(Y/n) slowly got up from the sofa. Her eyes taking in every aspect of the room. The old brown chair. The display cabinet filled with what her father would describe as dust collectors. The awful wallpaper and equally awful, thin curtains. The pictures behind the TV and the small kitchen that was just beyond the little serving hatch. She was sure that she could see Arthur. Everywhere she looked he was there like a ghost that was said to haunt their old home. Sitting at the little table that only had two rickety chairs set at it. Walking through the archway. Looking out of the window onto the rain-soaked streets outside. The only thing missing, the bars against the panes.

As much as (Y/n) hated Arkham. As much as she hated the shocking white that filled the hospital, it was suddenly beginning to feel like less of a hell on earth than this place was. She was surprised that Arthur could bring himself to smile at all. That he could bring himself to create in such stifling surroundings. The attorney sure that being here could crush anyone's spirits. But that was perhaps what was what Penny had wanted. To crush her son's soul. To keep his self esteem so low that he wouldn't believe that he was worth more. That he could be more. That there could be someone out there that would want him. That he could have a life, a love beyond this. (Y/n) sighing heavily, as she looked out of the window over the small courtyard below.

Perhaps some would say that she was being cruel by thinking that about Penny Fleck. Afterall the woman had been ill herself. But no........none of that was an excuse for what she had put Arthur through. None of that was an excuse for allowing that man to beat Arthur as he had. No. Penny Fleck had been the warden of this prison. And Arthur had been serving a life sentence without possibility of parole.

She didn't care what Kennedy was doing, as she made her way through the small home. Stopping as she got to the bedroom. Imagining the old woman there, sitting on the bed surrounded by her flowered wallpaper. Holding court just like her father did in his office. The smell of Arthur suddenly seeming to surround her, as she made her way into the room. As she took a seat on the corner of the bed. (Y/n) getting the urge to move the thin linen so that she could see beneath the piece of furniture. The breath catching in her throat, as caught sight of a box. Dropping to her knees and reaching for it. Her heart beating quicker as she sat down and pulled it onto her lap. The box little more than something that you would get with a new pair of shoes. Yet (Y/n) knew that these things often hide the most interesting items. And as she pulled off the lid, she wasn't disappointed, for inside, was Arthur. Or at least pictures of a younger version of him. Tiny little trinkets nestled between the photos. The box seeming to suggest that maybe Penny had loved Arthur in her own way. A warped and twisted way. But...............(Y/n) suddenly getting to her feet and making her way out of the room.

"Mister Kennedy............."

"Yes..........?"

"I have just remembered that I have something else to do for this case. I would appreciate it, if you would lock up when you have finished and leave the keys at the office..........." (Y/n) explained, as she handed the confused investigator the keys and made her way to the door. Choosing to take the stairs instead of the coffin on wires again. Shielding the box as best she could, once she had left the building, as the usual Gotham weather returned. Getting to her car as quickly as she could and making her way back into the traffic.

                                                           >>---------------------------------<<

(Y/n) knew that she should have gone to the office. That there was a lot to work on, but she also knew that Rowan could start without her. That they had spoken the day before and he was well aware of what she wanted to do. So here she was, back at her own place, looking at the box that sat on her coffee table.

She couldn't help but smile as she pulled off the lid again and saw the pictures of young Arthur smiling up at her. (Y/n) reaching in and taking some of the photos out. He had been such a sweet looking little boy with a mischievous twinkle in those beautiful eyes of his. Full of hope and wonder. Yet as she looked at more, that twinkle, that spark seemed to disappear. As if something, or someone had switched off a light. The lawyer suddenly realising that these other pictures must have been after the abuse. When this and the bullying must have begun to take its toll. Her heart breaking as she looked at the difference between the images. As she saw the hope leave him.

Slowly she sat back. She hated to do this, but these little glimpses into Arthur's past could help. She could use them to show a jury the effects of what had happened to him. How it had begun to change him at a young age. That things had only gotten worse as he had got older. Gotten so bad that he had become little more than a shadow of a man that shuffled through the streets of the city. But she would do nothing unless he allowed it. (Y/n) not sure if he even knew of the pictures. And if he didn't, would he want to? But things had to be done, even if she had to upset him a little. She had to think about the bigger picture. And the bigger picture involved keeping him alive.

Suddenly the phone rang, (Y/n) sighing as she got up from the sofa, sure that it was Rowan calling to find out what had happened. Where she had gotten to. Yet as she picked up the receiver and answered, a voice came that she hadn't really expected. A single word leaving her lips.

"Arthur.....................?"