managed, "SOMEONE, ANYONE, HELP ME! HELP ME!! PLEASE GOD - I'M DYING!! I'M DYING!!!"
***
Arthur Reeves slammed awake, screech-laughing hysterically. Tears streamed his cheeks, his hair unkempt, as he slammed about his bed, out of control. Two doctors were trying to restrain him…
"Councilman, please!" one was trying to ready a needle. "PLEASE!"
After several days, Arthur was beyond talking - beyond anything. The toxin had taken over. He could do nothing but laugh and sleep now. He couldn't eat or drink, not even through tubes, without choking. The sedatives just weren't strong enough anymore. Now, he was either under all together or shrieking with laughter.
"Councilman!"
He was exhausted and starving, yet the toxin raged on. They'd promised it would run it's course and he'd be fine. They'd promised…
Finally, the injection was successfully given. Most of it, anyway. He slammed a few moments longer, before gradually calming and drifting to sleep… only to dream of wolves again…
Stepping into the hall, the doctor's hit the light and began to confer… the younger sounding uneasy, "I've never seen a case like this. Never. The laughing gas wears off and the Smilex kills within a minute…"
The other sighed heavily, rubbing his face, "I'm know my Joker chem, son… He was given laughing gas… only… it should have run it's course days ago… something went wrong…"
"Biologically?"
"The lab suspects a serious allergic reaction. The toxin just won't let go…"
"Then…" the younger hesitated before concluding. "We can't save him."
The other shook his head. "No, we can't…"
"We were his last chance… we specialize in…"
"We have to send him to Arkham. They have the strongest sedatives in the business. They can buy him time."
Surprised, the young man protested, "Arkham? But he's not a criminal. We-"
"He's not the first special case we've had to send to them. They have the facilities to keep him alive while we bring in specialists. We'll do the work here and keep him breathing there. I'll make some calls. For you, it's just a matter of paperwork."
Sighing, the young man glanced at his patient, "Where do I sign?"
***