A/N: I am sooooo so sorry for the delay. Time got away from me again and I had a serious case of writer's block. BUT, I have this story written out now from start to finish so the ridiculously long wait wasn't for nothing! This story is going to be longer than the first one, but the chapters may not be as long. However, I'm going to try and update once a week now since I have the whole thing planned out. As always, let me know what you think of the story and leave some constructive criticism! Thanks!

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Cut Your Losses

The entire way over to the maximum-security block, I couldn't help but think how much sweeter death would be at this point. Granted, I had been through some difficult shit in the past few months, but I was actually nervous to go up there. I mean, I technically would know some of the people there, but not many. Plus, I wasn't even sure they would want to associate with me anymore.

There was a rattling noise before I realized we were in an old elevator. They're going to kill me. I felt a drop of sweat leak down the back of my neck and down my still bloody scrub top. I stared at my distorted reflection in the smudged elevator doors. My heart pounded against my chest so hard it started to hurt. Or maybe that was just my imagination. Either way, I was more aware of myself than I had been in months. It was as if the whole world was crashing down around me and the gravity of my actions was starting to sink in.

You killed a man. In cold blood. No one's going to feel bad for you now. I really wondered what kind of conversation would transpire between Strange and my parents. I hadn't seen them in a while. Last time they were here "visiting," they mentioned something about why they couldn't make it to the next visiting day. I couldn't recall what the reason was but I knew as soon as they said it that it was just an excuse. It didn't take a genius to see the shame in both of their eyes. Apparently the news of my mental breakdown circulated around my small Connecticut town rather fast.

"Category nine: maximum security level." A woman's automated voice came out of a speaker at the top of the elevator just as we came to a stop. Lyle's hand clamped down on the back of my sweaty neck and roughly pushed me from the small cart. We came out into a sort of lobby area. Everything seemed to have a gray sheen. The walls. The floor. Hell, even the nurse and security guard standing there waiting for us looked a little gray.

"Got some fresh meat for ya, Jerry." Lyle's voice came from behind me, still keeping his hand on the back of my neck. As if I was going to try to run away.

Jerry, I assumed, was the only other male in sight-the security guard. He looked relatively young, at least compared to the other guards I'd seen around here, maybe early thirties or so. He had a plain looking face and really looked plain altogether. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Trusting eyes, judging from the pity-filled look he was sending my way. Or maybe that had more to do with Bolton standing behind me.

"Mr. Bolton, I was just on my way down to get her her new clothes. It'll only take a few minutes." The nurse standing by Jerry's side spoke. She had a matronly look about her and had a kind voice to match.

"Alright, she can wait it out in her new cell," Bolton spoke while moving me forward towards the door, "who knows, maybe you'll even make some new friends while you're waiting." His deep chuckle told me he thought otherwise. The nurse nodded before passing us and going to the elevator.

That left me alone with Lyle and Jerry. Jerry, I saw, was busy eyeing up the front of my shirt at this point. Great, he'll hate me too. On second thought, who cares?

"Well, where are the keys? You gonna stand there or let us in? I don't have all night." Bolton barked at Jerry, who fumbled for the keys on his belt.

"Yeah, sorry sir. Do you want me to take her in?" To his credit, Jerry's voice didn't waver when he spoke to Bolton like the other two morons' did.

Bolton was about to speak when the walkie on his belt beeped alive. A crackly voice came out, "Sir. We need you back at Milton's office. Someone called the GCPD. Gordon just got here and he's looking for you." I'd hate to be the idiot who called the police.

"What the hell did I tell you people about these situations?!" Bolton threw me forward towards Jerry while he was yelling into the walkie. He started moving back towards the elevators, "Keep him busy, I'm on my way back down. Make sure nobody says anything before I get there." He stepped into the recently returned elevator before turning and looking at Jerry, "Put her in cell 0913. Let her out to shower when the nurse comes back and then put her back in for the night. I'll personally come and get her in the morning." With that, he pushed one of the buttons and vanished behind the old, beat up doors again.

I heard Jerry let out a deep breath. He grabbed my upper arm in a surprisingly loose grip. "You okay kid?" He caught me off guard with that. Seeing my confused face, he gestured towards my shirt. "He didn't rough you up too bad did he?" I really had to try hard not to laugh at that.

"That's not my blood." I'm not sure why he thought I was being moved into a high security sector late at night, but obviously he had thought someone like me couldn't have done something too bad. He must be new.

He didn't say anything, but his grip did tighten on my arm a little bit. Bless him. He reached for the key ring on his belt and struggled for a second, trying to find the right key with only one hand. He finally found it and inserted it into the plain, gray looking steel door. When he opened the door, I expected to see the cellblock, but was met instead with another small room. This one was much like the one we just came from but instead of a single door there were two double steel doors firmly shut with a red number nine painted smack in the middle of them. We stepped forward and instead of using another key, a light at the top of the door shone down and….scanned us? Whatever it did, it opened as soon as it was done.

This time however, when the doors opened, I saw my new home. And roommates. Jerry had to pull my arm a bit to get me moving. The hall itself was a straight-shot, maybe 100 yards long with that same gray-tiled floor. It was dark at the moment, with a small light shining above the door we just came through and another at the end of the hall above a set of identical doors. Even in the dark, I could still make out what seemed to be the weirdest jail cells I'd ever seen.

The soft lights were enough to send a glare off of what I thought were glass walls. Each glass slab had a small brick column between them, which I assumed were the walls of the cells. Behind the glass, I could see people resting on small beds. How the hell was this ethical? There was zero privacy in this place. Everyone was on display like an animal at the zoo. That's what we are though, sweetheart. Animals.

Jerry and I started moving forward. As we were passing, I noticed that the cells to the left had odd numbers above them, starting with 0901, then 0903, and so on. It was the same on the right, but with even numbers. That makes my cell smack dab in the middle. I felt an overwhelming amount of anxiety upon this realization. This meant that at least three people on the other side of the hall could see into my cell, maybe more-I wasn't sure.

Luckily, most of the inmates weren't paying attention to us-or were too crazy to. We passed some people I didn't recognize, like a man covered in cuts who glared out at us and seemed to be muttering under his breath and a woman who I could have sworn was green. Then, we passed some people I did recognize. Eddie's cell, 0906, was fairly close to the doors we had come through. I recognized him immediately, lying down on his bed. The question marks on the wall stood out even in the dark. He seemed to glance up just as we were passing and I saw, what I thought, was a look of recognition on his face. I was able to watch long enough to see him to bolt off his bed and fly towards the glass, hitting it once and yelling, "Hey! What's the deal!?" We kept moving, much to my dismay. I wish I were semi close to his cell. At least he didn't forget me-and he didn't seem to hate me.

When we got to my own cell, I saw that bitch who hit me, the one who had been with the Joker. I forgot what her name was but I recognized her pigtailed blonde hair immediately. She was curled up on her bed crying. She looked over her shoulder, saw me, then turned back around and continued to cry. She was in one of the cells diagonally to mine. Great.

I watched as Jerry pressed a key into a panel next to the glass and turned it. A portion of the glass wall about the size of a normal door opened noiselessly. I stood there staring into my new home. It was so bare. Essentially it was four walls with nothing but a cot-like bed bolted down to the ground. What if I have to pee?

"You'll have to wait here for a little bit. Kim will be back in about twenty minutes or so to take you to get cleaned up." I felt the handcuffs unlock around my wrists. I brought my arms around to the front and looked at my wrists. They were a little red from the metal rubbing against them, but it wasn't too bad. I stepped into my new home and Jerry closed the door to my cell again. I heard him walking back to the doors we came from and heard Eddie calling out to him again, asking why I was there, but he kept going.

I stood there for, I don't know how long, just taking in my surroundings. This was just Strange's idea of a cruel joke. It had to be. There was no way I was actually dangerous enough to be put up here in category 9. These people were all so so much worse than I was. Are you sure?

Slowly, I walked to my pitiful excuse of a bed and sat down. The sheets were thin, stiff, and scratchy. I looked at the wall opposite of me, moving my hands over the rough fabric in contemplation. The room was small. The walls were painted a grayish color to match the cement-colored floor. Everything looked worn, even the sheets. Good thing I wasn't claustrophobic.

The blonde chick was still crying and getting progressively louder. I felt someone staring at me and looked at the cell directly across from mine. My whole body stiffened up. How the hell did I miss him? Inside the small cell was a guy who was clearly too big to be in there. He was bald with hulking muscles and a none too friendly look on his face. He also happened to be staring me down pretty hard. I made the mistake of making eye contact with him. Had he been standing there this entire time? It was like I couldn't look away. Honestly, I was a little afraid to. He looked like he could just punch a hole in that glass and charge at me.

Down at the end of the hall someone started screaming about having to kill someone or something like that. Between his yelling, the girl's crying, and the giant across the hall staring me down, I was going to lose my mind here. I finally looked away when I heard the doors open again at the end of the hall. This time it was the nurse from before, being escorted by Jerry. I noticed she had a pair of new scrubs in her arms. Jerry unlocked my cell and stepped aside to let me out. I quickly walked out, expecting him to put cuffs on me again, but he simply grabbed my arm and began escorting me down to the other set of doors, the nurse in tow. I was careful not to look at the giant guy again as we passed by. However, my head spun around when I heard a familiar voice from the other cell diagonal to mine, the one I hadn't even looked at.

"Violet?" No. No, no, no. "Violet?!" His voice was louder the second time, more incredulous. I tried not to look. I really did. But after we passed, I couldn't help but look back. Standing there in the standard issue orange scrubs with his inmate number on them was Roman. I was surprised to see they let him keep his mask. I was even more surprised to see the panic in his eyes as he looked at me. He looked almost frantic. Don't be a stupid teenage girl. He doesn't care.

We kept walking, but like Eddie, he didn't shut up "HEY!" His voice roared in a scary way that made the hall go eerily quiet. Even the blonde chick shut up. All around us I could hear people shifting in their cells, trying to get a look at what was going on. I saw the nurse next to us shudder a little out of the corner of my eye. "What the hell is she doing here?" Roman probably wasn't used to being ignored. Which is exactly what happened, as we kept moving towards the end of the hall. He's going to make your life hell here.

I put my head down, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than ever, now that I had everyone's undivided attention thanks to Roman's outburst. While the body scanner was passing over us, I caught a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked to the right, to the last cell in the hall, and saw someone I was all too familiar with seeing by now. Two-Face. He was just standing there in his orange jumpsuit, flipping a coin. He gave it one last toss, looked down at it, and then smiled up at me. I didn't have time to process this before Jerry shuffled me back through the door.

We turned down some hallways that looked more or less the same, before coming to a doorway with a sign that read: Bathrooms. Jerry, for obvious reasons, didn't follow as Kim led us into the worn out bathroom. There were about five sinks, five stalls with toilets across from the sinks and towards the back of the rectangular room, a row of showers that looked like toilet stalls but instead had a shower head and drain in them.

"You can go ahead and hand me your clothes underneath the door when you're changed and I'll hand you your new clothes when you're all done." Kim, the nurse, didn't let on if she was nervous around me or not. Then again, she seems like she would have pretty much seen it all in here by now judging from her age.

She handed me some soap and a shampoo bottle and I went into the stall. Again, it was a good thing I wasn't claustrophobic because it was seriously cramped in here. I stripped my bloody scrubs off and slid them under the door where I could see Kim quickly pick them up. My shower was lackluster; the water was lukewarm, the shampoo was low quality, and the soap was going to make my skin dry. But hey, beggars can't be choosers. Or in this case, murderers can't be choosers.

I shut the water off and told Kim I was ready for my new set of scrubs. She slid them under the door and I dressed quickly, exiting the stall afterwards. I wondered if I was going to be allowed to shave in here or if I couldn't be trusted with a razor now that I was a higher security patient. I'll have to ask some time.

"Before we go back to your cell, I was instructed by Doctor Strange to give you a dose of your new medication before bed." I saw Kim was holding a syringe with some sort of murky liquid inside. Since when do Doctors prescribe shots instead of pills?

"What is it?" I asked, eyeing the needle with distrust.

"Hmm?" Kim hummed as she cleaned my arm off, "I'm not sure exactly. Doctor Strange doesn't like discussing his treatment methods with the staff. But I'm sure it'll help, whatever it is." Gee, that sounds encouraging.

After my shot, which wasn't too painful, I was taken back to my cell and told I would have a therapy session with Strange every morning. That was the most fitful night of sleep I had in a very long time.

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I was not so gently awoken with a loud rap on my cell door early the next morning. I felt groggy from the day before and wasn't in the mood to sit through a therapy session with Strange this early in the morning. Or ever.

After being allowed to use the bathroom and brush my teeth, I was off to Strange's office with my favorite security guard dragging me along with him. "Oh I can't wait to see what he has in store for you." It was way too early to deal with Bolton right now.

"Try and keep it in your pants Lyle. Gotta be professional in front of the inmates." That earned me a slap to the back of the head. Eh, it was worth it.

"That mouth of yours is really going to get you in trouble one of these days." He had the creepiest smile on his face as he said this. His excitement for my therapy session honestly only made this whole thing worse. If that was even possible at this point.

Bolton knocked on Strange's door two times. Beyond the door I heard the word "Enter." We walked in and I was dumped into the chair I sat in the night before. "Hello Miss Morgan, it's nice to see you again." Is he serious right now? "Mr. Bolton, if you could come back in one hours time?" Bolton nodded his head and exited back through the door.

Somewhere behind me I heard a clock ticking. Strange didn't look at me right away, he was busy shuffling through some papers on his desk. Do not show him how much you're afraid of him. I felt butterflies in my stomach; I wish he would just say something already.

"I reviewed your charts last night and I have to agree with Dr. Milton on most of your diagnoses. Clinical depression, slight multiple personality disorder, and some insomnia. I can prescribe you sleeping pills to deal with the insomnia. Dr. Milton always was against the use of sleeping pills, but in my experience, insomnia doesn't just go away." I wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or me at this point, since he was still looking down at the papers on his desk.

Finally, he looked up and addressed me directly. "I know a lot of what we will discuss here has been previously covered by Dr. Milton, but I want to get an idea of your life before Arkham City and establish an opinion myself. Is that alright?" He was being nice.

"Yes. That's fine." I was going to keep my answers as concise as possible.

"Good. Well, let's start with your home life then. You have a good relationship with your mother and father, correct?" He asked, leaning back in his seat and writing on a pad of paper. The classic psychiatrist pose.

"Yeah. Before this all happened we had a good relationship. I'm not so sure now." I was just going to be honest. Nothing bad could happen if I was honest with him.

"After your stay in Arkham City you mean?" What else would I mean?

"Yes."

"Do you think they should still support you, even after everything that has happened?"

"They're my parents. So yeah, I guess I would have thought they would be a little more supportive seeing as how they raised me and apparently did a pretty shitty job at it." I didn't know where these emotions were coming from. Everything I had been suppressing since the Arkham City incident was finally just seeping out of me and I didn't know whether to be relieved or scared that I was revealing so much to Strange. So much for keeping your answers concise.

After that he took a long time to write on his pad. You're even more messed up than you thought. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he spoke again, "What about your sister? Olivia?" I didn't know where he was going with this or how this was relevant. "They didn't blame you or view you differently after the accident. Did they?"

I thought about it for a little bit and realized that they didn't. Neither of them, not even my dad, had blamed me for the accident. Not that they could, it wasn't my fault in the first place. How was I supposed to know the truck driver was drunk? That's just something that you can't possibly know beforehand and my parents knew that.

"No. They didn't. But it wasn't my fault." I replied confidently.

"But getting into Arkham City and killing a man was?" You know the answer to that, you asshole.

"Well, yeah but I had to protect myself didn't I?" I was getting angry. It was his fault that I was put into that stupid prison in the first place and I was trying really hard not to yell at him about it.

Again, he busied himself with writing on his pad. "You didn't have to hit that cashier over the head with a baseball bat and rob a convenience store either, but you did that too, did you not?"
I felt my heart stutter a little. I liked to block that out of my memory. In all honesty I still didn't know why I did that that night. Hell, it's probably the thing I regret most in my life, even more than not paying closer attention to the road the night of the accident, which is terrible to admit. But seriously, if I hadn't have done that stupid thing I would never have been arrested and thrown into Arkham City. If I hadn't have done that, I wouldn't be regretting my entire existence now.

Strange waited for a while while I was internally arguing with myself, but eventually he spoke up, breaking my train of thought, "I think, Violet, that you are still stuck living in the past. What is done is done and it can't be changed. No matter how much you may want it to. You will be much happier in your life just focusing on the now and looking forward to the future." He stared at me behind his stupid circular glasses and as much as I hated that man, I knew what he was saying made perfect sense. I thought about the night in Arkham City constantly. Replaying it in my head, acting out different scenarios, overthinking the things I could never change. And it was the same with the accident; I had just had more time to heal the wounds with that one.

He began writing a note again before placing his pad and pen down on his desk. "I want you to consciously clear your mind when you start thinking of anything relating to your accident and the night you spent in Arkham City. I think you'll find it will help your recovery tremendously."
I didn't even realize the hour was up until Bolton knocked on the door again. Maybe these sessions weren't going to be as terrible as I thought. Strange is still an ass though. And he can't be trusted. Yeah, there was that.

"I'll see you again tomorrow, Violet. Same time. Have a nice day." He was so official and I don't know…smug? Either way I didn't say anything in return, just let Bolton guide me back out of the office, wondering how much of my mental state was my own fault. Like it or not, Strange was right; I was hanging onto the past.