Work Text:
“In 2 3 4 5
Hold 2 3 4 5
Out 2 3 4 5
Very good. Now we’re going to try it again. But this time, let’s add a second. But don’t worry if you aren’t ready. We are not about annihilating anxiety but, instead, engaging with it. Take your time. This is about you.”
Becky couldn’t handle the droning voice anymore and slipped the corded headphones out of her ears, focusing on the leak bubbling in her ceiling instead of the soft-spoken, British stage actor attempting to coerce her through a very poorly edited script about falling back asleep after a panic attack. 4:14 AM. Too early to start her day. Too late to do anything else other than try to fall asleep. Or maybe it was pointless to attempt. It’s not like it would have been a peaceful sleep anyway. She gave it a shot herself
In 2 3 4 5
Hold 2 3 4 5
Out 2 3 4 5
Nope, didn’t work. Water is wet. Becky rocked herself up into a seated position, staring glumly at her mostly blank wall.
One day I’ll decorate this dump.
She determined it was too early for coffee too. Bony knees to her chest, Becky rubbed her eyes before glancing at her phone.
Get your shit together, you stupid bitch. Maybe if you took care of yourself, you won't keep flunking the LSAT. Maybe you'll get your degree.
Positive self-talk was not in the cards for her tonight.
Don’t do it. Ugh. fine. You probably will be left on read anyway.
Hey. Sorry if I woke you.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
Another self-reminder to not give in. Loneliness was a beast like that. She found herself rapidly vacillating between being equal parts enraptured and suffocated by it.
Her phone flashed. 4:45 AM.
Hey. You around?
There. That was casual. Not that he deserved casual. What he deserved as a kick to the nuts. And she deserved a self-inflicted slap to the face. Their relationship was not unique, or anything. Becky watched a lot of deeply fractured people continue to chip away at one another’s cracks. Families. Friends. Lovers. Employers. It was a big, suffocating city. And, as her affirmation app reminded her each night: hurt people hurt people. Sure. But, on the other hand, there is a difference between sabotage and whatever it was his inner circle did.
*****
Earlier that night. 11:30 PM
She found the young woman, probably no more than nineteen at the very oldest, barely alive, frothing at the mouth, semi-conscious in the middle of the park. Her form was draped across the lap of the large statue.
“Holy shit.” Becky limped over. The girl coughed, more foam and bile splattering Becky’s shirt. Whatever, that can be washed out. She was used to spit-up on her clothes by that point. “Are you ok?”
Stupid fucking question.
“Drink.” The girl mustered out.
“Shit. Were you roofied or some shit? This looks bad.Have my water bottle. I’m calling the police.” As Becky fumbled through her backpack, a familiar figure emerged from behind a tree.
“Don’t call the police.”
Of fucking course. The mace was always on handy, at least, and she threw her arm up.
“Were you fucking behind this? This girl’s going to die, I’m calling the police. You clearly roofied her or some shit. Was she a student? They’re alway fucking former students.” An advancement. “Don’t fucking come any closer.”
Jonathan, surprise surprise, ignored the request.
“Be quiet just for a second.” The Georgian accent slipped through easily. It always did. “No, I did not do this. Yes, I know who did. It’s not a roofie. It’s poison.”
Becky’s eyes went wide.
“You maniac! I’m definitely calling the police then.” An arm to the wrist. “Let the fuck go.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be her. I have the antidote.”
As if she weighed nothing, Jonathan pushed Becky aside and crouched before the girl rapidly losing consciousness. Becky actually assessed her surroundings for the first time. The Alice in Wonderland statue. Of course.
“You’re still doing Tetch’s bullshit work?”
“No. Now please be quiet, so I can administer this.” He drew his attention to the girl. “This is going to hurt for just a second. Keep listening to my voice.”
The girl’s eyes rapidly started clouding over.
“Are you going to give her your stupid fucki–”
A jab. And then, as if a miracle, color rushed back to the girl’s cheeks. A gasp. A cough. More bile.
“Are you alright?” The girl, stunned, nodded slowly. “Good. You probably won’t remember much of this tomorrow, but this young woman here is going to get you home.”
Of course, this was her job now. Becky cocked a brow as Jonathan stood back up and turned to her, removing that godawful mask.
“Two questions. One, why are you here? Two, were you stalking me again?”
“Two answers. No. As I told you, I’m righting Tetch’s wrongs. And two, no. I was not. I came to the most obvious location Tetch would pull some shit.”
“And?”
“And I am aware this is part of your walk home and I was hopeful we could cross paths.”
“You’re on thin fucking ice as always, Jon. Now let me get this girl home.” She moved to help the girl up. One last remark. “She’s doing well. I know you’re going to ask.”
He said nothing else. Slowly, the two young women walked through the park.
“Thanks.” The girl was quiet. Timid.
“Let me guess, you’re an Alice.”
“No. An Allie.”
“Got it. Caught in the Mad Hatter’s nonsense. I’m Rebecca.”
“That your friend?”
“Not really. Where’re you from, Allie?”
“Milwaukee. I’m here for theater school. It’s my first year.”
Becky offered what she hoped was her most reassuring smile.
“Let me guess. Not a lot of friends super pumped to walk you across the park at night?”
A nod.
“They wanted to stay out. Not a lot of cabs so I just figured I’d walk.”
“I get how a new city can be kinda scary and dangerous. And also how new friends can be. Let’s get you home and I’ll give you my number. If you ever need a park buddy, let me know.”
Becky tried her best to fill the air with warm conversation, though she could not shake the feeling of being watched. That was always the case though. The girl’s dorm building finally came into view. Before Allie walked in, she turned to look at Becky.
“By the way, who was that guy? Who are any of these guys?” What a question. Becky could only shrug.
“People you’ll learn to live with. Welcome to Gotham, Allie.”
Becky silently made her way back to the old walk-up above the laundromat. She had snagged a decently priced first-floor unit. It was mostly old people and a Bulgarian woman whose cats had a penchant for escaping and scratching at Becky’s door. But she was a working nanny and offered to watch the baby in exchange for Becky editing her (very graphic) erotica.
“Sorry to be so late. Had to help a college kid who got roofied and had really shitty friends.” The trade-off between edited manuscript and sleeping baby was painless and silent.
*****
Back to the present. 5:00 AM
Hey. Forgot to tell you. Got the girl home safe. Thanks for that btw. I don’t want to know what you were doing out there. And I don’t like that you hang around that pervert. Hopefully that’ll change. Have a good rest of your night/morning/day.
Woosh.
Sent. There. Done.
DING.
“You could’ve just said you were here literal hours ago.” Becky sighs and draws her attention to the closet. Jonathan slips out, pushing his glasses up his nose with one, spindly finger as he does so. “At least you took off that stupid, fucking thing.”
Still a bit nervously, she ran her fingers through her hair.
“For the record, I don’t hang around that pervert. That pervert tries to hang around me.”
“It’s not hard to stop him, Jon.”
His green eyes flashed for a moment. She rarely called him Jon.
“Can I see her?”
“Do you have any drugs or weapons on you?
“No.”
“Prove it.” Jacket removed. Pockets turned out. “She’s asleep in her crib. Please don’t wake her.” Becky gestured toward the crib against the wall with her chin. Sure enough, the tiny creature slumbered.
“Well, would you look at her.” The Southern drawl snuck in again. Becky cracked the smallest of smiles.
“You want coffee? I might as well just be up for the day.”
“Christ, did you even sleep?”
“Obviously not. I don’t sleep. You know this. Besides, it’s not like you do.”
A beat.
“Do you have work?”
“Got fired. Tanked on the LSAT again. So, no. I don’t have anywhere to be. Clearly I’m doing great.”
There was not much more said. Nothing had to be said. Jonathan sat on the bed. Becky didn’t stop him.
“Do you want to sleep in? I mostly sleep during the day anyways.”
Silence permeated the room. Becky found herself at an internal crossroads. It was still dark out. And in the dim lighting Jonathan almost, just almost, looked handsome.
“I could really fucking sleep though. At least my waking nightmare will be asleep too.” A beat. A chuckle in response. “Let me get the baby. Maybe she’ll fucking sleep for once too.”
Once she settled herself in the bed, a steady sigh pressed through her lips.They faced each other. Jonathan let his glasses slip between the bedframe and the stack of books currently doubling as a side table.
She heard Jonathan murmuring something, unsure who the intended audience was. It sounded familiar enough.
“More Baum?”
“Meant to be soothing.”
“We continue to have wildly different ideas of soothing.”
She did not admit it was exactly what she needed to hear.
*****
Some months prior.
She came early. She . A beautiful little baby girl. She came a month early, not that Becky’s family particularly cared . And not that they were planning on showing up even if she was on time. But she came early with everything in place, her little legs perfectly aligned and the finest dark curls crowning her head. She was born screaming as everyone is and then the second she locked eyes with Becky, silence befell the room. Wonder, absolute wonder. Wonder and fear at once. A sentiment distinctly personal to Becky in ways others couldn’t quite fathom. Left in the room, the two were granted peace and solitude to bond.
It was only when she was finally dozing off, the baby, sweet little Poppy , snug and safe against her breast, that Becky’s mind was just enough at peace that she could clearly hear the nurses whispering in the hall.
“You know who that is, right?”
“Shut up, you know the rules.”
“Sssh, no shit. But isn’t that the girl from the papers a few months back? The Gazette tracked her for months. And the post! You know I keep up with all this shit.”
“Doesn’t matter if she is. I’m doing my job. You do yours.”
“She’s the girl who did the whole Scarecrow thing. Listen, the guy drove my brother to the looney bin. This is personal. You don’t suppose that’s his kid, do you?”
“I told you, Maren, do your job. This is how you get blackballed from every nursing job ever.”
“Well, it only takes a bit of common sense to sterilize those Arkham freaks. Otherwise, this is what happens.”
Becky bristled. Not just bristled. She held Poppy tight as can be. No one should dare speak that way about her daughter. That perfect little girl sound asleep.
That little girl who already, from the moment Becky laid eyes on her, looked exactly like her father.
Poor, sweet, beautiful creature. Already, Becky knew she had to protect her.
“Do you want to put the father’s name and we can mail it for a signature? To Arkham perhaps?”
“You know I can report you for this.” Becky wanted to say but she was just so damn worn out. Hollowed in more ways than one. She couldn’t bring herself to. Goddamn pushover she was.
Becky begged until they released her. Anything to get her and her daughter home .
The whispers were louder when she left, deliberate, taunting even. Every hair on her body stood upright. Suddenly, she felt every eye on her, probing with stares alone. Becky felt like a caged animal as she waited to be discharged. Not a caged animal, an attraction . The words of that bitch from the Gotham Gazette still carved into the insides of her eyelids.
Plucky Undergrad Faces Down the Scarecrow Plucky Undergrad Faces Down the Scarecrow Plucky Undergrad Faces down the Scarecrow Plucky Undergrad Faces Down the Scarecrow
She felt sick. Those kinds of stares were far too common for her.
Clearly that plucky undergrad didn’t face him down enough. Because his bastard was clutched in her arms.
And it’s not that home was much. But it wasn’t the hospital. And she was safe. Poppy was safe.
The window was cracked open. She could tell from the gentle way the blinds billowed. A twisting in her stomach. One that aligned all too well with the emergency alert that blared from her phone, thankfully not waking the baby.
GCPD CITY ADVISORY: SCARECROW ESCAPE FROM ARKHAM. SHELTER IN PLACE ENCOURAGED. LOCK DOORS.
Clearly, he had timed it out.
Becky muted the notification. Locking the door–or relatching the window–would prove futile.
Her first reaction was relief . She, they, wouldn’t be alone for the night. Still holding Poppy, Becky lowered herself on her worn, thrifted sofa.
“I know you’re here.”
Silence engulfed the apartment.
Silence continued to engulf the apartment.
Becky sat perfectly still in the center of the old couch.
Hours passed. Surely it was nearing two in the morning.
Baby woke up, demanding a feeding with a pitiful, darling even , little whimper.
And then.
“Good evening.”
Jonathan emerged from the utility closet. Immediately a rush of relief passed over Becky and then, it was promptly replaced by its crueler cousin, disdain.
“You escaped.”
“You had the baby.”
No shit. No thanks to you .
A nod.
Jonathan’s eyes fell down to the nursing infant.
“Do you have the cops after you?”
A head shake.
“Can I sit down?”
A pause. Every inner voice she had been ignoring for damn near a year screamed at her from deep within, begging her to push him away.
A nod.
*****
Back to the present
The laundromat was mostly empty. There were always the late night launderers. Service workers. Students. Insomniacs. Agoraphobes. Like Becky. She sighed, watching her clothes circle round and round and round.Squinting in the fluorescent light. The baby fussed.Absentmindedly, Becky pulled her long, auburn curls up in a messy ponytail, attempting to alleviate her forehead from the general dampness of the establishment. She had forty five minutes ahead of her on the dryer. That’s what she gets for putting off doing the laundry for so long.
I probably look like a fucking bag lady.
Not exactly. In actuality, she was a bit too young, a bit too pretty, and a bit too world-weary to be presumed a bag lady. Not that she wasn’t a bounced rent check away from exactly that. The desperation would not be her final straw. More fussing.
“Ssssh. Come on, love. Not now.” Becky quietly hummed.
“What a cutie.” The pleasant-faced, middle aged woman folding her clothes two seats down from Becky smiled. “She’s got such a sweet, little face.”
Becky was familiar with the woman. She did her laundry every Sunday night. Becky never got her name but seeing her twinkling eyes and shiny greying hair was always comforting.
“She looks just like her dad.” Becky replied without thinking, before the realization of her words dawned on her. The woman chuckled, surely seeing Becky’s skin grow sheet-white.
“Don’t worry, there’s remedies for the nose once she gets out of the cute baby phase. My daughter already has her own rhinoplasty fund. I’m sure with your pretty face, this sweetie will grow into her features in no time.”
A moment passed before Becky processed the words and, within a second, they reverberated throughout her entire circulatory system. By the time she could properly react, the woman was already halfway through the door. She had just enough time to get a final word.
“Oh fuck off, bitch!”
Of course she was not dignified with a response. More fussing.
“Poor little dear. Don’t let that mean old lady get to you. You’re a lovely little creature.” With a lithe, pale finger, Becky gently tapped the baby on the tip of her nose, squinting her eyes in a smile.
“She is.”
The familiar voice sounded from beside Becky, startling her.
“Jesus Christ. Can you stop getting off on scaring the shit out of me?”
She wasn’t this vulgar before she met him.
“Do you want a place to stay tonight?”
“I still have my apartment for two weeks.”
“Do you want a place to stay? It’s a simple question, Rebecca.” A beat. “Let me get your laundry. Looks like your leg is flaring up again.”
She didn’t fight him. Not this time.
“Why are you here?”
“I was in the area.”
“You have got to stop saying that.” The slightest of smiles betrayed the ghost of her fondness. He nudges her bony elbow with his.
“I’m serious. Was genuinely just in the area this time. Been declared sane and everything.”
“How reassuring.”
The dryer beeped loudly. And true to his word, Jonathan stood up and proceeded to sort each item.
“Are these all your clothes?”
“Just about. Baby’s too. Time got the best of me. It’s been doing that a lot lately.”
Jonathan leaned against the row of dryers, cocking his head to the side, as if studying her. She didn’t like when he gave her a reason, an excuse actually, to look at him. His sweater was fraying at the elbows, worn little holes where he bent his arms. He wasn’t so tall up close. Not as tall as he looked on the news. He slid his wireframe glasses up his nose with one finger.
“My question still stands.”
“Oh yeah. Me with all the clothing I own.”
“That’s the idea.”
Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump
The only sound Becky could hear were the rows upon rows of clothes thrashing about in their designated machines.
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Becky. I know you’re getting evicted. I am not asking you to move in. I wouldn’t put you through that.”
“It’s in my top five worst nightmares. You absolutely would.”
“Touche. But, that being said. No bullshitting. I would like to have both of you.”
Becky narrowed her eyes, her boxy, front teeth digging into the dried skin of her lower lip, trying to avoid drawing blood.
“Don’t hurt her.”
“I wouldn’t hurt my daughter.” A warning. A puncture of what went unsaid. Becky did not budge, the indignant gnawing increasing. Blood drawn. Crimson copper on her tongue. Still silence. It wasn’t that she denied her child’s parentage. She was practically confronted with it not thirty minutes before.
*****
She followed him. Through the city streets they meandered. Becky speculated whether or not he knew where he was going. Whether he was tricking her. Disorienting her.
But the building that came into view…was not nice by any stretch of the imagination. But, it was a step up from dilapidated.
What’s the worst he can do? He already chained you to him forever with a child .
The interior was also not nice by any stretch of the imagination. And only slightly better than she had imagined.
But there was a couch and a bed and a crib sectioned off by limply hanging quilts in a half-hearted attempt to create a separate nursery.
There was work to be done to it, but he was offering her a home. Immediately, she mused about how she’d add rugs, throws for a couch that was worse than the one she already had. Clean the kitchen. Open the windows.
But it was away and, in that moment, she realized how deeply she had been longing for such a place.
She was stuck with the Scarecrow. Jonathan Crane. Jonathan.
Her gaze wandered for a moment to him, now standing barefoot on the rug with bony flat feet, abnormally long toes curling into the floor. She watched as he pushed his glasses up his nose with a crooked finger.
“Stay. For a bit. Stay.”
Becky did not care if it was a command or a plea.
She nodded.
For now, she would stay.