Author's Note: A rather bitchy yet admirable friend of mine said I should make Jonathan more of an arrogant snob. I tried. Though it still turned out with some degree of sarcastic humor, I think. This takes place not long after the end of TDK. For those of you who don't know, your Intelligence Quotient is your IQ. I'm not saying you guys couldn't have figured that out yourselves, I just thought I'd be nice and not make you search all over the Internet trying to find out what it means. Enjoy!

Jonathan Crane sat smugly in a hard wooden chair, supplying his testimony for patient possession on the witness stand in courtroom number 573 in the Gotham City Municipal Building. Confidence that he would get his way dripped from his tongue with every "official-sounding" word he spoke into the microphone.

"In my esteemed opinion, this. . .Joker character is in fact equally a danger to himself as he is to others, and the certainly. . .dedicated staff at the Blackgate Penitentiary may nevertheless be unable to provide the best care for his. . .rehabilitation."

Sitting quietly among the rather sizeable crowd spectating the trial, Bruce Wayne's brooding eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He had never trusted Crane's seemingly effortless ability to regain his position as director and head psychiatrist of the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, and the prospect of having the doctor and that particular clown holed up together in the nuthouse where they could plot and plan was certainly not Bruce's idea of a safer Gotham. . .

- - -

Following the conclusion of the trial, Crane, briefcase in hand, practically strutted like a peacock down the mostly deserted hallway outside the courtroom, a triumphant smirk twitching at his lips. He had won the case, naturally, and he was very much looking forward to his first interaction with the Clown Prince of Crime - what could a chaos-loving psychopath such as the Joker possibly fear? Oh, this was going to be quite the premier examination. . .

An annoyingly familiar voice that Jonathan should have immediately known from the man's frequent appearances on the Gotham News Network but could not place at the moment called out from somewhere behind him: "Dr. Crane!"

Jonathan glanced back over his shoulder and barely suppressed the rolling of his vivid blue eyes as he returned his high cheekbones to their accustomed frontward position, the tone of his reply revealing boredom and strong lack of interest. "Ah, Mr. Wayne." Whatever could that arrogant billionaire possibly want?

Whatever it was, the obnoxious Playboy Bunny had better hurry up - Jonathan had a peculiar new patient to torture.

Though the physician did not slow for him, Bruce fell in quick step beside Crane easily, wasting no time with proper civilities. "Do you really believe that a destructive individual such as the Joker does not belong in prison?"

Crane resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more. "Such redundant questions those with tremendously low Intelligence Quotients have - inquiries with terribly blatant answers, I might add. Tell me, Mr. Wayne - did you take a few, ahem, lessons from Miss Dawes before her. . .unfortunate accident?"

Bruce jerked to a halt, the mocking reminder of Rachel's death catching him in the gut - and making him furious. "Don't. Insult. Rachel." His voice brimmed with venom, and he had to struggle to prevent it from slipping oily down into the hoarse tones he employed when hidden under the dark cape and cowl of the Batman.

After a few further paces Jonathan noticed he no longer had strolling company and turned around, one thin dark brow raised, a sneer toying with his lips. "Oh my, I am terribly sorry - have I struck a nerve?"

Wayne brushed off the snide remark, countering with one of his own. "Do you `strike the nerves` of your patients before you drive them to complete insanity?"

The doctor's eyes flashed in indignation; Bruce wouldn't of been surprised if smoke had begun to purl from Jonathan's flared nostrils - Crane was positively livid.

How dare the man make such an accusation! Jonathan wasn't denying that it wasn't true (because it was), but he would not accept such a slap in the face. He marched up to Wayne - who had about six inches of height over him, which annoyed the physician immensely - leaned in close and hissed, "Even those who are Practically Perfect in Every Way should not meddle with concepts they cannot possibly begin to understand, Ms. Poppins" before stalking away haughtily, petite nose not quite stuck up in the air.

Bruce was left standing in the middle of the hallway with his mouth open.

THE END