"Now, there are 365 days in a year, in which we have 1 birthday-"

"Oy, here we go..."

At the group's weekly tea party, Cassidy sat, surrounded by biscuits and cream scones while Jervis continued his idea of "Wonderland".

And, considering the recent events in Arkham, it was a welcome distraction.

"So- take the 1 from 365- and that leaves you with all the days you weren't born! 364! Your Unbirthdays!"

Scarface slammed his head on the table, but Cassidy took at least a moment to think about it as she raised a cup of tea to her lips.

Hot vapor warmed her mouth, but she hardly drank it. The flavor was completely alien to her.

"I mean... I guess it makes sense" Cassidy said, putting down her tea.

Jervis looked smug with himself, all the while Scarface was throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"Yeah, encourage him! That's a great idea!" Scarface barked, dripping with sarcasm. "Next he'll start goin' on about 'Jabberwockys' and 'Why is a raven like a frog's nest'-"

"'Writing desk!'" Jervis huffed.

"Whatever"

CRASH!

Loud bangs erupted from outside the cafeteria, along with the unmistakable shouts of a struggle.

"LEMME AT HIM!"

Jervis bolted up, but Cassidy grasped his shoulders, gentle as she could, until his trembling legs allowed him to sit down again.

Cassidy leaned over the group.

"Stay here"

Cassidy rushed out of the cafeteria as murmurs grew.

On the corridor, Harleen Quinzel kicked her way through staff attempting to subdue her, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

Then, she spotted Cassidy.

In a rage, Harleen flipped through the air like an Olympic gymnast, slamming Cassidy to the wall.

"WHERE IS HE?! HUH?!" She yelled, gripping Cassidy by the neck "IF IT WEREN'T FER HIM, I WOULD'VE NEVER MET THAT LYING SONUVA-"

Four guards grabbed hold of Harleen by her arms and legs as she thrashed out.

"B-MAN! HE'S THE ONE TA BLAME!"

They dragged her off, screaming, as Cassidy coughed for breath.

Lyle emerged through the crowd, the first to offer a hand to Cassidy, which was unexpected.

He said something as he lifted her off the floor, which she didn't hear through all the chaos, but she thought to nod anyway. It reassured him enough.

Lyle rushed over to help one of the janitors, who had somehow wound up with his own cart crushed over him in the scuffle.

"... That woman... she came in startin' trouble... I don't know what happened..." The janitor groaned, wiping the blood from his eye.

Heart slowing down, Cassidy tugged at her turtleneck for lost breaths of air.

Something wasn't right.

///

Joan ran to the reception desk as a dark-clad figure walked through Maximum Security.

His cape, dragging over the injured guards who had attacked him.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

She cut past, holding her arms up in a blockade that even the Dark Knight himself was struggling to get through.

"I don't care who you think you are! You can't just walk in here and expect to-"

"Batman-"

Annoyed, Joan flipped around to see Hugo, who had intercepted them from the other side of the hallway.

"- This is a most unexpected surprise. To what do we owe the visit?"

Batman paused before retrieving a photo of a businesswoman from his pocket, passing it to Joan.

"There's been a homicide at GothCorp. All victims match the M.O. of Julian Day- I need to speak with him"

Unbeknownst to any of them, Cassidy had run to the scene and immediately knew from the guards on the floor that the rumors of Batman being there were true.

She knelt to help them, stopping dead as soon as she caught wind of what was happening around the corner.

"I'm afraid that is not possible without a warrant. And may I remind you, that as you are not a recognized agent of the law, this matter should have been left for the police to deal with"

At the edge of his view, Batman caught a glimpse of Joker's cell and walked towards it, no longer seeming to acknowledge Hugo in the slightest. Even when it was clear that Hugo was losing patience.

"Now- you have caused enough trouble already, I believe it is time you saw yourself out"

Batman's eyes narrowed when he saw Joker's empty cell, and walked past Joan and Hugo without saying a word.

Suddenly, he stopped.

His posture was stiff, as if a thought had put him on edge. He turned his head back towards them in one last token gesture.

"Careful. After what happened to Dr. Arkham- you should be on your guard"

After the warning, Batman made his way back to reception and noticed Cassidy kneeling on the floor. His grim eyes locked onto her, and he scowled, causing her to cower back, as everyone else did, until he had finally left Arkham.

Joan crushed the photo in her hand, but her rage soon subsided.

Cassidy. Helping the guards up onto their feet, supporting their weight until they were stable enough to hold it. Cassidy met her gaze, and Joan itched to run over, and would have, if not for Hugo coughing behind her. Not of sickness, but a suggestive, knowing cough, as if to stop the idea.

Joan trailed Hugo through Maximum Security with reluctance, giving Cassidy a guilty look.

Cassidy couldn't begin to know why.

///

The Clocktower Library was quiet. Not as isolated as the Archives, but with an old-fashioned catalog of books and magazines that had a few years' worth of dust on them. Most patients who were allowed there spent time on the computers. Or, if they were among the non-violent few, were allowed one allotted call per day on the payphones, stacked up like steel boxes against the wall.

Cassidy sat opposite an empty computer, scrolling through headlines of Jeremiah's death. Most usually had a quick description of 'suicide' in the titles, and even that she had to skim through reading.

Then she found a strange article. Sensationalized, by the title. But compelling:

'ARKHAM'S BLOODY HISTORY

A chronicle of Gotham's notorious institution'

Reading anything with a title like that wasn't the best idea. But curiosity ruled over reason.

She clicked on the page, skimming past the self-indulgent writing to the first image.

'The Daily Issue

June 22, 1920

ELIZABETH ARKHAM FOUND DEAD

Arkham heiress commits suicide after mental breakdown'

Newspaper cutouts, one after the next.

Then, a mugshot.

'April 1, 1921

MAD DOG KILLS AGAIN

Martin 'Mad Dog' Hawkins murders wife and daughter of renowned psychiatrist Dr. Amadeus Arkham'

She didn't recognize the man in the picture at all, but he looked gaunt, with a greasy leer on his face. It felt filthy, so she looked down, seeing a familiar black and white photo- 'Arkham's grand opening, November 1st, 1921'.

There were pictures of the patients, including one, Martin Hawkins. Cassidy was careful not to look at him for too long.

The others were innocent enough, usually posed in chairs, and well-dressed. Until she saw, to her disgust, pictures of patients chained to the wall or left naked, shivering, with buckets of ice thrown on them.

What the fuck?!

The worst was, again, Martin Hawkins. Burnt to death on an electroshock chair, with a final look of agony spread on his face. The way his eyes had rolled into the back of his head, it was clear to see- it had been no accident.

'October 24, 1929

ARKHAM FOUNDER GONE MAD

Alexander Arkham rumored to take over'

There were photographs of another family, presumably Alexander Arkham's, though only he and his wife were visible. Their children's faces were crossed out.

More headlines followed. 'Wife dead in childbirth', 'alcoholism', 'social services', 'child dead from neglect', 'child missing'. One after another after another, blending together as Cassidy paced through:

'ANOTHER TRAGEDY'

'IS ARKHAM CURSED?'

Cassidy reeled back, grinding her teeth as the webpage stayed open, almost looking back at her as if she were the one on display.

Within a second, she closed down the computer. She couldn't read anymore.

She grabbed the one thing on the desk that could bring her answers instead:

'Diary: Jeremiah Arkham

10/09/2002

First Batman, now this. What's happening to our city?

Every day more of those criminals are brought in, it's like an infection, spreading from one person to the next.

I want to help, but how?

These lost souls are so far into the abyss, that I don't know how I can bring them out. Even my colleagues; Harleen, Jonathan, brilliant doctors, now patients inside the very walls they once worked in.

Diana encourages me, she often says kindness is a lifeline to those who have been left behind.

I fear that without her, I would not be able to carry on.'

Cassidy scanned over the names of Jeremiah's colleagues: Harleen. Jonathan. No doubt who Harleen was, especially since the latter had strangled her only a few hours ago, but the other was vague. Not an inmate she had been wanting to meet, and there, she recalled why. It was Jonathan Crane.

Scarecrow.

A/N: "There is no 'Crane'! Only Scarecrow!"- Batman: Arkham Asylum