I haven't edited this a bit! I know I had two chapters posted, but please bear with me, I wasn't digging what I was doing. I have completely changed what was written before, but am following the same plot. Enjoy!

My therapist sat in her chair a few feet away, studying me. I hated that feeling – being under the microscope, being judged, and vulnerable like that, your weaknesses splayed out for all to see. It was the main reason I kept to myself, why I didn't take the time to get to know other people outside of my comfort zone. I mindlessly picked at the balls of lint on her cloth couch, basically doing whatever I could to avoid making eye contact with her. You would think after 15 years of talking to her that I would be comfortable with her. Wrong. You would also think that because of me being a surgeon that I would have the most excellent people skills you had ever seen. Wrong again. Being a surgeon requires me to keep my cool, have good bedside manners, and show little emotion– it does not require me to spill my innermost thoughts with some bitch who took as much schooling as did, just to get paid to give 'good advice.' I took a deep breath, smelling that usual smell of Play-Doh that I always smelled in there. Good God, I fucking hate the smell of Play-Doh.

"Tell me about the last time you were genuinely happy, Holly," Jada spoke, adjusting her glasses. I always assumed they were fake and that she just used them because that's what everyone thought of when they thought of therapist. I sighed at the word happy. Genuinely happy? I fought the urge to snort. Who is ever genuinely happy? I sifted through my thoughts– the madhouse that holds them all together– sorting each immediate thought into "unhappy" and "happy."

"The day I graduated college or the day I graduated from medical school?" I answered, with it sounding more like a question. A question for myself– that I obviously couldn't fucking answer. Was that it? Were those the only things that made me happy? Surely there was a time between then and now…

"That was almost eight years ago," she stated, still remaining steely regardless of the shock in her voice. No shit, I know that.

"Yep," I quipped, trying to remain polite.

"That's quite a long time."

"Yep," I repeated, more anger in my voice. She really wants to go there today. My hands smoothed my charcoal gray pencil skirt out. I had been making rounds at the hospital and it had taken damn near all day, all I wanted to do was go home, kick my heels off and sit for a while on my own cloth couch that didn't have lint all over it. We still had a lot of patients at Gotham Medical, even though it was two months after the hostage situation we had encountered. Gordon was back in the hospital, as feeble as ever. Batman had re-emerged after a short break, in the most unexpected of places– my office, in the form of his true self– Bruce Wayne. Gordon had recommended him to me, told him he could trust me. I did two full knee replacements on Bruce's knees, with a new titanium bionic creation of Lucius Fox's. Speaking of Bruce, I haven't heard from him in a while…

"Holly?" Jada asked me, staring at me with concern. I snapped out of my mental rambling and stared at her wistfully. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"What question?" She moved in her seat and crossed her long, lean legs at me.

"The question of if you've had any nightmares recently." The word nightmare always affected me in the most childish of ways, even at the age of 32. My palms began to sweat at the word as I tried to build a mental barrier at the haunting memories. Memories of him. I wanted to coil myself up tight to help fight the urge to think about it. I tried to think of nothing but empty space, filled with absolutely nothing. It never lasted long. I faired pretty well most of the time though, I was able to function like a normal human being despite what happened to me. Some days were great and other days were pure unadulterated hell. It was highly recommended that I continue to visit a therapist until I could 'get over' my social anxiety so that I wouldn't turn into a 'murdering lunatic' like the others that occupied our city. "I'm going to take your silence as a yes." She marked something down on her notepad and refolded her hands in her lap. I straightened myself up on the couch.

"What happened in your dream, Holly?" It wasn't comfortable now. The smell of that rank ass Play-Doh filled my lungs as I took a deep breath. My mental wall collapsed completely as his hands reached through it, searching for my neck again. A knife was in between his teeth. Oh, God. The knife scraped against my throat as he laughed manically. I could smell the vodka on his breath. I felt the sudden urge to vomit. I'm going to vomit all over this prude's office and mask out that terrible smell with my own. I closed my eyes as I coughed, trying to keep myself from getting sick. When I found the courage to open my eyes, I found her in her spot, still staring at me intently. All I wanted to do was scream at her. I didn't want to talk about that shit anymore. I wanted to be normal. I yearned to be normal. I wanted a boyfriend, friends, and a life. A life that revolved around people other than my patients and Venus Thomas, a good friend of mine. The only friend of mine. I shook my head at myself. "What happened?" This time I didn't hold back my snort.

"For the last 15 years it's all been about him. Ever stop to think that- oh, maybe- this is just isn't helping?" I snapped.

"Talking about it does help," she assured me.

"Does it?" I remarked, staring at her with an expression I would probably consider crazy if I didn't know myself.

"Yes, it does." I shook my head vehemently, just like a four year old until my phone rang. "Holly, you know you're not supposed to have-" I gingerly held up one finger as I answered.

"Doctor Engel, speaking," I answered, with a fake cheery sound to my voice.

"Doctor Engel, it's Bruce Wayne." Speaking of the devil.

"Bruce Wayne," I sang, scanning the room to avoid Jada's gaze. "How are you?"

"I'm very well." I could hear the smile in his voice and I briefly wondered if he faked it too. Surely a man who saved a city countless times without any personal recognition would get some kind of pissy, right?

"Your knees?"

"As good as they ever have been."

"Excellent," I chirped. "What can I help you with then, Bruce?"

"I have an important proposition for you, but I would like to speak to you in person about it." My brain perked up, pushing all of my energy into the processes of my brain. "Can you meet me in the Infirmary of Arkham Asylum in an hour?" I glanced at the clock in the room, figuring in time to wrap it up with Jada, getting my car from the garage, and driving to Arkham.

"Yes," I answered, curious as to why in the hell we had to meet at a damn asylum.

"Great. I'll see you then." He hung up the phone, leaving me to hang mine up. I met Jada's eyes, seeing that she was awestruck, something completely unusual for her.

"Was that Bruce Wayne as in Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises?" she breathed.

"Yes," I replied slowly. She made a face I couldn't quite read and smoothed out her blazer, returning to her steely demeanor.

"I have to leave to meet him. Client business… you know…" I explained, waving my hand around as I stood up, praying that I was being convincing. For years, when I was little, I had been an excellent liar. Somewhere around the time of college, that wore off.

"Our session isn't over."

"Yeah and your ass is still getting paid for the full time, so? What's the problem?" She looked at me, shell-shocked. Whoa, two unusual expressions in one day. At least we're making progress with someone in this therapy session. "I'll see you within the month, as usual." She made no attempt to stop me, which I was grateful for. Mainly because I didn't like being nasty, it reminded too much of him.

Arkham Asylum was just as disgusting as I remembered it and had I not known that Bruce was Batman, I probably would have found this disturbingly odd. Arkham was large, dark, and noisy. I hadn't been there since – I swallowed to cut the thought off. There was no way I could uphold myself in that place with him on my mind. The walls were covered in a thick, gooey slime that made me want to shower my body with bleach. I straightened out my white lab coat that I thrown on over my plum dress shirt and nervously pushed back my raven hair. I had pulled it into a sleek ponytail in the car on the drive over, knowing what conditions I was about to willingly walk into. My name badge gleamed under the occasional light as I clicked down the hallway behind two guards holding M-16's. They looked like they were prepared for war and I couldn't blame them one bit as the 'prisoners' howled, whistled, and shook the bars of their cells like mad. The farther we walked, the more anxious I became. Surely this isn't a prank. Bruce really said Arkham, right? Yes, or the guard would have looked at me like I should be admitted. I cleaned my jaw tightly. We made a right turn down the hallway and I almost cheered like a fool when I saw the large plexi-glass wall of the Infirmary. It was blazing with bright lights and actually seemed clean.

"Right on time," Bruce spoke from the wall. I smiled, pulling out my special charm that I reserved for my patients. Selina Kyle sat in a chair against the wall beside Bruce, her slinky legs crossed seductively. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Had it not been entirely inappropriate, I would have loved to have told her that I zero interest in her boyfriend, just so she would stop trying to have a silent catfight with me. Oh, the irony. Bruce rose up from his chair much faster than the last time I had seen him stand months ago. He extended his hand to me and shook it with enthusiasm.

"Nice to see you back to your old form," I praised, just as any doctor would to a patient who had made significant progress.

"I have an amazing surgeon to thank for that." I wanted to roll my eyes. Try again later, playboy. "You remember Selina?" he asked, the undertone hinting that she should stand up and acknowledge me. As if this woman didn't hate me enough. She gave me a toothy grin and gracefully rose from her chair.

"Yes, of course I do! It's a pleasure to see you again," I told her, extending my hand to her. She placed hers in mine, gingerly, making sure to squeeze it with an unexpected strength. I read you loud and clear, girlfriend. Your boyfriend doesn't mean shit to me.

"And you as well," she purred, pursing her bright red lips together. After a beat, I looked awkwardly around the Infirmary before deciding to speak.

"So, Bruce, tell me what kind of proposition you could honestly offer to me in a place like this." I tucked my hands into the pockets of my lab coat and stared up at the ceiling before meeting his eyes.

"You have to see it first," he explained, gesturing to something behind me. I turned and laid my eyes on a guarded vault door.

"Something tells me there's not any money behind that door," I teased. He laughed at my teasing and made a gesture for the guard to open the door.

"Yes and no," he answered, bobbing his head slightly. "If you agree to this, I will be more than happy to pay you a handsome amount for it." The door opened with a loud creak. I glanced between the black, open space where the door once stood, then back to Bruce. My curiosity was definitely killing my cat.

"You mean we have to see him again?" Selina asked, taking a step backwards.

"You can stay here, love, I just need to show Holly," he cooed, patting her hand. She nodded silently and sat down on her chair, this time, she stayed perched on the edge as she stared into the darkness. Whatever or whoever this was, was scary enough to calm the ballsy Selina into a mere housecat compared to the lion she portrayed herself to be. I felt a familiar anxiety rip itself down my spine with a vengeance. I was scared for the first time in a while. What if it was him? What if he wasn't dead? My palms began to sweat. Bruce walked reluctantly past me into the darkness. I could feel the energy as it swirled into the space behind him. I took a deep breath, damning my inner-self as I crossed the threshold. I don't know Bruce. Sure, he's Batman, but do I really trust this man? The air in the hallway was dense. Breathing was difficult. I released a large gust of air and clicked behind Bruce. A soft faint glow of light appeared ahead of us, hanging high from the ceiling, behind bars. I caught a glimpse of a massive silhouette on a block of some sort. My heart raced with panic. Adrenaline shot to every muscle fiber in my body. Oh, Jesus, what if it's him? I felt like I was going to suffocate. My thoughts became light and airy. I took another step, stumbling and crashing into Bruce as my knee gave way. He stopped and held onto me.

"You okay?" he asked. "Sorry it's so dark in here." I nodded, feeling like a complete ass.

"Welcome back, Bruce," a deep, threatening voice greeted. I froze, my mouth going slack as I gaped at the heap on the block a few feet away.