notes: jules bro . an absolute dummy ! love her stupid self so much . this chapter explores more of her core feelings since getting arrested, her fears, etc. as well as her original plan to escape being brought up before she was momentarily... distracted :)!
buckle in!
song of the chapter - first love / late spring - mitski
Jules thinks she's happy with this situation. You'd assume so, because why shouldn't she be? She got what she said she wanted. Technically, Jules got away. One could even argue she won, despite... You know. Forfeiting. A technical loss, but... Hey. No one was expecting that stunt.
Not even Jules expected it, and she's the one that did it.
She hadn't spoken to Crane in a week. Hadn't even spared him a glance. She thinks she's supposed to be satisfied by now.
On the surface level, she was. She had caught him by surprise, pulled the rug out from under him one last time before leaving him in the dust. Six months she's been at it, continuously dancing around the big problems — and now, here she was.
The exact same spot she was half a year ago. Powerless, directionless and incarcerated. Hurray. She fought any attempts to address her bigger issues — to fix herself and heal from her past — Tooth and nail, and she would continue to do so with Harleen. It only made sense, right?
Maybe avoiding her behavior and her trauma wouldn't be nearly as fun as it was with Jonathan, but Jules didn't want to examine any deeper levels or meanings, or heal herself, or make herself a "functional human being".
Not with Crane, Not with Quinzel. It wasn't happening. She would stubbornly dig her heels into the ground and refuse to grow as a person, permanently a dysfunctional and miserable person. She would continue to do so, even when she was wondering the streets a free woman again.
The only real change in her therapy was Harleen would be more likely to leave her alone after Jules put up boundaries. Harleen, also, wouldn't lure her into a false sense of security, only for it broken by an incredibly vivid sex dream.
Harleen Quinzel was perfectly nice. Good at her job, too. She asked the same hard hitting questions he did, without any of the infuriating bits. Doctor Quinzel was truly talented in psychology and an empathetic person... which was meant as high praise, even if it makes Jules roll her eyes.
It was the secure and logical move to transfer and stick with her for a while. It made sense, right? This was the right decision to make?
She was safe. Harleen was, too. Easier to navigate, easier to avoid tongue ties and harsh realities. Her medication stayed the same, unfortunately, because there were always a down side. Her mind and abilities wouldn't be getting un-fogged anytime soon, but it wasn't necessary at the moment. Things were fine. Completely and totally fine. She didn't need her anomalies at the moment, even if she missed their presence. She wasn't in a rush to get out anymore.
Jules was suddenly fine with the fact that an escape from Arkham would likely take months of plotting and waiting — because she didn't have to see him everyday. She didn't have to fall into that trap anymore. Jules didn't even have to look at him, it was exactly what she wanted.
Not to mention, she hadn't had a single sex dream since she transferred. No burlap masks, or sweet touches on a certain psychologist's desks. No adoring looks and unspoken words.
It was for the best. Just what she wanted. She should be glowing with satisfaction. Or at the very least, proud of herself for escaping a potentially volatile situation.
Deep down, she knew she wasn't proud. That was the problem. It was incredibly difficult, repeating the reasons why she should be celebrating this win over and over again in her head — but still felt for something she once thought she had. Was it mourning, she couldn't shake? Was she really mourning a fake friendship?
It was ridiculous. Jules knew very well she should at least internally gloat at the situation. She completely stumped him.
She even got to be with Ivy more. She was safe. Ivy wouldn't hurt her, she wouldn't treat her the way others had. They had each other to lean on now, an unspoken partnership based off of their similar experiences. Jules is certain that Ivy will be her ticket out of here, down the road when they were both prepared to take it all on.
Maybe they'll split a little hideout when they got out and have a CBS sitcom. That's certainly where they were headed, anyways. They'd be a perfectly good duo for a sitcom.
She is not only safe now — but this was a better, more probable start to get out of Arkham. She didn't have to outsmart or trick Crane, because that was a near impossible task. She got rid of him, completely escaping the need to outsmart him; she should be smug as could be. Jules did what she had to do to ensure her own safety and sanity. She should be fine.
A week went by since her transfer and Jules hadn't even made eye contact with him. She ought to be proud. She could feel him; Crane seemingly never strayed far and — very suspiciously — she felt someone watch her wherever she went. Clinical blue eyes followed her, burned into the back of her head.
Sometimes, she could feel a pull from him, silent and familiar asking for her to stay grounded. Pleading with her to stay close.
She couldn't explain it, but it was just a pull. A tug from both of them on another level — That she always ignored and he always indulged.
Jules never turned around and faced it. she couldn't do such a thing, even though she couldn't exactly place why. All she knew is that she had to pretend she didn't notice. She had to essentially pretend that he no longer existed.
She couldn't even ponder if he felt it too, if he got the twist in his ribcage and the flutters along her finger tips like she did. She couldn't ask. It was safe that way.
Jules couldn't kill Crane, she couldn't outsmart him, but she could pretend she had no idea who he was and continue from there.
It was entirely a core need to avoid whatever swirl of emotions Jonathan Crane brought to the surface. Facing any of it and self reflecting would be an unattainable thing to try — Anything more than a reluctant respect or pure anger towards him would only end in heartbreak, she was certain. She felt that way when first coming to terms with her stupid delusions, and she felt that way now.
He wasn't real. Not in the way she made him out to be. Crane wasn't a friend or someone she could rely on. She made it up. That she was confident in.
(That didn't stop her from missing it. Missing his huff of annoyance and roll of his eyes at her snarky remarks, or quiet snickers from her unimportant stories. It didn't stop her from missing being gifted his decently-made lunches and tracing his boring nonfiction books with the pad of her fingers. She missed what she made up, because she's sure it didn't happen the way she remembered.)
She had to cut it off — cut him off — before it became something she could no longer control. what she pretended they had; whether it was a mutual respect, or a beginning of something uncharted and unsafe — had to be snuffed out. She did what she had to do.
She repeated that to herself quite often, like a half hearted mantra. She did what she had to do. Jules assured her own mind that this was the logical step back; hurt pride over throwing in the towel and a yearning for Crane's friendship be damned.
So... she ignored the eerie blue gaze. The glances from down the hall, across the patient cafeteria, from the other side of the rec room... Each look her way has the hair on the back of her neck standing straight up, and the tips of her fingers tingling.
A caveman response, she told herself. That's all. The body knows when it's being watched. Every time she felt it, Jules reminded herself that what she missed wasn't real. The pull and the sensations were just made up, trying to get her to hesitate. Her own mind playing tricks. She did what needed to be done.
Ivy, funnily enough, didn't share her cynical look on her situation.
"Maybe this is a way out," Ivy suggested during their lunch one day. the two were practically huddled in the corner on their sofa, whispering to one another and sharing a plate of tater tots. The confession of her own blurry feelings fell onto sympathetic ears.
Once she said it all out loud, it was quite embarrassing. How could a person delude themselves into thinking their strange, annoyingly attractive therapist was a friend? She expected Ivy to laugh, or at the very least tease her for her own misinterpretation of the situation. Instead, she seemed enthusiastic about it.
"Charm his pants off, play him like PlayStation, and get the hell out." Ivy wasn't entirely joking, but Jules smiled like it was one. Her friend knew how to play into men's stupidity — Jules wanted to avoid it at all costs. Needed to, honestly, for her own sanity.
"But that's just the thing. Can't seduce a computer. Doubt he cares about anyone other than himself." Despite the grin playing on her lips, the words dug into her and left Jules feeling sick to her stomach. How could she delude herself into thinking he was someone safe? How could she ever be so stupid? She had to be fully losing it. Arkham was just driving her further down a bad path. Maybe she should rush to get out of there.
"You didn't see him gawking at you. There were hearts floating above his animatronic head, I'm telling you."
"No. I didn't see. But you don't know him like I do. Spent nearly every day for half a year talking to him. He doesn't want me, and he doesn't care about me, he's exactly what I think he is. So... we're splitting a therapist from now on."
Jules concluded the debate by popping a tater tot into her mouth.
She was just confused, and clinging to affection that wasn't actually there. That's what a therapist would say, right? Jules imagined Harleen would say the same thing, if she were to confess something like that to her.
Which she had absolutely no plans to do.
Harleen was neat and all, but they weren't close by any means. She was marginally more trustworthy than Crane, but she was still technically the enemy.
Apart of an incredibly corrupt and borderline oppressive healthcare system, but that was a little too anarchist for the internal dialogue. If she were to really get into it, Jules would become too fired up to sit still. Better to just leave it at "Harleen still approved the drugs that's currently limiting my full potential" and move on.
"Jesus, girlfriend, you're really gone. Earth to Jules Lovecraft, you're in therapy."
Speak of the glittery, overly eccentric devil. Right. Therapy. She was in therapy.
Jules blinked, glancing to her new doctor in her unfamiliar office. It was the first time she was alone with Quinzel, the last week of appointments being accompanied by Ivy. Those sessions often turned into sleepover-esk chats, where conversations felt into celebrity and socialite gossip, and mindless story-swapping about parties they went to (all of Jules' being, of course, pre-mental break...). It was completely mind-numbing, and words could not express how much Jules needed it.
Normal. They might as well have cracked open a wine bottle or something, because it was hardly therapy.
Now, the room and Quinzel seemed so daunting without Ivy's familiar presence keeping her grounded. Jules felt like she could've floated up to the ceiling and stayed there until icy cold eyes dragged her back down to earth.
She had to remind herself she did it for a reason.
Her office was brighter. In several different ways. Jon decorated in the minimalistic style, keeping everything matching and earth-toned, with dark woods and greys being predominant. He had an entire wall of books, and very classic paintings on the wall. Old portraits, works of art made by century-old painters.
This was -- completely foreign. There were lots of pink. Also, Harleen had stuffed animals, which was actually really cool. At least five along the different surfaces around the room. She had fairy lights and countless other things going on all at once.
Jules honestly had no clue what happened to her old possessions; she assumed Selina either kept them or packed them up, but she really hoped her old roommate at least kept her stuffed rabbit. Spindles was a good rabbit.
"Sorry. Spaced out." Lovecraft cleared her throat, finally focusing on her new therapist. It was hard to keep up with Harleen's energy; the lady just seemed so... awake. All the time. How did she do that? Did she do coke?
No, Jules would know. Harleen wouldn't be able to stay in her chair if she had some of the nose candy, and her pupils looked way too normal.
"It's fine, happens to the best of us. Did you not sleep well?"
With Ivy keeping her grounded, the past week distracted her from how overstimulating Quinzel's office really was. Now, it all smacked her in the face at once and it was difficult to focus. All she could really think about was the fucking bookshelf, and how Quinzel had books other than scientific dissertations and entire novels about the human brain and it's specific little functions.
It was a difficult pill to swallow, because now all she wanted to do was find the nonfiction books with the funky old diagrams and trace them out with her finger until things made sense again. She can't do that, because these are all the wrong books.
It was a little hard to breathe, and her side stung again. Made up, made up, made up... You can't mourn something that you deluded yourself into thinking!
"I was thinking we could talk about something chill, before we talk about anything too personal. If you don't want to talk about sleep, that's okay. What's your favorite food?"
"Um..." Jules shifted in her spot, awkwardly rubbing one arm with her hand while she tried to sort out her own thoughts. Above all, she was just so disappointed in herself for not being proud. She should be feeling like a damn genius right about now, but all she wanted to do was go back to Crane's stupid office.
"It's stupid, but I loved breakfast foods. Before. Like French Toast. Waffles. Pancakes, Crepes. Everything except eggs. Also I ate turkey bacon because I think eating pigs is practically cannibalism." She wasn't particularly interested in elaborating on what "before" meant exactly, but luckily this was their first meeting. First meetings aren't supposed to be complicated, after all.
"Interesting philosophy, I agree with you. Pigs are pretty close to people. I don't eat beef for that reason, ya'know, I went to a dairy farm once and bawled my eyes out the entire time."
Jules offered a half-hearted smile, glancing down at her hands. She was fidgeting a lot more than normal, but she blamed that on the shock of being in Quinzel's environment properly for the first time. She tugged at the ends of her hospital sleeves, messing with the hem for no reason at all.
This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go, but she couldn't stop thinking about the little things that just felt wrong. Crane's office smelled like apple cinnamon and Crane's cologne. Crane's office reminded her of autumn and pumpkins. Harleen's wasn't bad, at all -- but it wasn't the same.
It was cashmere vanilla. That's what it was. A bit like sugar cookies. It was nice, but it wasn't apple cinnamon and expensive cologne.
God, she was such an idiot. Just a meeting or two, and this feeling would go away. She was certain of it. Jules just got used to something, and the change was startling. That's all. She just needed to get better at adjusting to change.
"Hey, you wanna blow this joint instead? You look a little out of it. It's fine, first days are rough one-on-one. We can go for a walk, if you want, we can go out in the courtyard. Have lunch out there." Her new doctor leaned in a little bit, typically eager in her efforts to make Jules feel more comfortable.
Harleen was nice. She really, really was. No ulterior motives or anything. It was a bit jarring to see someone want to be a good person for the sake of it, and that's probably why Jules assumed she snorted cocaine regularly.
Jules let herself smile; small, and hesitant, before deciding that she would force herself to get over apple cinnamon and enjoy this. This was for the best, after all. This was safer and more logical in every way. Jules did what she had to do.
"Yeah. Okay. Courtyard."
notes : in conclusion, jules tries very hard to convince herself she's happier this way, but she really misses dr scarecrow :( anyways so happy to see her vulnerable even if its 98% denial