Not My Diagnosis

I laid quietly against my recently-void-of-items desk and closed my eyes. The jacket was suffocating after several hours and I began to feel a mild claustrophobia take hold. You would be amazed at how little it takes to really induce true fear into something. The simple act of restricting arm movement is amazingly persuasive. I focused on the bleakness in my line of vision, and the pain coursing through my hips as the edge of the desk chewed lines into it. Never mind the fresh lines of blood on the backs of my thighs.

The air in my office was stagnant and hot and reeked of brutal relations. I was going to have to air it out after hours, which meant staying after everyone left, which meant being alone in the asylum. Not as exciting as it sounds.

A tender hand traced over the taut muscle on my buttocks, causing my body to tense, the choking strain spiking my adrenaline. My breath grew heavier and I could feel my skin cooling as I tried not to pull against the restraints. "Could you... please, release me, Mr. Wayne."

"Hm?" A delicate touch turned into a solid hand, warm and firm; familiar.

"Please, Mr. Wayne. I am... suffering from," my mouth grew dry, making it hard to swallow, "a mild form of... claustrophobia." I kept my eyes closed, trying to shoo away the enveloping terror as I panted against the desk.

"Are you sure that's your condition?" The hand slid up to my back, following the curve closely.

"Yes. Please." I could feel him lean over slightly, the miniscule imposition caging me more, the jacket growing too hot. He pushed up against me, hand heavy on my back. "Ah! Please!" I started to thrash underneath him as I felt the buckles pull tighter for a moment.

I ceased and prayed he would show me a sliver of mercy after what he just put me through; he did. The buckles released the fabric straps and my arms fell free. I tried to push myself up, but collapsed from exhaustion; a sweet exhaustion, a wave of relief washing over me as the fear dispersed.

"Not too taken with what you put your patients go through?"

"That's why I'm on the outside looking in," I breathed, forcing myself to stand, taking the jacket off as quickly as my tired fingers could manage.

"I didn't know you suffered from that particular phobia." He smiled, walking around to the other side of the table and leaning back against it.

"I don't, but you exhausted me into delusion. Anyone can be forced into neurosis, especially when the body has no ability left to justify or logic out its situation." I dropped the jacket to the floor and let out a heavy breath, closing my eyes. "So, are you done being a villain for a day?" I crossed my arms and looked over to his shoulders.

He turned and looked to me, looking lost in thought. "Hm?"

"I asked if you were done being a villain for a day. You seem to take quite an interest to it."

"Oh... no. Just rekindling our... relationship?" He seemed hesitant to use the word, as well he should be. We weren't exactly married, all though we might as well be. "Interesting proposition though. villain for a day." He looked thoughtful, standing up and pacing around my littered office.

"Indeed." The answer was automated as I collected the random pens and papers scattered around the floor.

"Well, since I've had my day... why don't you... try a day as a hero?"

"You, sir, are no hero. Nor will you ever be." He gave me an incredulous look and it made me laugh a bit to myself. "Fine. What do you want me to do? Because I have nothing better to do."

"I want you to try doing some good for once."

"Do I have a due date, professor?" I raised an eyebrow, sneering slightly.

"Just try it. I don't care how or why." He had sauntered over to me and was staring into my eyes. He was such a ruthless romantic. His affection was the epitome of hot and cold at times. Maybe he's just relentlessly passionate. I would humor him, though.

"Very well, Mr. Wayne. I shall go out and right the wrongs I have committed and pay my debt to this crumbling, disease ridden petri-dish we call a society in Gotham. In the meantime," I walked over to my crumpled shirt and pulled it on, fastening up the buttons, "I have a lot of work to do, still."

I picked up my tie and threaded it around my neck, noticing he was still in the room. "You are dismissed," I smiled, pulling the tie tight against my neck, folding my collar down. I picked up my jacket and turned to him. He was staring at the floor contemplatively. "Something wrong?"

"Hm? Oh no. Just... thinking about your ass." He smirked to me as I flinched slightly at the blunt comment. I grabbed my glasses off of the desk and turned to the door.

"Of course. Well, I'm off to shower and find some new clothes, at least from the waist down. Good-day, Mr. Wayne." I opened the door and stepped out, stopped by a desk across from me which was hiding a secretary who should not be there. Neither should the desk, but that wasn't the disturbing part.

I slammed the door behind me, unintentionally, but reflexively. "Why are you camped outside of my office?"

"Oh, um, well, you were in there an awfully long time and after an hour of trying to ignore my instinct that you were in trouble I decided to wait outside to make sure no one escaped if something happened. Then I got bored and realized you would yell at me if I was just sitting around not working so I had the-"

"Never-mind, please." I slid my glasses onto my face and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Wait... how long?"

"Well, I waited downstairs for an hour and sat up here for a while and have been working since two, so, you've been in your office for about four and a half hours."

I was taken aback by the statement, almost convinced she had finally immersed herself in her own little world until I saw the clock on her desk. I took in a deep breath, "Please, just go back downstairs. I don't care how you got this desk up here, but make sure it gets back down within the next fifteen minutes." She nodded quickly and finished writing something out, the door behind me pushing me forward. I caught myself on the desk and turned around, not quickly enough to stop Mr. Wayne from stepping out, that annoying, coquettish grin stuck to his lips.

"Oh, hello there, Jessica was it? How are things with you?"

"Mr. Wayne! Oh... um... things are fine. When did you get here?" She looked sickeningly confused, her repressed fan-girlism leaking through the glimmer in her eyes.

"Oh, just a little bit ago. I saw the desk, but you must have been off gather papers or... what ever it is you do here."

"Oh... right." She averted her eyes down and I threw a warning glance to Mr. Wayne.

"I am going to the showers, Jessica. Please, attend to what you need."

"Yes, Dr. Crane."

I turned down the hall and quickly made my way down the stairs, despite the growing pain in my loins. I passed the cells quickly, trying to avoid contact with the man who calls himself 'The Joker'. To no avail. "Hey, tootse! Tell your boyfriend to take you somewhere else; a man can hardly sleep around here!" I glared at him as I passed, him twirling a knife between his fingers. I knew he way lying, always did, but there was something so genuine in his voice that seeded that stomach gripping fear that people knew.

I passed another desk with swift instruction. "Sarah, please cancel my appointment with Mr. Faden. Ask him if he is available tomorrow and reschedule then if you can." She gave me a nod and picked up the phone. She was so much less... concerned than the other. Apathy is necessary in a place like this.

I trotted down the stairs and wandered off towards the showers. I walked into the public room and stepped over to the private stalls, stripping and hanging my clothes on the wall, stepping into the warped glass box. The water ran cold over my skin, but the cleansing sensation was the same hot or cold.

The water grew warmer and I relaxed into it, my hands pressed to the wall. I realized I had forgotten to grab an extra pair of clothes, but it didn't matter now, just the slick of soap and the warm of water. And a knock on the door.

I tried to ignore it, but couldn't; they would let themselves in anyway. "Yes?"

"I left you a clean suit next to your other," came Mr. Wayne's voice. He had that slurred, socialite accent on; I could only assume someone was nearby.

"I love it when people say your name." I wrinkled my nose and opened the door slightly.

"What?"

"I said I love it when people say your name; call you doctor."

"Fascinating. May I, please, have my shower now?"

"Sure." He looked lulled, like he was starting at a lover he's had for years. Complacent and satiated. He leaned forward and kissed me quickly, strolling off. I shook my head and closed the door, no longer able to enjoy my shower. Love? Such a heavy word. Deadly. We can't be in love, he can't, I can't. We can't afford it. Maybe he can. I don't know. Maybe he can.


{{Well, goodness. This didn't actually load all of the way, and I didn't know that. This was supposed to be up more than a week ago. Probably two weeks. Sorry about that. I should have checked it, but didn't. Here it is, and this weeks will be up by tomorrow. Have it on another computer. Silly me. Enjoy.
~Dr. Crane }}