Okey-dokie... Here's another one. One person voted and said shorter chapters with faster updates, so here it is! :D Hope you all enjoy this...
The weeks pass in a blur, days running into each other. Technically I was only supposed to stay about five days after surgery, but I've found out that I'm actually on trial for something, so they keep me here to watch me and put me through physical therapy. My wrists are secured to the rails and my ankles are loosely restrained as well. Whatever they think I did, it must be bad.
I've tried asking questions but no one talks to me. My physical therapist tells me what to do, but otherwise ignores me. Don't I have rights? If I'm on trial, I deserve to know the reason right?
Finally, after about a month I get a visitor. Commissioner Gordon (I finally figured out his name), comes into my room without a limp. I'm glad to see that there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage to his leg. He pulls up a chair and it grates against the linoleum floor with a quiet scratch. He holds a manila envelope and pulls out a thick packet of papers, while sitting down with a sigh.
"So…" He begins, adjusting his glasses. "Miss Ryder… Do you have any way to excuse your actions?"
"I really didn't mean to hurt you sir. It was an accident."
"Not concerning me." He says with a wry smile. "Concerning the man you killed."
"What?!" My voice shoots up three octaves in shock. "I didn't kill anyone!"
"Miss Ryder, off the record… I believe you. I strongly believe it was the Joker, but the evidence all points at you I'm afraid."
"What evidence?" I ask quietly.
"Your fingerprints are on the gun that killed him, and you were found covered in his blood. The body was found behind a box that- according to the prosecutors- you were guarding. That along with the fact that the courts are aware of your little tryst at Wayne's fundraiser didn't really convince a jury of your innocence. I'm sorry."
"Didn't? When was the trial?" I ask softly.
"It was this morning. I've come to escort you to Arkham Asylum. I'm afraid you've been sentenced there for psychiatric evaluation. There were a few things that turned up in your blood test that made the doctors nervous. They want to evaluate you in a secure location away from outside interference before they make a final ruling."
"Wait. Who is it that they say I killed? I don't have any sort of motive to kill anyone!"
"A man named Nicholas Garner. He worked at the same newspaper you worked for and was the person that took the photo that ended up on the front page. That's motive."
"Nicholas Garner?" I repeat. Although I remember the day he took that photo outside the McDonald's, I never knew who he was… And now he's dead… Because of me. The thought puts a lump in my throat.
"When are we going to Arkham?" I whisper.
"In a few minutes. There are a few papers and things to be signed… Procedure you know." He stands up and adjusts his suit coat. "Oh, and for the record, I forgive you about the knife incident."
I return his smile, and he leaves the room.
A few minutes of quiet pass, and I almost feel sleepy. I feel like I'm in a dream. I would have never guessed they would send me to Arkham Asylum, but even now that they have, the panic and worry doesn't touch me. They probably have a sedative still running through the tubes in my arm.
Two thumps hit the door to my room, followed by a sliding sound down the wall. The door opens and a nurse walks inside dressed a little strange. She has the white uniform of the rest of the nurses, but also has a hat and a mask covering her face. She walks over to my bed and at first, all I can think is that she wears a lot of dark make-up. Then I see the white around the black and my heart sinks.
"No." I say softly.
She pulls off her mask, and my nightmare becomes real. She of course is actually him. The Joker. Dressed as a nurse. Ick.
"Uh… Hi." He says almost sheepishly.
"What are you doing here?! Leave me alone!" I say harshly.
"I just can't do that Lane." He says, shaking his head back and forth slightly. "You see, I… Have a problem. And I need you to help me."
"I wouldn't help you in a million years. You framed me for murder." I spit.
"No, no, no. Harley framed you for murder. She's the one that killed him. And I can help you prove it... All you gotta to do is talk to Jonathan Crane. He'll help you get what you need to prove your innocence, and keep Harley in Arkham. To think that I ever thought I could replace you, Lane! What a big mistake that was…"
"What do you mean, keep her there?"
"Well she's there right now. She went back to make sure you stayed put and she got caught in the process the little brat. But she's gonna get back out if you don't take advantage of the time you stay there."
"It's not my problem. I can't help you." I want nothing more to do with the Joker, and even if that means rotting in jail, it's better than making things worse by hanging around with him.
"Oh yes you can…" The Joker leans forward with a growing smile and pushes on my injured shoulder with an open hand. He laughs at my sharp gasp of pain, and pats it again twice. My arm begins to throb in time with my pulse. "What do you say, Lane? A little help for an old friend?"
"Never."
I can't hold back the cry of pain as he digs his finger into the muscle again. Sure the wound is healed, but the doctors say I may have permanent damage in a few muscles.
"Are ya' sure, Lane?" His voice gets a little lower with hidden anger as his fingers press even harder. My breathing turns to gasps and I feel nauseated and dizzy.
"Okay!" I say quickly. "Okay okay okay! I'll help you!" The pressure disappears instantly followed by the Joker's easy laugh.
"I just knew you'd help me, Lane."
"Yeah, you're welcome." I say sourly.
"Hmm…. You're right. I didn't thank-uh you did I?"
"It's fine. Thank me later." I say. Truthfully I don't want any sort of his gratitude or fakeness and it would probably just tick me off if he tried.
"Nooo, you definitely deserve a-uh… token of my gratitude." He smirks and leans down to me.
His hand grips my cheek and his chapped lips touch mine for a moment.
"What the-" A man's startled voice comes from the door and the Joker stands up. He spins around, pulls out a gun, and shoots the man in the abdomen in a well-practiced move. The man grunts and grabs his stomach, falling over. The Joker heads toward the door, and at the last second, turns around to give me a final wink before disappearing.
The man- who I now notice to be an officer- pulls out his walkie-talkie and speaks into it quickly.
"Code one! The Joker is leaving the fourth floor. All units respond immediately!" He takes a break to cough harshly. "Medic needed." He adds.
The man lays on the floor moaning quietly to himself, and Commissioner Gordon appears in the doorway.
"What happened?!"He demands at me then faces the hallway. "Can't we get a medic here already? This is a hospital isn't it?" He steps over the injured officer and comes over to the side of the bed. "We're leaving now."
A group of doctors rush in then, and attend to the man on the floor. A few nurses accompany them and one comes inside to tend to me.
"Are you injured?" She asks in a calm voice.
"No."
"Alright." She turns to Gordon. "I just need to take out these needles and monitors and she should be good to go."
"Hurry." He says flatly.
She removes everything quickly, and I can't help wincing as she moves my shoulder around.
"Is that painful? Your records show that you had been improving mobility lately."
"No, I'm fine." I say, breathing through my teeth at the jolts of pain that continue down my arm.
"We don't have time to worry about it." Gordon urges. "All inspection can wait until we reach Arkham.
The nurse looks like she is about to disagree but a doctor calls her for assistance.
"All right then. Everything is in order for her to be transferred. Have a nice day." She smiles and walks briskly from the room.
Gordon tosses me a flat grey jumpsuit and a grey pair of shoes. "Hurry and get dressed. I'll be right outside this room so don't try anything."
I nod slowly and follow his instructions. The fabric is slightly scratchy and not very comfortable, but who wants inmates to be comfortable anyway? I sigh and walk out of the room slowly so I don't freak anyone out again and Gordon puts my hands behind my back gently. The metal of the cuffs is cold, but I don't complain. I follow him along the hallways and outside into his car.
~/~
It's been three weeks since the hospital and once again, life is beginning to get a pattern. I mostly stay in my small cell and go to therapy. Meals are generally brought to my room because when I first got here, I refused to leave to eat with the "good behavior" inmates. Technically we're all called 'patients', but there is no difference in this place. We're all criminals and they all think they can "help us" but all they really want to do is find some miracle cure so they can get famous. It's sick. This is all just a big testing site and we're all the lab rats.
On the rare occasion that I leave my little cell to go to therapy or wherever I've tried to find Crane, but I'm in the wrong place. I found out initially that serious criminals like Crane were locked up tight, and I wasn't going to find him here. Sure he's somewhere in the Asylum, but not around here.
Another week passes, and once again it's time to go to "therapy." I don't care too much for my psychiatrist. He's middle aged and balding with an attitude problem. He drills me with the same questions over and over until I just shut up and refuse to talk to him anymore. I probably could be released by now, but I just can't cooperate with the stupid man.
The guards lead me into the padded room, and I get a surprise. He's not there. Whoever my new psychiatrist is, she's sitting in a chair turned away from me, and I can see her blonde hair pulled up into a bun.
The guards sit me down, and restrain my ankles to the sought-iron chair. Strangely they leave my hands unchained, although they are still handcuffed.
"Miss Ryder…" She begins in an almost familiar voice. "You say you've been held captive by the criminal known as the Joker, and that the crimes you are accused of are not your fault, am I correct?"
"Well, yeah. That's what happened." I say.
"Interesting. And can you tell me why you committed those crimes?"
"I already told you I didn't, Doctor."
She turns around and my eyes go wide with a mixture of panic and shock.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I'm your new psychiatrist."
Another cliff-hanger! If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask! Although I'm sure some will e answered in the next chapter... Thanks again for reading!