I had this dream.
Jonathan woke up sweating and shivering. "Kitty..?" he calls out weakly. "Still just me," Jonathan moans. "Nygma..? Why... where are we?" the elder man asks. "Somewhere safe." Jonathan attempts to level his breathing. "Why do I feel so crappy?" He feels a cool hand against his face. "Probably because you're sick. You've been this way since coming down from your own toxin. They tossed you in with me because, and I quote 'he's not a danger to anyone in this condition'. Although I suspect if you get better they'll probably separate us,"
Jonathan took a moment to process what Edward was saying. "You.. are we in Arkham?" Another wave of nausea passes through him. "I was wondering when you'd connect the dots." Jonathan groans. "I thought you said we were somewhere safe... you lied." Edward laughs darkly. "Well safer than say, Blackgate. Or Belle Reve. I'd much prefer Arkham Asylum over those places. Which is, in and of itself, pretty sick. Arkham's no picnic but it's still better than the other options."
Jonathan tries to sit up, but is unable. "How come I'm still so ill?" Edward sighs. "Because when they brought you in you weren't... all there. I mean, more than is normal for you. They attempted to put you in a jacket but your other half fought them so much they ended up just pumping you full of sedative. Which to be fair, probably just made you sicker. I'm guessing Scarecrow was the only thing keeping you from feeling how ill you really were."
So when they sedated me he went in to hiding and left me to deal with the outcome. Typical.
"Where'd you get the pain medicine from?" And is there any more?
"I snuck some from the infirmary. A whole bottle actually. It won't help with your symptoms but it'll take away the pain they cause." He sounds almost proud of himself. Typical narcissistic behaviour. Even helping someone else he's still only thinking of himself and how clever he is. Jonathan would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn't hurting so much.
"Do you think you can get my glasses back for me?" If any of Gotham's rogues could charm and con them into giving him his eyeglasses back it'd be Edward. And maybe Harley. But Edward is what he's got. So he'll just have to deal. "Um... maybe. If not I'm sure it wouldn't be difficult to swipe them next time I'm up for a 'therapy' session." Edward makes air quotes with his fingers when he says therapy. Jonathan lets out a short laugh then groans in pain. "I can't give you any more pain relievers until the night guards switch over to the day guards. Easier that way."
Night guards? "Edward what time is it?" The tinkerer is quiet for a moment. "Around one?" "In the morning?!" Pain shoots through his body at his sudden outburst. "Ow.." Edward's hand is at his forehead again. "Well the fever has broken finally. But you're still going to have some pain. You were brought in Friday. Two weeks ago. I was sure you'd've died before now."
"What day is it?"
"Saturday. I think.. hard to say."
"I've been out for two weeks! I know Arkham's useless and crappy but what if I'd died?!"
"Then they'd cover it up like they do with everything else they do around here,"
Of course.
