Group therapy was more than just a knitting circle for Kendra Cole. It was a way to vent all the frustrations and aches she faced on a daily basis. Gotham City was the sort of place that would eat away at not only your soul but your mental state as well. The kicker was that no one seemed to care. Meetings such as these were few and far between even for a city as large as Gotham. There was no shortage of greed and corruption yet there was little to no sympathy for the poor and downtrodden.

Still, at least she had an Arkham outreach group she could go to once a week. Twice if she was feeling particularly downtrodden.

"Ok," Spoke a man in his mid 50's who looked as if he had just returned from a bender at Woodstock.

"Thank you for sharing with us about your time at Arkham, Kendra. I know it can be difficult to admit to. But I hope you received the help you needed"

"Pffft," Thought Kendra. " A Prozac, Trazidone cocktail is not what happiness make."

He clapped his hands together gently before addressing the whole room. He stood slowly from his seat causing many of the participants that were too doped up to even pay attention, snap out of their trances and go about the nightly ritual of putting chairs away.

Kendra placed a hand on the back of her chair and began to drag it across the floor, causing a dramatic screech to echo throughout the room. As she did so she glanced around the remaining members, taking a mental note of who had attended today.

"Let's see… There's Teddy, Greg, Marcus and Maria" Maria; other than Kendra, was one of the only other women she had seen attending these sessions. While Kendra was young (no older than 26), Maria was a seasoned lady with at least 60 years under her belt. She came to the group in her usual slippers and robe and almost never brushed her graying hair. She was a nice woman regardless of her appearance. However years of substance abuse and unmedicated schizophrenia had taken their toll on her. Still, she was someone whom Kendra liked very much.

But as Kendra turned on her heels and made slowly to the exit, she noticed a man walking ahead of her, head drawn down towards the ground while attempting to light a cigarette with his trembling hands. Weird. She hadn't even remembered seeing him at all during tonight's session. He was either new or Kendra had begun to slowly slip into what old people call "dementia". But God that cigarette smelt good though.

As she made her way through the double doors and out into the crisp autumn night, she clutched her coat against herself. Trying her best to fight the strong urge to grab a pack of smokes on her way home… "Whoever said it was possible to quit smoking cold turkey was a fucking moron." She thought bitterly.

They both lingered outside and Kendra had a sneaking suspicion that the man; now positioned to her left, was examining her cautiously from the corner of his eyes. The long drag he took was enough to push her over the edge, finally giving in to her nicotine fit.

"Can I.." She stammered shyly. "Can I bum a smoke off you?"

The man looked up through his cloud as if he just realized she was there. She must have been mistaken in thinking he had been eyeballing her.

"Su-sure '' He replied with a voice so timid and weak, it was enough to make Kendra feel like shit for even asking to take something as small as a cigarette from him. He reached into his pocket to reveal a pack of Paul Malls… "Oh God. Ew '' Thought Kendra. Not her personal favorite but beggars couldn't be choosers. They'll all kill you in the end anyways.

"Thanks." She replied, removing one from the worn package and impulsively reaching into her coat for a lighter. Remembering she had long since rid herself of any smoking paraphernalia, she once again silently pleaded with the stranger.

As if he understood right away what it was she was too embarrassed to request, he fumbled in his pocket and produced a red Bic lighter. Kendra leaned closer towards his outstretched hand; assuming he was attempting to light her cigarette. However, the intrusive action caused him to recoil slightly, forcing her to withdraw quickly; her cheeks now flushed.

Feeling stupid she replied apologetically, "Sorry." Giggling nervously as if to hide the embarrassment of his rejection.

"No, it's fine." He replied almost as nervously as her. He lit the lighter and the cigarette between her fingers, "His hands are shaking" Kendra thought to herself. "Poor guy."

As she readjusted herself from her slouched position, she took a long drag and fell into a sort of euphoric trance as the smoke caused her chest and throat to tighten in defense from the tobacco and nicotine that threatened her lungs. It had been a few months since she had even taken one hit off of a cigarette and this; as she so lovingly thought, was just what the doctor ordered. Too caught up with her momentary stupor, she had not noticed the way the man stared at her through his own cloud of smoke. As if he were admiring a complex work of art… Awestruck yet unable to process what it was he was actually seeing.

Kendra however, was the first to break the momentary silence that encircled the two of them.

"You new to the group?"

He idiled before answering just as timid as before.

"No… I've been here a few times before." He responded. Disappointment seeping fourth from every syllable.

"Oh… I'm sorry." Kendra apologized again. "I just never noticed you before now."

"Yeah." He snorted. " Most people don't."

Kendra kicked herself mentally. There were so many ways she could have replied to his explanation. But of course, her foot-in-mouth disease presented itself in its usual fashion. The forsaken look on the man's face as he averted his gaze to the ground caused Kendra's gut to clench in a terrible way. She tried her best to recover from her mistake.

" I mean you never really spoke up. I'm pretty much… not there most of the time mentally. I'm also not the most observant person normally anyways." She giggled nervously once more.

The man took another puff from his cigarette before he scoffed slightly in response; a plume of smoke circling wistfully within the breeze. "Oops". She definitely offended him.

" My names' Kendra by the way." She spoke all too quickly, nearly stumbling over her words, quick to bridge the awkwardness between them.

"Arthur," he replied. Taking yet another large drag from his Paul Mall.

"Well it's nice to meet you Arthur… Maybe next time we can sit together. It would be nice to not feel so alone during those talks." She smiled warmly, tossing the smoking butt of her cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with the heel of her boot. "Thanks for the smoke," She laughed. "I needed that."

As she made to walk past him she heard him respond softly, almost like a quiet whisper in the evening air.

"Yeah… No problem."

She never noticed the way he looked at her as she brushed past him slightly. Never noticed the way he inhaled the slight smell of her perfume. It was only a matter of time before she would.

Arthur's POV

It was almost unreal the way this young woman spoke to him. So carefree and pleasantly. Would she still speak to him in such a manner if she knew who or what he was. Everyone; including himself, thought very little of him and he knew from the awkward gazes he received from fellow Gotham residents, that if he were to drop dead right on the side of the street that no one would care or even notice. Surely she'd know he wasn't worth that pretty, straight and impeccable smile of hers. He never truly took note of her in the group therapy sessions he had begun attending (as a recommendation from his therapist of course) but he sure as shit had now.

Watching the remnants of the burning embers of her cigarette and her fading silhouette he thought; deep down in the recesses of his mind, that she must be just as interested in him as he was with her. Why else would she have bothered with such small talk. This was how most cinematic romances started after all, right? So he waited for a moment before following silently behind her.

She walked with a quick and awkward gate that most would take to be impatient and clumsy for a woman as short as her, but for Arthur he saw her move with the type of grace only one with confidence would possess. Like one of those fancy dancers you'd see on television. The ones with the gossamer tights and frilly dresses… "Perfection," he thought to himself.

Lucky for him she did not hail a cab. It was a quick reflection he had not taken into consideration until now. "Maybe she couldn't afford one? Poor girl." If only she knew how similar their plights were. She did however take the subway, which made it even easier for Arthur to follow behind her without revealing himself prematurely. He gazed at her from beneath the hood of his jacket, shuffling only slightly as to not draw too much attention. Luck had once again been on his side, for there had only been a few other pedestrians aboard the car they shared.

She sat by herself, swinging her legs that were crossed at the ankles. She stared out of the window opposite of her at the passing darkness. Arthur was unsure of what it was she was thinking about but his hopeful and over-active imagination helped to fill in the blanks left void of reality. Perhaps she was daydreaming about the next time they would meet. She began to tug consciously at the skirt that clung to the lower portion of her legs. Was she as unsure of herself as he was of himself as well? Of course she was. Although he hadn't given her much consideration before tonight, he remembered hearing her speak during their sessions. A 26-year-old legal secretary who had previously attended school in Detroit however had nothing to show for it here in Gotham. He felt such pity for her that it took every ounce of his being not to descend upon her and embrace her petite figure. He fantasized about the way her auburn hair would smell and the way it would feel cascading through his finger tips.

But as he fantasized of their loving embrace she had quickly made her way through the doors and began to climb the staircase of the underground station's exit, the clumsy - no "gracefulness" occompaning her again. He hastily pushed his way through the closing doors and stumbled around the corner of a building, making sure he had given her just enough of a head start as to stay silently in the shadows behind her.

But it had only taken them a few more minutes of walking before she was advancing on a small deli. As she made her way inside the decomposing building he noted silently to himself that this must be her home… Maybe one day they could call it their home he thought, before turning around, making his way lonesomely back to the subway underground.