Arkham Madder

A Rose for Crane

I've been itching to write something like this for awhile. It's a Batman Begins crossover with the Stephen King novel, Rose Madder.

For those of you who don't know, the book is about a battered woman's redemption & sweet revenge against her truly demented, abusive husband. I won't say anything else here to spoil it if you'd like to read it. However, this story contains plots and excerpts from the novel integrated with my own plotline. I'll not say exactly what is from the book, but this contains various spoilers scattered throughout. If you haven't read it you won't know what they are.

For those of you who are familiar with the novel: there will be Norman; lots of sordid Norman & equal amounts of sordid Crane.

Crane vs. Norman? If so, who will win?

Warning: Obviously this contains violence (though I won't be too graphic—I want to keep this rated 'T') and mentions of abuse.

Disclaimer: Must I say that I own nothing of Batman Begins or any S.K. novel?

Chestnut brown hair fell over lowered eyes as the still figure sat before him on the plastic chair. Her slight form was rigid beneath the pale blue, Arkham- issued apparel. Her lips were slightly parted and her bruised hands were clasped gently on the table in front of her. Her left wrist was wrapped in stark white bandages which had been carefully secured with surgical tape.

Dr. Jonathan Crane's imperturbable azure eyes regarded her impassively from behind square- framed glasses. He glanced at her wrist and then back up at her despondent face.

"Rose?" His voice was patient and serene. It was imperative for her to feel comfortable with the people around her. She needed to feel safe or she wouldn't respond. Crane knew this much from the little that had been in her file.

She had been admitted yesterday evening. She had come to Gotham by train and was found collapsed in the ladies' restroom. She had come to the asylum straight from Gotham County General Hospital. She had no identification and no family in Gotham. She didn't remember from where she came. All she knew was her first name. The list of injuries submitted by the doctors indicated to Crane that she was severely traumatized. He would need to take his time with her.

"Rose?" he repeated. A few seconds past and he saw her eyelashes flutter upwards as she looked at him with greyish- blue eyes that were filled with shock, misery and something else which dominated the former two, something which dominated her entire disposition: fear. It would not be detectable by the medical doctors who had attended to her, but Crane was supremely skilled in sensing it even in the minutest amounts. This woman was deathly afraid. But of what?

"You're safe here; you're in Arkham Asylum in Gotham City." He paused. When she showed no sign of recognition in her eyes he continued. "I'm Dr. Crane. I'm here to help you with whatever's bothering you."

Again there was no response, just her watery gaze which hovered between his face and the table. Her hair fell forward, partially obscuring her pallid face. Crane leaned forward slowly and placed his hands in a similar position to hers' on the table.

"Do you think that you can speak to me right now?" His voice was gentle but neutral. She would undoubtedly be paranoid about accepting comfort from strangers. It would be a painstaking process to gain her trust but he would eventually have it. He saw her throat move as she swallowed. He waited patiently. Her eyes swept back to his face once more and her parched lips moved soundlessly, pressing together and then opening slightly as she took faint, shuddering breaths.

"If you can't just go back to your bed and lie down. You don't have to say anything. I'll return when you've gotten some rest and you're ready to talk."

There was a lengthy pause and she nodded.

"I can speak…now." Her voice was weak and hoarse, but steady.

"That's very good, but you're not feeling very well so I won't take long. Alright?"

She nodded again, this time without any pause.

"Are you feeling better than when you were in the hospital?" There would be only impartial questions for now.

"Yes," she croaked.

"Good. The nurse will give you something for that sore throat before you sleep. Did you sleep well last night?"

A tape recorder was running in his pocket, hidden from her eyes. He wanted the first session to go smoothly and that would be less likely if she felt that she was being evaluated like a subject. Besides, he knew it would be a short session. He could not allow her to exert herself in her condition; it would reduce his chances of effective communication in the future.

"Yes," she repeated.

Crane knew it was a lie but it didn't bother him; she would tell the truth in subsequent meetings when she began to respond to his therapy.

"I'm glad to hear that. It's important that you obtain sufficient rest to recover. You've spent some time in the hospital. Do you remember why?"

She hesitated then nodded faintly. He could now see the stirrings of anxiety in her eyes. He would need to thread carefully now.

"Well, this isn't a hospital but you can recover just as nicely here. You'll be able to relax, rest in peace and have some time to yourself. No one will bother you."

He saw her agitation at his last sentence and began to concoct a series of plausible theories on the circumstances that led her to Gotham.

"You're safe here, Rose. It's important you know that. I'm the director of this facility and you have my assurance that we take the well- being of our patients very seriously. Arkham is heavily guarded on both the outside and inside. There are security cameras all over the premises. You needn't waste time worrying about that."

She was now casting nervous glances at her surroundings. Something suddenly occurred to Crane.

"Rose?"

She looked at him, her entire face now filled with emotion as she tried to maintain her composure.

"If it makes you feel better you should know that you have the option of refusing visitors."

He paused and watched as understanding bloom vaguely in her troubled eyes. He was on the right track; what she desperately craved for at this moment was safety. Something, or perhaps more accurately someone, was responsible for her current situation. She had come to Gotham to escape. She needed to be protected.

"You don't have to see anyone. It's your choice. Alright?"

She nodded, and he could see her distress begin to ease. He decided to reinforce the point in order to gain her complete faith that she wouldn't be harmed.

"We're not going to let anyone you feel uncomfortable with have any sort of access to you. When you're not in your room you'll be in the company of other patients, orderlies and nurses. You'll be safe at all times." She was now gazing at him with tentative hope; she wanted to believe him. He leaned closer so she could see his sincerity to help her.

"Would you like me to request that you have no visitors? I can send a memo to all staff members. We'll refuse anyone who insists on seeing you. Or would you prefer if I didn't? Do you have relatives that might want to see you?"

She shook her head and Crane could see the relief in her eyes; she believed him.

"N-no, I don't. I…" She sighed. "I don't want any visitors, please." Her voice was pleading with him.

"Of course," he answered her immediately. "If it makes you comfortable then I'll attend to it as soon as I get back to my office. Is there anything else?"

"No." He could see the relief and gratitude in her eyes.

"Alright, then. I think I'll leave you to rest for now. The orderly will bring you lunch soon. Try to relax and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She nodded at him again and slowly got up. She went to the small bed and lay down facing the wall. Her movements were delicate, evidence of her recent ordeal and its' result on her body. Crane rose and walked to the door. He turned and observed her quiet outline, broken by only the slight rise of her breathing.

He was elated with their first meeting. She had allowed him a small but significant privilege: knowledge that she required protection from an entity outside the walls of Arkham. One which had invoked astounding fear in her. He presently was unaware of its' nature, but he could perceive it in her entire countenance. Soon, he was certain that she would relent. After all, he comprehended people's fears better than they did themselves. He would subtly illustrate to her the ways of fear; in her condition she would unknowingly welcome it. Her subconscious was echoing her fears at this very moment. She would confront them eventually and in doing so, would reveal the secret atrocity that had led her here.

He had obtained more from her than he'd expected. His mind was already racing with the possibilities of how their later meetings could be approached. She would respond to him; he had given her what was probably her first feeling of real security in a long while, as well as comfort. He now had an abundance of angles to consider. Most importantly, he had that one little piece of information from her file that he would use when the time was right. That one name she had uttered when she was found by strangers, semi- delirious from the blood loss. Crane remembered it well, as he knew she would.

Norman.

He turned and exited the room.

A/N: I hoped everyone enjoyed that. It's so short b/c it's just an introduction. There'll be more in other chapters.

Leave a word on what you think: errors, suggestions etc. Thanks for reading.

FalconHorror