Chapter One : Living Dead Girl

"Crawl on me, sink into me, die for me, living dead girl."

She shoved through a rough crowd of Gotham's citizens, breaking out of the swarm that overran the subway station. Digging her hand into the inside pocket of her worn leather motorcycle jacket, she pulled out a pack of Camels. Pressing one between her full lips, she lit it and drew in deeply, shivering against the chill of the December air.

As she climbed the stairs, she cast cold looks at anyone who bumped into her. Her hands were hiding in her pockets, clenched around her wallet and cigarettes, practically daring anyone to try and sneak them out of her grasp. She had just turned 18, and her name was Ava Garcia.

Ava walked for an hour or so against the biting, prickly chill of Gotham. It wasn't that she had somewhere to be, but that she had somewhere she was avoiding being.

She stopped only once, walking leisurely into a small coffee shop. She nodded politely at the counterman, after a friendly exchange, she handed him her money and left with one numb hand wrapped around a black coffee. She walked on, sipping the coffee, lighting a new cigarette at certain intervals, and watching the sky fade from gray to purple to ink black. As the shops began to shut off their lights, Ava checked the battered watch on her wrist. 10:23. 5 hours, she'd been wandering, trying to avoid going home like she did every day. She frowned, and waved to a cab in a resigned sort of way. She dropped her cigarette and twisted her shoe against it, grinding it into the cement and blackening the pavement. Sliding into

the back of the car, she buckled her seatbelt and ran a hand through her blonde hair.

"536 Jackal Drive, please." She murmured to the cabbie. He nodded and the car lurched forward, pacing itself into a steady crawl. She stared sullenly out the window, watching the city's spotted lights of red and yellow pass through the blurred condensation of the glass. Several short minutes passed before the small vehicle crunched to a stop at the end of a gravel road.

"You sure you don't want me to go all the way down? It's cold out there." The driver asked helpfully.

"I'd rather walk, trust me. Thank you." Ava responded, smiling bitterly. She pressed a few rumpled bills into his palm and nodded. "Keep the change. 'Night."

Her boots crunched against the small rocks in the dirt. She rubbed the back of her neck, twisting the ring on her middle finger around in circles. The lights of her house approached her as she did them, peeking through the looming trees with their obnoxiously bright bulbs. The house itself hid behind them, tall and towering and made of pale brick. Its driveway was an elegant curve with six ridiculously expensive cars parked along it. A pretentious and ugly fountain sat in the garden. Through the wide front window, a man could be seen sitting on an expensive wing chair with a glass of brandy in his hand, eyes fixed on a TV replaying last week's football game. Ava rolled her eyes, and looked to one of the second story windows. A 16 year old girl was curled against her bedcushions. Her long, messy black hair was untied from its usual braids, and she was reading the Hobbit. Ava felt a soft smile touch her lips at the sight of her younger sister, Naomi.

She walked on, gently twisting the front door handle and walking in. She tucked her unneeded keys back into her pocket and shut the door behind her. Quietly, she tried

to tiptoe to the staircase.

"Ava." A male voice broke the silent murmur of the television. Ava mouthed a curse.

"Yeah?" She sighed.

"Could you come in here?" He asked. Ava clenched her jaw and turned, walking slowly into the den where her father sat in his chair. Anthony Garcia, mayor of Gotham, king of

the rich. She nodded curtly and raised her brows, a signal that she was listening.

"You've been doing a lot of questionable things lately." He began. Ava's jaw clenched tighter, attempting not to remark. "And I understand, you're almost an adult, you're under

a lot of pressure-" Ava held in a snort. "-and you might be led astray. But I think it's more than that." She raised her eyebrows derisively at her father. "I think you need to see

a professional." Ava couldn't help but let a choked laugh escape her throat. Smoking, drinking, having sex and staying out late? Since when did average teenage behavior indicate a medical condition? She mentally sneered that the only medical condition in the Garcia mansion was the stick up her father's ass. She considered advising him to get it surgically removed.

"A professional? A psychiatrist, you mean?" She asked, eyebrows arched.

"Yes, I do. And being in my position, I found the best doctor there is to offer. We're going to keep this all very discreet." He attempted to assure her. Ava scratched the side of her head, sighing and chuckling sarcastically.

"Wouldn't want your mentally questionable daughter to ruin your good image, yeah."

"Ava-" he began sternly. She waved him off.

"Whatever makes you happy. I'll see your psychiatrist. It'll be a good waste of time. When do I go?" She asked calmly.

"I made an appointment for you for 11:00 am tomorrow." He said quietly. Ava nodded, pausing and chuckling to herself.

"Unbelievable." She muttered.

Raking her fingers through her hair, she climbed the stairs.

Ava rustled under her sheets, eyes sleepily searching for the clock face on her nightstand. The neon beads of light blurred into focus through her squinted eyelashes, revealing 9:54 am. She sighed heavily, shifting over in her bed. Her legs flipped over the side of the bed as she rose stiffly. Arching her back and extending her fingertips, she stretched her muscles and ruffled her long hair. Her legs slipped into a pair of tight black jeans and motorcycle boots, while her arms wormed through the sleeves of a thick black sweater and her ragged jacket. Bent in front of the expensive vanity mirror, she twisted back and tied her blonde hair, and lined her pale green eyes thickly in charcoal liner. Once again, she vaguely regarded the nightstand's clock. 10:15. She snatched cigarettes, her battered leather wallet, and a ring of keys from the drawer of the desk and stuffed them into her pockets. Slipping quietly out of her room, she glanced at the door of her sister's room across the wide hallway. It was left open in the vague sort of way that suggested she was up. Early riser, Ava thought to herself.

"Ava." Naomi was looking up from her toast, beaming brightly at her older sister.

"Good morning." She said. Ava's eyes crinkled at their corners, smiling at the only

person she really cared for.

"Hey, doll. 'Morning. You seen the mayor lately?" She asked, snatching a piece of bacon from the skillet and chewing it slowly. Naomi nodded, gesturing to the office.

"I heard you're going in for psychiatric evaluation today. That sounds super fun." She said playfully. Ava scoffed, swallowing.

"Oh, yeah. He's decided my shenanigans are downright mental. Who knows, maybe they'll send me to Arkham." She joked. Naomi forced a laugh, eyes downcast in slight worry.

Ava tapped the counter cheerfully and turned, walking through the parlor towards the office.

"Knock knock." She said, pushing open the unlocked door.

"Oh, Ava. Our driver will take you to your appointment. You'll leave in ten minutes." He said distantly. Ava didn't bother to respond, except to nod. Sauntering vaguely back through the house, she eyed the clock on the wall, and sat down on the leather recliner. As ten minutes ticked by, she chewed her lip and waited patiently.

Naomi entered the room, coffee in hand.

"Driver's here." She said softly. Ava glanced up and nodded, climbing to her feet and heading towards the door. She paused when she reached her sister, who chewed the inside of her cheek tensely.

"Don't worry, hon. It'll be fine. We both know I'm a hell of a lot of things, but I am not crazy." A smile curved her lips.

"Who knows, maybe my psychiatrist is gonna be really hot. That'd be fun." She grinned and playfully nudged her sister. "I'll see you later."

A gruff looking man led the short, blonde girl down a long hallway. He pointed to a thick wooden door with a glossy nameplate that read 'DR. JONATHAN CRANE'. Before Ava had the thought to ask him anything, he turned and stalked away, key ring jingling. She brushed her fingers through her hair habitually and rapped her knuckles softly against the door. After a moment of standing there worrying she had done something wrong, or perhaps the doctor wasn't there, or...the door swung open to reveal a tall, thin man wearing glasses and an expensive suit. He had dark, thick hair and striking pale blue eyes. Ava's eyes widened slightly, and she felt embarrassment spark at the recollection of her comment about having a hot psychiatrist. He was gorgeous. She raised her eyebrows slightly, trying to recompose herself.

"Are you Dr. Crane?" She asked. "I'm Ava Garcia, I have an appointment, I suppose." Crane's head cocked slightly sideways as he raised a brow.

"I am. Come in." He held the door open wider, shutting it behind him and sitting in a large leather chair behind a desk. The office was all polished wood and metal, orderly and pristine. Ava wondered if she should have worn something other than her regular attire. She sat carefully on a sleek sofa across from Dr. Crane's desk.

"So, you're the mayor's daughter, yes?" Crane asked in a bored tone. Ava nodded. "And for what reason has he sent you to see me?" He asked. Ava scoffed softly.

"I wish I knew. He thinks my lifestyle is an implication of mental illness, I guess." She smiled regretfully.

"Your lifestlye? Would you care to elaborate, Miss Garcia?"

"I believe he thinks I'm...promiscuous." She said, raising her eyebrows and smirking slightly.

"Would you consider yourself promiscuous?" He asked. Ava laughed.

"I don't know what defines promiscuity, Dr. Crane...especially not in his eyes. I think I'm someone who does what they want to, and promiscuity is what people who don't have any fun call it.." She drawled.

Crane watched her intently.

"How old are you, Miss Garcia?"

"I'm eighteen, Dr. Crane."

"Awfully young to be considered..." he flicked over a paper he was holding. "...a promiscuous sadomasochist with tendencies of exhibitionism."

Ava clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter that erupted. She composed herself after a moment, giggling softly.

"I'm sorry...I got that first bit...would you mind

explaining to me what exhibitionism is?" Her eyebrows arched, smile still curving the corners of her lips.

"Exhibitionism is the tendency or urge to...expose oneself to the public, it's classified as a sort of sexual thrill-seeking."

Ava snorted. "That was once." She said stubbornly. The doctor raised his eyebrows. She grinned to herself, deep in thought and memory. She sat back against the couch,

crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

"So, tell me something, doctor." She said. Crane waited. "Do you think I'm a...promiscuous sadomasochist exhibitionist?" She smiled brightly. Crane rolled his eyes.

"I believe your father is paranoid."

"That makes two of us."

"It's completely normal for a woman your age to want to be rebellious and experiment with her sexuality."

Ava raised her eyebrows, smiling. "Is it normal for their rich, distant fathers to classify this as a mental disorder and send them to a psychiatrist?"

"Mmmm...no."

She nodded again, smiling.

Scarecrow awoke in Dr. Crane's mind, peering out at the blonde teenager on the psych sofa with her tight pants and heeled boots.

'Well, well, who's this?' He inquired deviously.

'Shut up, Scarecrow. She's a patient.'

'Since when do you take patients, Jonny-boy?'

'Since their fathers are the mayor and pay me quite well. Now shut up.'

'She's pretty hot.'

'She's eighteen.'

'We're in luck! That's legal. Not that we mind.'

'Shut up.'

'C'mon. Look at her.'

Scarecrow fixed Jonathan's eyes on the girl. Her blonde hair hung in a straight curtain down her shoulders, her pale green eyes were framed with long

eyelashes. Her cheekbones were high and rounded, and her full lips were pale red. Her skin was tanned golden, and she tapped her heel against her leg. A slight flush was

spread across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Jonathan Crane was irritatingly aware of his roaming eyes.

'I don't have time for this.'

'I sure the hell do.'

'Shut. Up.'

Ava chewed the side of her thumb.

"Dr. Crane, can I ask something of you?" She spoke quietly. His pale eyes flicked upward, an eyebrow cocked in acknowledgement. He gave a small nod.

"As we just discussed, I'm not...mentally unstable. I'm not a whatever-the-hell he thinks I am. But...could you pretend I am? I rarely have an excuse to get away from the son of

a bitch and this being his idea, he'd love for me to come here and be 'treated' a few times a week or however often. And I'm sure he's paying you heavily to, ah, fix me."

At this proposal, a very slim smirk edged around Jonathan Crane's lips, as he'd been thinking along the same lines.

"I agree, Miss Garcia."

'Aw, hell, Jonny, she likes you!' Scarecrow snorted.

'You're an idiot. She just wants to get out of the house, this has nothing to do with me.'

'I'm an idiot, Jonny? You're a fucking psychologist, look at the girl. Her body language,her pupils'-Jonathan had to admit, they were very dilated-'she wants to fuck you.'

Jonathan was at a loss.

Ava watched her new psychologist with curious mint-green eyes as he seemed to be somewhere else entirely. She felt incredibly self-satisfied. A hot doctor, check.

A get-out-of-house-free ticket, check. And she'd practically been declared sane. Sure, there were a number of things she failed to mention, but if Gotham's best psychologist, Dr. Jonathan Crane—she spared another roaming glance at his many diplomas and certificates—couldn't see through her easy lies, she was surely just fine. She stood,

a small, gracious smile set on her lips.

"Dr. Crane, I thank you very much. I'm sure I'll be back soon so you can, ah, fix me." She walked out of the room, letting the heavy door close with a sleek click.

Her heart beat heavy in her chest and she was sure she was blushing at least a little.

"Promiscuous." She muttered under her breath.