"Note to self; once released, donate Arkham some more pants."

Cynthia rolled her eyes after pulling on an issued dress.

"I'm here to take you to your cell, um, Miss Wayne."

Cynthia smirked as a security guard led her to a small cell; her name held meaning even here.

Cynthia noticed as they walked that there was no one else in this part of the building.

"Not a lot of women come through here and when they do… They don't last long."

Wonderful.

Cynthia entered her cell and took a seat on the small cot.

"You're allowed into the common area from 11:00 AM until 3:00 PM. If you don't go, you'll be written off as anti-social and that'll have to be dealt with," The guard warned her.

"You just told me that women don't last long here."

"Best make some friends then, Miss Wayne."

.

He had to admire her style.

Cynthia had entered Arkham with her head held high, not sparing a single glance at the inmates watching her.

He'd heard the others go on about what they were going to do to her once they got their hands on her and Jerome found himself thinking.

Protect her or baptism by fire?

.

Was it really worth it to go out there?

Cynthia supposed that she could tell whatever doctor they paired her up with that she feared for her personal safety, but she got the feeling that they wouldn't care. They might even right it off as paranoia.

"Best make some friends then, Miss Wayne."

Maybe that was her insurance. She knew he was in here. She knew he wanted her.

But, could Jerome keep her safe?

Strength in numbers or be a lone wolf?

.

"She's too young for my taste," Sions said as he uninterestedly flipped through his paper.

"Yeah, meaning she's probably a virgin," Greenwood said with a leering grin at Cynthia Wayne's back.

Jerome gave a soft giggle; in no universe was Cynthia a virgin.

"She's too young for you as well," Sions said disapprovingly, Jerome snorting; Greenwood killed and ate women, did Sions really think he could ever give a damn about Cynthia being underage.

"Who cares?" Greenwood asked.

"People with a sense of pride," Sions said.

As the two began to squabble, Jerome rolled his eyes over the top and sighed. Finally, after a moment of wondering when they'd ever shut up, Jerome hopped out of his seat and moseyed over to where Cynthia was.

Sions and Greenwood shut up to watch him hop into the seat across from her.

"Remember me, Dollface?"

"How could I forget, Jerome?"

Cynthia looked over at the red head who grinned at her.

"Good; would've hated to make a fleeting impression," Jerome said, before moving on "Anyhow, how're you enjoying Casa de Arkham?"

"The worst part of everything is that I didn't even get to kill someone," Cynthia said, Jerome cackling loudly.

"You didn't do it?"

"Nope."

"Then you're definitely going to want what I'm selling," Jerome said gleefully.

"And that would be?" Cynthia asked.

"Protection," Jerome said "I'll make sure not one of these crazies mess with you."

"Selling implies that I'll be paying," Cynthia pointed out.

"Of course I want something in return…" Jerome said, running his fingers over her arm.

Cynthia considered it; no worrying about anyone hurting her and all she had to do was something she'd been planning to do for free.

But, she couldn't help but think of her father.

Not what he would think of her, no, she thought of what ran in his blood. What ran in Bruce's blood. What ran in hers.

Fight.

The idea of hiding behind someone while they did all the fighting for her was abhorrent.

She wasn't a submissive person who let other people fight her battles for her in return for sex.

For someone who wasn't a good person, she was filled with righteous anger.

Not towards just Jerome, no, towards everyone that thought she wouldn't be able to survive this. She could survive Arkham without help, she knew she could.

"I'll have to pass."

Jerome recoiled with a slight snarl on his face and even though that look made her a little hot, she pushed it away.

"Because, Jerome, you're fun and all, but I don't need you."

Cynthia grabbed her book and hopped out of her seat before turning towards Jerome and speaking in a lower tone.

"The funny thing is, I probably would've slept with you if you hadn't made it an ultimatum. But, now I do know something for certain; you need me more than I need you. Who knows, maybe I'll still screw you if you admit that."

And with that, she left and returned to her cell.

.

She wondered briefly if Jerome would try to get revenge, but that didn't seem his style. Not when he thought he could leave her to the mercy of the other inmates. Not if he thought he could get her to come crawling back and beg for him.

So, now all she had to do was survive those inmates.

Her cell was the safe zone; no one could come in there since she was in the women's wing, which was actually guarded.

But, to get a good psych evaluation she needed to be in the social room. Plus, she needed to get food.

She had a pretty good system of going to these places and hurrying back when it seemed to start turning against her. But, she hated it. All she did was run.

She needed to figure out a more permanent solution.

.

It was time for her daily "socializing" and she was heading towards the room.

She was in a corridor with no guards, which always gave her the creeps.

"Cynthia."

She turned around and felt her eyes widen.

"Marco?"

It was undoubtedly Marco Gibb; scrawnier and hollowed, but still him.

"I heard you were here; the doctors tried to keep me away."

Cynthia made a mental note to find his doctor and thank them for trying and scold them for failing.

"Um, what happened there?" Cynthia said, tapping her own temples in reference to the bruises on Marco's.

"Oh, those," Marco said, touching them lightly "Electric shock."

"… Last time I saw you, you tried to kill me," Cynthia said.

"And then you made me try to kill myself."

"Sorry."

"I could've forgiven you for that, Cynthia, but I can't forgive you for what you've done to me."

"What've I done?" Cynthia frowned.

"You're the reason I'm here! And even though I know that, I still can't get you out of my head!" Marco said, Cynthia taking a step back as he became violent "What did you do to me, Cynthia? After all this I still love you and it eats me up! I kept thinking that if I saw you again I could finally get some rest, but it doesn't work. Maybe… Maybe if you're dead I can finally be at peace."

If she booked like hell, she could make it to the social room; the inmates that wanted to fuck her wouldn't take too kindly to him trying to kill her.

But… then what? Then they'd know she couldn't protect herself.

So, her decision was made.

"Marco," she started, her voice soft "I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I know you didn't."

"Maybe I can make things right," Cynthia offered, taking a hesitant step forward.

"How?"

Cynthia shrugged and reached up to cup his cheek softly.

"I don't know, but we can try."

Marco relaxed into her touch.

Before Cynthia's nails clawed into his cheek and she slammed his head into the wall.

Even though Marco's shrieks filled the hallways and floated all the way to the social room, all Cynthia heard was the same mantra over and over in her head.

"And if anyone tries to hurt you; you go for the eyes."

.

Jerome listened idly at the pained shrieks that filled the asylum, the guard at the door not even looking up from his phone. Was it a doctor's "therapy" or did someone test the wrong inmate?

The door swung open as the shrieks started to quiet down and Jerome found himself staring at Cynthia; her hands covered in blood.

She reached into her bra, smearing the blood across her chest, and pulled out a wad of cash. She counted out eighty dollars and put it into the guard's breast pocket and pulling out a cigarette from that same pocket.

"I'd clean up the east hallway if I were you."

She calmly entered the social room, grabbing the lighter out of an inmate's hand and lighting her cigarette, taking a puff of it as she took a seat.

She kicked up her legs on the table and opened a magazine. Without looking up, she took the cigarette out of her mouth and called out.

"Can I help any of you?"

The inmates all looked away and Jerome felt his stomach turn cold.

She'd been right.

He did need her more than she needed him.