You & I

Chapter Six:

Matricide

No sleep, no chance, no need
Forget about it
One life, live free, big dreams
We're all about 'em

You're finding it, take it, take it in, it's all here
You and me, no one else, nothing else but us right now

- You & I - Crystal Fighters

My mother was a very good mom, once. She used to make me the best tuna, sweetcorn and cheese sauce pasta when I was younger - every Friday at 6 o'clock on the dot. I knew my dad didn't really like the meal, but he knew it was my favourite thing to come home from school to just before the start of the weekend, so he'd eat it. Because there was only three of us, we'd sit around the head of the table, leaving the long length of it bare.

When I hit thirteen, I finally understood the sad looks my mother used to send that way. You see, my mom always wanted a big family. I think that's why my parents saved their money so much; so they could afford such a thing. In the end, though, I fucked up my mom's insides so bad coming out of her that she could never have kids again.

I mean, you can kind of understand why she resented me a little. I ruined the one big dream she had.

I think I got older, more independent, more stuck in my own head. I read too much, I watched too many films - I immersed myself in something far away from reality to distract myself from the things I wanted (needed, needed, needed) to do. She'd always walk in on me smashing a plate on the floor or burning the end of a spoon, simply because my head was telling me to. She figured out I was nuts, and that was that. She was done with me.

She started shouting then. She'd claw at my dad's face whenever he defended me or hid me from her moods. He protected me, my dad. The best he could, anyway. I knew he was a coward, even then. I knew that he could have just walked away with me and left my mother to sadness and anger, but he stayed and helped her and tried hard to fix what had happened (what I had done) to our family.

Then I killed the bitch and fixed everything pretty quickly.

She nagged too much, you know?

I said these exact words to you, do you remember? I told you exactly what happened, because you had wanted to know. You wanted to know how I did it (I waited until her back was turned after she had yelled at me about a missing a homework assignment, then played the fork into the side of her neck) and why I did it. You wanted to know how I got caught. You wanted to know how I felt.

We were on laundry duty again when I finally asked you. 'Jerome, why did you kill your mom?'

You enjoyed the question greatly. You were all animated as you spoke, dropping the clothes you had been folding and waving your hands about as you told the tale of your whore mother. 'She liked to, uh, fuck, my mom,' you informed me, as if this was the most casual fact in the world. I slid onto the table top and watched you stand before me, all long legs and precise steps. 'All the time, ever since I was just a kid'. You peered at me, gaze playful. 'I thought I was above such primal needs until I met you, Mad. Mad. Madeline'.

I gazed at you, only slightly amused.

'Right, right. Well, these men she would bring home - violent,' you told the story as if you had been waiting to for so long and, like everything you said, it was like a well rehearsed monologue of smiles, hand gestures and wide eyed surprises. 'Never really liked me. None of 'em. So, after eighteen years of her nagging, fornicating and coooonstant drinking, I thought I'd put her out of her misery'. You shrugged. 'Hooonestly, woman didn't even look that surprised!'

I snorted out a laugh. 'But, you don't regret it, do you?'

It was, perhaps, the most serious conversation we had ever had. You strode over to me after sending me a concerned look (more concerned for my sanity, ironically) and grabbed each of my knees, pulling them apart and slipping your hips between them. I accommodated you with welcome. You face hovered above mine, eyebrows drawn together and eyes narrowed. 'Why - why would I regret such a thing, beautiful?'

I nodded, pleased with the answer. 'Good. Because I don't, and I don't want to be crazier than you'.

You grinned wide and crazily and took my hands in your own, yanking me off of the table. You spun me about, and I never felt more...more happy than I had in that moment, with my skirts floating about me like a striped optical illusion. 'Who the heck said I was crazy, huh Mads?' You drew me close, stopped the spinning, and nipped at my ear. 'Greenwood, now he's crazy. And Sionis. And Dobkins. And Helzinger. Us? We're just...' you drew away and grinned manically. 'A little erratic'.

'Erratic?' I inquired, head bowed in mock interest. 'I like that'.

You grinned. 'So do I'.

That was our last day in Arkham, little did we know.

That day, around two o'clock in the afternoon, we sat in the recreational room, surrounding one table. Barbara, now a fixed member in our little group, lay across Sionis whilst Helzinger painted her nails a bright, florescent pink colour. Like everyday, the only sound was the mixed lull of the crazies drifting over the quietness, the scraping of gates as they opened and closed and the sound of you humming some tune under your breath.

You were a little on edge. We'd been so close to yanking off each others clothes in the laundry room, but Henry had chosen that exact time to barge back down the hallway into the hot room. You'd had taken it upon himself to yank down my dress and kiss my neck sweetly, promising to continue later on. Later had not come, and your hand was a constant fixture on my upper thigh.

Yes, we were playing that game again.

Only this time, you was going for gold, weren't you?

Barbara sighed loudly. 'Someone tell me a funny story'. I twitched, leaning my chin heavily on my hand as your fingers played with the edge of my white underwear. I'm sure my cheeks were flushed pink by now.

Sionis complied, starting some story about his college days and some Varsity football team, or something. He was such a stereotype, it very nearly hurt. I jutted away from you, annoyed at the teasing you were giving me. It was at that moment that Zaardon entered the room. Do you remember him? He was funny - a real character.

'Greetings!' he shouted, distracting you from poking at my leg in impatience. 'I am Zaardon - the Soul Reaper!' There was a moment of brief silence in which Sionis actually stopped talking for ten seconds, a miracle in itself. I looked at you, watching as you blinked in mild interest at the chubby, odd looking man before us. Barbara seemed just as fazed as everyone else. Huh. Maybe she would be okay here.

'So, I had these ponies...' carried on Sionis.

'Of course you did,' I muttered, earning a short smile from Barbara.

The story carried on. For a long time. Too long, wasn't it? I stopped listening, but I remember Dobkin's being oddly invested in the tale that Sionis told. Once again, though, just as he was coming to punchline of the story, Sionis was once again interrupted.

'Hear me slaves!' Zaardon yelled once again, voice hoarse. 'My patience is wearing thin - surrender your souls to my mercy, or I swear, by the Master, I shall feast on your pain. I shall gorge on your torment'. I smiled prettily and rested my head on your shoulder, watching the scene unfold before me. It wasn't often that we got the crazies that were that deluded. 'I shall crush you like a bug!'

He began to laugh. Then the laugh turned into a cough. Then it got a little worrying.

He fell, chest heaving and throat producing the oddest sounds as he tried desperately to catch his own breath. His back hit the table beneath him with a load, resounding thud, only to be followed by a mass pour of smoke from his wide open mouth. At first, I thought I was seeing things, didn't you? I mean, it wouldn't have been the first time for me. But...I remember being a little scared. It was an odd feeling. I wasn't often scared.

The moment the smoke began to pour around the room, you grabbed my elbow and yanked me away from the table, smiling a little in surprise and interest. 'Jer-' I coughed, wishing more than anything that I had not breathed in. It hurt a little, but more than anything I remember being tired. It was like the cloth my mom used to put over my face when I had my episodes.

I blacked out to the feel of your hand fisting into my dress and my cheek flat against the cold, metal table.

His name was Theo Galavan, and he killed Sionis. I see no point in recalling these events to you, simply because I was still a little air headed form the gas and because it annoys me how much you enjoys Sionis' death. You'd worked for him. You'd done favours for him and done as you were told you. You willingly spent time with the man. Of course, I had known full well you had done it for your own gain, but to laugh at his death? I had felt nothing at seeing the man die, but it made me think if what you would have done if I had been in Sionis' situation.

Would you have cared? Or would you have laughed to gain the respect of the man who now employed us?

Theo was a good looking, well spoken man. In that respect, he actually reminded me of Sionis. Those were the only similarities, though, because his cunning, intelligence and cruelty shined through his persona more than anything else.

He wanted us to fight Gotham. He wanted us, us crazies that be broke out of an Asylum, to work for him and terrorize the city - make it fall to our (his, his, his) knees. Who better to do such a thing than seven (now six) insane, vaguely intelligent criminals? We would do anything he wanted, because he wanted us to do the crazy.

You, oh, you loved it. There was method to the madness. There was greatness. There was intelligence. There was glory.

We were taken out of the lavish room where we had been tied up in a row, and where Sionis had been stabbed to death by Theo's beautiful sister, Tabitha. Beautiful as she was, she was also deadly and, I could tell, unforgiving. She would literally not think twice about killing any of us if her brother told her to, and I constantly kept that in mind. Barbara took a shine to her, of course.

We were led down two levels, onto a floor which was made up of many rooms, many sizes. Upon glancing out of any window that I could see, I spied out that we were in central Gotham, quite near places like the City Bank and Wayne Tower. God, how long had it been since I had seen Gotham? How long had it been since I had been free? Theo pointed to doors, insisting that we settle in, get changed into the clothes that had been supplied, and then meet him in the dining area a floor down.

Everything was clean. Everything was beautiful. Everything was civilised.

Three years.

I had not seen such things in three years.

I stayed close to you.

Theo pointed to my room, smiling at me in a manner that was too kind and too conniving. The room had been next to yours, but to my (not) surprise, you had curled a hand around my wrist and pulled me toward your room instead. With a waggle of your eyebrows at Theo, you led me into the room and away from the stiffly smiling man. At the time, I had not been sure whether I appreciated him, liked him, or distrusted him with every ounce of my being.

The rooms were huge, but that was no surprise. A large, king size bed sat in the middle of the room, fluffed up and surrounded by copious amounts of pillows. The floor was a hard, clean wood and the wardrobe could probably fit a hundred of my striped dresses.

Three years.

'There's too much...space,' I said, standing in the room with you. 'I haven't been in a room this clean in years'.

You nodded and pulled a face. 'Huh. Guess you ain't, beautiful'. You turned and grinned and threw yourself onto the bed. 'Oh, this is gonna be great'.

I considered you on the bed, watching the madness seep of off you and run into the seams of the room. The bed was a mess now - you left your mark everywhere you went; a little path of destruction. 'You trust him then?'

You leant back into the pillows, your shirt undone to reveal the greying one beneath. Your hair was a mess, just the way I liked it, and your eyes were lighter than I had seen them in a while. We hadn't been that alone...ever. 'If he tries to double-cross us, I'll kill him. I'll destroy him and this City, and we'll walk off laughing, beautiful'.

I grinned and spun onto the bed with you.

'Holy shit-'

I was cut off by your mouth on my neck and your body slamming on top of mine. It didn't take long for you to entwine your legs with mine and press you abdomen hard against my own-

My comfort was broken by a swift knock at the door. You growled and withdrew your arm from my waist and hopped off of the bed whilst brushing down your clothes with a dramatic flare. I leant into the pillows as you opened the door, enjoying the feeling of a real bed with real pillows and, oh God, the fun we were going to have in that bed - no more laundry room groping for me.

'Clothes,' you said, throwing a pile of coloured fabrics at me. I spluttered and threw them away, sitting up to catch your wide, stretching grin. You were freer too. For this day, at least, we knew we could have something akin to happiness in our lives. I did, at least. I shuffled around in the bedding, watching my skirts splay about me and grinned at you. 'You gonna get changed, beautiful?'

I clambered off of the bed in a rather unceremonious manner, practically falling onto the floor because of the height of the damn thing. Turning around, I shuffled through the clothes and listened as you walked over the wardrobe and throw the doors open. I settled on black jeans and a white, flowy shirt than had a material so thin and fine that my fingers couldn't stop running over it. 'No stripes,' I murmured. I turned upon hearing the sound of you shuffling behind, and could only admire the view.

It only occurred to me when I saw you standing there, pale, toned torso on show, that I had never seen you so bare. We would always be rushing and fumbling and kissing and pulling. There was never any time. But I saw you then - I saw you as human. After so long of seeing you donned in those dirty stripes, to see you with scars and cigarette burns was something like a wake up call to me.

You were Jerome. You were real. You existed outside of Arkham.

You were working on the ties of your pants when I made my way over to you, already throwing my striped dress onto the floor in a flurry. You looked up at me, dark eyes jumping from my face to my chest, my stomach, and then my legs. I was as pale as you. I was as damaged as you. The scratches on my arms went further, dotting over my stomach and upper thighs. You'd seen those, though. You saw why my nails were so short all of the time.

I kissed you like I had never kissed you before. It felt wrong, for a moment, as if we should be biting and fighting at each other. In all honesty, I had wanted to savour the feeling of your bare stomach against mine, skin hard with muscle and warm from your own heat. I kissed you slowly, hands reaching around burying into the back of your head, fingers twining into your red hair. You responded, oddly cold hands settling on my bare hips, rubbing and kneading at the extra fat there now.

I loved you. I knew it then and I know it now. The idea of voicing it was, of course, completely fucking ridiculous. You would have either laughed at me or thrown me out of the window.

Oh, the window.

That's when I remembered it and remembered how high up we were then. We overlooked the whole of Gotham, and the idea had excited me more than anything else had in three long years. I pulled away from you, catching your pink cheeks and dilated pupils. 'I want to open the window,' I told you, fingers coming round to play along the hair of your stomach. 'I haven't seen Gotham in a long time'.

You smirked. 'You ain't missing much, beautiful'.

I ignored you, instead pulling away from your warm form and going over to the floor length, double windows. It didn't take a lot of effort to yank the handles round and pull them open. The air, as always in Gotham, was crisp and cold. The sky, overcast and grey. The noise of cars and police sirens filled the air of the city below the both of us. I felt you come up behind me as I stood there, bare and cold and basking in the freezing wind.

I was free.

Now it can get interesting ;) Review, review, review! I'm posting this before a four hour lecture, so I hope to come back to some kind words :)