A/N: I originally posted this story a few years ago, and although it was a fantastic concept, my writing was extremely sub par. I'm hoping to do it more justice now.
Be critical. If you can't even finish chapter one, tell me why! Love it, hate it, find it boring, can't wait for more? Let me know!
CHAPTER ONE - THE TOUR
It was raining in Gotham…as usual. Although they had just reached the middle of June, the wet temperature was bone chilling, creating a sense of pathetic fallacy amongst the group of university students currently trudging through it to their destination.
Looks wise, Arkham Asylum was by far the most impressive building in the city. One would think a building containing the most psychotic, grandiose criminals in Gotham would perhaps resemble a prison more than a castle, yet, there it was, in all it's gothic glory, somehow appearing even creepier in the wet gloom than it normally would on a sunny day.
The students approaching the building wore mixed expressions; some were scared, some fascinated, others were determined to keep their faces impassive. One student's face however, sparkled with pure, barely contained excitement.
As the group bottlenecked at the gate, the older, stony-faced woman leading them spoke briefly to one of the security guards stationed at the entrance, who then nodded and lowered his mouth to his shoulder to speak to a radio. Their stiffly postured professor turned back to them.
"Doctor Cherry will be out momentarily to meet us. I know we've gone over them already, but he will review all the rules before we begin. As excited as I'm sure you all are at the prospect of touring such a facility," she paused, giving a stern, pointed look to the one student glowing with anticipation, who was practically bobbing on her feet.
"…I must remind you that the patients here are not your typical patients. As prepared as you think this course has made you, this facility is known for housing the worst of the worst. Experiencing them in theory is vastly different from seeing them face to face. I must remind you all to please exercise extreme caution."
Everyone nodded, and by this point they could see a weathered man making his way towards them.
"Welcome." His cold eyes and sardonic tone made it clear they were anything but.
He invited them wordlessly to follow him without introducing himself to any of them, pointedly ignoring their professor's outstretched hand. Though she maintained an air of indifference, the slight way her shoulder tensed made her irritation obvious to anyone paying enough attention.
The group followed Dr. Cherry quickly, eager to be out of the dreary cold. As they shook off in the front foyer, their reluctant host jumped right in.
"You are all here because you're students of psychology. You all think you have what it takes to treat and maintain the mental health of the criminally insane." He looked around, a derisive sneer playing on his lips.
"I'm willing to bet that after today, more than half of you will change your minds."
Some people shifted uncomfortably, many of them exchanging wary glances. However, one pair of excited brown eyes only glittered with even more enraptured interest, though she'd been successfully chastened into at least attempting to try and hide it.
"Arkham Asylum is not like most sanatoriums. We have no classification of different patients. All are considered high risk, and the entire building is considered maximum security." Dr. Cherry took the time to meet the eyes of every student in the room as he spoke; which, considering there were over forty people in attendance, was quite a feat.
"If you have any questions, write them down, and I'll address them at the end; DO NOT interrupt. I don't want any of you drawing any more attention than this clown show is already attracting. Stay silent, keep up, and unless otherwise instructed, keep your eyes DOWN."
Well…that seemed excessive.
Though still animated, the brown eyed girl narrowed her eyes at Dr. Cherry, but a warning look from her professor had her grinding her teeth to keep quiet.
"Do we all understand?" The condescension in his tone was palpable, and when his eyes finally landed on hers, she fought hard against rolling her own. Especially when, predictably, his gaze lingered on her for slightly longer than the others, the typical curiosity people had about her exotic appearance flickering over his face.
After 25 years, she was quite used to everyone looking at her like that. Being so ethnically ambiguous was apparently an open invitation for people to gawk and wonder what race she could possibly be.
Raising her eyebrows at the doctor's blatant spectating, his eyes unabashedly moved on, apparently still insistent on meeting the gazes of all her peers before beginning the tour, despite the awkward silence that had fallen over the group.
Appeased once everyone had been satisfactorily intimidated with his glare, he broke the painful silence.
"Alright then. Let's get started."
Before the excited young student could move with her group, a bony hand gripped her elbow.
"Jezebelle…" she internally scowled at the patronizing tone her professor used, the use of her full name making her feel like a child.
"…I need you at your best today. I appreciate what you've done with your clothes and hair," she gestured to the plain colours Jezzie donned, and the French braid intended to hide the bright blue and purple ombre in her jet-black hair.
"…but I know keeping quiet during a discussion is difficult for you. I really don't want this to be the last time our school is invited back here, so, please…do what he says, and save all your questions and comments until he's ready to answer them." Her professor looked at her severely, with a pleading undertone in her eyes.
Despite her irritation, Jezzie nodded.
"I understand, Mrs. Fields."
Though slightly perturbed, she couldn't really fault her professor for singling her out. Jezzie was by far the most passionate in her classes, and it was far from uncommon for her professors to exasperatedly - yet fondly - explain to her that while her enthusiasm was appreciated, they only had so much time for free discussion on course material in one given lesson.
Though it was a challenge, she managed to keep quiet throughout the tour, aggressively scribbling all her thoughts and questions into her small notebook. Only once was her professor, who had kept rather close to her, forced to nudge Jezzie's ribs in a warning when the telltale sign of her inhale signaled she was about to speak out of turn.
"As you can see, none of our patients are ever out of sight. While they can't see each other, the glass doors always grant us complete visual access. Due to the number of successful escape attempts at Arkham, I've been reassessing and revaluating all our security protocols instated by the previous owner." He sounded almost smug as he led them down a dimly lit hallway and gave them permission to glance in the cells. Much to her disappointment, Jezzie realized these patients were either completely disassociated, or recently drugged, as none seemed to even notice that there was a large group of young spectators gawking at them.
"All our patients are given three meals a day, and all are dosed with their medications at those times; those that refuse to eat or take their meds are forced to through feeding tubes and IV's.
"An hour of exercise every 24 hours is allotted to our patients, provided in these rooms." Moving far too quickly for Jezzie's liking, he led them down another hallway. Though it had the same amount of glass doors as the previous hallway, each room had three different doors one could enter or exit through. Each room appeared to be about the size of a seatainer.
"We have ten exercise rooms at any given time, though we can create more if needed. The patients are left alone and encouraged to engage in the recommended exercises. Most of the time however, we're forced to strap them up in straitjackets and helmets to stop them from harming themselves."
A couple of the girls behind Jezzie gasped, and quietly muttered about the inhumane treatment. She tried not to roll her eyes at their naïve altruism.
"Showers are over here, which for obvious reasons I won't be showing you. The shower, though built to accommodate multiple patients, is only ever used by one patient at a time. Every patient is provided with five minutes of shower time a day."
At this, Jezzie snorted, and had to hastily cover it with a cough, avoiding her professor's glare.
If the patients she saw were any indication, nobody that checked into Arkham Asylum was receiving a regular cleaning.
Though Dr. Cherry levelled his gaze at her for another brief second, he didn't address her disdainful sound.
"Therapy no longer takes place in private rooms, one on one." This piqued a lot of interest; everyone was very familiar with the story of Harleen Quinzel. They could only surmise that that new rule had something to do with her.
"We now have a specialized glass box we transport the patient to. They're restrained, and their shrink sits with them, in the box, separated by glass. One other mental health professional must be present to listen in on the session, and outside the box, though they can't hear, four security officers stand guard and watch everything that happens."
Jezzie could only picture something like the weird glass enclosure they used for Dr. Evil in Austin Powers, and although she really wanted to see it in person, under her professor's watchful eye she didn't dare ask. It was probably in use anyhow.
"Part of what makes Arkham Asylum so unique is the constant restructuring…despite the fact that this hospital was designed like a labyrinth, as mentioned, there have still been a multitude of successful escape attempts. So, once a month, we do some…remodelling.
"All our rooms have been built so that the walls are removable…though admittedly, it's not cheap, but it's well worth the price to keep our citizens safe. Though the showers, laundry and kitchens all must stay the same, the patients' rooms, exercise areas, solitary confinement, therapy locations and even staff offices are constantly changed. Our staff members also constantly rotate shifts, so nobody, not even psychiatrists, deal with the same people every day."
Jezzie's eyebrows shot up at this. The man was basically admitting this place was just a holding cell for crazies. From how he was making it sound, none of them were receiving proper rehabilitative treatment, which was what the hospital was supposedly known for. He was basically turning the place into a high security prison.
"Transporting patients throughout the building is the next issue I intend to address…at the moment, patients are escorted by two armed guards while their wrists and ankles are shackled. I intend to implement stricter measures, which will involve the utilization of hoods and dogs."
They were led down another hallway, and as he was explaining the different reasons one could get thrown in solitary confinement – basically doing anything besides sitting there like a zombie - the radio on his hip crackled and a bored voice interrupted.
"Patient 1015 is finished in the showers, we're moving back to his cell through D Wing now." Dr Cherry's face froze briefly, turning a deep red. He growled into the radio.
"What? NO! NO, I wasn't even informed he was in there! Stay there, I have the goddamn university tour RIGHT in the middle of D Wing." Though it was far from their fault, the scowl he threw at the students indicated he felt otherwise.
"Can't doc…there's already another patient in the shower now." The blasé response only served to increase the colour in Dr. Cherry's face and neck, the hue remarkably close to his name.
From the look on his face, Jezzie thought he might start threatening the indifferent worker, but he seemed to think better of it, and instead turned to face his murderous face towards the students.
"Turn around, face the wall and keep your eyes DOWN. Do not MOVE or make a SOUND until I say so." The snarl in his voice had everyone complying before the last word had even left his mouth.
It was eerily silent, considering how many people were in the hallway. Once the sounds of chain link cuffs could be heard however, there was a collective gasp as everyone's breath caught.
Despite her peripheral being blocked by her peers, Jezzie felt as soon as the patient emerged into the hallway. Whoever it was, they had the ability to subdue an entire room, even when unseen.
"Oh my. All this fuss…for me? Aren't uh, you all supposed to yell…surprise?"
Jezzie's scalp prickled, and her chocolate skin erupted in goosebumps. She exhaled shakily, and though every fibre of her being told her not to, she tilted her head just so, eyes straining painfully to try and get a look at the patient being shuffled down the hallway. She just…she had to see…it sounded just like him…
It seemed to take forever for him to approach where she stood, and when she finally saw him, a burst of hot adrenaline shot through her body.
Even without the makeup, he was unmistakable. Though most details were obscured from her line of sight, his scars were anything but inconspicuous. As he drew closer, she saw that he was still dripping from his shower, and his clothes were practically soaked through.
Just as she was unhelpfully wondering whether Arkham provided their patients with towels, his eyes flickered around, meeting her curious gaze. For one split second, she couldn't move, frozen in place by his bottomless black stare. Then, like a switch went off, ice cold terror flooded her veins, and she quickly angled herself forward again, futilely praying he hadn't noticed her. She'd always had a bad habit of not listening, but this…fuck this was beyond stupid. Even though no words were exchanged, she couldn't help but tremble as the sick, horrible anxiety sunk in that she fucked up.
He hadn't said anything, but his eyes were still burning holes into the back of her head. Finally, he passed, and she released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
A yell, a crunch, and another yell sounded before Jezzie found herself slammed into the wall, two wiry yet powerful arms caging around her. The long set of chain cuffs on his wrists pressed tightly against the back of her neck, so her face was mashed painfully into the wall.
She was still trying to process what was happening when she felt very wet lips on her ear.
"I uh, like your hair."
The words felt like a punch to her gut when she then realized who was pressing against her, but before the paralyzing fear could begin to really take hold, he was ripped away from her.
It was then she heard the shouting. Everybody was yelling around her, but it was impossible to make out what they were saying over the intense ringing coming from her own ears. Hands found her shoulders, and Jezzie was firmly pulled away from the wall, eliciting a fearful squeak from her closed up throat. Seeing the alarmed face of her professor, she relaxed slightly, and allowed herself to be led away, through the frenzy of her classmates. The yelled instructions Mrs. Fields gave were muffled to Jezzie's ears, and everything seemed blurry and out of focus, her fears and anxieties quickly shifting to another focus.
I'm getting kicked out of school. Everything I've been working so hard for…the last seven years, just…wasted. For nothing.
It wasn't until she was on a couch with something warm in her hands that all her senses started returning, and she realized she was in an office, sitting on a rather worn couch. A hot cup of tea was in her hands, and she stared at it dumbfounded.
Where the fuck did that come from?
And what the fuck was it with white people and tea?
Startled by the sudden yelling right outside the door, she set the drink down quickly, not eager to feel the hot liquid spilling over her fingers.
"…with such blatant disregard for protocol and safety! You realize this could result in a lawsuit you fucking neanderthal!"
Currently only able to process the tone, and not the words she heard, Jezzie's face pinched in anxiety, and she dropped her head into her hands. Would she be kicked out? Even worse, would she be blacklisted from getting her psychiatry doctorate altogether? She'd outright broken the rules and it literally led to the Joker attacking her…oh GOD why hadn't she just fucking LISTENED?
The hand of her professor landed on her shoulder, in a manner that Jezzie assumed was meant to be comforting, but was more startling than anything, as she hadn't realized Mrs. Fields was even in the room with her.
Guess that's where I got the tea from.
"There there Jezzie. You're safe now. Your father is on his way, and he'll take you home."
Jezzie's eyes widened in panic.
"You…you called my dad? Why?!" Clearly taken aback at her alarm, Mrs. Fields opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Dr. Cherry brusquely entering.
"We're truly sorry for this unfortunate situation, Ms. Fox. The patient in question is securely locked in solitary, and rest assured, you were never in any actual danger." The lack of remorse and empathy in the man's voice was almost laughable, but Jezzie only nodded, unable to find any humour in the face of losing everything she'd been working so hard towards.
Though not exactly sure what response he was looking for, silence clearly wasn't it.
"Are you alright? Can we get you anything to make you more comfortable?" Slightly confused at the almost polite treatment, Jezzie slowly shook her head. Why wasn't anyone yelling at her?
Dr. Cherry seemed insistent on getting a verbal response out of her.
"Your father is on his way, and I can understand there being some…upset…however, I trust I can depend on you to keep all of this…confidential? You did sign a liability agreement after all; it would be a shame to have any…further, complications arise." A surprised look flashed across Jezzie's face.
They're trying…to keep my fuck up silent? Why?
Or…fucking hell…do they not realize what I've done?
She opened her mouth to finally respond when they were again interrupted, this time by the voice of Jezzie's father outside the door, demanding to see his daughter.
"Shit, that was quick." Dr. Cherry stood to open the door, and Jezzie pinched the bridge of her nose.
Of course he came quickly dude…do you not realize who he is?
She anxiously chewed her inner cheek, desperately trying to figure out what she could say to him.
When he finally entered the room, even Dr. Cherry couldn't help but try to straighten himself to his full height. While Lucius Fox was not normally a scary man, he did have an impressive gift at gentle intimidation. His daughter however…when it came to her, his aura became more threatening than anything else.
Ignoring everyone else in the room, he knelt in front of his daughter, placing his fingers on her chin to raise her eyes to his.
"You okay Jezzie?"
Jezzie met her father's concerned gaze as steadily as she could.
"Yes dad…I'm okay."
He gauged her face intently, waiting for the slightest indication she wasn't telling the truth. Jezzie wasn't always known to be the most forthcoming but lying directly to her father's face was never something she'd been capable of. She could try, but he always saw through it.
Seemingly satisfied, he straightened and directed his now much angrier attention to Dr. Cherry.
"Would you care to explain to me how my child found herself in this position?" His voice was so light, but Jezzie could see by everyone's posture they knew they were on dangerous ground.
To his credit, Dr. Cherry temporarily maintained a brave front.
"Forgive my candor, Mr. Fox…but look at where you are. Things like this are always at risk of-"
"Precisely. So, since this is such a dangerous environment to begin with…I'll ask again, MR. Cherry…why did I receive a phone call informing me that my daughter was attacked by one of your patients, while under your supervision? Oh, and not just by not just any patient, but The Joker? How was this even possible?"
Though clearly rattled by the intentional dig at his profession, Dr. Cherry made as if to respond, but before he could, Lucius spun around, his terrifyingly polite anger now focused on her professor.
"And you, Mrs. Fields…I'd simply love to hear your explanation as to why parents are paying for their children to gallivant with terrorists?"
Jezzie almost unhelpfully pointed out that not all the students were so lucky as to have their parents paying for their schooling, but wisely decided against it. The more pressing matter at hand was her father, who was slowly swivelling his head between Mrs. Fields and Dr. Cherry, both of whom seemed to understand they needed to let the man talk.
"I'm sure you're well aware of who my employer is. Well, when our meeting was interrupted with your phone call, Mr. Cherry, he insisted I fly over by helicopter. I believe his exact words were, 'anything you need, all my funds are at your disposal.'"
He paused, allowing the words to sink in. Jezzie's panic returned.
Oh God…if he sues, I'll for sure get blacklisted…all they want is to just sweep it all under the rug. And it's not like I was actually hurt…
Dr. Cherry, though less confident than before, was commendably not quite ready to lose face.
"Well, you won't find much evidence of any situation, I'm afraid. The only witnesses are our staff members, as the camera was deactivated in that wing. It was about to be transitioned into a holding area, you see."
Jezzie's protest to her father, which she'd been carefully constructing in her head, momentarily paused.
For someone who worked where he worked, Dr. Cherry was not a very proficient liar.
Before her father could retort to what was clearly a thinly veiled fib, she quickly intervened, hoping to improvise the conclusion to the extensive argument she'd been mentally preparing.
"Dad…please…it wasn't their fault. I was told to tone down my outfit, and I should have made a better effort to hide my hair. That's what caught his attention." While not a complete lie, it wasn't exactly the whole truth. She licked her lips and continued quickly, eager to fill any pause he may have attempted to interject on.
"They were so careful the whole time, and …well, judging by how Dr. Cherry reacted, it sounds like someone is getting fired. He's been trying to fix all the security problems Arkham has been having with escapes and what not…and, as for the school, well…" she dropped her eyes, shifting her feet uncomfortably, finding very little need to play her shame up.
"Like I said, Mrs. Fields warned me about my attire…I thought plain clothes and a braid would be fine, but, clearly it wasn't. And…well…we're all adults in the class. I chose not to tell you, not her. If anyone is to blame for that, it's me. It's my fault."
Though she knew the entire situation was largely in part the staff's fault for negligence, Jezzie was terrified at the prospect of anyone actually reviewing the hallway footage, and seeing her blatantly disregarding the rules set out for the entire group. Had she just listened, like everyone else, despite the workers' inability to do their job properly, it's likely the entire event would have never taken place.
She'd worked far too hard for far too long. She couldn't lose it all over something so stupid.
Predictably, knowing his daughter was blaming herself gave Lucius pause. Though his anger was far from released, the need to love and protect his daughter remained the strongest instinct he had. Jezzie, very aware of this, twisted the knife of emotional manipulation just a little more, putting on her smallest, most pleading voice.
"Please daddy…I don't wanna be here anymore, I just wanna go home." If she could just get him out of there, away from the people angering him, she'd be able to salvage the situation.
That was it. Lucius was by her side and had swept her to her feet, tucking her protectively against his side.
"I'll be in touch." Although it was clearly meant to be threatening, Dr. Cherry nodded enthusiastically, and he looked to Jezzie, speaking to her in a much friendlier tone than she thought possible.
"Thank you for being so understanding, Ms. Fox. You are a very brave, and very intelligent young woman. If you ever need my recommendation, advice, or anything else, you shall certainly have it." Jezzie beamed brightly at him, and squeezed her dad excitedly.
"Oh, Dr. Cherry…that will be fantastic for when I graduate. I know your opinion is greatly valued in the psychiatric community." Her gushing was more for her father's sake than anyone else's, and the nonverbal exchange between her and Dr. Cherry, though silent, still felt extremely loud. Keen not to be left out, Mrs. Fields piped in.
"Yes, and please, don't worry yourself with any school deadlines…take as much time as you need to recover from this."
Jezzie's smile stayed wide.
"Thanks Mrs. Fields…I'll keep in touch."