Adriana tilted the tiny white cup in her hands and counted the pills. 5 pills of various colors and shapes. A new combination to hopefully help her to finally get some desperately needed sleep. She was in distress. This was why she chose to self-admit into one of Gotham city's best psychiatric care facilities.
But she was different from the other patients. She had what some would consider a gift, others a curse, a few others a burden, but to most a sign that she was clinically insane. Since she was born, she could hear other's thoughts as well as see their pasts. Every sordid detail of everyone's life. Every single person that she came into contact with. And even those she didn't come into contact with. Anyone within range.
She was no stranger to medication or counseling with shrinks and psychiatrists that didn't believe what she was going through. And she hated having to prove it to them. She would typically have to reveal to strangers some deep, hidden and personal secret about themselves to convince them. And usually after that they would tell her that they could not help her.
She could sense their discomfort. She could sense their worry about HIPPA laws and the fact that she likely knew other patient's personal information. If she told anyone about another patient, the doctor's professional integrity would be questioned. They didn't often get to know her, to understand that she would never do that.
Fortunately, she was able to find a very understanding doctor who trusted her and was willing to do what she needed. Offer a pharmaceutical approach. She wanted to be medicated.
For the past 8 years she had worked for Gotham's police department in emergency situations where the police could not coerce necessary information out of criminals. They paid well and accepted her decisions about if and when she would be of assistance. Only two people working for the Gotham police department knew of her abilities and were aware of what her job was. Commissioner Gordon, a kind man who had hired her, and Adriana's boyfriend who was a cop.
Most of the people at the department believed she was a normal private investigator. After helping the police locate a child who had been kidnapped months ago by a kidnapper who was willing to admit to the crime but refused to give the parents peace of mind and closure by revealing where the body was, she was done. She quit. She had chosen the job because no matter what, her abilities tortured her and she figured that she could put them to good use in the dark city of Gotham. She had moved to Gotham because she thought she could help people. And even though she had helped many people, she paid for it. She had burned out.
She swallowed the pills quickly and almost immediately began to feel calm. Placebo effect, she told herself. And she didn't care.
She then made her way to the cafeteria and took a tray containing a cookie wrapped in plastic, fruit, peas and what appeared to be a chicken salad sandwich and sat at one of the tables across from a woman who had been there for years.
"Hi Esma," Adriana offered to the quiet woman.
Esma smiled and looked away, mumbling in Spanish.
After taking a bite of the cookie she felt the thoughts of her doctor invading her mind. Without turning around, she knew that her doctor was in the room. She could do nothing to silence anyone's thoughts. They just came in like voices around her.
Esma was a comfortable person for Adriana to be around since she didn't think of much and the only traumatic event in her life was losing her son in a car accident. It completely destroyed her mind and emotions but compared to all that Adriana had seen in her life, it was not too bad. She just wanted to hurry and eat before more patients came into the cafeteria. She could still hear the jumbled mix of thoughts of nearly everyone in the facility, but the people who were physically closest to her had thoughts that came in loud and clear. Usually.
Dr. Andrews was talking to one of the nurses in the room that was getting a drink from the vending machine.
A criminal. Adriana immediately felt his thoughts merge with hers. They were admitting yet another criminal. Adriana sighed. She was always hearing about things that she didn't care about. If she focused on Esma's thoughts, which now seemed to be the garden that she had left back at home years ago, she wouldn't hear as much of the doctor's thoughts. The nurse asked him questions about the timing of the criminal's arrival, but it seemed neither one of them knew who they were expecting. Or maybe the medication was working? Maybe the thoughts of others were no longer able to penetrate her mind as well? She wasn't used to any type of uncertainty when reading people's thoughts. And it didn't make sense that a doctor wouldn't know who their future patient was.
"Hi, Dr. Andrews." Adriana said as she went to toss the chicken salad sandwich in the trash.
"You should eat more," he replied. "Medication on an empty stomach is never a good idea."
"I had the cookie," she said with a smile.
Truthfully, her appetite had been absent for most of her life. She had always been encouraged to eat more, but it was difficult.
"Are you feeling well?" he asked her.
"Great," she sighed.
"I have a few minutes before a new patient is to be admitted, if you need to talk," he offered seeing that she was anxious to tell him something.
"Sure," she replied and followed him to his office.
After they went in and he closed the door, she sat on the couch in his room and laid on her back.
"Tired?" he asked.
"Yeah, I slept a little more last night, just not enough though," she said. She usually slept about one or two hours a night. Her mind seemed to go non-stop all night, preventing her from getting adequate rest. It was hard to sleep when it felt like she was being bombarded at all times.
"I am confident the new combination of medication I gave you will help you to sleep much better," he said.
Okay," she said while he went to sit behind his desk.
"Did you want to talk about anything?" he asked.
"Sure," she said, comfortable on his couch. "Actually, I heard that you were going to be working with one of the criminal transfers again, but I didn't hear the name at all. Maybe my meds are really working? I can't figure it out...so maybe-"
"Right.." he sighed, interrupting her. not wanting her to get excited. "Well, actually none of us have been given a name yet. So, it wasn't the medication keeping the name from you. We simply do not know yet."
"I see," she breathed with disappointment and sat up. "Why the secrecy?"
"You know I would typically never discuss patients with anyone, especially not another patient," he started. "But you, of course will find out anyway."
She nodded. Somehow his words made her feel as though he knew no medication would ever fix her problems. Not completely, anyway.
"Well-" he started but then there was a knock at his door.
"I'll go," Adriana said and stood and Dr. Andrews nodded.
"Come in," he said, and the door opened as Adriana walked over.
"Well, this is perfect," Damien Ricard said as he opened the door. "Hello, Adriana."
Damien and Adriana had been in a relationship for two years. He was a police officer and knew her well. He had also disagreed that she needed to be admitted to a place like this. On some level, Adriana hated him. It seemed that he did not care about her and only wanted to use her gift, and he frequently talked her into coming into the police station or headquarters to help them track down whoever or whatever they needed, even when she didn't want to. She blamed him for her psychotic break that finally sent her here. She did not want to see or talk to him.
It was only Damien and the police commissioner, Gordon, who knew of her abilities. Gordon always understood if she did not want to take a case and had never once pressured her. Damien was the opposite.
"I was just leaving," Adriana said and went to walk by him.
"Well, I actually wanted to see you both," Damien said. "Which is why I said, 'this is perfect'".
She was not sure why he was there to see her doctor and she did not care. Her doctor was ethical and would not share any personal information about her treatment with Damien. She assumed he was here to convince her doctor that she should be released from treatment and sent home.
"I actually have somewhere to be," Adriana lied. "Pottery class."
"I'm sure this will interest you much more," he said. And then she knew it. He wanted to use her again. Another job.
"Is this about the criminal they're bringing in?" she said. "I won't do it. You know why I'm here, I've had enough. I need to take a break...to heal."
"But this...Adriana this is different," he said, smiling and confident. "The pay will be enough for you to never have to work again-"
"Dr. Andrews," she said and turned to the doctor. "I have a therapy session at four right?"
"Correct," the doctor replied, finally speaking.
"See you then," she said and brushed past Damien.
She made it a few steps down the hall before he grabbed her arm.
"Wait," he said forcefully.
"Let go," she said and pulled her arm back. "I already gave you my answer."
"Listen," he kept talking.
"NO-" she replied.
"Ten million," he said quickly.
"What?" she asked, not sure why he was suddenly saying the number.
"Ten million dollars," he said.
Adriana was quiet. She was sure he was joking. The Gotham Police Department could never afford to pay so much.
"All you have to do is work for a few weeks at the most." he said, while looking over his shoulders to make sure there was no one else in the hall. "This criminal...we feel as though we have lost control. We must figure out what is wrong with him or at least find out his weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Or his plans. Only you can help-"
"I can't," she said. "I don't want to do this,"
"Why?" he said. "This is a lot of money, and you will never have to do this again. You could retire afterwards. You could buy a property far away from everyone and never be tormented with anyone else's thoughts again-"
He kept talking but she tuned him out. He was a narcissist. He did not care about her mental health, all he wanted was results. But 10 million dollars could change her life. He was right about that. She considered it for a moment.
"Adriana," he said and took her hands. "Beautiful Adriana. This money can change everything. Get you out...away from society. We could be together, and be free."
"I don't know," she said and looked down. Him calling her beautiful was just to butter her up. She didn't feel beautiful, in her huge white sweatshirt and loose white pants, the patients' uniform. She hadn't looked in a mirror in at least three days.
"Please consider it," he said. "Do you know who we are bringing?"
She exhaled. Now that someone who knew the identity of the new patient was actually in her presence, she could see it easily.
"The Joker," she answered.
"Yes," he smiled and nodded.