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She hated the way the asylum smelled. It smelled sterile, and sometimes it even seemed that silence had a scent there. She hated going to see her father. So why did she do it?
Steph felt guilty, that was why. She sent him there, cuffed him and carted him in to the Gotham Police without a second thought, at least not one at that moment. A year later it was all she could think of; how if she hadn’t sent him away, he could have paid his debts and her mother would still be alive. Should she have confronted him before turning him in? Should she have begged him to say? Those were questions that Stephanie asked herself every day, but they were never answered.
She didn’t come in costume; she never did at the behest of Bruce. He knew just how the inmates reacted to caped crusaders coming into those sterile halls, and he handled it with steeled nerves, but he knew that Stephanie more than likely wouldn’t. For all her bravado, she was still just a teenage girl, one who had been through more than her share of hardship, but where Bruce wanted her to follow in his footsteps, there were some things that he’d never ask her to experience. I really hope this is worth it. She couldn’t help but give an audible sigh as the guards gave her the pat-down and search. I really hope you understand how bad I feel, Dad.
The scans were done and she was sent down the hallway, a long and narrow, stark white hall that unnerved her every time that she walked down it. Corridor D. The hall was lined with cells; the lower rank criminals, the ones less frightening and only on a short term stay, but it didn’t stop them from heckling her. Mostly male, the taunts were less than appropriate for a young girl’s ear. Keep your cool, Stephanie. You’ve heard far worse before. You’re rubber and they’re glue, right? The guard kept close behind her, eyeing the patients as she passed, knowing that trying to shut them up would only make matters worse.
“OPENING CORRIDOR C.”
The voice boomed over the loudspeaker, and while Steph had been ignoring the voices in the hall, the PA system was so shocking that it made her jump. The door in front of them opened on electric hinges and made room for the petite blonde and her dark-haired ‘protector’. The thought made her laugh; she knew full well that if it came down to it, she could beat the guard in the time it would take him to even react. She didn’t understand how Arkham worked so well with such soft guards who could be taken down by a sixteen year old girl.
Corridor C was no different than Corridor D, aside from the criminals being either more violent, or crazier than the last set they’d walked through. More heckling came from the captives, this time less raunchy and more sadistic. Stephanie still ignored them, and this time, she was ready for the announcement.
“OPENING CORRIDOR B.”
This was as far as Stephanie went, and she was glad. She’d been further in before with Bruce, but only suited up, and only once before. Corridor A was usually empty. She didn’t see the point in having a space between B and the ‘special’ wing, where the big named villains were kept. She didn’t like going down there through all the lifts and security. That wing felt like a tomb to her, and she knew that if anything ever went wrong down there, it would be nigh-impossible to save herself. She was glad her dad was just classified as a ‘villain’ and not a ‘supervillain’ and she didn’t have to go back down there on a regular basis. The guard pulled away, letting Steph find the cell that contained her father.
“OPENING CELL 2308. PATTON STANDING WATCH.”
Once a month for the last year she’d been coming to the asylum to see her father, and this guard was the same one who showed her in every time, but this was the first time she’d caught his name. Patton. He looked young, too young to be working in a place like Arkham, but there he was. Baby-faced Patton. Steph couldn’t help but hope that nothing bad ever happened to him; even though she didn’t know him he seemed too nice to be in a place like this. The door in front of her opened, and Steph steadied herself for when she saw her dad’s face, looking back at her. She’d never seen him look so happy.
“Pumpkin…” She winced when he spoke, she’d never liked it when he called her that and liked it even less now. True, he had kept her identity secret, and he was trying to reform, but she still didn’t feel like he was her father anymore. Not yet, at least. “I’m so glad you came. Has it been a month already?”
A hand pushed back long, blonde curls from her face as she took a seat in the only chair in the room, the one facing his bed. “Yeah.” Her voice was harsh and even though she tried, there was still so much anger in her voice. Not even the last year of visits had changed it. She still couldn’t find it in her heart to completely forgive him.
“Your birthday’s coming soon, isn’t it? You have any plans? Maybe with that nice boy you were friends with.”
Tim, Dad. His name is Tim. And he only means the world to me. “Yes it is. And no, I don’t.” It was going to be a long visit.