Chapter Twelve: We Have Our Good Days,
Part Two: They make us vulnerable.
Tony had dropped her off at Arkham, he insisted on staying to wait for her but she reassured him that she was going to be fine and perhaps take Jonathan up on that coffee. And having the old man Tony around would ruin the date. It was a good excuse to make him leave.
Now Holly sat in Jonathan's office at Arkham watching the man pull paperwork from a filing cabinet. He set forms down upon his desk neatly one at a time and when; she'd counted seven, the sheets of paper were present he doubled checked they were correct then turned them over to her.
"Many of these are for your medical history," he took his seat behind the desk, scooting in and preparing something else for himself to do in the meanwhile, "if you have any questions, I've no plans to go anywhere unless called out for our in-house patient needs." He did not look to her for any kind of confirmation. He simply started reviewing folders with patient names on them, "And remember Holly. Anything you say here, you may say in confidence that it will remain just between us. Doctor-patient confidentiality."
Considering they both worked for shady drug lords – Holly was under the impression Jonathan probably pushed the drugs that were imported for Ra's by Carmine - his word alone of confidentiality did not inspire much confidence in her. Holly shifted one page scanning it over. They did seem to be standard medical forms. The first few questions should have been simple to answer. Full Name, Holly W. Kingsley. Address, 338 Lansley Drive Apartment 27 Gotham City. Emergency Contacts. She wrote down Tony's information and started to write George's but scratched it out. Health Insurance, Wayne Foundation Health Care. Holly started to see a problem with this.
"Jonathan."
"Yes?" He did not look up.
"Where will these documents go after I've filled them out?"
"Into my filing cabinet." His hand lazily gestured to the metal three stack behind him.
"Anywhere else?"
He let out a sigh, "I do not plan to submit your information to any formal government institution," he nailed the reason she had been asking, "You are here free of charge and the only time that information may be required is if you suffer an accident while on the premises or if I decide to prescribe anything." Jonathan lifted his eyes from the pages in the folder to look at her.
He watched as Holly stared at him while taking the first page and tore it in two then a couple more times to get her point across, "Do you have a waste bin?" She tried to keep a similar casual tone but there was a sarcastic bite under it.
Jonathan nudged a small basket from his side of the desk with his foot, "You know Kingsley, we're not going to make much progress if you're unwilling to fill out paperwork let alone open up." If she became too troublesome he would resort to vastly different methods for curing her. For now, he wanted the stimulation of being a conventional therapist. Especially after dealing with Falcone and lighting Batman on fire, no matter how satisfying those may have been. He knew he needed to come down off his own high lest he neglect to practice his other skills.
"If we're just here to talk, Doctor Crane, why am I filling out seven pages of medical documentation?" She leaned over and tossed the torn-up paper into the trash.
He made a noise that was the very embodiment of annoyance, "Very well," he set the folder down, straightened up in his chair then took the rest of the paperwork from her to fill out himself, "Do you have any known health problems?"
What a cheeky loophole, Holly thought. She leaned back into her chair putting distance between her and him, "Mild asthmatic symptoms from smoking."
"Do you still smoke?"
"I… I had one before coming here. It's a bit harder to quit than I'd hope."
"We'll work on that. Do you drink?"
"Yes."
"How frequently do you consume alcohol?"
"Two, maybe three times a week."
"In what kind of volume?"
"… A lot." It was not like she kept track when the bottom of one bottle was not enough to put her to sleep some nights.
"Do you consider yourself an alcoholic?"
"No… maybe?"
Jonathan defined the line between being a raging alcoholic and a heavy consumer of liquor for her, "Does it interfere with your daily life or otherwise cause health problems?"
Holly was a bit hesitant to answer, "No. I use it to sleep." She did not enjoy being reminded of waking at unholy hours to stare at the walls of her apartment unable to return to slumber and wanted to get away from the subject.
"Trouble sleeping?" He flipped a couple of the pages to mark something else before going back to the list he was currently on.
"I've to be on call for Carmine while juggling multiple international shipments that come in and go out at all hours of the day and night, and deal with gangsters that want paychecks, wouldn't you have trouble sleeping?" She spoke the white lie with incredible ease. Holly knew it was true, nevertheless not the reason for her restless nights.
Jonathan picked up on her defensive nature, "I suppose I would." Yet he did not mention this fact to her. He simply marked what needed to be on the sheets while adding notes already, "Any prescriptions?"
"Besides over-the-counter painkillers for the occasional headache or muscle pains?"
"Those are noteworthy. Anything else?"
"One of Falcone's other doctors gets me these…" She reached into her jacket and set a slim orange bottle on the desk. Turning it so that the label faced him.
Once she took her hand away Jonathan picked it up with two fingers by the white lid bringing it closer to his face so that he could read the label's fine print, "This is Besoxyn," At her blank stare he added, "it's a prescribed methamphetamine often used for attention disorders."
"Is it?" Holly rose both her brows, "Explains why the downs were always so bad. Directions that the good doctor gave me were to take one or two whenever I felt like," She almost said shit. Was shit a swear word? "I needed a pick-me-up."
He set the bottle back down, "Substance abuse is a serious matter Kingsley, how long have you been taking these?" Jonathan thought Holly did not seem like she had trouble focusing. The woman was taking pills without even knowing what they were.
Holly crossed her arms, looking to the left for a moment just so she would not have to look at him, "A little under three years." She did not want to tell him she started taking them to focus on anything else besides the call of an early grave.
"How frequently?"
Holly held up a hand that spoke volumes to the fact that she just took them whenever, "Once every couple weeks, at most." Her hand fell to rest in her lap.
He took a few moments to fill out the pages in the correct spaces, "Any other… prescriptions?"
"Are you asking if I do illegal drugs, Jonathan?"
"It's implied."
Holly was silent for a moment, looking down at the paperwork and what he'd been writing. His handwriting was clean, yet she could not read it from where she sat, "I have."
"Care to say what?"
"No."
"In time, I'd like to know what they are. Many drugs tend to alter one's mental state, especially when one does not need them in the first place. How frequently do you use?"
"Not often." She was deflecting.
"When was the last time?"
"Roughly three weeks ago."
"For how long?"
"Off and on for close to twenty years."
His pen stopped, hovering above the page. Looking up at her.
"I said off and on. Jonathan. I'm not some kind of drug addict… well besides you know," she looked and gestured to the orange bottle on the desk. Taking it as an afterthought while she spoke to put it back into her jacket, "You're very aware of the culture we grew up in. It was common to have drugs at all those parties. Mary Jane was our best friend and Molly liked to hang out. If it wasn't pick me up or put me down pills, it was cut grass or fungus," she rolled her eyes at the annotations she'd just given him, "You may not know either but men who want things other than money often enjoy the company of a pretty woman in this city. For the sake of good business, I've been a metaphorical evidence locker of a police drug raid on Candyland more than I'd care to have been."
He lowered his eyes writing something, "I'm sorry to hear that." His tone was strangely sincere. Holly thought perhaps while it was nice to have sincerity, it was just a bit weird to hear it from him.
"I'm not telling you because I want your pity."
"You do not have it."
Déjà vu, Holly thought. She fell silent awaiting his next series of questions. Jonathan did not speak up again as he filled out the paperwork. He flipped one of the sheets and took notes on the blank side. While she could still not read them from her seat she said, "You've always had nice penmanship. For a doctor."
He dotted an I, "Thank you."
Holly did not mind him being quiet; it was giving her time to simmer down. Even if he held that allure that made her feel she could tell him anything without judgment it was still rather difficult for her to admit those things. It certainly put her in a darker and more reflective mood. It made her a tad self-loathing and she wondered if his silence meant he thought differently of her now too.
"Are you ready to continue?" Jonathan asked after a few more minutes of silence.
"Thought I was waiting on you."
"You seemed upset, I was giving you a moment to your thoughts." He required her trust and that meant playing nice.
"Oh…" Holly looked down to her lap, "Thank you."
"You're not used to being allowed reprieve during an uncomfortable conversation." He stated it more as a fact than a question.
"I'm not sure I understand."
"You're quick-witted and it reflects in the way you converse; there is hardly any time between when you are asked a question and answer. It also tells me you desire to end the conversation quickly to obtain that reprieve," He made a point of pausing himself, "I understand speaking about things that frighten you can be difficult, there is no rush."
He was correct; there was no rush, and she often tried to end conversations quickly. Could she just skip to the end here though? Coast through it. She felt like the words choked in her throat.
How was she going to explain that she... that she what exactly? Wanted to simply stop living most days? Had tried and found she was too scared of the consequences of failing? The pain before death was what kept her in line. That felt a bit embarrassing; suicide was the big red flag that was thrown around by dramatics screaming they were going to kill themselves for attention. Was she just a sad sap riddled with commonly labeled anxiety and could she leave if she acted the part? Could she say all those drugs made her this way and promise to never do them again? This was an asylum - for the criminally insane no less - and that sort of disorder did not belong here; that was more a matter of an anonymous help group. Would she tell him that she was scared of firearms? Maybe he'd get a laugh out of that. The soon-to-be former mobster is terrified of guns, more specifically gunfire, and vomits whenever she hears one. That last one did not seem like such a bad idea, actually, perhaps he could help her with that little problem so when she was free of all this it would be one less thing to worry about. And she knew exactly how to begin...
"Jonathan."
"Yes?"
"Did you fire a gun off inside a Gotham University classroom?"
He looked up at her, "That is a very drastic change of topic, Holly. We are here for your therapy, not to discuss me." He was not surprised she knew. Although he informed the public he'd step down to pursue other ventures the rumor had been spread all over Gotham by those that knew the truth.
"My therapy, right? I'd like to discuss it."
"I do not see the positive value to your therapy in answering."
"Did you?" Holly pressed.
"Yes."
"Why?"
He elaborated in preparation to overcome any more questions, "I taught psychology, specifically on the etiology of fear. It was meant to be an alternative teaching method, speaking about fear and putting it on display are entirely different."
"That seems a little extreme though."
"It may have been." If she thought that was extreme, he would certainly not disclose that he'd occasionally spiked the holiday treats of his unsuspecting students for research. Perhaps he could try that with her, just a dash of liquid toxin in her coffee.
"Must have been if it got you fired."
"Do you care to enlighten me as to why you wished to discuss this?" He felt blackmail coming on. Perhaps this was a habit she had formed from working with the Falcones'.
"I…" Well. Fuck. She adverted her eyes, "You," for all that praise of being quick-witted she was having difficulty forming what it was she wanted to say now with the same speed, "honestly make me a bit uncomfortable." Her voice came out apologetically.
Setting the pen down he laced his fingers together resting his hands on the paperwork. Finally, Jonathan thought, something mildly interesting to discuss, a fear.
"And, it's weird, because you shouldn't." She added in earnest.
"Why not? It's not uncommon that patients sometimes feel uncomfortable towards their caregivers. As I said before speaking about the things you fear can prove difficult."
"Perhaps I've not the ability to explain it well," her whole being was screaming at her to stop talking. Holly paused. Her goal was right within reach if she stopped now would it vanish? If she refused to perform this little therapy, would he go back on his word? He was patiently waiting for her to continue but the longer she took the more she felt her heart begin to pick up speed, "there is an analogy. As a doe before a wolf."
"Do you mean a wolf in sheep's clothing?"
"No." She spoke flatly, "A doe is still a wild animal, unlike a herded sheep, it better understands the wolf is there and dangerous if hungry." The word 'if' had been stressed.
Her overclocked instincts from dealing with Carmine may be his downfall in deceptively gaining her trust, "Well… that is a very interesting analogy. I am sorry you feel that way about me, I am only here to help." Jonathan smiled softly.
And she shrank. Holly shifted in her seat, smiled back awkwardly then looked down at the paperwork his hands rested a top of, "I should… probably fill the rest of that out." Her hand reached to place on the top of the pages but when she tugged on them he kept his hands firmly pressed down to not allow the paperwork to move.
"There's no need. You are attempting to run mentally from something you perceive as a fear right now Miss Kingsley, we can discuss what it is." Perhaps he could just be direct. He thought he might have to tip-toe around the woman probing her but all it seemed to take was one – annoyed – soft smile.
A long silence followed. Given her unease, Jonathan thought she was weighing options about handing over well-guarded secrets to him. Holly truthfully was only trying to shove nausea into a deep dark hole lest she turn pale and upheave into that waste bin from that smile.
"I think… I think I may be bothered by—" His desk phone rang suddenly. She jumped a bit at the noise pulling her hand away and quickly into her lap.
If he had not been annoyed by Holly's unwillingness to open up before he was sorely disappointed now. As much as he wanted to practice basic skills, he grew fonder of the idea to fill her lungs with fear toxin instead.
"Are you, going to answer that?"
Jonathan supposed he should. He unlaced his hands and answered the phone, "Doctor Crane speaking." He tried and failed to hide an annoyed tone.
Holly Kingsley would have to wait her turn it seemed. There was one pesky Rachel Dawes in his asylum during non-visiting hours. He set the phone down with that smile still on his face, "If you would then," he lifted his other hand and pushed the paperwork towards her, "feel free to fill these out while you wait. I must apologize, I have an incident to see to. I'll return shortly once it has been handled."
Holly did not say a word as Jonathan rose to leave. Her eyes followed him as a doe should watch a wolf.
He locked the door behind himself.