A/N: Still not much Crane, but there is the Joker x3 The next chapter will be filled to the brim with Crane, pinky promise. Nice and long, finally x.x There were several places I could have separated this into two chapters with, but I didn't feel like it, honestly. I'm getting tired of these mini chapters, they bother me just as much as they bother you. Hope you enjoy, concrit is greatly appreciated. The next chapter is already started and should be up before the end of the week.
Quietly and as calmly as possibly, Avery slipped into a random table. The table's occupants looked up for a second, but quickly returned to their silent meal. The group weren't quite the criminals that reminded her so much of herself, but they were a hell of a lot better than the burly men with prison tattoos and buzz cuts. They really were a motley crew, though, when Avery thought about it. Across from her was a boy, not even twenty years old, with hair that stood up in all different directios. Either the boy didn't know, or didn't care because he showed no signs of having bothered to fix it. Next to him was a statuesque woman who belonged in a fashion magazine not a mental hospital. Wisps of blond hair fells out of her orange scrunchie and thick rimmed glasses covered her mint green eyes. The woman spared Avery a couple of glances, analyzing Avery in the same way Avery was analyzing her. She knew the woman was asking herself the same questions Avery was. Who is this woman? What is she doing here? Why is she here? And, most importantly, Is she a threat?
Next to Avery was a man who could have accidentally wandered off of the streets into Arkham. Average brown hair in and average hair cut that framed average eyes set into an average face shape. The only truly remarkable thing about him was a generic tribal tattoo on his upper arm. The man raised a perfectly averagely overgrown eyebrow in Avery's direction. The expression said it all: Why are you here?
Blondie was the first one to say anything, "Who are you?" Avery smiled a little, no pleasantries, just business.
"Avery. You?" Avery placed down her spoon and focused on the group.
"I'm Sasha, this is Hudson and moptop here's Green." Green looked up at his name and stared at Sasha. Sasha made a motion with her head to his hair. In a flurry of motion Green ran his hands through his hair, a light blush scattered over his cheeks. Still embarrassed, he looked back down at his food.
"Ignore him," Hudson offered a small smile, "He doesn't talk to anyone much."
"Why not?" For the first time Avery truly studied Green. Besides his hair, he didn't seem to belong in Arkham either. His brown eyes held the telltale signs of anti-psychotic drugs and sedatives. Green's hair fell in tangles around his face, but he didn't seem capable of being a danger to others. That's the only reason you were in Arkham. If you were a danger to yourself you were in a normal mental hospital in normal clothes. To be in Arkham, something major occurred. People died. People got screwed over. People got hurt. From what Avery could tell, he couldn't hurt a fly … even if it was annoying the shit out of him.
"Stop talking about me." There was something ghostly about the command. Green hadn't even looked up, but the tone in his voice was calm, controlling. Maybe he was dangerous …
"We are not talking about you, Green," Hudson's voice was calm and level. Avery held down a snort as she thought of Jedi mind tricks. Nerd … her mind chastised her. Placing the fork down Hudson's hand crossed across his body and remained there.
"You're lying."
"Why would we talk about you Green?" Avery smiled lightly, and placed her palm on her chest.
"Because – because they all do … they – they …" Sasha placed a hand on Green's shoulder, another burst of chagrin flew into his cheeks.
"They're not lying, honey," Sasha shot Avery a sidelong glare. Shut up, it said.
"But … but …" Green's arguments died in his throats.
"Green, trust me …" Avery extended her hand to the now shaking man. His hand immediately shot back into his lap.
"Is something wrong here?" The grabby guard from earlier loomed over our table.
Avery began a cool response, but was quickly intercepted, "They're talking about me."
"No, they're not." Sasha's words were still calm, but her words held the threat.
Though Avery couldn't see the guard behind her, she knew he had just rolled his eyes, his next words said it all, "Whatever. The doc wants to see you, Watts." Finished with her food or not, Avery was cuffed and forced to stand up. She spared another glance at her new found … well, she couldn't call them friends. Hudson was playing with his food. Isn't he too old for that? "No …" Avery breathed out. He had spelled something out. "DRUGS" Hudson spared a glance at Green. That was his answer to her question.
"Good morning, Avery," for the second time today Avery froze in her tracks.
"Dr. Owens, can you please read the highlighted passage?" Dawes placed a small piece of paper in front of the doctor.
"Um … okay …" this was obviously not how Owens had expected this interview to go. "Patient displays a startling lack of emotion and capacity for lies. She seems to display little remorse for her actions, but denies ever being "violent". The only action she will admit to is having a, quote, 'wasted intelligence'. Her mentality is quite disconcerting."
"What are those notes from?" Dawes accepted the papers back.
"Those are my original notes on Miss Watts."
"When did you treat the defendant?" Dawes strategically placed herself between Dr. Owens and a glaring Avery.
"When she was twelve … her parents were concerned. There had been some … incidents … at her school and they believed she was involved."
"Was she?" Dawes eyes lit up with this new information.
"I don't know …. I – I never spoke to her after that initial meeting." Owens wrung her hands.
"What was your preliminary diagnosis on Miss Watts' case?"
"She was showing early symptoms an antisocial personality … a disregard for the rules set by society."
"In our initial interview you used another term. Dr. Owens, I must remind you that you are under oath," Dawes voice was cool and calculating, far from the warm ADA Owens had met a few weeks prior.
"Yes … yes, I did." The seventeen year old defendant pinched the bridge of her nose. Dawes gave the Dr. Owens a silent look, silently pressing for more information. "I said that she was in the early stages of sociopathy."
"Can a sociopath be cured?"
"Not as far as I know."
"Will hospitalization do Watts any good?"
And there it was, the killing blow … "No, not in the least."
Less than a day later, Avery's lawyer made a deal. Avery testified against the real murderer, she went to Arkham indefinitely and she aided in repairing the man's life – under strict supervision of course. Dawes had been reluctant, or course … But Dent, on the other hand, had caved. He was Gotham's White Night. No one wanted to see a seventeen year old girl in Blackgate, but they didn't want her on the streets. Harvey Dent's hands were tied … Arkham it was.
"Dr. Owens," Avery recovered quickly. The woman's smile didn't even make it to her eyes. Owens hadn't changed much in five years. Her black hair had been cut short and there were a few extra wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. The office was much warmer than the rest of Arkham. The walls matched the faint cinnamon scent that hung in the room, as did her chair. Her chair was one of many in the room, but it was certainly the nicest.
"Sit down, Avery," Owens gestured to the plastic seat next to her.
"I'll stand, thanks."Avery folded her arms (as well as she could, still being in handcuffs) and leaned against the wall next to a guard. She did a preliminary scan of the room, moving on from the woman she hated so. Joker was glaring at her, probably still angry Avery had ignored his request to sit with him. The blond from breakfast was sitting next to him, practically on top of him. She recognized her previously from Arkham. The Joker did always brag about seducing his doctor, no one believed him though. Ivy, sitting on one side of the doctor, leaned back in her chair precariously. Edward Nigma was studying Avery as intently as she was studying the crowd. They'd only met once; he had escaped the day after Avery was admitted last time. Next to him, also studying Avery was … You know, we really need to stop being shocked, Aves, really … The only acknowledgment Avery gave Adasen was a nod. He just glared at her.
"Miss Watts, let's not start this today," Avery smirked. Apparently, the others in the room and previous appointments had already given her a run for her money. Avery smirked, milking every once of agony from the doctor.
"Aves, I'd, ah, listen to the good doctor." His tone was light but it still made her shudder in fear. Most of her time in Gotham had been put to the back of her mind, but she still remembered working for the Joker vividly.
"What do you mean … it's not poss-i-ble?" his breath was rancid in Avery's face. He was so close she could pick out the tiny spots of black in his horrible teeth. Every layer of his make up was clear, even the inconsistencies. There was a slight bead of sweat running down his brow, blurring his eye makeup. The other henchmen felt only slightly bad for the seventeen-year-old, she wasn't to strong, but she had screwed plenty of them over. One of their own was still in jail with stat rape charges.
"Not with the equipment you gave me," Avery nodded her head to the old steel box Joker had tried to pass off as a pc.
"They're just, ah, security cameras. Do it." As if the threat in his voice wasn't enough, he began fingering the knife he now held in his hands.
"I can't." Avery bit back tears. No way was he going to see her cry.
"Then what am I paying you for?" In seconds the knife was piercing her skin.
There were only three seats open, and Avery found herself debating between evils. Two in between Joker and Adasen and one by the doctor … God … Avery took a seat next to the pissed off clown. "Thank you, Avery," Dr. Owens flashed the sweetest smile she could manage, which Avery attempted to return. The end result turned more into a sneer than a smile.
"Where'd you go hiding, Watts?" Ivy grinned, letting her chair land softly back into its right position.
"If she didn't tell the Joker why in the world would she tell you?" The Riddler shot Ivy a skeptical look.
"Because, I don't use intimidation." Both the Joker and Harley burst into raucous laughter, even Edward and Avery smiled a bit.
"I've just been around … really," Avery shrugged. It was the truth. She never stayed more than a few months in one spot and she never, ever, left a paper trail. When she needed money she'd do an odd job and then leave. "Staying under the radar." She shrugged again.
"Well … you did a fantastic job … didn' ya?"
"At least I can stay out of this hellhole for more than a year." The more the clown laughed, the more Avery wished she had sat next to Owens. Said doctor was surprisingly quiet, it seemed as though group therapy had started without her.
Or maybe not …
The office's door opened again with a loud creak. Two more burly guards filed in nearly dragging the newest additions to the group therapy session. The statuesque blond offered Avery a small smile. Sasha examined the circle until she was satisfied that Avery was the only new face. Sasha was shoved forward to make room for the second arrival.
Ice blue eyes met Avery's again and no matter how hard she tried, Avery couldn't help the shudder of fear that spilled down her spine. Dr. Crane smirked at her.
A/N: I will be the first to admit how incredibly unpleased I am with this chapter. I don't know why ... I had a lot of fun writing it, but still ... I don't know, what do you guys think? Most of this chapter was honestly setting up for the future. Things need to happen, and unless you don't have certain information I'm going to be onslaughted with readers going "WTF? O.o" Umm ... anywho ... like I said the next chapter will be up shortly, seeing as its a lot of fun to write x3 Did I ever mention how much I adore Crane? Anywho, read, review, subscribe, favorite ... I'll love you for it :3
PS ... its funny how I've red this like three times over, and I'm still finding spelling mistakes x.x Fuck. My. Life (And writing x.x)