The skies of Gotham were gloomily overcast that day, the clouds laden down with their usual luggage: rain. The one thing as constant as the crime in this city. Simply another rainy day in Gotham.
Not that Jason would have known this, his cell windowless upon his own request. He gazed sullenly at the pristine white walls of his pad. The faint, pungent odor of bleach coated the room. The maintainance people had scrubbed all of his lovely script and pictures off in their weekly cleaning sessions. Considering his love of permanent ink pens, Jason was hardly one of their favorites.
Speaking of pens, they had taken particular care to find every one of his stashes. The men in pastel green had frisked him very thoroughly today. They had even given him a new, tear-proof mattress.
It was a special occasion after all.
They were going to make him see the Joker today.
Well, sort of...
Since he had dug in his heels about his "condition", Dr. Morgan had settled for making him watch recordings of the Joker's previous interviews while he tried to bargain with the Warden for Jason's request.
The videos would undoubtably make for good entertainment, but Jason had no intention of giving a diagnosis. Yet.
Clank
He smiled to himself. Yes. Jimmy-boy would do it sooner or later. The doctor's Achilles' heel was his pride and failure to make this opportunity would be an irrepairable wound.
All he had to do was wait. and watch.
The heavy steel door swung open.
"Hullo, Cash." he sighed, but did not bother to get up, his back turned to the door. The burly (and surly, in his opinon) guard strode over to him, his heavy boots no doubt leaving a smudge on Jason's clean floor.
"Time for your video session, Burkley" Cash announced gruffly, pulling him up from his sitting position by the arm. Jason didn't bother to fuss.
Cash steared him out into the hallway. Jason was immediately surrounded by three other guards and walked down the hall. He couldn't help but feel somewhat amused by the size of his posse.
"Sooo, what's up guys? You seem tense."
Cash scowled at him. "I don't feel right about you meeting the Joker. It's all bad business."
Jason smile with his teeth. "Oh, but I'm not, Cash-ew. Not until Sharpie-pen gives me what I want."
The others stiffened. Cash just shook his head angrily. "I can't believe they're making deals with you."
"They are just trying to fry the bigger fish." Jason batted his eyelashes sweetly. "I'm just the pretty minnow on the hook."
"Shut up, and keep moving."
/\
Dr. Morgan was having a really bad case of de ja vue.
"Do you really think I'm going to let you remove an S-class restriction from him?!" Sharp snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. Morgan fought down a flinch.
"I've never even had to use it on him. The "thing" just puts him in an uncooperative mood." He tried to reason, feeling everything he had tried to accomplish slipping away. "He doesn't really need it."
Warden Sharp's fists turned a ghastly white, the knuckles popping.
"The only reason that he doesn't attack anyone is because of that restriction. It's the only reason that he stays docile." Sharp growled through his teeth. Before Morgan could reply another voice cut in from behind him.
"I had that placed on him because I felt it was necessary, Dr. Morgan." The voice retorted in a smooth, oily manner. Dr. Morgan stiffened.
"Dr. Goff." he muttered resentfully.
"A little birdie told me that some silly little man is getting too big for his briches."
He turned to face the owner of that voice.
Dr. Goff was a tall, imposing man of fifty. His steel gray hair was slicked back in a stylish coif. His black eyes bored holes into Morgan's, and his thinlipped mouth pulled in a tight sneer. His entire person was perfectly neat and trim.
Except his nose. The appendage bent akwardly at the bridge: Jason's work. The very reason Morgan was stuck trying to get rid of Goff's judgement on Burkley.
The man held seniority over most of the doctors in Arkham and was never afraid to flaunt it. It riled Morgan in a way that he could not describe. When Goff had been pulled from Burkley's case and replaced by Morgan, he had been elated at the chance to beat the insufferable man and gain some standing over him. He had resolved to fix Jason, but so far the boy had been "fixing" him.
"Dr. Morgan," Goff drawled in a manner that reminded him of that blasted boy. "do you think that my decision to have Burkley restrained was faulty? Are you questioning my judgement?"
Morgan regarded him coldly. "No, Goff. I'm just trying something new."
"Something stupid you mean." He snipped. "Burkley has proven himself to be a dangerous patient whose capabilities must not be underestimated."
"And yet," Morgan quipped, "we don't see the same restrictions on the Joker. Are you sure that this isn't just some way to soothe your ego." Morgan subtley thumbed his nose.
Goff stiffened and made to snap at him, but Sharp had had enough.
"Quiet! Both of you." They lowered their heads like scolded children. The Warden kneaded his temples.
"Morgan, Is he or is he not going to diagnose the Joker?"
The doctor paled. His change in palor did not go unnoticed.
"So, you're just wasting our time then?" Goff sneered.
"No! He said that he'll do whatever we want. All he wants is to get that thing off. Nothing else." Morgan said earnestly. "He is capable of diagnosing the Joker. Under my supervision he has seen through some of our most frustrating cases." Goff was frowning at him in a strange silence. "All I'm asking is to let him see the Joker, not meet him, God forbid! He can watch the videos and work off of them. That's it!"
The balding man regarded him in exasperation for a long time before turning to Goff.
"What do you have to say about this?"
Goff remained silent for a moment, and Morgan felt his stomach fill with ice.
"It...is an interesting idea...a dangerous idea. Dr. Morgan's proposal admittedly has some merit, but..." Goff sent him a sly glance. "why not let them meet? Face to face?"
Morgan nearly stumbled off his chair. Sharp jolted upright in his seat.
"What?!"
"Dr. Goff!"
Goff fanned his hands placatingly. "I just don't think anyone could really understand the Joker from just papers and video tapes. Meeting him, actually sitting across from him is the only way to truely get a grasp on how very sick he is. Oh, don't worry-" He said to the Warden, whose face was turning red. "We'll be watching. I, myself, am willing to intervene should anyting go awry. After all, that's what Burkley's restriction is good for." Goff smiled in his oily way and Morgan felt his heart drop out of his chest.
That bastard! Goff knew that wouldn't work. He knew it was going to fail. He was only trying to get revenge on Jason, to discredit Morgan, and to pin any positive results to his own credit.
"You realize that he won't do this for you!?" Morgan cried out in desperation, sincerly regretting this whole thing. The snake just smiled at him.
"Oh, but he'll do it for you then?"
"I-that-" Morgan stuttered, frantically trying and failing to gain some meager footing in the conversation. The Warden however was tired of it.
"Just be quiet, Morgan." Sharp growled. He leveled Goff with a harsh stare. "Are we or are we not doing this?"
A confident smile curled Goff's thin lips, and Morgan just wanted to die.
/
Another heavy metal door creaked open, casting a sharp rectangle of light to cut through the blackness of the room.
Jason stepped in, his wrists still shackled before him. Cash followed him in. The door slammed shut and locked behind them.
The fluorescent lights flashed on, poking him hard in both eyes and bathing him in an almost sickly palor.
The room, Jason noted, was much like his cell. The walls clinically white and windowless. The air stagnant. There were no furnishings except for a metal chair and a tv set.
He calmly strolled over and plopped himself in the seat, the cold of the metal biting through his orange jumpsuit, the only splotch of color in the room.
Cash pulled the videotape from its cardstock cover. The label read: Joker Int-#6. As the guard pushed it into the vcr Jason felt an odd feeling creep over his frame. He couldn't quite place it.
It reminded him of something he had once read in a book centuries ago...about a man named Winston.
...He had the sensation of stepping into the dampness of a grave...
Death. That was what watching this video was.
"Are you ready?" Cash growled at him, the remote control in his hand.
Imminent death.
Jason cast him a lopsided smile that almost seemed innocent.
"Yeah."
Perhaps it was just his own insanity that kept him from giving a damn.
The tv clicked on.