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Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?	By : JustMeAgain Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 1631 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from DC comics, the Batman franchise (comics or Nolan-verse), I don't own The Crow or any of the songs mentioned in this story. The only tihing I own is the original character. I make no money from any of this.

Chapter List
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~~~~~ 2009 ~~~~~
It was almost six o’clock when I pressed the buzzer for entrance into Arkham Asylum. I wasn’t sure they would even let me in, but I could be creative if I needed to be. "Yeah?" A grouchy voice finally called out of the intercom.
"I’m here to visit a patient. I hope I’m not too late." I said, trying to sound as sultry as I could.
"Visiting hours are over at six."
"Please... I’ve been driving for so long. Just a few minutes." I pleaded, kicking the sultry up a notch. I looked up at the security camera mounted over the door. Leaning my shoulders back to more prominently display my breasts, I looked into the camera and licked my lips. "Please?" I added. A three second pause felt like an eternity, but then a loud buzzing signaled the unlocking of the door. I hurried inside and made my way over to the front desk. The man seated behind it wore blue scrubs and a lascivious smirk on his face.
"Who are you here to see, honey?" He asked me. I almost said Jack Napier, but they didn’t know him by that name.
"The Joker..." I started, but the man’s face crumpled into an angry grimace.
"No freakin’ way. He doesn’t get any visitors."
"Please, you don’t understand..."
"Sure I do, lady... he’s your soul mate, you can help him, blah, blah, blah... you think you’re the first crazy chick to try to get in here to see that nutjob?"
"I am not crazy. I know him. We grew up together. If I can’t see him I want to see his doctor." I said, dropping the sultry act and going straight for the throat. "My name is Dr. Rebecca Duncan. I want to know what kind of treatment is being used on him." Duncan was a big name in Gotham. Not as big as Wayne, but still one of the founding families. The doctor part was true, too. The man behind the counter didn’t have to know it was a PhD, not MD. My ploy worked. The creep looked suitably rattled.
"Uh... Dr. Winthrop already went home, but I can take you to see... him. I’ll leave a message for Dr. Winthrop, and he’ll call you tomorrow, Doctor."
"Fine, thank you." I said, signing the visitor’s log he’d handed me. He came around the desk, pulling a ring of keys away from his waist. He pushed the down button on the elevator, and when the doors opened up he let me go in first. He turned a key in a lock and pressed the B button. We rode silently until we exited the elevator.
"I’ll bring him to one of the session rooms, Doctor."
"That will be fine." I accepted, not sure how my visit was any different than a normal visit. He let me into one of the rooms and left me there to go get Jack. The room was small, damp and chilly. There was a metal table bolted to the floor with chairs bolted down and facing each other on opposite sides of the table. A metal loop in the table had a pair of shackles hooked to it. There was a matching ring in the floor.
The longer I waited the more nervous I became. What if the orderly wasn’t getting Jack? What if he was doing a background check on Dr. Rebecca Duncan? He’d find out she didn’t exist. I chewed my lip and fidgeted in the cold metal chair until I heard the sound of chains rattling in a rhythmic manner. With a loud squeal of metal grinding against metal the door opened. I turned in my chair to face the door, and, even after fifteen years, the sight of Jack Napier set my heart to beating like a humming bird in a cage too small for it. The orderly pushed him forward to the far side of the table, but Jack seemed dazed. They must have had him doped up. The orderly shoved him down into the chair and quickly hooked his already shackled hands to the cuffs on the table. Just as quickly he did the same with Jack’s shackled feet. I stared at Jack, my eyes drinking in the sight of him after too many years. He didn’t look at me, though. His gaze was glassy and focused on his hands. His beautiful hands. The nails were still slightly longer than considered manly, but they were clean. He used to keep the nails painted black. His hair had been collar length in the newspaper photos, but it was longer now. It hung in curls on his shoulders, still dark blond. The roots were darker and more tightly curled, and the ends still held a lime green tint. His shoulders had widened with age, but the most noticeable difference was his perfect mouth. The wounds had healed poorly into garish, lumpy scars. I knew to most of the world those scars would define him. They wouldn’t see a man. They would see scars. I saw the scars, but I still saw the man, the boy he’d been. "I can give you about twenty minutes, Doc. Hit the red button if you need me." The orderly instructed. I was only half-listening. I started to reach out to touch Jack’s hand, to try to get him to acknowledge my presence, but the orderly spoke again. "Doc, I wouldn’t touch him if I were you. He’s a highly dangerous man." He warned. A faint smile tugged at my lips.
"I know."
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Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?