Hey, guys. It's been a while. I'm sorry for not updating sooner. I hadn't realized my sophomore year of college would be this busy. Between my art projects, studying for history tests, and making sure I keep up with my science homework, I've barely had any time to think about anything else. Also, I have a friend of mine designing the cover art for this story, but judging by her schedule, that might take a while, too.

This story will be focusing a lot more on Jonathan and Becky's relationship with each other. Be aware, I am going to be combining some elements from the Arkham games, including spoilers, so if you haven't played either Arkham City or Knight or have seen someone's Let's play of it, I would advise that you do so before reading further than Chapter 3.

But enough of my ramblings. Let's get this show on the road!

Everything was dark and foggy. Becky struggled to find her way through the thick mist that obscured her path. She didn't know where she was or how she got here. All she knew was that she had to keep going forward.

As she walked, her cane slung over her shoulder, her bare feet feeling the cold, damp ground beneath her, she knew that she was not in Gotham. She looked around, squinting her eyes to try to pierce through the gloom surrounding her. Although she couldn't see much more than a foot in front of her, she could see the large trunks of trees in the distance.

"This is definitely not Gotham," she said, her cane gripped in her right hand, ready should anything approach. "But then, where is here? I've never seen such a place before."

Something moved out of the corner of her eye. Becky spun, her cane switched to gun mode as she aimed towards where she had last seen the movement. "Hello? Who's there?"

No one answered. She was sure she had seen something moving. It couldn't have been just her imagination.

"Hello?"

The thing came closer to her now. Becky couldn't see the figure's face, but she recognized the outfit it wore. It was the same costume she wore during her heists with the Scarecrow.

"What on earth are you? Are you…me?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her caution as she approached it. Why was her costume in front of her?

The figure said nothing. Putting its hands on the seams, it started to lift the mask from its face.

Then, suddenly, the dream faded with a loud clatter.

"Hey, wake up!"

Becky groggily opened one of her eyes to the piercing light as the guard loudly clanked on the glass outside of her cell window, the sound rousing her from her troubled sleep.

"Yeah, I'm up. I'm up," she said, slowly rising from her cot, her arms stretching out as she yawned. "What's going on?"

"Breakfast time. I suggest you come quickly and quietly, Rebecca, unless you want to miss it."

She sighed, pushing herself up and onto her feet. Three days. She had been in Arkham three days now, and she still wasn't used to it. She itched at her orange prison jumpsuit, which showed her number, 22080, and the name R. Albright on the right breast pocket. She was beginning to regret pleading insanity and staying in Arkham Asylum.

She didn't know why, but there was something about the place that…frightened her. She didn't know whether it was the air of insanity of the patients or the cold, clinical, apathetic expressions of the psychiatrists that made this building seem heavy with the air of apprehension, like something was going to snap at any moment. "It's just Becky," she muttered, her eyes glaring at the guard. Either way, it made her tense and anxious. And this didn't bode well for her general mood and stubborn nature.

"Whatever," the guard said, the smell of chewing tobacco radiating off him like the light of a lantern. She honestly detested the smell, but couldn't do anything about it. Ever since the Scarebeast, her senses had become more acute when she became stressed, which happened to be whenever she was in Arkham, apparently.

She still had no idea why her leg was healed. She figured it had something to do with her supposed death during her fight with Friitawa, but that was all she could remember. The only other thing she could remember that night was clinging to Jonathan's body like a lifeline and later her imprisonment and trial. Everything else drew a blank in her mind.

She slowly walked towards the guard, holding out her hands as he put the handcuffs on her wrists, though a bit too tightly for her liking. He opened the door, letting her walk behind him as another guard brought up the rear.

She took a glance at some of the patients in the transparent cells beside her, giving a small smile as she passed Harvey Dent, otherwise known as Two-Face to the public. He nodded his acknowledgement at her passing, continuing to toss his coin up and down in his right hand.

Next up were Ivy, then Harley, and finally, the Riddler. She tensed up as she got to the Riddler. She really hoped he wasn't awake just yet. It was way too early for her to process riddles right now.

"Hey, Becky, riddle me this…"

She groaned, already feeling the headache coming. Here we go…

"What asks but never answers?"

"Oh, I don't know, you?" she retorted, grinning as she saw him scowl. Served him right for asking at such an ungodly hour of the morning. She continued to grin the whole way to the cafeteria.

She could already see a few people already there. There were not many that she knew, but she did spy someone familiar from her position in the line. Who would have thought she would have the luck to find Jonathan Crane sharing her breakfast schedule with her?

Becky walked towards the opposite side from him, her tray of gruel, stale bread, and slightly mushy scrambled eggs in her hand. She sat down beside him, eyeing the guards disdainfully. She had never liked people watching her while she ate.

"You get used to it after a while," Crane muttered to her, taking large slurps of gruel from his spoon. He could tell from her hunched shoulders and pursed lips that she was tense. Not that he could blame her. Arkham tended to have that effect on a person, be it a doctor or a patient. There was something just not right with the place. But he sensed that was not the only reason she was tense. "Nightmares again?"

She smiled ruefully. "Is it that obvious?" she muttered, putting a piece of the scrambled egg in her mouth. She had been having the same nightmare since the Scarebeast incident, and it didn't look like it was going away anytime soon. It frustrated her. Every single time she thought she would see the mysterious figure's face; she was woken up, either by the guard or on her own.

"Partly," he replied curtly, eyeing the stale bread critically, before leaving it alone. He'd rather not have his jaw ache later from chewing that hard, lumpy rock of dough they called bread. "Was it the Beast again?"

She shook her head. She hadn't had many nightmares about that creature, at least, not since her first night. "Not really, no. It was something else." She shrugged. "It's probably nothing."

"Maybe, maybe not," he mused, drinking his cup of coffee slowly. He chuckled. "Tetch would say that you could never tell with dreams."

"Have you heard from him lately?" she asked, a tinge of worry in her tone. She hadn't seen either Alice or Jervis since the Scarebeast Incident, and she had wondered whether he was still running from the law or if he was captured.

"Not yet. The Bat hasn't brought him today. We'll have to see about tomorrow," he said, his eye on the guard, who was pointing at his watch. "If you'll excuse me, Becky, that oh-so-nice man has decided that my time is up," he replied snarkily, grabbing his plate and throwing it in the garbage can before following the guard.

She giggled softly, waving slightly to him as he was escorted to his psychiatric appointment. So far, they had been keeping their relationship a secret between the two of them. They would rather not give any leverage for either the psychiatrists or the other rogues to use against them. The only person who knew was the Riddler, and he wouldn't give information away for free, not after the Scarecrow had threatened him with fear-gas if he tried. Although, she knew a few of the others already suspected their relationship.

A few minutes later, the guard called her name, and she was escorted to her new psychiatrist.