𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒
❝ You've got three wishes. ❞
❝ You.
You.
You. ❞
━ in which the deranged doctor
and the lunatic prisoner find out
what they fear most: themselves
DC COMICS | DARK KNIGHT TRILOGY
pre batman be...
❝ Give a man a mask and he will show you his true face. ❞
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Eleanor had lost count to the number of people she had talked to, or argued with, over the past few days, from police officers to lawyers to district attorney's assistants, and yet they all blurred into a single indistinctive face in her mind, stopping her from remembering any of them. There was only one face that stood out amongst the dust in the corners of her brain, and that was Dr. Jonathan Crane's, with its chiseled angles and eyes of ice.
It had been five days since she was arrested and she was still at the police station awaiting trial; Mr. Jones, the man she had attacked, had survived, so she was going to be accused of second degree attempted murder. Everything was taking too long for her liking; she had thought of all places Gotham wouldn't be one to care much about bureaucracy, but apparently, she was wrong.
Some nurses had even draw blood from her on Jonathan's request for some analysis, but she hadn't seen him since that first day, a fact she wasn't happy about given as how he had proven to be the only source of entertainment she had managed to have in the entire week. The doctor intrigued her, and she couldn't explain why, but she found herself hoping he would walk in through that door and break the monotony of her days.
And by the end of the week, her wishes were granted. After a succession of days in which all minutes and hours seemed the same, Eleanor was sitting with her head resting on the table and her eyes closed in an attempt to get some sleep when she heard a faint knock on the door, followed by someone opening it without waiting for her reply.
"Why did you bring these?" Eleanor heard the police officer by the door asking whoever had just come in. She didn't bother to look up, she was too exhausted to do so.
"My patient prefers cupcakes," as soon as she heard his voice, Eleanor's head snapped up, to him, and their eyes touched violently, droplets of ice against the softest of blues, and instantly Eleanor felt very awake, as if she had just drunk three cups of coffee in a row. For some reason Jonathan had the same reinvigorating effect on her.
"I'm not your patient," Eleanor replied, unable to prevent one side of her lips from curling up when she saw the box of cupcakes he was holding. She knew it wasn't a gesture of kindness as much as it was a way to win her over, but still, he could have dismissed her request and not bring her anything at all.
"I told you. From now on, you are," the doctor retorted, his eyes finally flicking back to the guard. "Wait outside please, I'd like to have a talk with Miss Tadman."
Only when the officer closed the door behind him did Jonathan move from his place and placed his grey case on the table in front of her. But instead of sitting across from her he stopped behind her, fishing a key out of his pocket.
