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Sweet Dreams
folder
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,632
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] › Batman (All Movies)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,632
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Batman or anything Batman related, this is simply for entertainment purposes and is not being used to make a profit. It is only being used to give some girls out there a little enjoyment
Who am I to disagree?
The dream haunted me the whole drive to work. I kept trying to shake it out of my head, but it kept creeping back in. It just…it had felt so…real. Granted, it had seemed like ages since the last time I felt the touch of a man. Surely, this was just I sign I needed to tear myself away from work for awhile and actually get laid.
Maybe Crane and I got off on the wrong foot. I had judged him pretty harshly right off the bat. The woman jibes always get me though, I had worked way too hard my whole life to be brushed aside as a coffeemaker. Still, he had apologized, even though it seemed insincere.
The day started off pretty much the same as the day before. I went to my office, checked my messages, and after about an hour realized I was going to need some coffee if I was ever going to get through the morning. The dark circles under my eyes made me look like a raccoon. I took my cup back to my desk, had a few sips, and then took one of my patient files to look over in the library.
The library was conveniently located in the mansion with our offices. I went through a few corridors until I reached the ornately carved double doors. Our facility was stocked; we not only had rows upon rows of some of the best reference books available, but also files from every case to ever enter through the facility. With the file under my arm, I walked to a nearby desk with my coffee and sat down. My tired head rested on one of my hands while I flipped through the stapled pages. It was one of my patients, Kevin Johnson. He had a particularly horrific case of anxiety and depression. After a winning combination of both psychotherapy and medication, I had managed to get him into safe territory. Still, I wanted to review over his file and see if I could manage to give him the last push he needed to get out of this place and make it on his own. I heard the light footsteps of the guard echo off of the high ceilings.
“Good morning Doctor Avery. Everything going well?”
“Just fine Bill thank you,” I looked up and smiled at the guard as he passed. He had been working at Arkham forever, at least 30 years, and his face showed it. I couldn’t imagine how someone could stand being in this place for that long, especially with the breakouts that had happened in the past. I saw someone enter the room out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was Crane before I focused my eyes to be sure.
“Good morning Doctor Crane. Are you feeling more comfortable here yet?” He smiled slightly as he gazed up at the ceilings.
“I’ve felt comfortable here the moment I walked in the doors…” he said dreamily.
“Listen…”
“…Jonathan”
“Yes, Jonathan. I apologize for my rashness yesterday, I’ve been a bit…on edge lately. As I’m sure you know, as a fellow researcher, it can be quite frustrating when you just can’t seem to find what you need”
“Hmmm. Frustrated, from the research. Sure.” He chuckled lightly. Was he laughing at me? Maybe I hadn’t been too quick to judge him. I looked up at him with a sour look on my face
“Is something funny?”
“My, my doctor, you look horrible. Did you have a rough night?” He cocked his eyebrow and chuckled some more. I slammed my file shut.
“Yesterday, you asked me to elaborate on my opinion of your article.” The chuckling stopped and his brows furrowed. I watched his jaw muscles bulge out as he clenched his teeth.
“And?”
“And, I think you are naïve because you left out an entire piece to the puzzle. You focus only on external stimuli and fail to address the internal factors at play.”
“Perhaps, but external factors trigger a greater response…” he said matter-of-factly.
“Are you so sure? Why don’t you talk to someone with PTSD. Their fear is no longer in front of their face, but burned into their memories. Take this case.” I held up my file as I stood up.
“This patient was so afraid of his dead father’s abuse that he was willing to try end his life to make the fear go away. We all fear something Crane. Even if we can’t see it.”
“Well, I’ve done trials of my own. While I haven’t had a clear success yet, I’m willing to bet I could make a believer out of you. Someday.” He pressed his lips together. My eyes went directly towards those beautiful, plump lips. The lips that I wished would shut the hell up.
“Speaking of trials Ms. Avery”
“Doctor” I said with clenched teeth as I closed my eyes in irritation.
“Of COURSE” Crane said mocking me
“Your trials, how have they been going? You haven’t made any of your case files public yet”
“I like to keep my work confidential until I have FACTS Doctor Crane.” I looked up and stared him right in his bright blue beautiful eyes…I got lost for a second, they were so clear…I got flashes of my dream, his hands, his lips, his kiss…
“Emma, Emma…EMMA!”
“What?” I shook my head for a second
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine! Here” I picked up my reference book on PTSD and slammed it against his chest
“Maybe you could learn something. Unless…you’re too AFRAID of being wrong.” I stormed out of the room and back to my office. My hands were shaking. Why was he affecting me like this? I walked into my office and closed the door behind me. Drained, I collapsed into my chair and slammed my head down on the stained oak desk.
I came home exhausted after another late night in the lab. I opened my apartment door as I riffled through my mail. Nothing exciting: bills, some journals I had subscribed to, and a wedding invitation from my cousin. My shoes were the first to come off, and then my suit jacket. Quickly, I heated up some leftovers in the microwave and took it to eat on the couch.
My apartment was pretty humble, but the view was amazing. I was on the 13th floor and my living area was essentially a giant window looking out to the Gotham skyline. It was high enough up that I didn’t have to worry about the sounds of the city at all times of the night, but a good enough location where I could enjoy the city view.
When I was done, I did some quick laundry and drew a hot bubble bath. Nothing felt better after a long day on my feet like a good soak in the tub. While I let the hot water soothe my muscles, I read a few chapters in my latest Sookie Stackhouse book.
After I dried off, hastily tied my hair up, and threw on some comfy pajamas, I couldn’t help but find myself ready to work again. Whenever I had a good idea to try out for my new formulas, I jotted it down in a notebook I kept on my nightstand.
I got into the covers and turned to my side to grab it. It wasn’t there. That couldn’t be right, I never moved it. Frantically, I got up and searched every inch of my bedroom looking for the beat up spiral notebook, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. As hard as I thought I could not for the life of me think of anywhere I had moved it to. In the past I had brought it into work, so I supposed that was possible. At this point, I was too tired to worry too much and decided I would settle for writing on a notepad and then going to bed.
Maybe Crane and I got off on the wrong foot. I had judged him pretty harshly right off the bat. The woman jibes always get me though, I had worked way too hard my whole life to be brushed aside as a coffeemaker. Still, he had apologized, even though it seemed insincere.
The day started off pretty much the same as the day before. I went to my office, checked my messages, and after about an hour realized I was going to need some coffee if I was ever going to get through the morning. The dark circles under my eyes made me look like a raccoon. I took my cup back to my desk, had a few sips, and then took one of my patient files to look over in the library.
The library was conveniently located in the mansion with our offices. I went through a few corridors until I reached the ornately carved double doors. Our facility was stocked; we not only had rows upon rows of some of the best reference books available, but also files from every case to ever enter through the facility. With the file under my arm, I walked to a nearby desk with my coffee and sat down. My tired head rested on one of my hands while I flipped through the stapled pages. It was one of my patients, Kevin Johnson. He had a particularly horrific case of anxiety and depression. After a winning combination of both psychotherapy and medication, I had managed to get him into safe territory. Still, I wanted to review over his file and see if I could manage to give him the last push he needed to get out of this place and make it on his own. I heard the light footsteps of the guard echo off of the high ceilings.
“Good morning Doctor Avery. Everything going well?”
“Just fine Bill thank you,” I looked up and smiled at the guard as he passed. He had been working at Arkham forever, at least 30 years, and his face showed it. I couldn’t imagine how someone could stand being in this place for that long, especially with the breakouts that had happened in the past. I saw someone enter the room out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was Crane before I focused my eyes to be sure.
“Good morning Doctor Crane. Are you feeling more comfortable here yet?” He smiled slightly as he gazed up at the ceilings.
“I’ve felt comfortable here the moment I walked in the doors…” he said dreamily.
“Listen…”
“…Jonathan”
“Yes, Jonathan. I apologize for my rashness yesterday, I’ve been a bit…on edge lately. As I’m sure you know, as a fellow researcher, it can be quite frustrating when you just can’t seem to find what you need”
“Hmmm. Frustrated, from the research. Sure.” He chuckled lightly. Was he laughing at me? Maybe I hadn’t been too quick to judge him. I looked up at him with a sour look on my face
“Is something funny?”
“My, my doctor, you look horrible. Did you have a rough night?” He cocked his eyebrow and chuckled some more. I slammed my file shut.
“Yesterday, you asked me to elaborate on my opinion of your article.” The chuckling stopped and his brows furrowed. I watched his jaw muscles bulge out as he clenched his teeth.
“And?”
“And, I think you are naïve because you left out an entire piece to the puzzle. You focus only on external stimuli and fail to address the internal factors at play.”
“Perhaps, but external factors trigger a greater response…” he said matter-of-factly.
“Are you so sure? Why don’t you talk to someone with PTSD. Their fear is no longer in front of their face, but burned into their memories. Take this case.” I held up my file as I stood up.
“This patient was so afraid of his dead father’s abuse that he was willing to try end his life to make the fear go away. We all fear something Crane. Even if we can’t see it.”
“Well, I’ve done trials of my own. While I haven’t had a clear success yet, I’m willing to bet I could make a believer out of you. Someday.” He pressed his lips together. My eyes went directly towards those beautiful, plump lips. The lips that I wished would shut the hell up.
“Speaking of trials Ms. Avery”
“Doctor” I said with clenched teeth as I closed my eyes in irritation.
“Of COURSE” Crane said mocking me
“Your trials, how have they been going? You haven’t made any of your case files public yet”
“I like to keep my work confidential until I have FACTS Doctor Crane.” I looked up and stared him right in his bright blue beautiful eyes…I got lost for a second, they were so clear…I got flashes of my dream, his hands, his lips, his kiss…
“Emma, Emma…EMMA!”
“What?” I shook my head for a second
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine! Here” I picked up my reference book on PTSD and slammed it against his chest
“Maybe you could learn something. Unless…you’re too AFRAID of being wrong.” I stormed out of the room and back to my office. My hands were shaking. Why was he affecting me like this? I walked into my office and closed the door behind me. Drained, I collapsed into my chair and slammed my head down on the stained oak desk.
I came home exhausted after another late night in the lab. I opened my apartment door as I riffled through my mail. Nothing exciting: bills, some journals I had subscribed to, and a wedding invitation from my cousin. My shoes were the first to come off, and then my suit jacket. Quickly, I heated up some leftovers in the microwave and took it to eat on the couch.
My apartment was pretty humble, but the view was amazing. I was on the 13th floor and my living area was essentially a giant window looking out to the Gotham skyline. It was high enough up that I didn’t have to worry about the sounds of the city at all times of the night, but a good enough location where I could enjoy the city view.
When I was done, I did some quick laundry and drew a hot bubble bath. Nothing felt better after a long day on my feet like a good soak in the tub. While I let the hot water soothe my muscles, I read a few chapters in my latest Sookie Stackhouse book.
After I dried off, hastily tied my hair up, and threw on some comfy pajamas, I couldn’t help but find myself ready to work again. Whenever I had a good idea to try out for my new formulas, I jotted it down in a notebook I kept on my nightstand.
I got into the covers and turned to my side to grab it. It wasn’t there. That couldn’t be right, I never moved it. Frantically, I got up and searched every inch of my bedroom looking for the beat up spiral notebook, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. As hard as I thought I could not for the life of me think of anywhere I had moved it to. In the past I had brought it into work, so I supposed that was possible. At this point, I was too tired to worry too much and decided I would settle for writing on a notepad and then going to bed.