AN: Takes place after 'Visit'. *snickers* Poor Arkham. They just haven't got a prayer. Between the Joker playing in the cleaning closet, Zsasz stabbing people with plastic knives (hey, you gotta work with what's there) and Edward telling terrible riddles involving babies and crutches…yeah.
Sketch1997-You pick it up, and you ram into an eye socket. Sometimes they break halfway in, which is a terrible shame, but sometimes you get a nice, sturdy, new crayon that goes right in through the eyeball and gets stuck there, resulting in blood, blindness, and screams. Screams of pain rather than terror, more's the pity, but it gets us out of therapy early.
Come Thursday evening, he cheeks the sleeping pill (after having chatted up the nurse enough to get her to drop her guard) and feigns sleep.
A little after midnight, one of the orderlies comes in with Kitty, who's whimpering about severe abdominal pain.
"All right, hon, it's all right…is it food poisoning or…?"
"I dunno." She gasps and tries to curl into a little ball. She is acting, isn't she? "I dunno, it just started about half…god…half an hour ago."
"Okay. Just lie still, I'll be right back."
She bites her lip and whimpers something he doesn't catch. Maybe she really is ill…no. No, she's not. He just saw her slip the spare pen from the nurse's pocket.
It's all he can do not to rub his hands together and cackle.
"It'll be okay."
Her only answer is a whine and a high-pitched, "God, this hurts…"
They leave. The minute the door is shut, Kitty uncurls, clicks the pen a couple of times, and yanks out the spring and straightens it out.
"Hold still."
"Not bad."
"I know. That idiot orderly almost screwed me over. I told him it might be that time of the month and that got him going."
He cracks a small smile. A minute later, the cuff is off and he's free to get out of bed. At last.
They raid the nurses' station for anything that could be a weapon and come up with a couple of syringes (enough to bluff their way through, anyway) and a stethoscope (great for strangling!).
The hallways are empty-they always are, at this time of night-and they make it out of the medical building unscathed. Now, there should be one of those forgotten doors around here somewhere…
"Hey!"
They never have gotten out of here without a murder. One day, perhaps…
"Hey! Stop!"
The man's backing up, reaching for the alarm switch. They spring at him, straightening out the stethoscope to wrap around his neck.
He goes down with minimal struggle-funny what a syringe pressed against the lower eye will do for silence.
Once there's vomit dribbling from the lips, he takes the stethoscope back and lets the body fall. Ow. That didn't do his ribs any favors.
Now, where were they…ah. Door. Should be right about…here.
Once the door (hidden at the back of a janitor's closet) is shut behind them, he drapes the stethoscope around his neck and she puts the syringes in a rolled-up cuff before leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him.
"I missed you."
"We've only been here for three weeks."
"Feels longer." There's a noise in the hall and she draws back. "Hold that thought."
There's no scream, no frantic, 'escapee!', but still. They should get out of here before someone finds the body in the hall. They'll pick this up at home.
THE END