Note: Well, I suppose I am finally getting around to my disclaimer and introductions. I am horrible, lol, and I do apologize.

Introduction: This is primarily a Romance between Dr. Crane and An unknown character during the time of Batman Begins. This story is not to be made as a love story, but to give Crane emotion, and more depth than I found in the movie. Between the interaction he has with his love interest, the storyline will try to follow original Batman Begins events, and new events, which were not in an original script, but of my own creation, will be added. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original batman characters found in this story. Nor do I own any of the original plots, objects, places, or things found in movie, comic book, etc. I do however own the Character Corrine Nichols, who is completely a figment of my imagination.

Rating: for sexuality, adult themes, drug references, and language (eventually) ):).

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She walked through the hallways quietly in a certain ease. The temporary occupants crowding her surroundings of Gotham's city courthouse passed beside her in either direction. Their intentions leading them in the direction of it's location, and in their thought of this topic, they did not see her, and she ignored them.

She was but one face in a scattered crowd of seven in any direction. One woman of no importance to their city or their government. Her background similar to any of theirs, she lived in simple ways, and was here only for similar reasons.

Dr. Jonathan Crane watched his patient nonchalantly as he sat within the court booth where his determination would be carried out. He was calm, and comfortable at the present with no distractions of significant importance, which was shown on his unaged face. The patient that sat before him was insignificant. Another man with a criminal background that held no interest for Dr. Crane. There was nothing intriguing about this man, who made his actions for reasons that were not a story of psychology that Crane had not met and analyzed so many times before. However, the sentence Dr. Crane was to place upon him would have suggested so, for the man was to be convicted of insanity, rendering him to become one of Dr. Crane's patients, Sending him to the Arkham Asylum rather than his sentence in prison.

Leaning forwards in his seat, Crane spoke into the microphone in a bland voice. Issuing that the man be put under professional psychological attendance. A simple movement that Crane had been issuing lately. Part of a certain plot involving human drug testing, particularly in hallucinogens that the author does not truly understand. Nor do the people of Gotham who would be interested in such a thing.

Collecting himself as the court time ended, Crane made an appearance of pleasantry. Acknowledging the few people in the large courtroom, designed of marble stone and dark benches that gleamed subtly in the midday sun, He excused himself from the area and made his way into the hallways of the building.

Jonathan Crane was very young for his level of profession. A psychologist majoring in phobias and human fears, he was assistant director of Gotham's Arkham Asylum. Dr. Crane was a pleasant young man, serious, and professional. But young, and arrogant. So would say the fat, black woman who was an asylum guard and who called him to see a patient having particular trouble. However Jonathan Crane was not the cool young man this fat guard saw, nor was he the psychologist that the business men or his colleagues saw.

He majored in human fear, and took his career as a psychologist because he was a brilliant sadist with certain ideals among his desires that such a career could give him. Brought to his mental position by his childhood, tortured to shame and depression. Causing him to look into himself, and into the minds of his torturers. And for what he saw, Crane grew to deeply respect the human mind, a thing he believed, was able to control the entire body when it has decided too. And for this he sought to control the mind, by fear, as his was once controlled.

Jonathan Crane was truly a violently dangerous and menacing man. Young man, should you wish.

So he lived a life where he found satisfaction in the fear of others, as he was made to be fearful of others in his childhood. He carried this emotion to certain levels of action. Levels that made him a certain monster, and presented him a certain alter ego. A being made not by him, but from him by the taunting of others. However, he gave a certain attraction that caused others to not see the potential of the malignant beast he was.

She did not. She saw nothing as he walked out of the court way door room ten feet in front of her. He was Dr. Crane. The psychologist whose first name she assumed she would never know, for she had no pretensions of calling upon him. Whether she would learn his name by question, or by seeing it on some desk or door name-plate. And as he stopped to allow her pass, she ignored him. Not from a certain dislike, but simply, because she did not truly see him. Though she did see the woman who followed him, which did not matter anyway.

Crane however did not take his gaze off of the passing woman as Rachel Dawes spoke in her arrogant voice behind him.

Crane had distaste from Ms. Dawes. For she matched his own arrogance, and this annoyed him. However, when he looked at her, he saw just a girl who was somehow an assistant District Attorney, and who constantly rivaled his decisions in the sentencing of his patients. This meant little to his actions and she would not affect him, but it also annoyed him. Rachel Dawes far too often overstepped her boundaries into the realm of his sadism, but Crane's intelligence and self control always guided her back out.

However, though Crane is an example of an almost inhumane malevolence, he had patience, and was charming, but exact. Three traits he purposed to her in dismissing her as he left her in the crowded hallways with a quick comment to both her, and her boss, the actual DA. And as he left her standing, his aura unchanged, he exited the building in the same calm nonchalance.

But he continued to think of the woman he watched as she passed before him blindly. He knew her; she was a patient one of his colleagues had treated. She had social problems and an eating disorder, but nothing that really required professional help other than her own discomfort. But the counselor was A certain psychologist that Crane had called upon for details of another client that would be transferred to him.

However, this psychologist had talked of one of his patients to Crane as they were dining and had finished the business of the other patient. The psychiatrist had bored Crane the entire night at the dinner conference. Particularly as he explained the client he had just finished working with before the dinner. A 23 year old who he had found particularly attractive, and wished to try and talk her off his mind, and the arousal he would find as he would think of her.

Crane found little interest in emotional attraction. Satisfying himself with unattached sessions of physical intercourse. He never had an actual emotional attachment to anyone. And he controlled his physicality with ease that very few men could.

But the description of profession and face matched her. She was a student practicing to be a psychologist majoring in dreams. Why see was seeing a counselor seemed strange to him as she was studying to have a similar career herself. But, the area she studied still required certain interaction with different types of minds, including criminal minds, which would explain her presence in a courthouse. And her body which a man would give his kingdom for matched the detailed explanation the psychologist described. Including how he imagined entwining his fingers through her natural brown hair usually tied into a knot or held by a band at the back of her thin neck. A neck richly darker than her upper body and pale stomach that was inside the light fabric of her loose low necked white shirt, hanging low next to the grey pants of similar silk material.

But as he watched her, Crane took in other things the psychologist did not describe, the rich make-up-less olive of her face, brightened instead by the sweetness of clean body oil. The dryness of delicate lips, something he briefly imagined softening with his own mouth. And the common simplicity of her eyes, but which expressed intelligence that others did not. The nipple that exposed the fact she wore no bra. And the softness of her shoulder. Her name was Nichols. But the psychologist had not told Crane her first. However, this did not matter for he had decided that he would meet her the moment he recognized her.

Reviewers will be given a chance to drive the actual batmobile

(takes place the second tueday of next week)