It had only been a matter of time before she had been given her own cell at Arkham. But it wasn't for the reasons anyone had thought it would be. Anyone being her co-workers at the asylum.
She had worked down in the records room for a few years now. 3 to e exact. She had began a year before Crane had been imprisoned. She had been quite, keeping mostly to herself. Only leaving the dusty old room in the basement to deliver a file to Crane when he asked for them, occasionally fill in for his secretary, assist with a difficult patient or visit the other inmates. That's what had set her apart the most from her co-workers. Not her quiet ways, or how she turned down their offers of companionship, especially the guards, or even her strange waist length silver hair and eyes. It was that when she DID prefer company it would be that of the patients and inmates. Especially the more volatile and dangerous ones. And they responded to her! She could get the most stubborn to take their medication without a fuss, stop the most dangerous fights, even soothe the most violent temper or terrified whimper with just a small smile, a few calm words or a gentle touch.
The fact that she preferred their company to others unnerved her co-workers. Even more then the strange aura she gave off or the constant hauntingly sad look about her. But they took advantage of it none the less. Often calling her when a difficult one arrived and they needed them to co-operate or when someone like Thomas Schiff had a breakdown.
Thomas especially was one of her favorites. Often times she would have him brought down to the records room with her while she worked. And he was content to sit on the cot she kept against one wall and watch her work, or sleep since he felt safe. On particularly bad nights she would sit in his cell and rock him gently, playing with his hair and singing softly, even staying till he work the next morning.
She even had a strange sort of friendship with Dr. Jonathan Crane. He was the only male staff she would tolerate and one of the few she spoke with, even if briefly. Ad he was certainly the only one willing to go down to the records room for something. The others preferring to stay as far away from her as possible. Using the intercom to request files. He found her interesting. Clearly highly intelligent, if not a bit anti-social. But she wasn't afraid of him. Or the guards. Whom she had stood up to on several occasions over their rough treatment of the patient. She had even slapped him once for trying to justify his experimenting on Schiff. It had been the first time she had shown true anger and had stated that she didn't care about his experiments OR the fact that they were clearly illegal nut a few of the patients were off limits and Thomas Schiff was one of them. He had surprisingly conceded. Allowing her her few chosen, deciding it would be more interesting to watch her instead. Though a part of him has SERIOUSLY considered making her his next victim. But what caught his interest most was her occasional slip up where she called him professor. A fact about his past he thought he had hidden well.
What had surprised him had been the day she had confronted him about his experiments and working with Ra's. Pleading with him to stop and trying to persuade him to believe that he was being used, even going so far as to grab his arm, truly concerned. When he had refused and demanded she tell him how she knew about that she sighed, defeated and moved away sadly, stating that for his sake, she hoped he was right.
Later, during the ensuing chaos, after the Narrows had been exposed to his toxin and was tearing itself apart, she had come to his aid. She had a damp cloth over her mouth to protect her from the poisonous air and had found him, barely conscious from the tazer, still on the back of the police horse. Discarding the clothe, despite the risks, she had pulled him from the large creature, and with one arm under his shoulders, practically dragged him to an old sewer line that had long since been forgotten. After removing his mask she had examined the burns he had received as well as the bump from his encounter with Batman and pressed one of her torn sleeves to his face, damp from the water she carried in her ever present back pack. Once he had come around he was immediately suspicious and alert, if not totally amazed.
He could see from the shift of her eyes that she was feeling the effects of the toxin. But she wasn't reacting like the others. In fact she was quite calm. As she led him through the seemingly endless passages that connected the Narrows to Gotham's main tunnels he commented about it and she revealed that yes, she felt the effect. But just barely. And that it mostly made her head hurt. Almost as an after thought she stated that she was in fact, immune to most poisons and that the ones she wasn't merely gave her a bad headache. She also revealed that after his arrest she had left early and gone to his apartment. Taking anything she thought he might want or need before the cops arrived to toss the place and that a friend had taken it to her place or safe keeping. He really didn't like this, but was later very great full. After they parted it had been several months before she saw him again. He had shown up in the middle of the night, very distrustful and worn and she hand quietly led him to a room full of boxes that looked as if they hadn't been touched in a while. To his surprise and delight, he found she had gathered a great many useful things. Including all his research and some favorite books and personal possessions. She left him alone, returning only long enough to deliver a trey of food later and state he was welcome to stay the night and that she would continue to hold his things for him if he wanted. He had agreed, leaving most the stuff there.
At first he thought she had done all this out of fear. Afraid he would come back and do something. When he was captured and returned to Arkham he expected her to act like the others and treat him like trash. But she once again surprised him when she continued to treat him with the same respect and kindness as before, though now she used his first name instead of calling him Sir or Dr. Crane. She had even brought in some of his books. Though it took a bit more convincing then usual considering who he was now. She still never spoke much, except on the rare occasion that she got him talking about psychology. A subject she was, curiously enough, well informed on. To the point of it being a possible profession. Not that she ever tried to use it on him. When he pointed this out she merely shrugged, saying she was content with her job. As time went on he began to feel more and more relaxed around her, though never entirely. It bothered him that she felt so familiar. That se seemed to know him. Like there was something he was missing. Some crucial detail or memory that just slipped past him.
He had continued to think about it as he began to approach his first year mark for being there. It hadn't been as intolerable as he'd thought it would. Not with the young woman visiting him several times a week Honestly, he saw her more then anyone else. She'd bring him books he'd requested from the library, or share her lunch with him when they "forgot" to feed him, which was quite often. And by share, it meant she would let him eat his fill, often all of it, feigning a big breakfast, which he knew was a lie. But he never complained. She'd even bring his favorites some times.
And whenever he was injured by the other inmates of the guards she would be the one to tend to him as the nurses really didn't care. She had even gone so far as to have him brought to stay in the records room when he got the flu. Staying to tend him the entire time and just chuckling softly with a faint smile when he got particularly snarly, and even a bit physical.
Even his other side, the Scarecrow seemed to tolerate her. As much as he could. The would even start up a playful banter, though she was much more guarded when it was Scarecrow she was facing. And not seemingly out of fear or self-preservation either. But he had actually managed to hurt himself a few times, and thus Jonathan. A fact she clearly didn't like. Despite the doctors insistence that Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow were the same person, she recognized the split personality. They may have been the same once, but they were two different people now. Though she never said how she knew this when questioned by the doctors, them wanting to know how she could possibly know that when she had no degree and was merely a record keeper. And lecturing her that just because she worked there did not make her an expert.
A cold glare and a sharp comment from her usually had them recoiling in shock, the tight fist a her side reminding them that she was highly skilled in martial arts and had sent a big guard to the hospital after he had attacked Crane while he was drugged. The entire staff had kept their distance from her for weeks after that. ESPECIALLY the guards. They learned to give Crane and any others she seemed fond of a large berth as well.
That had all changed now though. The guards had gone back to their sadistic ways, and she was no longer able to bring him books or decent food. Though she still brought him what she could. It was just the same thing she got. Terrible food from a terrible place. She had her own cell now. A few down from his in face, on the opposite side. He could just see her door from the small window in his.
Surprisingly her cell used to be two. It was converted just for her, part of the second becoming a small bathroom and closet. But again, she wasn't there for the reasons people thought she would . She was different and people were scared of her for it. Always assuming the worst. Crane found it funny. It was clear to him she was actually quite harmless, preferring not to hurt others unless absolutely necessary. He also knew how much their whispers and looks hurt her. Even when she pretended it didn't or that she hadn't even noticed. But no. She was there because she was grounded of all things.
Apparently one of her guardians was tired of her disobedience, shed gotten into another fight a the college she attended. But also she was there for protection. Arkham being one of the most secure placed in all of Gotham. Supposedly she was in some sort danger, and Batman, being one of her guardians, decided this was the best place for her. She had NOT been pleased. She was not allowed to leave the building and did all her lessons there. It was starting to irritate her. She HATED being caged like this, unable to even sit on the roof or have a window. But there was little she could do so she endured.
A soft knock at his cell door caused Jonathan Crane to look up from his book briefly. "She's back." Scarecrow whispered in his mind softly, faintly amused. He merely nodded. "Come in Raea."
Pushing the heavy metal door open, the barely 5'6" girl slipped in. She stood beside the bed, a thick blanket around her shoulders as she waited patiently for him to look up.
Finishing the paragraph Crane carefully marked his place and set the book aside, lowering his feet over the edge of the small cot they called a bed so she could sit. "Finished work already I see."
She nodded. "Yes. I keep myself pretty up to date down in records. So there isn't much to do. I brought you something."
"Hope its food." Scarecrow whispered to him. "I'm tired of listening to your damn stomach."
Crane noticed the slight flinch indicating that Raea had heard him, having recently found out about her telepathy. Something that delighted Scarecrow, who seemed to enjoy being able to speak WITHOUT taking over. Something that had always left Jonathan drained. Crane waited patiently and couldn't help but smile when a box moved into view from within the blanket. Her friends had sent her a care package. Something always packed with books and food. She always shared with him. This was his half. Taking it he watched as she removed the blanket and handed it to him. "I got this for you as well. Asked my friend to pick it up from my place...you mentioned its been getting cold."
He nodded and took it gratefully, no longer surprised by her kindness. "Thanks." He hadn't been kidding. In the middle of winter Arkham was always cold. And him being so thin left him more susceptible to it. A shrug was his only response from her. "Any news on when your getting out?" He asked as he took out some dried fruit.
A soft snort and a scowl was his response this time. "Probably about as soon as you if my guardians have any say about it." Scowl deepening she stress the word "guardians."
He nodded, understanding at least half her dislike for them and watched as she deftly took the piece of apple he was about to eat and took a bite herself, a playful look crossing her features as she smiled.
He just chuckled, used to her games and grabbed it back just as easily. "That's mine thank you very much." He ignored the Scarecrows snort at their behavior.
She shrugged, feigning innocence. "Not my fault your slow boyo." She said, taking another piece.
Boyo. One of the few things he let her call him other then his name. " How exactly DID you end up with both Bruce Wayne and the Batman as your guardians?" He knew it was a touchy subject. She hated both of them and the forced guardianship. He couldn't blame her.
Sure enough, her posture stiffened as she lost that relaxed air as she glared at the wall. She didn't answer him at first and he wasn't sure she would. Which was fine. He knew better then to push the subject. Finally, she spoke.
"When I first came to Gotham, I tried to keep a low profile. I'd heard it was a great place to get lost. Perfect to hide in." Her expression briefly turned from one of anger to pain before changing o mild irritation. " But someone with – someone like me cant hide forever. Everyone decided that if I wasn't already dangerous, that I would become that way." Again the pained look returned, along with tiredness. "The courts decided I needed a guardian. Someone to keep me in line. Bruce Wayne offered." She rolled her eyes. "Like I'm some sort of charity case. Bats showed up and said I needed discipline and guidance some time later and viola." She finished with a yawn. "And I still have them Doesn't matter I'm 26, a straight A student and been doing just fine. They think I'm dangerous."
"And with good reason." Jonathan thought to himself. A few months earlier, at the start of her stay she ad been very nervous and on edge, which also made her irritable and her temper flare. She had later confided that hospitals and such made her very uncomfortable. She hated them. Some of the things she said made him think she had been held against her will a some point and used as a test subject in something. Which would explain her clear dislike of him using some of the patients as his own test subjects.
One day, down in the so called rec room, one of the inmates started hitting on her. Ignoring her clear dislike of him. Then he began bragging about how he could have her if he wanted and talking about woman an children he had raped and harmed, at if it would scare her. He laughed at her blatant disgust at him and rubbed himself against her rear. Jonathan had been making his way over to intervene and even scarecrow was getting irritated since, in his mind, only He got to piss her off. Finding it funny. But they stopped short when she stiffened, the look in her eyes speaking volumes about past abuse while her face remained blank. That wasn't what had stopped him though. It had been the change in the air. It had gotten colder and radiated danger and he unconsciously stepped back, watching in fascination at the scene before him.
Then the inmate pulled out a photo and showed it to her, saying they were his next victims. It was the last mistake he would ever make. Glancing at the picture she went into a fit of rage, showing EXACTLY why people thought she was dangerous. Her eyes became red, her pupils mere slits as she threw him across the room as if he were a toy shouting, "NO! You will NOT touch them!" Inmates scattered and dove for cover as she advanced on the shaken man. Holding out her hand, palm towards him, the man was lifted into the air by unseen ands. He began to scream as the same unseen force began to tare him about, splattering the walls with looked like nothing more then red mush.
Her breathing labored, she sank to her knees as her hair resumed its silver color. The guards rushed in, unable to believe what just happened. Guard an inmate alike stared in a mix of awe, shock and fear, depending on who it was, at the now frail looking girl who's body was shaking from soft, tearless sobs on the floor, drenched in the blood of the man she had just killed. She flinched away as the guards approached her and raised her eyes briefly, spotting Jonathan who looked shocked and amused at the display of power she tried to keep hidden. She had quickly lowered her shame filled eyes and muttered a soft apology before passing out from exhaustion. It was later discovered that the foolish inmate had unknowingly shown her a photograph of a friend of hers and her son. Raea's godson. After finding out about her abusive husband Rae had sworn to protect them. And this had pushed her too far. She stayed in the hospital wing for another week before waking up.
Still, none of the inmates and even some of the guards refused to think she was dangerous. They knew she would never hurt someone unless it had to be done. Even then she hated it. Those of a more sadistic nature though were sure to keep their distance from then on.
As it turned out, Jim Gordon was able to find get the judge to see it for what it was. Self defense, so no charges were filled. Jonathan had secretly been glad about that. This was NOT he kind of girl that should be caged. She'd told him of her home. She basically grew up outside. A true wild child. Caging her made her very unhappy and restless. At least they left her cell unlocked so she could wander about the asylum. What she missed most was the stars and fresh night air.
He watched her as she nibbled an apple slice, turning it around and around as it got smaller and smaller. After a while she said good night and returned to her own cell for the night. Leaving him to his thoughts as the lights went out.