Disclaimer: I don't own anything "Batman"-related, and I wouldn't be sharing Crane with the rest of you if I owned him! He's MY squishie! MINE, I say!

A/N: I know I probably shouldn't be starting a new fic yet, but I just couldn't resist. Bear with me, OK?

Chapter I

I gazed out my window at the crime-ridden city of Gotham. It was almost enough to make me miss Camden, the crime was so bad. But I was safer here, though I was beginning to rethink my hiding place. While it was unlikely that anyone would come looking for me in Arkham Asylum, it was a very unpleasant place. The only upside was him: Dr. Jonathan Crane, the handsome and surprisingly young scientist who had taken a keen interest in me. I was flattered in a way, though he still believed me insane. But I was not insane. I was afraid. I was hiding. I was desperate. Yes, that was the correct term: desperate. Anyone would have to be to hide out in an asylum, particularly this one. Still, I would rather be here than back there. I shivered to think of being recaptured and brought back there. I could never let that happen. I'd die first.

I gazed at my reflection in the two-way mirror that looked into my room. I liked and hated my looks at the same time. I looked a lot like my mother, possessing her sculpted, elfin features and full lips so red people always thought I was wearing lipstick. However, I had my father's porcelain skin, eyes as blue as the heart of a flame, and thick, soft, chocolate-brown hair, which I wore in a braid down to the small of my back. I liked the way I looked because I was reminded of my parents. I hated it because that put me at risk of being sexually assaulted or something like that. Still, it was unlikely that that would happen here. I was safely locked away from all the other crazies with no way of getting to them, or them getting to me. I'd be all right. But I was getting tired of this place. The food was enough to make me wish that They would find me. What, did people think that crazies didn't have tastebuds? Or didn't crazies deserve decent food? I wondered briefly if what we ate here was what the local high school students had refused to eat in their cafeterias, and laughed through my nose at the thought. While I truly believed it to be entirely possible, it was pretty unlikely. But I needed something to think about to pass the time before it passed on without me.

I sighed and pulled my legs up on the wide window ledge, hugging my knees to my chin. The window was like a big box set back deep into the wall, so there was enough room for me to sit there curled up. I could bend and twist my body in ways uncomfortable for most other people, though I wasn't a contortionist by far. I was just flexible. The sky was a lot clearer than usual, and I couldn't see any sign of bad weather coming. I hoped the sky would be clear that night so I could look at the stars. People constantly debate about the 'constants' in the world, but they're all wrong. Even death itself is no longer a constant because people live way longer than they should because of all the new technology and medicine available. No, the only constant in the world was the stars. They would always be there until either the sun exploded or that idiot Bush got us all killed in a nuclear war. Most likely, in my belief, was the latter, though Bush would call it "nuculer". It really frightened me how that homophobic clod couldn't even say 'nuclear'. It honestly did.

"Sirena?"

I smiled, not turning towards the door, when I heard my name. "Dr. Crane. You're late."

"Am I?" asked Crane, taking a seat in a swivel chair that I really didn't understand the purpose of being in my room. "Not by my watch."

"Your watch stopped fifteen minutes ago," I said. "It's one-ten by the village clock." I heard him give a small laugh behind me. Paul Revere's Ride. How many times had my father read it to me? I couldn't even remember now.

"Hmm, you're right," Crane said, jarring me out of my thoughts. "My watch has stopped. How did you know?"

"Call it a hunch," I replied, now turning to face him, my long legs dangling down the wall.

"Why don't you sit here and join me?" Crane asked.

"Because I'm comfortable here."

"Fair enough." The doctor wrote a few notes before saying, "So how are you feeling today?" I laughed mirthlessly.

"Oh please," I said. "The same as I do every day and you know it. Bored. Lonely. Plagued by horrific nightmares beyond imagining. And a little cold. Don't look at me like that. What do you expect me to say, 'Might I have some sugar to spread out for my flies'?"

"There's no need to get angry," said Crane, preparing to defend himself. I was the only patient who had never attacked him, but I suppose one can't be too careful when one works in a loony bin. "I'm just trying to help you."

"You lie in your throat and we both know it," I sighed. "You know that I don't need help. Not help like yours, leastways. And I could have gotten out of here a hundred times over, and I just might if the food gets any worse. I'm here because I want to be. I thought you had figured that out by now."

"No," said Crane, clearly fascinated by this "new development". "Why do you want to be here?"

"Because I'm safe here," I answered. "If I answer any further than that, you really will think I'm insane. But I'm not. I don't have Renfield's Syndrome; that was just a ploy to get committed. Think on it. Have you ever seen me ever try to ingest a life? Have I ever tried to take the life of another for my own? Do I drink blood, not counting when I got a paper cut on my finger and sucked on it to stop the bleeding?"

Crane thought for a moment before saying, "No. I suppose I haven't."

"And you didn't find that unusual for a patient who supposedly has Renfield's Syndrome?" I continued. I was pushing his buttons and he knew it, but he allowed it anyway, curious.

"I suppose I wasn't really paying attention," he said with a shrug. "I have a lot of patients to attend to in the day." I laughed, but didn't say anything.

"So you don't want to tell me why you're hiding here?"

"On the contrary; I do," I answered. "But then you'd really believe I have lost my reason, and you will quite likely be in danger for your life. Please don't ask me, and don't judge me. You know what they say: 'Never judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins'."

"Yes, I know the saying," said Crane with a nod. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I really did like the doctor, but I was bored that day and wanted to have some fun with him. He probably knew that, but didn't remark on it. Instead he commented, "So you said you were bored."

"Mm-hmm," I replied with a nod. "I spend my days either sitting here looking out the window or at that table playing Solitaire with forty-eight cards because Adam ate four of them." Adam was another patient, one with Magpie Syndrome. I had been out in the "recreation" area playing cards and Adam had come up, snatched up a bunch of my cards, and calmly eaten them. So now I lost to myself at Solitaire.

My god, I really was a loser.

"I could get you a new deck if you'd like," offered Crane. I was surprised by this unexpected show of care.

"I would like that," I said softly. "Thank you." Crane smiled and glanced at his watch, then remembered that it had stopped. "What time is it?"

I glanced out at the clock tower. "One-thirty-three, give or take a minute or two."

"Then I'm afraid I have to go," said Crane, putting away his notebook. "I just have one question. Off the record."

"Yes?" I asked.

"Your name. What does it mean? I've never seen 'Serena' spelled like that before."

I smiled darkly. "I suppose it's just another spelling. It probably means the same thing as 'Serena'. I've never bothered looking into it, really. Your name, however, is generally a Hebrew name meaning 'gift of God."

"Ah," was Crane's reply. "I had never really thought about it before. That's very interesting." I looked back out the window, not wanting to watch him leave me. "I'll see you tomorrow, or maybe later if I have enough time."

"I'd like that," I said quietly. "I really would." As there was nothing more for either of us to say, he left. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the shatterproof window. I was cold already, but I didn't care. I felt something bad was going to happen soon in Arkham, and I had to get out soon. But I wanted to see him again. Yes, I would wait until that night to leave. I could wait a little longer.