Ever since he was a child, he's had nightmares in place of dreams. The rare times he didn't, his sleep was filled with an unbearable sense of anxiety as he was overcome by an inky black void.
As if something lurked within the darkness. Watching him. Waiting for him.
But then out of the darkness, stepped someone he had been longing to see.
The Bat.
The first time this happened, it was shortly after their first encounter. Arthur couldn't have been more delighted. He knew he was back in Arkham and wouldn't be seeing the Bat anytime soon, so this was the closest he'd get to the real thing.
The Bat never spoke. Arthur mostly did all of the talking, just like in real life. But he would never say anything back. He would merely observe Arthur, his unblinking stare never once leaving him.
Although Arthur knew what the Bat looked like under the mask–he had seen his real face on TV and in the papers many times–he never imagined him without it.
To Arthur, that mask was as much as part of his identity as his name. It was him.
Just as this clown makeup was for Arthur. When he dreamed, he wasn't bare-faced like how he was in Arkham. No, there was always a white coat of paint over his face despite never taking the time to apply it. It just magically appeared there. Like the Bat.
Oftentimes, the Bat would chase him through the grimy streets of Gotham. Relishing in the crisp air blowing through his hair, Arthur never felt more alive. More free. It was just him and the Bat. In a city of millions, only the two of them occupied it. There were no other souls in sight to disturb them–to take the Bat's focus off of him.
The stars never shone brighter than at those moments, which is another reason why Arthur knew this was a dream. The stars could never be seen this clearly in Gotham because of all the light pollution. They rivaled the brightness of the many skyscrapers surrounding them, twinkling in synchronized beats.
But last night, something unexpected happened. Something that had never happened before.
As Arthur dashed under a bridge, thinking he had outrun the Bat, a pair of hands suddenly shot out from the shadows and wrapped themselves around him, slamming him into the hard concrete wall.
Arthur tried to wriggle his way free, but the grip was too strong. It was like iron. And his body was nothing more than soft tissue. Whenever he tried to fight back, his hits were weaker than a child's. He might've not been winning any bodybuilding contests in real life, but in his dreams, his fists might as well have been made of pillows.
Out of the blackness, a tall, monstrous silhouette manifested in front of his eyes. It loomed over him like a giant as it took the shape of a man.
"Are you planning on dislocating my shoulder this time?" Arthur wheezed through the sharp pain.
He didn't expect an answer. They had been through this so many times that Arthur knew how this would go. Either Arthur would try to escape and a fight would ensue, or the scene would abruptly change, and the chase would begin again.
But then the Bat spoke.
"Did you really think you could escape me?"
Arthur froze at the sound, unsure if he really heard it. His voice was exactly as he remembered it. It wasn't exaggerated or overdramatic. It was perfect.
He was perfect.
"You sound just like him." Arthur smiled.
The Bat narrowed his eyes and pressed his fingers down even harder. "You never make any sense. You're always spouting off the most ridiculous things."
"But that's what you love about me," Arthur teased. "Without me, things would be boring. Your life would be boring. You wouldn't even exist, Batsy!"
He finally removed his hands off of Arthur, but not his glare. "Then why are you trying to replace me with her?"
Not once had Arthur winced through the previous death grip, but this–this made him do so. "Wh– What?" he stammered.
"Why are you trying to replace me with her?" the Bat repeated. "Dr. Quinzel."
Arthur held up his hands in defense. "Bats, I would never–"
The Bat let out a chuckle from deep within his throat and it made Arthur's blood run cold. Despite his many attempts, he had never heard him laugh before, so he could only imagine what it sounded like. It was dry and guttural, almost like a growl.
"Don't lie to me, Arthur," he said. "We both know that isn't true."
Unable to move or even sputter out a response, Arthur could only watch as the Bat placed his hands over his shoulders again. But unlike before, this was soft. It was gentle. There was none of the brutality he had come to expect from the Bat.
"You're right." The Bat's voice dropped to a whisper. "You made me. I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for you. You gave me a purpose."
If this was real life, his heart would be bursting out of his chest about now and he would be gasping for breath. But all Arthur could do was shake as the Bat slowly drug his fingers across his shoulder blades towards his neck.
"When you saw me, I gave you a newfound purpose too," the Bat continued. "There was finally someone out there in this crazy city who understood you. Who completed you. Would Dr. Quinzel ever do that for you?"
His fingers were now at Arthur's jawline, trailing upwards towards his mouth. Arthur tried to lift his arms in an attempt to stop him, but it was useless. They were softer than jelly.
"I belong to you." The Bat's fingers tugged at the corners of Arthur's lips, forcing them into a smile. He could taste the leather of his gloves. "You're not alone anymore, Arthur."
"Arthur!"
"Arthur!"
Arthur jolted awake at the sound of his name. Struggling to adjust to the fluorescent light above him, he blinked several times. As he came to his senses, he realized he was back in Arkham. Back in that same, damn room with the same metal table in front of him.
Dr. Quinzel was standing in the doorway with her clipboard, a concerned look on her face. "I just walked in and I saw you mumbling in your sleep. You were thrashing around, too. Are you alright, Mr. Fleck?"
He wiped his neck, and when he pulled his hand back to examine it, his skin glistened with sweat. He must've dozed off while he was waiting for the doctor. "Yeah. I'm fine, doc. Just having a strange dream is all."
Strange wasn't the right word, though. Wonderful was more like it. But how could he ever explain that to Dr. Quinzel? Sure, she might understand him more than his other sorry excuses for a psychiatrist. But she would never truly understand.
So then why did he tell her when she inevitably asked, "What were you dreaming about?"
"I was dreaming about a boy I once met." The words just came tumbling out of his mouth before his brain could process what he was saying.
"Oh?" She walked over to the chair across from him and took a seat. "Who was this boy?"
A tender smile crossed Arthur's face. "He's my half-brother."
Dr. Quinzel's blue eyes went wide at the statement. "I didn't realize you had a half-brother, Mr. Fleck. I thought all your family was..."
"Dead?" He smirked at her and she slowly nodded her head. "Nope. There's still another one of us out there."
She wrote something on her clipboard. "Do you keep in contact with him?"
A loud cackle erupted from his throat. Dr. Quinzel was probably one of the smartest people he knew, and she didn't realize the irony of her question. "Regularly, doc."
She seemed puzzled by this answer, and Arthur could practically see the gears turning in her blonde head. How could Arthur keep in regular contact with him? He didn't write to him. No one came to visit him.
"Can you tell me a bit about your brother, Mr. Fleck?" Dr. Quinzel asked. "Is he still a child?"
Arthur shook his head. "Nope. He's a man now. A very rich and powerful man."
She glanced up again, and there was that same mystified look on her features. "So I assume he knows what you did and why you're here?"
A knowing smirk returned to Arthur's lips. "He'll never forget. I made sure of it."
Dr. Quinzel scribbled something else on her clipboard, and Arthur could only guess what she was writing about him.
"Do you mind if I ask if he's from your mom or your dad's side?" She tilted her head curiously.
Arthur grew silent for a moment. He had never told anyone about his history with the Waynes. Dr. Quinzel had already gotten much more than anyone else had before her. He wasn't even sure why he told her all this.
But Dr. Quinzel was unlike any other psychiatrist he had. He had meant it when he told her that.
She actually took the time to learn about him. She didn't see him as a burden like the rest of society. She didn't just go through the motions when talking with him or offer her unwanted pity like all the other psychiatrists had.
In some deep part hidden within him, Arthur believed Dr. Quinzel did want to help him. That she did somewhat care about him.
"My dad's," he finally answered. "He was also a rich and powerful man who wanted nothing to do with me."
Her expression softened, and she let out a sad sigh. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Fleck. I'm sorry both your parents failed you."
"Don't be," he spat. "I'm glad they're dead! I'm sure you know why if you've read the files on my mother! But my father? He kept me from my brother! From the only person who matters! He stole precious time that we could've spent together!"
Arthur slammed a fist down on the table, and the door immediately swung open. One of the guards had stepped inside, his eyes darting between Dr. Quinzel and Arthur.
"Is everything okay? I heard shouting."
Dr. Quinzel leaped to her feet, her hand held out in front of her as if to ward off the guard. "Yes, we're fine."
"Are you sure?" The guard scowled at Arthur. "I can–"
"I said, we're fine!" She snapped her head at the guard. He took the hint, instantly shuffling out of the room.
Meanwhile, Arthur regarded the doctor with reignited interest. He had seen that fiery side of her before back when he first met her. She had stood up to the Bat. But at the time, he thought it might've just been a one-time event. But no, it seemed like she always had this side to her.
As she took her seat again, the light above flickered out with a buzz. In between the few seconds they were enveloped in the dark, it was no longer Dr. Quinzel who sat in front of him. Her petite frame had been replaced by a taller, more muscular one. Even though he couldn't see its eyes, he could feel its stare burning holes into him.
His heart started to pound in his chest but not out of fear. It was because he recognized the pointy ears at the top of the figure.
The light returned, and so did Dr. Quinzel.
"Someone really needs to check on that." She glimpsed up at the ceiling with a roll of her eyes. "It's happening far too often lately."
Arthur's heart slowed back to its normal pace. The familiar aches of despair and disappointment came creeping in as he gaped at the doctor. But while he studied her closely, he noticed details he hadn't before. Like how she was wearing her makeup differently now. It was less subtle with her red lipstick and bold mascara. Or how she was wearing a skirt instead of the dark pants she usually wore, so he could see her pale, slender legs.
It was as if he was seeing her in a new light.
"Mr. Fleck." Her voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Can we please continue where you left off?"
He forced a grin to his face as he tried to regain his composure. "Right... Where were we?"
For the remainder of their session, Arthur told her about his father, about his brother, and the encounter they had almost two decades ago. But he never mentioned any names. He never gave her any clue as to who he was talking about. He kept the details vague on purpose so that it could've been any wealthy family in Gotham he was referring to.
Arthur might've trusted Dr. Quinzel more than most, but whatever trust he had with her wasn't like what he had with the Bat. Because a relationship built on half-truths and secrets wasn't a relationship at all.
What he and the Bat had was special. Arthur would sooner die than betray him by revealing his identity to anyone.
That was solely between him and Bruce.