Laugh Lines

Dinner and Just Desserts

~Here we go again

You think you're in my head and under my skin

There's nothing you can throw at me

You can't win against my kind of crazy~

~Three Days Grace~

With the talk earlier, Bruce felt it would be a good idea to get her used to being around him. The familiarity would help break Joker's hold on her mind. So he had went into the city and ordered some different pastas and sauces from his favorite Italian Restaurant. His hope was that she would open up to him a bit more, seeing that he really did have her best interest in mind.

He put the two plates on the tray and put them on the rolling cart. He started to push the cart through the cave and up to the door of her room. He steadied himself by taking a deep breath and then put in the code and touched his thumb to the reader. The door clicked and he pushed the cart in and stepped inside.

"Dinner is here." He said, placing the plates onto the table.

"Oh joy, another day wasted in this prison." She said voice flat.

"This isn't a prison. It's a safe room, a safe place for you to recover. You have spent too much time under Joker's influence. He is using you, and once you come to terms with that, you can get better."

"And what, I cry to you and you make it all better? Fuck you." She spat at him.

"No, you can got to Arkham and get the help you need to rebuild your life, free of his poison."

"I don't need treatment. I am not sick. This is sick." She gestured to the room.

"You do need treatment. But for now, it's time to eat." He said sitting at the table.

"I am not eating with you."

"Then your food will get cold." He said taking a bite from his plate.

She cut her eyes at him. She stood from her seat on the bed, but didn't walk over to the plate he placed on the opposite side of the table. She paced the small area between the bed and table. She looked at everything, the cart next to Bruce, the door past it that was still open. She worked hard to keep the smile from her face.

She listened as he droned on about how he planned to help her, his family donating money to Arkham to help the poor people admitted to the facility. Blah, blah, blah. She picked up the bottle of water he put on the table for her.

Bruce relaxed when she picked it up. It was a start. He continued to eat, watching her pace the floor. He was happy she was talking to him, even if it was fueled by her hate. He watched her, noticing her pacing was getting closer to the door with each pass.

He readied for her to take off, knowing she would not pass up the chance. He was slightly disappointed that she was doing it, but he wasn't surprised. He knew she wasn't ready to accept his help, yet. He was still hopeful.

As she bolted towards the door, Bruce shoved the cart hard towards her, hoping to stop her from hitting the door. He was shocked at the loud scream that flew from her mouth. He watched as she fell to the ground, one hand propping her up, the other on her stomach. Bruce moved to help her up.

"You son of a bitch." She screamed as she pulled her arm free.

Bruce was at a loss, he looked at her, and she was on her knees, eyes full of tears, holding her stomach, still. The reality of the situation hit him, he felt conflicting emotion.

"Lyra, are you pregnant?"

Her eyes shot up to his face. He stepped back, towards the door. The look on her face was all the confirmation that he needed. He left the room, slamming the door behind him. He moved to the computer, his hands rubbing on his face. He could hear her screams and sobs inside the room.