Dr. Jonathan Crane sat in his office, staring at the wall. If there had been a window, he would have looked out of it, but as there wasn't one, he simply turned his icy blue gaze on the white wall. He ran a hand through his thick, dark, longish hair and sighed. Suddenly the phone in his office rang loudly. Jonathan jumped as the obnoxious sound shattered the silence. He automatically reached for the sleek black phone, but his hand stopped before he picked it up. After a minute of deliberation, Jonathan sat back and decided to let the answering machine take care of it. He heard a soft click from the next room and heard the caller's voice.

"Jon, pick up the phone; I know you're there," said a smooth female voice that he did not recognize at first. Before Jonathan could realize who the voice belonged to, there was a louder click and the woman hung up. He shrugged off the feeling that the voice was too familiar to remain anonymous. Jonathan leaned back in his desk chair, closing his eyes behind his silver-rimmed glasses. It had been a long day; he'd had to drive to the courthouse three times today. Why, he wondered, did Falcone's thugs insist on getting caught so much?

And then there was that actually psycho girl with the dark hair and milk-white skin, one of his officially hopeless cases. Who would think that a 16-year-old could be so insane? And worse, she was completely obsessed with him. Sometimes he almost thought that she pretended to be crazy just to be in Arkham... Jonathan pushed the thought from his head; that was ridiculous. Absorbed in his train of thought, Jonathan had not noticed a slender shadow slip noiselessly into the room. Suddenly there was a flash, and he felt a cold blade at his throat.

Jonathan's long, thin frame stiffened; he tried to catch a glimpse of his attacker out of his peripheral vision as he reached for the case of hallucinogenic powder at his wrist. However, before he could reach it, slim fingers with long black nails seized his wrist in a vise-like grip. "Don't move," muttered a low female voice behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan saw a swish of black hair. He breathed deeply and inhaled a scent that reminded him of long-gone memories. It was a vanilla perfume, and he knew only one person who wore that.

Suddenly the woman behind him laughed, drew her blade from his throat, and swung around to face him. He sighed with relief at the sight of her glossy black curls, mischievous jade-green eyes, and ivory skin. "Raven," Jonathan greeted her, relaxing at last. Raven lowered her slender, willowy form gracefully into the chair across from Jonathan and smiled. "Long time no see, brother dearest."

Raven Crane looked around Jonathan's office critically. It was...well...bare. She smoothed her glitter-dusted black skirt suit and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You never were much for decoration," she commented. Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Well," he replied, "there's not much time for stupid little things like that when all my time is filled with..." he trailed off, hesitating.

"Filled with what?" Raven prodded. "Filled with... appointments," he finished rather lamely.

"It's okay to tell me about your little drug, I already know about it anyway. And I know you're working for Ra's Al Ghul. Don't worry," Raven added quickly, seeing his sudden flash of panic, "I won't turn you in or try to stop you; to the contrary. I'm here to help you." Now it was Jonathan who raised an eyebrow.

"And how do you propose to do that?" he asked skeptically. Raven smiled and reached down to her ankle, from where she produced a dagger. But this was no ordinary dagger. It was made of hollow diamond, and about the size of a ruler. Jonathan shrugged. "So...?" he asked. Raven sighed. "So, you give me some of your liquid drug, I fill my daggers with it, I kill whoever you need dead. While you were getting your PhD, I decided to train to become an assassin."

So that was what she had been doing all those years, Jonathan thought.

"This way," Raven continued, "you won't have to use Falcone to get your poison, nor will you need his thugs to take people out."

Jonathan considered for a moment, and then nodded tentatively. "Sure…why don't we try it and see how it works out?" he agreed. Raven smiled.

"Good…well then," she said. "Is there anyone bothering you now?" Jonathan rose from his chair and walked over to the far wall.

"Actually, yes. Your timing is perfect," he said, turning to face her. "Rachel Dawes, remember her? She's the assistant DA now. I think she knows a little too much about what's going on." Raven quickly comprehended the situation and stood up. "Best be off, if I'm to get this done as soon as possible," she said, and prepared to leave. Jonathan intercepted her at the door, grasped her arm, and looked her in the eyes.

"I hope I can trust you," he threatened softly. "Otherwise, something might just happen to you…something I'm sure you would rather avoid." The smile faded from Raven's face to be replaced by a look of solemnity.

"I see we still must earn each other's trust," she murmured, "but one can never be too cautious. You may trust me with this. After all," she said with a smirk, "it is my job."