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Victor heard the outer door. Quiet voices. He scrubbed at his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. Covered his mouth with one. Kept his eyes on the closed door of the room and his legs drawn up in front of him in the old armchair he hadn't moved from since he'd been left alone. Again.
There was a light knock on the door, then Link's voice, then Link himself in the doorway.
"Victor? Did you—" Link frowned at the quarter-full bowl on the side table and the soaked hand towel next to it. "Not that into tomato soup?" As he stepped farther into the room, Victor shrank further into his seat. "It's okay. I don't care about the soup. Are you okay?" Victor pressed his forehead into his bent knees. "Victor?"
Victor shook his head before tilting it back. Eyes raised, his mouth worked until sound escaped in a hoarse whisper.
"S-s-sorry. I s-s-spilled it, and, and..." He shook his head again. Made a small frustrated noise. "Wh-wh-who's wi... with you?"
Link's knitted brows smoothed somewhat, but he still had a firm set to his jaw.
"I found him. The doctor I told you about." It was Victor's turn to narrow his eyes. Link could still see the fear in them, though. "Say the word, and I'll send his ass back to Arkham. A'ight?"
He waited for Victor's nod and shift in how he sat, watching him roll his shoulders back and cross his folded legs in the armchair, before he stepped back to the door, opened it wider, and signaled the older man obediently waiting in the short hallway to enter with only a steady look.
The doctor noted the stool by the wall and brought it closer to the armchair. He stayed a few feet from Victor as he slowly sat down. Link closed the door and stood by it.
"I'm Dr. Julian Rush. I understand that we share a few acquaintances."
Victor stared at Dr. Rush. He got a handle on his incredulous, overwhelming urge to yell, to tear his bruised and battered throat apart. He swallowed down the feeling with a grimace. Tried to match the calm in the doctor's voice, if not his tone. He didn't have much practice with a tone like that.
"Does Sofia know you're here?"
"No."
Victor blinked, caught a little off-guard by Dr. Rush's easy honesty and the clarity in his gaze — along with the constant probing, searching, and analyzing that he wasn't subtle about at all.
"Will you tell her?"
"About?"
"About me. Link. Here."
Dr. Rush took his time, glancing between Link and Victor, before answering.
"Yes. Yes. No." Victor inhaled a quick breath, eyes darting to Link. Dr. Rush continued to speak in an even tone. "She's not happy with either of you. You, especially, would not ally yourself with her. Not after what she did to Crown Point." Victor stilled. Eased the tension out of his frame somewhat. "However, none of us can deny that we have something in common."
"'We'?" was all Link asked in response.
Victor didn't know where to start with a response of his own, so he waited. Watched as much as he was being watched.
Watched by Dr. Rush. Watched by Link. Since Link had found him half-dead by the river. Unconscious. Hypothermic. Discarded. Worthless. Watched by Link since the bomb. Since the gang summit deal. Since they'd met.
Now? Now, Victor shot a look to link. Felt something at Link returning it, not ignoring it — not ignoring him. Caught a glimpse of something in Link's expression. Something angry. Defiant. Cunning. Concerned.
Victor tuned back in to Dr. Rush just in time.
"Yes, 'we.'" He took a breath. Maybe the first hint that the doctor could lose his balance. "Sofia wanted to leave Gotham. I wanted whatever she wanted."
"And now?" Link pressed, just a little, when the doctor stopped speaking but not staring.
"And now, I want Oswald Cobb to suffer. It's what all of us want, isn't it?" That same honesty and clarity and calm. While Victor felt nothing but hollow. "Sofia has whatever help I can give her. And I see potential here, wherever this is, with you two. You need time to gather your strength — your drive. As does she."
Dr. Rush clenched his jaw. His honesty had crossed a line, it seemed. But it was that bit of his true thoughts that was the most convincing to Victor. He shared another look with Link, seeing only his usual level of caution there, and then replied.
"Okay."
"Okay," Dr. Rush echoed. "We've already discussed my compensation."
"Two currencies," Link confirmed with a short nod. Cash and information, Victor already knew.
"I suggest in-person consultations. Three times a week at first."
"And I told him once a week, over the phone, unless there's an emergency," Link said flatly.
"The second one," Victor decided, not needing to think it over. "No offense, but you work at Arkham. You—You chose to go back."
"For Sofia," Dr. Rush acknowledged, unfazed and unblinking, "and for myself."
"Right... Maybe..." Victor swallowed carefully, this time with only a small wince. "Maybe we should get started."
So he can sleep. So Link can sleep. So he didn't shake so much. So he could eat more than condensed soup and crackers. Like toast. Victor liked toast. He needed help and sleep and solid food. He wanted whatever Link had eaten that had smelled familiar and not at the same time. Link had told him the name, but Victor couldn't pronounce it. Something about his tone. Link thought he'd like it, though, when he felt up to eating it.
Link. He was turning to leave. Giving Victor space.
"Stay."
Link stopped. Waited. Watched Victor watching him.
"P-p-p," he whispered, then louder, "Stay."
Looking at Dr. Rush was pointless, so Link simply, finally, claimed the remaining chair in the room. The one he'd pulled in from the kitchen-slash-dining-room when he'd brought Victor here.
Wherever here was.