Hi everyone, I am sorry for taking so long to update. Thank you all for the reviews. :)
Loved, loved, loved Batman: Arkham Knight! Since I began writing this before it came out, my story sadly doesn't match its continuity, but I might make references. On another note, my jaw dropped open when I saw a 'Salvation Bridge' on the map! (and a Firefighter Daniell - yes, spelled that way - and the particular items in the police evidence locker, and the reference to Zsasz and blood loss...) :D Coincidences? LOL probably. But they thrilled me anyway. ;)
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Redemption, Restitution, & Resurrection
Chapter Twenty-Five: REMORSE
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The screaming was gone now.
Danielle lay silent and still in his arms. Her body was limp, her blood dripping from her stomach and pooling on the back of her body before falling to the pavement. Pat! Pat! Pat!
And yet he couldn't take his eyes off her face. Her own eyes were closed, but she didn't look peaceful. Her face, flushed from fighting him, was rapidly growing paler.
How could he have done this? How could this really be happening?
When Danielle's face blurred, Zsasz realized he was crying.
The only person he had ever loved was bleeding out in his arms – and he had done this.
For a second, it felt like he was flying. Then he realized that his body had moved on its own, and he was racing through the streets of Gotham, clutching Danielle's body to his chest. He didn't want to think about the torn tissues gushing in between them, from the hole he had cut in Danielle. He pressed her more tightly to himself, trying to stanch the bleeding.
She didn't weigh an ounce. Was it the adrenaline coursing through him that made her seem so weightless? Or had her spirit already left her body? He clutched her tighter and kept running, begging his Alive Girl not to leave him, to hold on and fight just a little longer...
He knew where he had to take her. He just hoped it wasn't too late.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Dr. Thompkins! Dr. Thompkins!"
The good doctor was in a dead sleep when the pounding started. Years of odd shifts and patients in need had left her a light sleeper, and she startled awake at once. Putting on a robe, she hurried to the front door of her clinic and threw it open.
Mr. Zsasz stood on her front porch, his face wild. A young woman lay unconscious in his arms.
Dr. Thompkins was taken aback by the raw emotion on Zsasz's face. His gaunt cheeks were flushed, his hollow eyes wide and sorrowful. It looked like he had been crying.
Zsasz looked at Leslie pleadingly. "Please, Dr. Thompkins—"
"You must be in very dire straits to come here, Mr. Zsasz," Leslie said quietly, even as her eyes ran over the young woman. "You were banned from here—"
"I don't care, please, just save her!" Zsasz held out the young woman in his arms. Her head lolled on his arm. Leslie could see how pale she was, and she could smell the blood thick in the air. As her eyes adjusted to the night, Leslie saw that Zsasz's shirt was covered with blood.
"Where was she injured?" she asked hurriedly as she ushered Zsasz inside.
"Her stomach. Stabbed."
Zsasz laid the woman on a table, and only then did Leslie finally see the wound. She grabbed the scissors, cutting through the bloody clothes, and pressed a compress over the wound.
"Hold this!" she ordered Zsasz. "I am going to get my supplies. At this rate, she might not make it!" She disappeared and a split second later she was back with what she needed.
"I need you to stay outside. I'll let you know when you can come back in." Without another word, she began to work on Danielle. Zsasz opened his mouth, about to say something, but quickly realized that the doctor would work better if he didn't distract her. His heart in his throat, Zsasz went to the hallway, closed the doors and sat, head in hands, waiting to hear the fate of his beloved.
"You can come in now," Leslie's tired voice sounded from the doorway.
Zsasz started from his light slumber. He glanced at the clock in the foyer; was it really the next morning already? Quickly, he stood up and followed Dr. Thompkins into her treatment room.
He approached the bedside tentatively. Danielle looked so pale lying there. "Is she-"
"She is alive," Dr. Thompkins reassured him. "Though just barely. She will need another blood transfusion soon. I was able to clean out the wound and sew it shut, but—" She broke off in astonishment. Zsasz was holding out his arm to her.
"Please, if you need a transfusion for her, take my blood."
Leslie narrowed her eyes at him. "Mr. Zsasz, come this way. Sit down, we need to have a word."
Zsasz followed reluctantly, unable to take his eyes off Danielle. She looked so fragile! His heart clenched. He was such a bastard. Not for the first time in the last few hours, he wished he had stabbed himself instead of her.
"Now," Leslie's sharp tone commanded his attention back, "as you know, you were banned from here some time ago due to your fighting with Waylon Jones. I took a big risk letting you in here tonight, but I am not so certain you can stay here. If word gets out to the other patients that you're here—"
"Dr. Thompkins, I'm-" Say it! For her! "I am sorry that I fought here before. And I apologize especially for attacking you that time. That was wrong of me." Zsasz hung his head.
Leslie's eyes softened, though he couldn't see it. "If I may ask, what has happened to change you so much? It is unlike you, Mr. Zsasz, to bring someone here for treatment." To care so much about someone's life that you wish to save it. "Who is this young woman?"
"Her name is Danielle Lee. She's—well, she's somewhat of a friend. If she could ever forgive me after this," he muttered to himself.
Leslie glanced towards the unconscious woman. "So you mean that stab wound—"
"I inflicted it, yes." Zsasz's fists clenched. He looked near tears again. "I have made the worst mistake in my whole life."
"I should say so," Dr. Thompkins replied with a sharp look. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Danielle Lee, did you say-?"
"Yes. Dr. Thompkins?"
Leslie's mouth was hanging open. She came to see me before. I thought she seemed familiar! Quickly catching herself, the doctor refocused on Zsasz.
"You will need to leave. But I will give you updates on her condition, if you wish. Come to visit once per day, and come in strictly through the foyer. Preferably later at night. We will need to be careful not to alarm the other patients. Do you understand?"
Zsasz looked so lost suddenly. It was clear he did not want to leave her side.
Leslie sighed. "You want her to get better, don't you? I will do everything possible. As a doctor, it is my duty."
"At least take my blood before I go," Zsasz finally murmured. "In case she needs it."
Dr. Thompkins drew his blood soon afterward. She would need to test it for diseases and record his blood type before administering it. As he left, Zsasz stole one last look at Danielle.
Again, his body seemed to move on its own. Before he knew it, Zsasz was leaning over her, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. Her eyelids moved, though she didn't wake.
Straightening up, aware that Dr. Thompkins was standing shocked in the doorway, he said, "I leave her in your capable hands." The door clicked softly behind him.
In an alleyway outside Dr. Thompkins' clinic, Zsasz slumped onto a stoop, heart pounding. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
Who does Dr. Thompkins think she is, denying me?! I should be in there by Danielle's side, day and night, until she regains consciousness! Only Danielle can deny me the right to be near her!
He stood up. The blood was sudden and hot in his veins.
"Sitting here is pointless!" he seethed. "It will not bring her back to health, and since I cannot be at her side, it could well be a ploy!" His mood grew fouler as he paced the streets, lost in thought. "Dr. Thompkins knows her! She could be plotting to take her away from me!" He cursed low, running his hands over his head.
All that business about only seeing her once a day is nonsense. While I'm away, she'll take Danielle to a safe house where I'll never find her, and when I come to the clinic, she'll be gone. If Dr. Thompkins dares to try this... I'll kill her!
Vaguely he registered other people. He was on a more crowded street, so distracted was he by his own musings that he hadn't noticed until now. A couple walked in front of him, all giggles. The woman leaned close to the man, her lips very close to his ear. Zsasz's heart dropped. That could have been-
No. No, it couldn't have been. He had been a murderer before he met Danielle. When he chose that life, he had given up every hope of walking down the street like an ordinary person, ever again. He wasn't ordinary, was why. He could accept that reality about himself.
...But to never be in that kind of sweet ordinary reality with Danielle? To never walk in the light with her? Were they doomed to always fight each other? Was this ending - her on the operating table, barely clinging to life, he banned from seeing her - the only way...? His heart squeezed in his chest, and he realized he was once again near tears.
The man ahead of him said something. He was still following the couple, he realized.
The woman had pulled the man into an alcove. They leaned against each other, intimately close, the man's hands fumbling inside the woman's winter coat. She brought his hands out of her folds briefly to kiss his fingers. And Zsasz saw a dim glinting. Of course. They were a happily married couple out for an evening stroll, the way he would never be-
Except- Zsasz realized- they weren't married. When he squinted, he could see that the glint was coming from the man's ring finger, yet the woman's was bare.
Fury ignited in him. In an instant he was beside the adulterous couple, and he had his knife-
-Danielle was on the end of it, writhing in agony, a sharp scream rising from her throat-
Her blood was still on the handle and blade.
Zsasz nearly dropped the knife, sick. He stumbled back into the shadows. The couple hadn't seen him, so wrapped up were they in each other.
What am I doing? Not even a day after I stabbed her-
Zsasz sank to his knees and vomited. Tears ran down his face. No matter how he tried to stop them, they kept coming. Finally, no longer caring whether the couple saw him or not, he allowed the grief to overtake him.
Leslie looked up at the soft knock of the door. She went to open it, and Zsasz stepped inside wordlessly. There was an air about him; he bowed his head respectfully and kept his eyes steadily on the doors to the treatment room.
"She is unconscious," Dr. Thompkins told him. "You can sit with her if you'd like. Speak in a soft voice only."
Zsasz nodded and stepped quickly up to the bed.
Danielle looked so small lying there in the bed. Her normally tan skin was so pale. Her hair hadn't been managed; it was still messy from their fight. Zsasz guessed the good doctor had bigger worries than her hair.
He traced a finger softly down her face, over the scars he had given her. Fours years later, and he was still hurting her, he realized. When she didn't react, when she remained still and silent, his face crumpled. He hadn't quite recovered from his crying spell earlier.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. If only she could hear him. Zsasz continued to whisper in hopes that she could.
"I never got to tell you just how much I admire you, Danielle. What a woman you have become." He continued to stroke her face. "If you ever recover from this, I just want you to..." He went silent. What could he say? What did it matter what he wanted?
He sat there for the longest moment, staring down at her, wishing so much she was staring back. He wanted to see the fire in her earth-brown eyes. Even if it was born of contempt. He wanted to see the smile she got on her face every time she held her baseball bat. Her bat was precious to her - vaguely he realized that he'd left it in the alleyway. Should he go back for it?
No. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about her baseball bat.
Danielle's hands were beneath the blanket covering her. He wanted to reach under and hold her, entwine her delicate fingers in his own.
"Is there anything you need, Mr. Zsasz?" Leslie had come to stand next to him.
Zsasz swallowed; his throat was so dry. "Could you get me a brush, please?"
He brushed her hair as though he were brushing fine silk. Slowly he sorted the tangles out, and the dried blood. When he finished, her long thick hair haloed her pale face. She looked beautiful.
He wanted to stay with her forever.
Dr. Thompkins gave him a few more minutes, before quietly ushering him out. When he left, Zsasz found he could not move from the clinic's doors. He stood in the glow of the streetlight, aching to be by her side again.
Only the thought of retrieving her baseball bat for her made him move.
Dr. Thompkins believed the girl would make it.
She was showing signs of stability, though she would need to be carefully monitored. Her health could easily go the other way if the healing was stalled. Dr. Thompkins' biggest concern was an infection. The wound was deep. Though she had stitched it shut, if the areas were infected at all, it could attack Ms. Lee's internal organs, get into her bloodstream.
A few more days of stability, though, and her body would begin to bounce back and heal itself. In the meantime... intravenous fluids, wound checks, blood transfers, the usual concerns with her other patients...
And Mr. Zsasz. He came again the following night, Danielle Lee's second night of care. Once again, he sat for a long time, staring into her face, sometimes stroking her cheek. Again he brushed her hair. And once again, Leslie Thompkins found herself watching him from beyond the shadows of the next room.
This was not the Victor Zsasz she knew. The man she had met many years before would have hesitated only a moment before cutting her down, and only out of surprise: she had refused to defend herself, she remembered, no matter how much she had wished that someone else would kill him right then. The thoughts had shamed her when she'd had them. Zsasz had shown her no mercy. And then Waylon Jones of all people had stepped in and saved her. Not out of a sense of protectiveness, but rather revenge; Zsasz had killed his only friend.
What could have possibly happened to change Mr. Zsasz so much from the monster he was back then?
Leslie watched Zsasz untangle Danielle's hair, and her mind drifted to Danielle.
The young woman had come to her to ensure she wasn't STD positive or pregnant, she recalled, three-and-a-half years ago. But her request did not speak nearly as loudly as the physical state of her body. Wounds everywhere. An injured nose. Dr. Thompkins had offered to do a sexual assault kit, but the girl had declined. In spite of her overwhelming desire to know, Dr. Thompkins had respected her patient's wishes and not done one. But she had wondered - who had harmed her?
And now she wondered, watching them, if Zsasz had been in this young woman's life even then.
If that were the case, then no, true love hadn't redeemed him back then. If it had, then he would never have stabbed this girl. No, something else had changed him. And in spite of her desire to know what, she wouldn't ask. Instead she would watch how he looked at her patient, with all the tenderness in the world, and remember how he had apologized to Leslie personally and sincerely for what he had once done.
Hours later, she ushered Zsasz out. She'd given him extra time tonight, so entranced was she in watching him with her patient. He had whispered to her, and though she hadn't heard what he'd said, she'd seen the telltale moistening of his eyes, the way he clutched her hand tighter. Was he promising to be better? Was he apologizing to her? Leslie imagined a bit of both.
The girl had shown no change, though her cheeks were slightly sunken. Leslie had given her intravenous fluid, another full body check, and noted to herself that the girl might need another blood transfusion the next day. Zsasz's blood was a type O, the universal donor, while Danielle's was type AB. Perhaps she would ask him for another donation, though with how malnourished he was, she might need to make sure he ate first. She went to bed planning this.
But it was not to be.
When Leslie came in the next morning to check on her patient, she got the shock of her life.
Danielle Lee was gone!
Dr. Thompkins looked around for her patient. Had she woken up? Taken a tumble somewhere?
The I.V. needles were neatly placed on the bed - someone had taken them out.
Frantically she went to the front of the ward, out into the street. No one was there. But her front door was unlocked. Leslie was very careful; she knew she would never have left it unlocked. There was a hairpin lying on the ground just outside her door.
Her heart pounding, she realized it was more likely that someone had taken her patient, rather than Danielle Lee leaving of her own accord.
She had turned back to the treatment room, ready to call the police, when she finally noticed the crisp white note, lying on the ground near the patient's bed.
She picked it up. It must have fallen off the bed. What was written temporarily calmed her. In neat script was a simple phrase: "Thank you. ~V.Z."
Leslie clutched the note to her chest, her fears mounting again. Danielle still needed a blood transfusion, and without the I.V.s, her body might not take in enough fluids, and she could...
Leslie sat down heavily next to the bed. That fool! He had taken her, and she had no idea where! If Zsasz didn't want them to be found, they wouldn't be. True, it seemed that Zsasz cared about the girl, but her patient was still very weak. She could easily die in Zsasz's care!
Without knowing where they had gone, the doctor could only hope that he would look after her properly.
A voice calls in the darkness.
Surrounded by night, she can only wade through the pool of blackness, shivering, searching for a way out.
The call sounds again, all warmth and no light.
And yet she reaches out for it-
White walls.
Warmth.
The faint smell of rice and jasmine tea.
Zsasz could not remember the last time he had been someplace so clean.
He stood in the middle of the apartment, eyes closed, savoring the sound of the fog dripping against the windows. The glass pinged slightly as the wind beat against it, but he was safe in here. They were safe in here.
He did not need to open his eyes. The apartment was dark. The ambient light from outside was more than enough, and there was a coziness here... Like the soothing warmth inside the womb, a sanctuary. A veil between them and the outside world.
This was her home. Here was where his Alive Girl lived.
He had learned where her apartment was from her ID, which he had found in her jacket pocket. Of course it was different from her last home, though every bit as nice. Then again, for Zsasz - who had spent weeks living in sewers and dilapidated buildings, and before that, for two long years, rotting in a cage in a hole in Rā's lair - either one of Danielle's apartments seemed like paradise.
He felt unworthy of being in here.
He went to her pristine kitchen sink and washed his hands carefully with her lavender soap, savoring the luxury of clean running water. If he had time, if it seemed appropriate, he would much love to take a proper shower.
But there were more important things to do.
The bedroom door creaked slightly as he entered. It was a simple space, just a bed, a dresser, and a door in the corner leading to the bathroom. There were no windows in here, though she kept a lamp next to her bed, and the room was suitably dim. His eyes lingered on the bed. What he wouldn't give to lay there, feel the softness of the pure white sheets, the warmth of the down comforter. He could fall asleep and not wake for hours.
But the bed was occupied. Zsasz's eyes softened as he gazed down at Danielle, tucked safely into the large bed, blankets drawn up to her chin.
Her face was blank, her black eyelashes dusting her cheeks as she slept. Zsasz knelt beside her. She hadn't woken up yet. From the time he had stabbed her to now, it had been two and a half days, and she was yet to wake.
Zsasz felt his anxiety bloom as he contemplated the likelihood of her not waking up.
He had stabbed her in a vital place. Dr. Thompkins had sewn organs back together from the damage he had done. He had never thought about it before, all the damage a single stab could do, and he used to relish stabbing people for hours... hours, tearing them apart, one inch, one organ at a time, until they perished-
No! He pushed the thoughts out of his head. She would wake up! He wouldn't believe otherwise!
Dr. Thompkins was the best doctor he knew. She had saved his own life before. She had saved so many... Certainly she hadn't failed with Danielle! Though as he thought it, a small doubt crept in: if he was so sure of Dr. Thompkins' abilities, then why had he stolen Danielle from under her watch?
He stood up, hurried to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Using a washcloth, he dabbed it on her lips and around the edges of her mouth. Too much, and she might choke to death. But too little...
"Please wake up soon, Danielle."
Six hours later, and she still had not woken.
It was still light out behind the curtains of fog, but Zsasz could feel the afternoon winding down and night approaching. He could feel the darkness closing in once again.
Zsasz slumped beside her bed. Her skin was moist enough, and yet she wasn't getting better. He closed his eyes, reaching around and, by sheer recollection, taking her hand from under the covers. He stroked her fingers slowly, deftly.
With every moment that passed, he regretted taking her from Dr. Thompkins' clinic.
Why was I so stupid? Didn't the doctor say I needed to let her do her job, if I wanted Danielle to recover?
But I couldn't leave her there! Another part of him argued. Dr. Thompkins would have taken her from me! And... and I cannot let her go until-
Until what? Until you apologize? Make amends? There is no way of making amends for this.
I know that! he snapped at himself. But Danielle deserves to know- that-
What? Your pity story? Danielle doesn't need to pity you. You should pity her for what you've done to her.
The hand he was holding twitched suddenly.
Softness all around. Safety.
Danielle awoke suddenly. Her eyes remained shut, but she returned to herself with a jolt, as if she had been somewhere far, far away. She tried to open her eyes; her body felt strange and heavy.
Where am I?
She could hear the faint ticking of a clock. The beat sounded soothing and familiar.
"Ungh…" she let out a soft groan. Her side ached, but the sensation was strangely distant. She tried to sit up.
"AARGH!" Pain shot through her like a knife. She lay back down immediately, gasping. It had come from her right abdomen- and now she remembered-
"Danielle..."
That voice! Ignoring the pain, Danielle shot straight up in bed. She wasn't alone.
She was face-to-face with Zsasz!
He expected her to fight. He didn't want her to, but it was the response that made the most sense from her.
Her eyes widened; he could see her pupils dilating. To Zsasz's surprise, she shrank back against the headboard with a dull thump, raising a trembling hand in front of herself. The other hand darted around under the covers.
She looked terrified.
"Danielle, please... I'm not here to hurt you." He looked at her eagerly; she turned her face away as if burned.
"You're at home." His voice softened. "You're safe." He reached for her, to comfort her, and she pulled away even further.
He stopped and took a deep breath, reigning himself in. "I know you're scared. I know you have every right to be." Danielle wouldn't look at him. Her skin was clammy and even paler than before. He knelt beside the bed so that she was above him and held his hands out to her, palms up. "I'm not here to hurt you," he repeated. "I'm here to look after you."
Danielle was sucking in breaths of air. It pained him to see how much effort it took her.
"You have been asleep for almost three days. I'm so thankful you're awake." He took a deep breath. "I took you to Leslie Thompkins' clinic. She saved you. You came so close to dying-" And here, his throat closed and he found it hard to continue.
Finally Danielle seemed to calm down, or at least regain control of herself. She looked at him now, almost expectantly.
"I- I did a terrible thing to you," he admitted. The confession came out so suddenly, so naturally, that it almost startled him. "You're badly injured," he continued. "You need to rest until you're recovered."
Danielle's lips parted. He noticed how dry they were.
"Zs- Wh-" She coughed. "Wh-ere-?"
"Hold on," Zsasz interrupted. "Let me get you some water! You need to drink something!" Eagerly he darted out of the room.
When he came back, glass in hand, he was quickly alarmed. Danielle had listed over to one side, her head dangling limply.
Zsasz nearly dropped the water in his haste to get to her. But she heard his approaching footsteps and sat up properly, though her eyes swam as she righted herself. Then she was alert again, scrutinizing him as he stood beside her.
He noticed she seemed to be searching for something; her hands were moving next to the bed again. He held out the glass.
"Your water-"
The look she gave him was furtive, wary.
"It's not poisoned. Here, see?" He sipped some of the water for effect.
She stared for a long moment before nodding. Her hands had not stopped moving.
"What're you-" And then it registered. He knew suddenly, intuitively, what she was searching for.
"It is in the sink," he said abruptly. Danielle's hands stopped moving and she regarded him curiously. "Your baseball bat... It is what you were searching for, right?"
He saw astonishment plainly on her face.
"I am soaking it in bleach presently. I had to return for it, and the alley we fought in- it wasn't very clean. I don't want you touching something so unclean." He knew he was rambling. "When I am finished sanitizing it, you can have it back."
Her fingers plucked at the blanket restlessly.
"I will give it back. I know how much safer you feel with it, that is why. I want you to feel safe again... more than anything. Please, trust me, Danielle..."
But those had been the wrong words to say.
Zsasz's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Danielle, and he might have been imagining it, but he swore he saw a glint of bitterness in her eyes.
'Trust me.'
"...How can you possibly trust me," he murmured, "when I nearly killed you three days ago?"
He turned away abruptly.
"I am a fool, Danielle. I nearly lost the person who means the most to me, and I did it by my own hand!" Suddenly, his eyes were stinging. He wanted nothing more than to whirl around, to hold her hand in his and take her in his arms-
"I am a serial killer, an unrepentant homicidal maniac. There is nothing I can ever say or do to make up for what I have done to you. I have no right to be in your life." What delusions did I ever have that we could be something more? "Look at what I am! Look at me!" And now, how could he be so selfish to demand for her to look at him, when he couldn't even face her himself. He turned painfully. "What kind of monster am I?"
He could see the fine shudders all over her body. It was clear the exertion of sitting up was hurting her. Yet she held his gaze.
"You would be well within your rights to never trust me again, if you ever trusted me at all. I have done nothing to earn your trust." But he couldn't utter those last words - a promise to her that he would leave. He could not offer to walk away from her, and he wouldn't - not unless she told him to. Selfish? Quite possibly. But he knew nothing could keep him away from her as long as there was the slightest chance...
Danielle opened her mouth. Zsasz's heart leaped into his throat. This is it.
"Please-" Danielle croaked. "Could you give me that glass of water?"
Zsasz's mouth slackened. "O-of course!" He quickly handed over the glass. Danielle struggled to grip it.
"Here, let me..." Zsasz paused. "Please, may I help you?"
Danielle nodded, and Zsasz held the glass to her lips.
Not more than two sips in, she began coughing. Gut-wrenching coughs that left her gasping in pain. Zsasz could do nothing except sit closer to her, allowing her to lean on him for support, and rub the fingers under his own that still held the glass.
"There, there..." he whispered.
After a time, her coughing spell passed, and she resumed sipping the water. When she finished, she looked at him gratefully.
"Here, let me fill you another glass!" Zsasz stumbled backwards in his haste. Before he could get to his feet, he saw Danielle shaking her head.
"That's enough- for now."
He nodded.
"Thank you."
What? Had she just thanked him? He looked up. Danielle was smiling at him! It was weary and weak, but a smile nevertheless. Zsasz was astonished. What on Earth should she be thanking him for? She was bed-ridden because of him!
But that was one thing he must never underestimate. His Alive Girl's incredible capacity for grace. It shone from her, made her special both inside and out.
"No Danielle... I am the one who should be thanking you."
It was in the very early evening when Danielle ate for the first time. Her body felt dizzy and uncoordinated; Zsasz held the bowl and occasionally the spoon as she tried to feed herself.
"Here, wait, let me blow on it first!" It was beyond weird having a serial killer make sure she didn't burn her mouth on her chicken soup. Then again, the idea of Zsasz cooking for her was even stranger. And yet here they were.
"Are you in any pain?" Zsasz asked anxiously as he spooned hot soup into her mouth.
Danielle nodded slowly. "My side hurts. The painkillers from earlier are wearing off." She coughed.
"You shouldn't eat so quickly, Danielle! Your stomach might have shrank a bit while you were unconscious-" Seriously, how and when did Zsasz become Mother Hen? Danielle wondered with vague amusement. Just then, a shooting pain went up her side.
"Ugh- more pills- please-" Danielle's head fell forward and she clutched her side. She heard the spoon clatter as Zsasz put down the food, and then he was gone, rushing to get more medicine from the kitchen. He came back with the whole bottle and dumped the pills anxiously into her hand. Danielle took three.
Then, they sat together, Zsasz allowing her to grip his hand, as they waited for the pain to pass.
"I'm so sorry, Danielle." Zsasz had tears in his eyes.
She looked at him for a long moment. "What happened? Why did you decide to save me?" She was confused, not sure she should be afraid of him or not. He was a killer - he had tried to kill her - and yet... Never in their history had she seen Zsasz as repentant as he was right now.
"I hadn't meant to try to kill you in the first place," Zsasz answered in a low mutter. "I- lost my mind for a moment." He glanced at her quickly. "I know I've done despicable things, and that it seems natural I would try to kill you- after all, I've done that before. But this time-"
"Was different?" Danielle asked, somewhat lightly. Zsasz mistook her tone for incredulity.
"I know it makes no sense. I-" He looked scared of what he was about to say. "I have been having flashbacks ever since I regained my memory. I haven't been normal. At the moment when I stabbed you- I remembered something."
He was silent. Danielle waited to see if he would say more. When he didn't, she prompted him gently. "What did you remember, Zsasz?"
"I remembered... I remembered... I had betrayed him. He had- tortured me. But he made me continue with him. There was a village he had taken a special interest in... He made me go slaughter all the inhabitants." Danielle shuddered; she could imagine Zsasz's skin running red with the blood of all those innocent people- "I didn't want to."
What? Her eyes widened. Had he just said-
"I know it's unbelievable, but for the first time-" Zsasz's mouth quavered. "I didn't want to kill anyone!" He brushed his face, and she saw he was fighting back tears. "There was a young woman and a little boy- she reminded me of you, Danielle. I didn't want to kill them. But I had to. I had never regretted anything more in years- until I stabbed you." He turned his face to her. She saw the moisture on his cheeks and saw how very sad his eyes were. And in spite of what he had done, what he had admitted to - her heart went out to him again.
For so long she had wished that he would someday feel remorse for what he had done and decide to stop killing. But she had accepted that it was an impossible dream. But now... here he was.
He was lost and confused, and she wanted to help him.
She put her hand over his. Zsasz looked up, startled, scared, expecting reproach.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
Zsasz slowly nodded. "Yes. But not now. Not until you're well again."
Awkwardness upon awkwardness.
"Please, Zsasz, it won't take but a minute. Just help me get there."
"But Danielle-"
"What, do you expect me to just pee on the sheets? Please, Zsasz-"
They were arguing about how to get Danielle to the bathroom.
"You shouldn't be moving around," Zsasz said with gritted teeth. They had been going back and forth for five minutes. "I'll just get you a large glass-"
"I'd spill it everywhere! And then you would have to dispose of it." Zsasz made a slight face but didn't say anything. "My bladder can't hold out much longer. Do you really want to change the sheets? Then you'd have to lay me on the floor, and how comfortable would that be?" Zsasz winced; he hadn't thought about that. She had a point. "Please, Zsasz!"
He sighed. "Very well. And call me Victor, please. It feels more... familiar."
Danielle smiled as he hoisted her up, supporting her weight. "You've asked me to call you by your first name before. But since you said 'please' this time..."
They moved slowly toward the small restroom.
"I'll need you to hoist up the gown." She was still wearing the patient's attire Dr. Thompkins had dressed her in. "Then help me sit down."
Zsasz gingerly held the edge of the fabric. "But, your modesty-"
"It's nothing you haven't seen before," Danielle said with a grimace. Zsasz froze. "Zsasz?"
But he couldn't hear her. He was remembering.
Yes. He had seen 'it all' before. In a flash, he saw it all again. He recalled so vividly her body struggling against his, her pleas for him to stop. Her groans of agony as he had forced them to- WHY?! Why had he been so sure?! Why hadn't he seen-?
"Victor?"
But he had seen. He knew this. He had seen exactly what he was doing and he'd justified it anyway.
A new feeling of shame swept over him. Now his skin was cold and clammy, crawling with his crime. He nearly set Danielle down right then, but she clung to him.
"What is it, Victor?"
He couldn't answer her. Instead he set her on the toilet, hastily looking away as he helped her lift the fabric. He resolutely kept his gaze on the back wall as she used the restroom. He handed her a wadful of toilet paper without looking at her.
When she was done, he took her back to bed as quickly as possible, tucking her in before stumbling from the room. "Victor...?" Her confused voice came just before he closed the door.
And then he lay down on the clean white rug in the living room, shivering and sobbing. For while he didn't know what it meant to be on the receiving end of that exact crime, he knew what it meant to be violated. Rā's had violated him by taking his life over and over again, by commanding him to do as he wanted, by forcing his voice into Victor's head. But for Victor to have invaded Danielle's body as he had... That was a special kind of violation.
He could never touch her again. He had tainted her and defiled her - with himself. How could he ever justify being in her presence ever again?
Zsasz muffled his sobs into the carpet. And he prayed Danielle's couldn't hear him. He had already burdened her with enough.
In spite of his shame, he couldn't stay away. He had to check on her. Though now he was realizing the full extent of his own selfishness. If he really cared about her, wouldn't he call one of her friends for her? Let someone who really cared about her be here with her, instead of being here himself? Wasn't this just one more way he was forcing himself into her life?
He made up his mind to ask her this as he entered the room.
"Victor?" Danielle was still awake, even though the room was dark. "Where did you go?"
"I was giving you some space, to rest," he said evenly, though his heart was thundering. "Danielle, I was thinking-"
"Can you please stay close to me?"
"-What?-"
"Come here. I don't want to be alone right now." In the darkness, he could barely see her. She was sitting up in bed, looking at him in earnest. "I keep having nightmares." Her voice had dropped.
"What kinds of nightmares?" In spite of his shame, he moved closer to her. "Things I've done?"
"Some of them," she agreed. "Others are about Scarecrow."
That was right. He'd hurt her too. "Danielle, did anyone ever clean your apartment after he came here? What if he left fear toxin in here? It could be coating the furniture, the walls-"
"I hadn't had time to clean just yet."
"Maybe I could clean for you?" he offered hopefully. Just one small thing...
"That would be nice," she agreed. "In the morning? Please, just stay here with me tonight."
He sat down on the bed. "Are you sure?" Deep breath in. "I don't want to hurt you again."
She sighed in the darkness. "Maybe tonight, you could be my protector instead." He hesitated. "Just lay down next to me. You're not going to hurt me. I know it. I believe in you, Victor."
He was thankful for the dark when he began crying in response to her words. She must be crazy to believe in me!
Nevertheless, he stifled his shame and his sobs and lay down next to her. "Anything for you, Danielle." The bed was even more comfortable than he imagined. He felt a little of the tension drain from his body, and a wave of profound exhaustion hit him.
Danielle sighed in relief and he felt her settling in. Her head leaned into his shoulder. He held his breath, waiting for her to move, but she seemed to rest against him even more fully. A few minutes later, he heard her breathing get heavy.
It must be the warmth, he told himself. She just needs a body, any body, here so she'll know she isn't alone. The thoughts raced through his mind, though he didn't dare move, not now, when she was finally comfortable.
Finally, when the thoughts had run their course, he dozed off too.
The minute he woke, he knew something was wrong.
"Danielle?" He rolled over to check on her. Her eyes were open, and dried mucus flowed from them, covering her cheeks. She groaned softly. Her skin was paler than yesterday. And he could swear there was heat coming from her.
"Danielle... can you hear me?" She did not respond. He braced himself. "I'm so sorry for this, Danielle." He pulled back the sheet and then, after a slight hesitation, pulled up her gown.
The worst sight greeted him.
The skin around her stitches was swollen and dark shiny red. There was a bad smell.
He looked at her, panicking. "Danielle! Can you speak? I think your wound is infected. Danielle?" He brushed her face with the palm of his hand. Her eyelids fluttered. She groaned again.
Her forehead was burning up.
Finally, all selfishness fled him. "I'm going to call the ambulance. Danielle, stay with me!" He darted out of the room and grabbed her phone. Dialed 9-1-1. "Operator... my friend is losing consciousness. She has an infection. Please, send help immediately!"
He should have done this before. He should never have put his own wants above Danielle's safety. He should have never removed her from Dr. Thompkins' care, never tried to take charge of her well-being. Even now, after all this time, after everything he'd learned and felt in the past few days - even now it was all about him, when it shouldn't be.
But he knew he would think about that later. Now, he needed to do the right thing.
He opened the door to her apartment and her room. He needed to make it easier for the EMTs to help her. Then he went to her room and sat by her side, holding her hand and begging her to wake up, until finally he could hear the sirens arrive. Only then did he leave her, using the fire escape outside her window to climb to the roof and out of sight.
Presently the EMTs entered her apartment. He could hear the updates on the walkie talkies of the techs below, the ones waiting by the ambulance. They brought Danielle out on a stretcher. They were already working on her.
Her face was as pale as a sheet. Danielle was wheeled into the ambulance. The doors slammed shut.
Zsasz watched her go with his heart in his throat.
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