In the Mind of Madness

Kenna spent that night in the holding cell and ate her breakfast there, too. At least they allowed her to change out of the red dress, giving her a gray jumpsuit that was scratchy on her otherwise naked skin. Now she was sitting on the metal bench that was quickly giving her a backache, holding her arms over her stomach and wondering what decisions were being made about her punishment. Or in the best possible scenario, lack of punishment.

She had given Gordon her side of the story, and Gordon said he was going to talk to a judge. Kenna would have liked to think that by the end of their conversation Gordon believed her, but she wasn’t sure. His face was hard to read, so dominated by exhaustion. Kenna wanted to talk to Bruce, try to casually bring up the lawyer he’d mentioned before. A night in jail had her rethinking her willingness to put up with it much longer. Everything was sore from the uncomfortable, cold surface she’d used as a bed.

The officer standing at the door would glance angrily at Kenna every once in a while, hand resting on his belt, close enough to his gun where he could grab it at a moments notice. At first Kenna had thought it laughable, then she started wondering if it wasn’t so ridiculous. Maybe he would need it. Not because Kenna would give him any trouble, but because at any time The Joker could come bursting through a wall like the explosion he was.

Where was he? What was he doing? Who was he punishing for Kenna’s breakout? The questions made her shiver, especially the last one. She could picture Darla cowering against the wall of the dirty warehouse, unwilling to run due to her loyalty, bloody and burnt as The Joker took his aggression out on her. Kenna could see it more now, but Darla truly was her friend. Someone who had done her best to keep her out of harm’s way, even in the den of murderers and thieves of which The Joker was the ringleader. Kenna felt sick every time she thought of Darla. There was no doubt in her mind the redhead was getting the abuse meant for her.

Had she helped or hurt everyone more by escaping? It would have been better for Darla and the other goons in the warehouse if she hadn’t. Maybe it would have been better for Gotham as a whole if she stayed. Now they would think her a murderer, fear her, worry the same would happen to them. No matter what happened she was condemned in the eyes of the city, Kenna knew that. The only people her freedom seemed to benefit were her mother and Alan. And of course herself, but Kenna couldn’t help feeling selfish when she thought that way.

Suddenly muffled voices broke the silence in the room of cells. Kenna quirked her head up to watch, the guard turning towards the door behind him, hand twitching towards his gun. The voices were indistinguishable outside, but they were getting closer and more heated. The officer backed up, one hand pulling out his gun. Kenna watched anxiously, eyes widening as the door flung open to reveal her mother.

“-like hell I will not see my daughter!” she was saying, voice high and indignant, Commissioner Gordon and Bruce right on her heels.

Bruce looked just as tired as Gordon if not more, watching the stubborn set of Trina’s eyebrows and lips with a slightly baffled expression. Gordon was trying to stop her without actually touching her, which made Kenna wonder with a jolt of humor if her mother had threatened them with police brutality suits had they tried to physically apprehend her.

“Mrs. Archer, I tried telling you this isn’t a good idea.” said Gordon, exasperated.

She shook her head, brown and gray hair flicking about. It was longer than Kenna remembered. And the gray was showing. She had stopped dying it. Before she could stop herself Kenna was running to the bars closest to the door, grasping them and reaching on her toes like it would make her easier to see.

“Mom!”

Trina’s eyes snapped to her daughter, the widened. “Kenna!”

The woman flew through the distance and flung her arms inside just as Kenna extended her arms out, their embrace pained because of the bars digging into Trina’s ribs and Kenna’s chest. Kenna squeezed her eyes shut to keep from tearing up, digging her fingers into the soft material of her mother’s yellow sweater. She smelled like detergent and fading perfume. Smelled like home. Kenna felt overwhelmingly safe, even in the arms of her mother that was a few inches shorter than her and needed help carrying ten pounds of groceries.

“Mom.” Kenna said again, tearfully, into her mother’s hair, hugging her as hard as she could without being in serious pain from the barrier between them.

Trina sucked in a quick breath, obviously trying not to cry herself. “I didn’t believe it for a second.”

Kenna laughed, thankfully causing the impending tears to dissipate. “I hoped you wouldn’t. I missed you, Mom.”

“I missed you, too, baby. Are you okay?” Trina smoothed the back of Kenna’s slightly greasy hair, not loosening her arms even a little.

Human contact that wasn’t a pinch, an unwanted arm around her waist, or a violent kiss. Kenna wanted to drown in it. “Yeah, I’m just fine.” It was a bit of lie, but it was good enough. Her mother didn’t need to worry about her any more.

“I don’t believe that for a second, either.” mumbled Trina, finally releasing her daughter and pulling back reluctantly, wincing at the throb in her ribs. “You look thinner. Malnourished. Dirty.”

“Just a few pounds. I feel fine.” Kenna smiled sheepishly, downplaying everything like she always did for her mother. It was at least ten pounds, give or take a few.

Trina’s eyebrow flickered up in a familiar way. It was the same way she did it when Kenna’s report card would come in the mail, displaying her C- in P.E, Kenna trying to stumble her way through an excuse about sitting out because of cramps, when really Kenna didn’t dress for a week because it was flag football and she hated the sport more than most others. Or when Kenna showed up at the house during her fourth year of college, a sobbing mess for an hour before she could calm down, then tried to say it was only because of a failed paper. (Really it was due to her second sexual encounter, the one with the guy into weird stuff who ended up leaving a scar on her left butt cheek).

“I’m going to get you out of here. You’re coming home with me.”

For some reason the words made Kenna flare up, both with a somewhat teenager-y defiance at being told what to do and also at the thought of leaving. She was shocked at herself for not wanting to leave Gotham, but she was learning that some of her emotions made little to no sense whatsoever.

“We’ll see.” said Kenna, rather than arguing. She was becoming aware of Bruce and Gordon standing nearby watching their exchange. “How are you and Alan doing?”

“We’ve been worried sick about you.” her mother sighed, and it showed in the lines on her face. Had there been so many before? “Alan barely slept the whole time I’ve been here.”

“I’m so sorry about this. Everything.” Kenna shook her head, hating The Joker fiercely in that moment. “I never meant for any of it. Tell Alan I’m sorry, I should have listened to him.”

Trina smiled sadly. “Baby, he’s not upset with you. All he cares about is your safety, just like I do.”

Kenna wanted to point out how unnecessary that was. How she’d been on her own for years. Instead she just smiled and nodded. “Okay, Mom. Will you promise me something?”

“Sure, baby.” Trina replied without hesitation.

“Don’t go doing anything drastic to get me out of here. Such as going to the press, or hiring one of those lawyers from TV that promise quick results and demand no pay unless you win. Okay?”

Trina rolled her eyes like that was ridiculous, but for her it really wasn’t. “Fine. If you promise me you’ll do your best to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m really starting to like it.” Kenna peered around sarcastically, then smirked at her mother. It was so easy to become a snarky teenager again around the woman. Kenna realized she missed it a little.

“Nobody likes a smartass.” quipped Trina, the way she had since Kenna was old enough to remember it. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

Kenna allowed her forehead to be kissed, then watched as her mother backed away, waving before turning on her heel and flouncing right past Gordon and Bruce. The Commissioner seemed exasperated, the way he always did, and Bruce looked torn between the same emotion and a bit of amusement.

“Sorry.” Kenna for some reason felt the need to apologize for her mother. Something she’d been doing for a large portion of her life. “You know how it is…Lioness, and what not.”

Bruce did struggle against a smile, then, Gordon looking like he wanted to roll his eyes. Gordon took a few steps closer to Kenna’s cell, hands on his hips as he gave her a scrutinizing look.

“I’ve got a meeting with a judge set up for two hours from now.”

Kenna blinked. “So quickly?”

“Your case is central to the city’s welfare as well as prominent in the media.” Gordon shrugged, like he’d expected a judge to agree to meet with Kenna right away.

Kenna nodded, finding herself glancing at Bruce to see how he felt. His face was slightly pinched, nervous. “Alright. I’ll be ready.” Kenna said firmly, sounding more sure than she was.

Gordon swiftly followed Trina Archer in exiting the room, leaving Bruce to approach the bars himself and stare intently at Kenna.

“I think they’re either going to put you in Arkham for observation, or under house arrest. Obviously we’d prefer the latter.”

Her eyes widened, she leaned towards him so they could whisper. “I’d prefer house arrest? That would make me a sitting duck for him.”

“I would put you up at the manor. I’ve already got a new security system installed, it’s basically a fortress, which it almost was before. You’d be just as safe there as you would be anywhere else in the world. Let alone Gotham.”

Kenna soaked that in for a moment before frowning. “Bruce, that would be asking too much of you. I couldn’t do that.”

“Understand that right now your safety is my priority.”

The way he said it didn’t make sense. Kenna was growing used to his low, intense way of speaking, but sometimes he gave her a fathomless look that she didn’t know how to interpret. It was nothing compared to the bottomless stares she’d get from The Joker, but it was enough to make her feel slightly unsettled.

“We’ll talk about this after I see the judge.” Kenna concluded, not in the mood to argue. Too tired after few hours of sleep on nothing but a metal bench. “Do you know who it is?”

“Judge Godfrey. He’s older, been working in Gotham for over twenty-five years, consulted with the judge on the mob case a while back, the one The Joker blew up in her car. He followed your case in the news, thinks it’s interesting. Play up the victim side, I think he’ll go soft. Lean towards house arrest, especially if he brings it up.”

Kenna couldn’t help smiling a little. “You really thought that through.”

“It’s my job.” Bruce gave an anxious smirk in return. “Why don’t you take a nap? You look like you could use it.”

“Sure. Have any rocks or broken glass I could use as a pillow?”

A genuine smile from Bruce. Kenna noticed (not for the first time) that he was really handsome. “None handy. Maybe if you’re very nice to him, Lurch over there will give you a blanket.”

Kenna glanced over Bruce’s shoulder at the surly guard. He was still grasping his gun, glaring at Kenna distrustfully. She had to snort through her nose to cover a laugh. “Not likely. Maybe if you slip him a hundred on the way out.”

She expected Bruce to chuckle or return another caustic remark about her watchman, but instead he looked told her to remember what he said about the judge, then spun around and walked for the door. Kenna watch curiously, eyes on the back of Bruce’s dark gray suit as he departed.

It was all she could do not to gape as he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a sleek dark brown wallet and hading a crisp bill to the guard. The man looked at it with interest as Bruce said something under his breath, then glanced over his shoulder to grin secretively at Kenna before leaving the cell room altogether.

A few moments later Kenna was given a blanket, which she wadded up and used as a pillow for her nap, laughing quietly to herself the whole time.