Jerome Valeska One Shots

Jerome Plays Shrink

writer ; jeromevaleska on ao3

You were a new inmate at Arkham Asylum, and the great lengths people sought to get what they wanted here continued to surprised you, not that it should have but it did nonetheless.

In your short time here, you grew to loathe the guards and doctors. There was always a pair of eyes watching you, and they all made you feel like you were crazy, which you weren't. You needed to get out of this dismal place, there was nothing here for you, and all of Gotham was waiting for you to break free from here. You couldn't stand the daily appointments you had with the therapists about improvements in your behavior, it was always the same basic questions about subjects such as how you were sleeping or them attempting to get you to speak about your feelings. You told them lie after lie just to get through the unbearable sessions, saying anything so that they would leave you alone and move onto the next patient. You were itching for some fun – you craved it, and you didn't think you were going to find any of it within these four gray walls. Though, you quickly learned that wasn't exactly true.

It was just a regular day in Arkham Asylum with nothing in particular happening, just the usual prattle from your fellow inmates. You couldn't help but groan in vexation when one of the guards told you that it was time for your therapy session, and when you stood up from the bed in your cell, he grasped you by your arm forcibly before pushing you into the small room where you had your appointments in. There was a little table in the center of the room with a chair on each side, and you mentally prepared yourself for another long, boring consultation.

The therapist was standing there with his head down, fixing up the cluttered mess on the table. He had soft, auburn hair, that was the first thing you noticed, and you vaguely thought that it looked familiar as you made your way over to take a seat.

"So let's get started now, shall we?" the man said in a faux 'I'm important' voice before finally sitting down in front of you where you met his blue-green eyes that flashed with a devilish glint you couldn't forget even if you tried, along with those freckles that dusted his face, and that white-toothed grin that stretched across his mouth. Your eyes scanned his face for a moment before you looked down at the white coat he was wearing that was marred with speckles of fresh blood.

"Jerome?" you said with a laugh, you were amused to say the least. "What did you do this time?"

"Jerome? I don't know who Jerome is, my name is-" he paused to lift the name tag that was attached to his coat, "Brian."

"Well Brian, aren't we going to start my therapy session?" you asked daringly with a raise of your brows, the curves of your lips threatening to form into a smile. You didn't get to see the ginger all that much because once the guards noticed how well you two got along, they made sure to separate you both into different rooms, so the redhead went to great lengths just to spend some alone time with you, which more than pleased you.

"Right," he continued to mock the voice of the therapist's humorless tone, it was so like him to have fun with this sort of thing, "so how are you feeling today? Anything on your mind?"

"I'm fine," you told him with a smug smile before you continued, "thinking of possibly calling the guards over here to let them know that one of the inmates is interviewing me, and that he killed my former therapist," you shrugged your shoulders as you glanced at your nails.

"Whatever do you mean, miss? That's crazy talk! Do you even know who you're talking to?" he scolded in his cheap imitation of a middle-aged man's voice.

"I just think it would be kind of unfortunate if 'Brian'," you taunted as you lifted your hands up, signifying your point with a gesticulation of your fingers, "didn't get to fuck me before he gets sent to solitary confinement."