AN: Thankfully, this is the end. You will never speak of this again, is that clear?
Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Why couldn't you have come in while I was actually a practicing psychiatrist? Because we were at Arkham. I took on outside patients sometimes. Yeah, and they usually checked in within a month. Good point.
Jasmine Scarthing-Kindly keep your hands off my head. He hates it when people touch his head. So would you, if you'd spent your childhood as the neighborhood football. True.
SwordStitcher-There's more where that came from! No. No. NO. You're sure? Quite sure. Fine. Spoilsport. Thank you.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-He'll live. No thanks to you. Hey, it's not my fault you kick me out when... Shut up, I don't want to get... SPOILERS! Now you've done it.
Jonathan listens to the raspy breathing in the far corner and tries to concentrate on the feeling of Kitty's arms around his stomach.
She didn't believe him-of course she didn't, he sometimes doesn't believe himself!-but he'll prove it. Tonight, when she comes over, he'll grab her. He killed her once, he'll do it again. With relish.
The breathing stops and he wonders if she's gone, if some higher power has intervened and made her go away. Then he hears it again, on the floor by his bed. Okay. He'll just reach down there and…
His fingers are not moving. He's fairly certain that he is willing his fingers to move. Why aren't they moving? Oh, god, he can't move at all!
Relax. says Kitty's voice in his head. Breathe.
He can't breathe, he can't do anything but lie here and listen to her breathe!
Concentrate on your breathing.
Okay. Maybe she's right. It worked when he'd been disemboweled-god that had hurt-maybe it'll work now.
Okay. Now try to lift your finger. JUST your finger.
His breathing is a little too fast and shallow for his liking, and for a minute he doesn't think he can move anything, but then he feels his finger twitch.
Open your eyes and move your finger.
Why is Kitty's voice giving him instructions for breaking out of sleep paralysis? Never mind-it's working, and if he keeps it up he can grab the lurking thing by his bed.
He can see the top of her head, strangely foggy in the blackness, and he can still hear her down there. It sounds like she's laughing.
He can move! Before she can go away, he reaches down and grips her bony wrist and pulls her up, intending to drag her downstairs. He never gets the chance.
She twists her own wrist around and shrieks, an unearthly noise that sounds like every nightmare he's ever had in his life. His vision blurs and he feels her pull her wrist out of his hand and grip his neck.
No, please…
Then there's nothing at all.
"Jonathan. Jonathan, love, wake up."
Kitty?
Really, honest-to-god, not-Granny-in-disguise Kitty?
Yes.
He tries to sit up and finds himself on the bed again. Huh? How'd he get up here?
"Kitty?"
"Hey." She ruffles his hair and helps him sit up. "How are you feeling?"
Feeling? What happened, what's she talking about?
"Huh?"
"I think I know what was going on with you." So he did tell her? "One of your aerosol cans was damaged." Oh, boy. "You were probably getting a pretty steady stream of the stuff every time you went down there."
Toxin? The past few days have been…toxin?
Oh, come on!
"Really?"
"I think so. Makes sense, doesn't it?"
Yes. And now that he knows what a small, steady supply will do, he has a new experiment to put together.
He goes to get up and she pushes him back.
"Hey!"
"No work for a few days, all right? For your own good."
"But…"
"It's for your own good." she says firmly. "I mean it. I am going to bring you some oatmeal, and you will eat it."
"Thanks, Kitty."
"Sure, love." She leaves and he settles back against the pillows, watching a weak ray of sunlight come in through the blinds. Toxin. Everything was just…not real. Thank god for that.
His shirt is sticking to his collarbone and he pulls it off and throws it onto the steadily-growing pile of clothes in the corner. He's just about to drop back when he sees it.
A black feather on the floor.
THE END
AN: It's really done now, I promise. As for that feather…there's plenty of ways it could have gotten in there. You decide.