Part Two: Hold Me Now

Gordon: Right arm up. Swipe. Left arm up. Swipe. Yup, never knew anymore who had a weapon or a mind-control device on him.

The security guard stepped in front of Gordon and held open his lids beneath a bushy aging eyebrow. The commissioner just sighed and winced only a little as a bright light pierced his pupil, leaving a pestering dot in his vision as it was removed. But that was all a part of being the hands on commissioner of Gotham city. What Batman was too busy to do, well, Gordon needed to do his best to fill in.

The guard checked the other eye, then satisfied that he was completely lucid and aware put away the light. "Raise your chin." He ordered, and Gordon did so, receiving rubber, industrial smelling gloves to investigate his jaw line for any hints of a mask. Then down his neck, forcing him to undo his collar to check for the rim of a concealing suit of some sort. All through this, Gordon remained patient and only shifted his weight slightly.

"Alright Mr. Gordon, one last test." The guard lifted his hand and pulled the rubber of the glove further down on his wrist.

That did get a reaction. "Oh come on! Hasn't that been enough!"

-*-

A couple of moments later Gordon, without his calm, patient face and now with the newer more agitated model, came through the door to Wesker's little padded home away from home.


Wesker: Honestly, all it really needed was a few pictures. Maybe a tea Cozy. Wait, no. That was something Jervis Tech would have wanted. Arnold Wesker didn't really require much in his little eight by ten cell with its soft soft walls. A bed without any harsh corners to hurt ones self on, and a light burning brightly upon his scalp, could have been purgatory right here.

Perhaps it was. Because all one could really do within Arkham's walls was wait. And wait. Occasional be dragged into therapy, and then Lo! It was back to waiting. For that one moment where society deemed you acceptable to rejoin them, or you found that astonishing moment of luck and you busted out of here.

Scarface schemed everyday on the latter. It had been a month since his failed attempt at the hospital. It was the closest thing to freedom in nine months. Perhaps the wood in his mouth was starting to rot in his imaginary drool for a rise back to power. Wesker on the other hand, was just contempt with, that being in here, no one could get at his Boss, or at him. Security around him had been tight all month. There was always a guard not to far from the door. Meals IN his cell. It was lonely but safe.

The meek man sat on his bed in the Arkham's fashionable blue-white shirt and pant attire with his glasses gleaming in the unshaded bulb above him. The injuries he'd sustained over a month ago had dwindled down to scars now, but the attack was still fresh in his mind. So much that even the door lock being released and the item being swung open made him jerk where he sat on the bed.

" Who the hell is it this time? Already told yah, don't want the soup. Taste like crap. " Scarface barked out. The dummy clanged its jaws as the Commissioner stepped in ward. NOT HIM.

Oh him! Wesker actually brightened. Didn't say anything. But yes, he ceased his cringing.

Gordon: "Here you go, Arnold," James said in as chipper a voice he could muster. He dropped a brown bag on the cot next to Wesker. Inside was an order of baked spaghetti from Fazoli's, all repackaged into nice little asylum issue safety containers.

"Not exactly the best in the world, but I didn't have the biggest budget to work from."

He took a seat on a rounded bench, suspended in the wall. He couldn't help but be put in the mind of one of those new children’s parks, where everything was padded like bumper cars just in case the kids knocked their little noggins.

He patted the plastic to hear the hollow sound that it made. "You know, I should have these in my kitchen at home." He glanced up at Wesker, knowing he wasn't doing much to ease him with his lame attempts at humor.

"You've not felt much safer, have you?"


Wesker: Head perked a bit more at the drop of the paper bag. Wesker slowly leaned over and peered into it. He'd brought him something. That was.. that was really nice. besides Arkham food to eat? This would be a real treat.

The corner of Wesker's mouth actually flinted upward. It wasn't really a smile, but it was probably the closest thing to one he'd shown in a good long while. " T-thank you. You didn't have to do that. "

The Dummy rolled its eyes. " Yah gonna ge gringing him chocolates and flowers next visit? "

Scarface continued to clank annoyingly as Wesker shifted him to his other knee and began fishing into the bag, pulling out the container and everyone's favorite none threatening cutlery, the spork. And a pretty flimsy example of one at that. But once he was done with it, they'd still make sure it left his room.

Not wanting him to take an hour to make a boo-boo or anything. Wesker wasn't a masochist, at least not his one personality. The other side was just sadistic. He opened the container of pasta and dug into it slowly. Swirling up a bite. Before he put it into his mouth he looked back at Gordon and shook his head slowly. " No.. not really, I keep thinking.. they're just going to come through the door at any minute. "

In went the bite of food and Wesker chewed timidly. Wanting to take his time. " Yah anything yah can do agout the whimpering he does at night? Gastard keeps me awake. " Oh? Wesker is eating. Scarface is talking? Eating. TALKING! How does he DO it?


Gordon: Gordon tilted his head slightly at that, mesmerized by his own moment of confusion on how that was possible. Then he shook it off. He chuckled warmly and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Hey, don't knock it. I already had to do more to get that to you than I've done for any other guy." He'd certainly dread the smell of rubber for now and forever.

Eyes fell to the spork. No, he didn't want to interfere with his eating until he had his fill. He didn't want to tell him that his life could possibly be in danger again, though with all the safety regulations that he was under at the time; that would be doubtful.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he down at Wesker's feet. James Gordon hated breaking a promise, even to a villain. So far from what he'd seen, Wesker was just a mild-mannered guy that had it rough. That thing on his arm, though, it belonged in here just as much as the other freaks and goons.

"Do you want to be out mixing an mingling with the other inmates again, soon?"


Wesker: " Pansy. " Scarface bit. Though its voice did faultier slightly as Wesker swallowed down the food in his mouth. " We get the same treatment if we wanna move to a different section of the damn guilding. " Oh yes the puppet was amused at Gordon's attempt at a show of good-heartedness.

A few more bites and Wesker set the container down on the bed next to him, spork still stuck in what was left of the noodles. Head tilted down at the man now sitting at his feet and he canted his brows with a mix of embarrassment and appreciation. " I'm sorry, Jerry doesn't allow anyone in without frisking them, He'd have Batman frisked if he could catch him. " Oh that would be something to see. Oh yes. And much feeling sorry for who ever even attempted it.

[ " I'd PAY tah see that! " Scarface added. ]

Slippered feet hung a half-inch from the floor in front of Gordon. " But thank you. You.. you could have just called the asylum, Scarface isn't aloud to have any contact with the outside world, but I'm allowed one phone call a month. " Wesker lowered his head a bit, sore chest heaved a sigh. " No one ever calls. " How depressing.

" Mingle with the commoners eh? " The Dummy kicked a few times at the Commissioner, but couldn't reach him. " You ready to play goggle with the guy who talks to the stuff animal, Dummy? " Here Scarface leaned toward Gordon and whispered. " That guys a fucking nut. Where go they FIND these fuckers? "

Wesker shook his head again. " I.. I.. don't know. I feel like everyone might be a part of that black mask clan. But I don't feel safe in here either. Not around anyone. " He looked down suddenly and blushed slightly. " but I'm glad you're here. I do feel safe now. "


Gordon: Gordon had to blink. The line between insanity and madness was so ill defined. He couldn't decide the point that he should be worried, when he was talking to the Ventriloquist as a part of potential crime spree, or when he was having a person-to-person conversation with Scarface as if he were an independent personality.

He found that line blurry as he opened his mouth. "Well, I guess it's to each his own as long as no one bites the bullet." He moved over onto the cot with Wesker to clean some escaped sauce off of him [because we all know spaghetti does to that shit] and wiped at his chin with a towel. "Thought you could use the company."

He realized that Wesker had no family, and no way would they let goons into see him. "Who do you call each month?" he asked idly, continuing to dodge the real reason he was there.

The Black Mask may have eluded police custody, but he wouldn't elude the dark knight's. The only real question in Gordon's mind was would he get around to trying to hurt this poor little man before he was apprehended.


Wesker: Dancing around the matter, were we? Perhaps it was for the better. For a little while, at least, Wesker could enjoy this idle conversation while it lasted. Something to add to the few good memories the little man had. Once a way out of this place had been figured, the Wesker personality would take a back seat once again. He'd have little time to ponder over what was right and wrong. Once Scarface got his mob back, all the duo's time would be spent on schemes and drug trafficking.

Wesker scooted over a bit so the Commissioner had a bit more room to sit, and then sat himself patiently and stony while the other man wiped at him. This should have made him feel kiddish and a little silly. But in all due respect, Arnold Wesker didn't mind one bit. " T-thank you. " He said against the towel as it cleaned his chin.

" Oh god. " The dummy rolled its eyes again. " Get a room you two. Oh wait.. SHIT. This is our ROOM! " The dummy finally ended the spot cleaning by smacking Gordon's hand away and elbowing Wesker in the chest. The small man winced and muttered an apology to the dummy.

" No one really. " Wesker shifting his gaze to the cop. " Parole board when they call, Once I tried to get hold of Selina Kyle. But her last known residence was vacant. I wanted to apologize for her being set up. I had no idea Mr. Scarface was going to do that. "

Wesker for a moment, flurried his brows down in the direction of the puppet, but quickly returned to his I'll-pee-myself look with the Dummy snapped its head up at him. A small cough and Wesker slowly reached over and closed fingers on the edge of the paper napkin the other had in his hand. " Did you just come to give me dinner, or was there something else? "


Gordon: Gordon raised an eyebrow at Wesker and then furrowed the furry things again. Like expressionate caterpillars those things were. "You just keep talkin', lets see how fast you end up a cell-mate to the Puppet King. Worry about who's whose-" he stopped himself from losing his temper and speaking harshly. It was a puppet! It was a wooden puppet! He shouldn't get angry at something that you knock on for luck-

Then again, the more he thought about it, Wesker would get all sorts of interesting stories if he borrowed Scarface to leave him in a cell with the gangly little mastermind. He grinned a little at the thought, making his mustache bunch up around the corners of his mouth.

Yes Gordon, there was something else. He kept his smile as he looked at Wesker's demure face. So timid, always worried. Did he really want to worry him? When they'd gone through all these measures to protect him.

"How about we bump it up to two calls as long as one of them’s to me, alright?" he said, crumpling up the napkin.


Wesker: Yes, it was just a wooden dummy. Yet it had more blood soaked into it's grainal then a well-used guillotine it seemed. Nasty little puppet. Soon as order someone's death for spilling coffee then leaving the poor busboy a tip for trying.

" Yay yah what? " The dummy sneered. It's brows lowered with a clank, and even more so when Gordon turned away and began addressing Wesker again. Scarface was after all, Wesker's dominate side, and oh how it hated to be ignore. But it couldn't seem to keep the old Cops attention. There he was fawning over the other side like they were old pals. And nothing Scarface could do about it.

" R..really? " Oh Wesker peeped up again. His body turned to face the other more. " I.. I'd like that. "

And then he smiled. Slowly and softly. It wasn't any big show of teeth or anything. But it was, a smile after all. James Gordon being the first person in a long time to see this. And he even got it for more then just a quick sheepish grin.

But slowly, that smile started to get a little wobbly. Brows canted to create an upside down V in his forehead. Bottom lip quivered and then Wesker just let his head fall against the other man's chest. His free hand finding a lapel and grasping hold of it.

Wesker hid his face. " I-I d-don't deserve this, why are you being so nice to me? "


Gordon: Gordon's voice caught. He didn't want to say because you were hurt, because that wasn't right. Genuinely, he just liked the little guy.

In his day, Gordon had busted many a criminal, watched a mob boss fall, seen death and destruction in the faces of his own family as well as those of others. Every time it was an emptiness, a sadness that gaped like a void. Some people would fill this with work, sex, drugs, money, focusing on furthering themselves or the rest of their family.

But this guy, he had the look. It wasn't just part of the time, either. It was every time he saw him. That expression never left his face, maybe because it never could. Basically, this guy would always be his own victim, and as a victim he didn't belong in this place, not with the people who were the real home wreckers.

There wasn't much he could do, though, not while all the negativity inside of him was pent up into one insidious piece of wood.

Gordon hugged him with one arm. "You've got good fashion sense?"

Wesker: " Eh, what the fuck, NOT AGAIN!! " Scarface's voice took on a high pitch of complete dissatisfaction as it turned its head to view the sudden hugging that was going on. The hard clamp of wood as it snapped its teeth together. " Dummy, cut that out! You two stop that! Ah GOD! "

Even as little wooden fists began to beat at Wesker's chest and arm, the small man didn't pull his face from the cop’s coat. He sighed hard and cried a little. Even with his aggressive side throwing a hissy fit and hitting him, it was still too nice and warm to stop just wanting to cling to James Gordon.

The man was nice to him. He was warm. He at least ACTED like he cared. Wesker hoped he really did. There was something in the old cops face that said this was not an act, and he wasn't here to just get information out of him. That meant a whole lot.

" P-please, Mr. Scarface, I.. I " Wesker's voice muffled against Gordon's shirt. " Just for a moment, please. " Just for a moment what? He wanted.. to just have a hug. When would the next time roll around that someone might just let him lean on them? Probably never. Even from this man. Who knows what might come out of Scarface's mouth that might cause the commissioner to turn stony and go away.

" ARRRRRRRRRRGH! " Scarface deflected from beating on Wesker to beating at his own head. The thunk thunk thunk of wood against wood rang out. When the dummy yelled, Wesker's chest rumbled softly. " That DOES IT! JERRY! SOMEGODY, ANYGODY! I WANT OUTTA HERE UNTIL THESE TWO STOP GEING QUEER! NOW! " ~


Gordon: Gordon rolled his eyes. Maybe deep in his psyche Wesker really didn't want him around. But it was worth it to see something of a smile. You didn't see people with that look get smiles very often.

"Didn't mean to start a fight, how about I leave you two alone," he said, and started to get up.


Wesker: And Wesker clung to him. Small fingers dug deeper into the fabric of the other man's lapel. " P.Please Don't leave! " Wesker's face became panic stricken for a moment. He didn't want Scarface to chase the other man away. Then it would be back to these four padded walls with no one but the puppet for company. And Wesker knew what Scarface would do.

The Dummy would drill him. Insult him. He'd gotten it for a week after the Hospital incident. His meaner half hadn't taken too kindly to how the escaped had failed; at how Wesker had turned on Scarface. Acting that way was down right not part of the deal here. But Wesker couldn't help it. It was like dropping a crumb in front of an emaciated child. A little bit of kindness and he was starving on it all the same.

" What? Shut the hell up Dummy! Yah You get the hell out of here, it's nap time. We're tired, you've over stayed yer welcome Copper. Dummy let the fuck up. " The wooden dummy began making shoeing motions at the cop. But Wesker only clung tighter with his free hand. " No P-please... P-please don't go. Please. I... "

" GO GO GO GO GO GO! " Scarface chanted. " No.. Please. " And then the little man gasped out quite loudly. " I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE WITH HIM! "

" Quiet it down in there. " There was a tap against the door and the rustle of paper. The guard outside grunted. " Or I'll get yah the happy jacket for BOTH of you. "



Gordon: Gordon listened to those desperate cries. Every desperate plea, every whimper, he wanted to help him so badly. "I can stay for a few minutes longer if you drop him. I don't think he'll let me stay if you don't."

If the dominant personality overtook Wesker again, he wouldn't let him stay, not again. He might not even let him talk to him again. Maybe if he stood up for himself for once. He took a deep breath, like a scuba diver would. "Just hang on to me, and for a moment relax your other one, alright?"

He put his fingers around Scarface's midsection. "Look at me, Arnold. I'm right here." He lowered his face toward him slowly, until his bristly mustache made contact with Wesker's upper lip.


Wesker: " I .. I d-don't.. I c-can't. " Wesker stuttered out. His cheeks had streaks on them again and every muscle in his arms was quivering from stress. He didn't want Gordon to leave. But he didn't want to drop Scarface either. No, He DID want to drop Scarface.

He wanted to THROW Scarface. But he just couldn't. Even when he throat suddenly locked up completely and he couldn't make the dummy talk anymore, he could still hear the puppets nasty remarks in his head. You'll never drop me dummy, Yer weak. Accept it. I'm in control. Yer MY dummy. Focus. The sudden closeness of Gordon's face to his jarred the Ventriloquist to the other man completely. Hot breath over skin, the bristle of whiskers against his upper lip. If I drop Mr. Scarface, I could hold on to him, really hold. If just for a moment. He wanted to. He wanted to. Oh he wanted to.

He stared hard, shivering to his damn core with the two personalities playing tug-a-war in his mind. Gordon's face looked very caring, lined with the stress over his years, but still the nicest, kindest face he'd ever seen.

" I.. " " DUMMY! Don't you dar.. "

And then his arm slipped out the back of the wooden puppet, Scarface's voice dying in mid sentence. The free arm trembled hard and froze in the air as if not sure which way to go, to Gordon or back to Scarface.


Gordon: Gordon's grip on the dummy tightened as he felt Wesker's loosen, and he pulled it toward him. "Just hang on, okay. Just keep looking at me." The feel of Wesker's breath against his mustache made his lip tickle. It reminded him of his wife, of not feeling alone and daunted. Maybe it was something that he needed, as much as Wesker needed the moment of freedom.

The wooden dummy's limbs clattered slightly as he put him under his coat tail behind him, then he took that hand and slipped the fingers between Wesker’s. It was hotter than he expected, though he should have known it would be considering where it had been.

He leaned his forehead against Wesker's, starting to breathe quickly.


Wesker: The small man drew in a painful, panicked breath as Gordon shifted Scarface out of his view. It was like someone pulling a limb off. He was that attached to the damn puppet. But there was also the other sensations swamping over him. The feel of cool air on his sweaty hand, Gordon's breath washing over his face, the connection of skin against skin on both their foreheads and the fingers.

Wesker's right hand was a lot rougher then his left. Calloused from years of working the delicate intricate switches and buttons inside the dummy. Almost immediately those fingers curled tightly, desperately into the other mans, And Wesker pressed a bit closer to the taller man. His other hand winding into the fabric it held. He never closed his eyes under his glasses, staring into James' own. How this man remained so calm, was a complete mystery.

Yet, even separated from his nastier side, he could still hear Scarface, in the back of his head, snarling, growling. Oh Wesker was gonna pay for this. The meek man bit down on his lip. His heart was racing, his ears were pounding. But in all his anxiety, he didn't want to let go of the commissioner to fumble for Scarface.

" I w-want .. I n-need some help. I w-want him g-gone. B-but he'll never let me go. " Wesker whispered out, as if he was afraid the Dummy would overhear.


Gordon: Gordon nodded. "I don't think anyone expected you to drop him just like that." Well, maybe Bullock or Batman, but he chose not to say that. "Everyone has a worse half." He used his arm around Wesker to encourage that hug, to hold him firmly against him.

He rubbed his thumb against the back of that calloused hand, feeling the harder texture from years of work on the puppet. "You miss him, don't you?" He inflected in his tone that he didn't mean the dummy. No, he meant someone else by that. Gordon didn't go into his meeting without researching people.

"It's okay, you can tell me about it," he actually pulled him into his lap, almost cradling him and clinging to that hand for dear life. "I want to help you, Arnold." Whiskered lips tickled under Wesker's nose again. "Please fella, let me help you."


Wesker: Indeed, Batman never had a very good way with giving therapy to patients. The Dark Knights example of 'helping' Wesker out had been to yank the Dummy off Wesker's hand and chug him , usually, into some sort of danger where if Wesker didn't move fast enough, there would be no Scarface anymore.

Wesker swallowed hard as Gordon said he wanted to help. He really wanted to help? He was curious about him, he even attempted to dig deeper into his psyche rather then just shoving him into a cell like the rest of the world.

Those whiskers were tickling on his lip again, causing the smaller man's to twitch lightly, but he didn't pull his face away. " I .. miss.. " There was only one person, other then his parents vague memory and Gordon's new friendship, that had ever been nice to him, and he was dead.

No, not just dead. Murdered. By Wesker, No by Scarface. Arnold Wesker suddenly gasped out a sob and his face slipped from the other's and buried into the front of the other man's shirt. He sank a bit, maybe he'd have gone to the floor if Gordon hadn't had a hold of him.

" I-I-I didn't want to do it! But Mr. Scarface, he made me! I wanted him to come with me, but Mr. Scarface.. Mr. Scarface, he said he'd turn on us. He said I'd b-be just another number the moment I turned my b-back. I didn't m-mean it. I'm so sorry! "


Gordon: Gordon didn't know what he was doing, he wasn't a licensed therapist. But he just wanted to help him somehow. Why he did, he couldn't tell. "You've never been just another number to me, Arnold..." he said in a comforting tone. "You're just as much a person as anybody else here."

He moved his hand to the back of the smaller man's head, through the scant feathery light thin hair to rest on his mostly bare scalp. He rested his face on the pale pinkish skin.

"You don't have to believe what he says. It's not because of him that you're still alive, it's because of you that he even exists."


Wesker: Not just another number to him? That could have been the nicest sweetest thing anyone had ever said to him. In turn it made Wesker feel wanted and utterly depressed at the same time. His right hand slipped from Gordon's own, hesitating in the arm for a moment before curling up and into the other's coat. It hitched it's way under Gordon's armpit and around to his back. His fingers clutching into the hot fabric under that heavy trench coat.

Wesker turned his face and pressed his nose to James' neck, breathing in deep as he just held on. " I.. I d-don't know. I Just know he'll always creep b-back. When you leave, When I'm alone, he's always there with me.. and I don't know if I can be without him. "

It was perhaps that Arnold Wesker, in his alone and tormented years, had created Scarface because of how Society had treated him. He would never be defenseless; the dummy could spit back and say 'fuck you' right to the world. Wesker needed someone to protect him, he wasn't brave enough to face a world that openly mocked him, beat him and threw him behind bars because they drove him into insanity. That's why Scarface was so needed.

But with arms looped around the taller man, where it was warm and sheltering, the Scarface personality had caved under for a moment, no longer needed because Wesker FELT safe.


Gordon: When he felt the hand slip into his coat, he almost got paranoid. That his hand was going to make it's way to the back of his coat, he thought it might have been going after the puppet. Until he heard the words. It meant that Wesker felt safe with him. It meant that Gordon was doing what he always wanted to do.

Even if he always couldn't make it work.

He cringed at the thought of his wife and daughter and an involuntary sniff escaped him. God, why can't I save more people, he thought to himself. He tried not to be jealous of Batman, but hearing Wesker say that reminded him he could do good enough job. At least helping one person at a time.

After the sniffing came a soft sigh, the small body he clutched oozed its warmth against him, pressed tightly. He hadn't felt that since his wife's loss. It had been a long time to bask in that sort of comfort. Odd though, it was an Arkham inmate in his lap.


Wesker: The cell was so damn quiet. Wesker could hear his own heart thumping in his ears, but at least at the moment it was so loud to him it utterly drowned out any attempts that Scarface made to cycle back in control. He could feel the brim of the puppets hat against his elbow, but he'd yet to make a move for the puppet. No.

For now Arnold Wesker was far too indulge in just staring at James Gordon's chin and mouth. Nose still pressed to the nap of the cop’s neck. Every fine line; every wrinkle from stress. The splay of gray on his upper lip that bristled and moved as he breathed. These were intricate details that tended to go unnoticed, until one was just there, staring. You notice. He caught the sniff though, and then the sigh. And he swallowed.

Again a moment of small panic, worried that Gordon was growing tired of his clinging. But he didn't want to let go. The small man shifted his legs and curled up slightly against the bigger man's side. Left hand slipping down the lapel and then disappearing under the coat to join its calloused mate on Gordon's back.

" T-thank you.. " Wesker whispered into Gordon's neck. " Thank you so much. "


Gordon: "You're welcome." He wanted to tell him that he was sick of being lonely. He wanted to tell him that it made him want to cry every time he went to his daughter's van and had to lift her out of it into her wheelchair, despite the strong confident look on her face when she rolled away. He wanted to tell him that he was nicer than half the force.

But he couldn't, because Scarface was there too. So Gordon just dropped his hand to Wesker's stomach and rubbed it. "It's not really fair, is it?"

Having someone in his head? Losing people? Being on opposite sides of the law? Having spent up a lot of their lives and not bothering to look back until the two of them were musing by chilling Fazolis. All of it wasn't fair.

"Thank you too."


Wesker: " N-no. " Wesker answered between breaths. It wasn't much like him to be overly philosophical. At least not when his dominant personality was pulling all the strings and he was just usually standing there. He never bothered to think when he guided Scarface's little hands on his little Tommy Gun, not even when he'd mowed down an entire rival Mob's muscle. It wasn't fair, that only later, at night, when one of personalities slept that Wesker could sob over what had happened.

It wasn't fair that Joker had stolen Gordon's wife and paralyzed his daughter. It wasn't fair this man had to try so hard and never help anyone. It wasn't fair for Gotham to lock Wesker up for years, allowing men that were monsters to create a new one. But it happened. And nothing would change the past.

But.. right here, right now. Everything was okay. Wesker didn't feel the walls closing on him. Just the warmth of the other man; hands on his belly rubbing idly. He just felt safe and he felt thankful.

Face was pulled from the other's neck and once again Wesker came barely a kisses breath away from the other's mouth. Eyes behind glasses spilling over, but for once, Wesker looked GENUINELY optimistic about something. He wasn't smiling, but he had a look in his misty eyes. Fingers clutched a bit tighter to the other man's shirt.

" I-I-I will try, I think if if..if.. you help me, Maybe I could get rid of Mr. Scarface. I'd like... " He paused to pant for a moment, panic settling, Scarface could be listening! But he had to tell James this. He had to. " to .. if you want to .. help me. Please. I'd try for you. No one's ever helped me b-before. "


Gordon: His hand, broad and warm from clutching, paused on Wesker's belly. He swallowed. "I'll help you. I want to help you."

It was so desperate, so needy, he just couldn't hold back anymore. He pressed his mouth against Wesker's, testing his lips. He could almost feel the fabric of his shirt tear at the tight hold that Arnold had on him. Under that fabric his heart had a thick steady thud, one that thunked against the other's fingers as it pushed heated blood through Gordon's body.


Wesker: It was with a rather surprised squeak that Wesker found the distance between their faces had diminished completely. Eyes widened under those thick, now tear smudged glasses. Gordon's whiskered mustache tickled hard against his own top lip and the bottom trembled into the contact. He's kissing you. He likes you? He's kissing you. How long has it been.. kissing you, Arnold..

The trembling from his lip escaped into the rest of his body, it jeered his fingers loose against the fabric he was near ripping. It made his heart sound even louder, mingle with the hard thud from the other man that was so close. Face flustered hot and red, a hard contrast to his pale pale skin.

He'd offered to help him, really help him. He was holding him, he was caring, and he was kissing him. Wesker's brain rather caved in on itself for a split second and Scarface's voice grumbled weak in the back of his brain. // He'll use you. \\

No! Don't tell me that! // You know it. \\ You're lying. // Push him away. I gon't use you. \\

Wesker whimpered loud and shoved Scarface back into his mind and pressed back into the kiss, mouth parted slightly.


Gordon: Gordon didn't know quite what he was doing, but he was well aware of a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach that was spreading through him and collecting in his face. Had Wesker opened his eyes, he would have been able to see a blurry image of soft white hair against flaring red skin. He parted his own lips and the breath he drew in before closing the last bit of open space between their mouths was vocalized deep in his throat. It surprised him, reflecting that need to be close to someone he'd been feeling.

He slid both his arms around Wesker, blissfully unaware of the battle raging in the other's mind but definitely aware of how gentle and soft he felt. His hands clutched at the yarn of his sweater, fingers gripping so tightly they threatened to slip through the weave. Then he felt a different heat, a tingle brought on by brushing contact between his tongue with Wesker's. It spread downward, and reminded him a lot of what it was like before he was alone.

Turning his head to change the angle of the kiss slightly jolted him back to reality as earpiece clattered against earpiece and he pulled back to get a look into Wesker's coke-bottle lenses with his bifocals. They're probably going to check on us because it's quiet so long in here, he worried.

"I wasn't overstepping my bounds, was I?" he asked, forgetting that he was still clinging to Wesker like he was his last chance of escape.


Wesker: Wesker himself hadn't really remembered what it was like to get kissed. He'd never had much contact personal with people. Donnegon had been pretty much it, He'd kissed Wesker, but certainly not like this. Gentle and soothing, and they whole contact of lips and tongue made the small man feel almost like he was in a drunken stupor, where neither of his personalities could get a solid grip on just what was going on .

Hands slipped from the other's back and slid down around back to the front of Gordon's coat, small fingers once again messing into the lapels just as the kiss ended and the taller man pulled away. Wesker was left breathless, mouth parted, lightly spit slathered. Eyes misty but glimmer with just a speck more life then he'd had before. That was.. that was.. nice? Yes it was nice. But it also made him very humble, if not embarrassed.

He finally let out a hard breath and curled himself comfortable against Gordon's side. Shifting his head back to the other man's chest so that he could hear his heart pounding away. Wesker felt warm all over, but he shivered for a moment like he was stark naked cold.

" It's.. it's okay. I .. I didn't mind. " He finally whispered, nuzzling his nose into the lapel. He wanted to say. I liked it. I like you. Thank you. You could do it again. But his brain still felt dead. " I'm g-glad you’re still here. "

Gordon: He sat there with him and caught his breath. He could remember when he was younger there were times that he'd go out with people, and remembered some kisses don't feel special. They're just wet lips against wet lips. But a real kiss was a kiss you could feel with your whole body, and this kiss felt special.

"I think I should get out of here soon. They're gonna be wondering what I'm doing in here so long." He became aware of his fingers and relaxed his hold. He lifted one of his now free hands, feeling the blood rush back into his fingers, and rested it on the back of Arnold's head as it pressed against his chest, which continued its fast thump against the side of Wesker's head with a warm, contented beat.

He never really had thought of Wesker as being remotely attractive until now. He'd merely thought of him as a mousy little man, a victim of his own mind and born into a life beyond his control. At the moment, though, he sort of wished that they weren't in a white washed cell with maximum security, and that they were in a cozy warm bed.

Then what would you do, James? Just hold him? Or more than that? The idea got another thick thud against Wesker's ear and Gordon cleared his throat.


Wesker: Sometimes the strangest places could brood the strangest romances. A chance meeting in a supermarket, that long line at the DMV, A traffic jam, and in this case, the four padded walls of an insane man's home away from home. Arkham Asylum.

But in this moment, with the other man's thunking heart in his ear, a strong hand cradling against his head, Wesker couldn't have cared if he'd been dangling over a pit of poisonous vipers. Here he felt safe. Here, at this very moment, he couldn't even feel Scarface's ironfisted grasp over him. All he felt was Gordon, and that was worth it all.

" I .. I understand. " Wesker nodded against Gordon's chest. He didn't want him to go. He was happier right now then he'd been in years, that was saying a lot, he knew as soon as the other man left, he'd probably curl into his bed and cry to sleep. That was if Scarface all-

" W-would you do me a favor when you leave? " Wesker suddenly rolled his face against the other's shirt and gazed up past his smudgy thick gasses at the other man. That face. He was still very handsome. Even stressed and age line in his long hours of working the good shift in this hellish city. One could only imagine how he'd been as a young man. Maybe He could get Gordon to show him a picture sometime.

" W-when you go, would you please give Mr. Scarface to the guard outside. I .. I he'll come back soon, but.. I'd like a little time alone. " It was a lot of stress to put on himself. He was sure that once he awoke again, and DID DESPERATELY need that dummy back, the guard would torment him with it. But he wanted to try, for James. He promised. " Please? "


Gordon: That big bushy mustache curled up with his smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "I'll do that," he confirmed softly, then rubbed the back of his head a little more. Slowly, with another deep sigh, started to let go of Wesker and push himself away from him. He was very reluctant. He reached behind him and clutched it through the fabric of his coat tail.

Silently he rolled him up in it, so Arnold wouldn't have to actually see him as he carried him out. While he did this he didn't look at Wesker himself. He didn't want to feel that pang that was building in his stomach that meant he'd have to walk out and be alone again. Yet, when he stood up, he finally turned and looked at him.

"Take care of yourself, alright?" he said, holding the swaddled dummy like an orphaned corpse in the crook of his arm. "It'll be out there with Jerry."


Wesker: He didn't want him to go. Oh no. But He had to let go. He squeezed his fingers briefly into the fabric and took one last deep breath against the other man and finally pulled away as James stood up and moved away. The smaller man lowered his head and looked at his cot as Gordon wrapped the host of his nasty personality. He concentrated so hard till he heard the other man addressing him again.

Face up and he looked back at Gordon. Staring at his smile and the look of his eyes behind his glasses. He doesn't want to go. Look at him. He'd stay in this little cell with you longer if he could. Yes indeed.

Wesker's face slowly returned the smile to the other man and he nodded his head. " o-okay. I will. I'll.. wait for you to call. G'bye Mr. G-- J-james. " The last of his sentence was rather muffled into his pillow as the small man curled himself sideways, facing the wall and buried his face into that flat little hospital pillow he had.

He took in hard breaths listening for the door shut, and whatever echoing's would fall and curled tighter into a ball. He knew very soon he'd feel very alone. But for now. He was okay.

Okay. And that was very rare.

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