A/N Ahhhh! Thank you for the response everyone! I'm glad people are enjoying this weird little story, I've got my fingers crossed that I might actually have a fic that will break the 100review mark when it's done. But, shhh, no jinxing. ;)
The doctor's name would be pronounced: Nikolai Chevv-yan.
And we meet our new inmate...dun dun dun. Hope you guys enjoy, and please review! I love feedback, and I try to respond to all your comments and questions.
See end notes for my answers on some questions I've been receiving. :)
TWO
Cell #1 – Bane
Bane has always been a light sleeper. Sleeping too deeply in the Pit left you vulnerable to surprise attacks at night over something as pitiful as food, and light sleeping was also encouraged in the League of Shadows where one was trained to always be prepared for the unexpected.
So when the metal door to their wing hisses open, Bane instantly hears the locks click open and the quiet whine of the metal sliding. Two guards come in, their boots clicking on the floor, and a grim expression on their faces. Each holds onto a pale arm and a figure is dragged behind them, completely limp and dressed in the prison uniform.
Bane lays still where he is, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he watches this bizarre spectacle.
One of the guards pulls a key card from his belt and opens the third, empty cell. When the door swings open, he takes back the arm and hefts it onto his shoulder. In a coordinated swing, they toss the figure into the cell. It drops to the floor with a wet smack, completely still. It doesn't make a sound.
Bane's eyes crinkle with distaste as the guards then close the door shut and lock it. "Are we a mortuary now that you'll leave corpses in here with us?"
One of the guards turn to look at him, a hard expression on his face. He jerks his head irritably to the body in the cell. "Don't worry. She's breathing."
"She?" breathes Crane, creeping upwards on his knees and fingertips. So he has been awake too. The guards kick the bars to his cell, making him yelp and stagger back, before brusquely leaving.
Crane creeps forward again, peering curiously through his bars to the thing that lies absolutely still in cell number Three. He has a look of wonder on his face that confuses Bane. Crane finally says, "Now I can sleep," curls up into a ball, tucking his arms under his head and begins to lightly snore.
Mad dog... Bane thinks, feeling uncomfortable. He looks to the body in the cell attached to his. He isn't sure why it brings Crane so much peace...because despite what the guards had said Bane was sure that thing was not breathing and it was not moving.
Cell #3
Dr. Cebjan sees the figure in the cell and it stops him in his tracks. He looks around confused, to the other two men in the wing. Crane seems to shrug his shoulders as if silently asking why the doctor would seek the opinion of a madman. Cebjan looks to Bane.
"It's been in here for three days now. And hasn't moved at all."
A muted look of disgust passes Cebjan's face. "Is it dead?"
Bane is about to say something when Crane shakes his head fervently, his hair flopping about. "No, no, not dead. She doesn't smell like death."
Bane looks to the madman and can't help but admit he is right. He hadn't considered it before, but his sense of smell is muted because of his dependency on the mask. He is sure, however, that if indeed there was the smell of rot he would have picked it up over three days. "So the mad dog has a trick or two. I guess then our new friend hasn't shuffled the mortal coil as of yet."
Cebjan looks about, for a moment at a loss of what to do, then leaves the wing with an angry click in his step.
He returns an hour later with a small crowd of assistants and the two guards. They are allowed into the cell and the medical team examine the figure on the ground. Through the press of white lab coats, Bane cannot make out exactly what they are doing, but when they leave the figure has been re-dressed into a medical gown and placed onto the cot with its back to him.
The next morning Cebjan is back with two of his assistants and a brute of a mechanized wheelchair. It is almost too big to fit through the door to the cell, and the figure is gently arranged into it. Then they leave.
The figure sits, still limp, and still unmoving.
Cell #2 – Dr. Jonathan Crane
"My friend, my friend," Crane hisses, grasping the bars of his cell. "Have you seen the scarecrow? Do you know where they took him?"
The figure in the cell, still lying still like a doll in the chair, remains silent. Its long, dry and tangled black hair covers its face completely. Crane seems to hear something no one else can, however, as he seems to listen intently and then his face breaks out into smiles of delight.
"Yes, I know, I know! Yes, yes, yes – we will. Tomorrow maybe."
He hears the whip crack of Bane's voice from the other cell, laced with irritation. "You've been holding a one-sided conversation for an hour now, you dunce. Haven't you tired of your pathetic game yet?"
Crane looks moodily at Bane, and then back to his new friend in Cell number Three. "He doesn't understand, he can't see..."
Bane roars at him to shut up, and Crane flinches from the booming sound. He looks to his new friend and gives it a wink, pushing fingers against his mouth in a 'shhhh', and mercifully keeps quiet.
Cell #1 – Bane
"From the look of alarm on your face last week, I take it you were as well informed as we were on the arrival of our new guest?"
Cebjan looks at him mildly in surprise, he has been distracted with his own thoughts all morning. A slight look of annoyance passes his face, though Bane can tell it isn't directed at him. Cebjan looks mildly embarrassed at having been caught with his mind wandering, but Bane merely chuckles instead and throws his arms wide.
"You have spoiled me! I am so used to your every concentration focused at besting me in our interviews that I find myself a touch jealous that your attention is divided."
Cebjan looks annoyed with him now. "Don't try to play to my vanity, Bane."
It is the harshest the doctor has been with him, and Bane senses blood in the air. He leans forward, his eyes piercing and his voice sharp. "You amuse me doctor...you should be amusing. You've been thrown in here as a toy to distract me. If you were wise you would try to learn how insignificant you really are before the day comes when I grow tired of you, and you learn the hard way."
Cebjan must have been a brave, if stupider, man than Bane had given him credit for as his hackles rise and he looks as if he is about to say something angrily back. But the inhabitant in cell number Three finally breaks its silence and begins to move.
It twitches in a bizarre fashion that couldn't be attributed to humans, but perhaps insects. It is as if its limbs were broken into sections that all were beginning to spring to life one after the other, and the awakening was painful. Its hands, twisted into claws, touches its face through the curtain of straw-like hair and it begins howling in a demented, inhuman voice. My face? Where is my face? What have you done to my face!
Whatever psychological war Bane and Doctor Cebjan were about to embark on is completely forgotten with the unearthly, keening wails of the twitching figure. Cebjan leaps to his feet, the metal door to the wing already sliding open as the guards rush in with a tranquilizer gun.
Give me back my face! You took away my face!
The guards shoot it twice through the bars, as its back arches in an unnatural angle, as if it were trying to escape gravity. As the twitching slows, the figure contorts and freezes into an ugly, pain-defying position, its hands still covering its face. Cebjan looks more disturbed than Bane has ever seen him, and even Crane is silent this time, just staring bug-eyed at the scene.
Cell #3
The figure twitches awake, its hands reaching up and feeling the rough texture of gauze and linen wrappings around its face. It calms instantly, stroking the material as if to check that its entire face is covered. Only a slit is left open for its eyes.
It settles back into the chair, one hand skittering across the armrest before it finally finds the control stick. It moves it experimentally to the right, the wheels whirring and humming as it obeys, and then moves to the left.
The chair stops and shudders to a halt to face Bane directly, who is sitting on his cot, staring curiously back.
Crane licks perspiration from his lip and pushes his floppy hair out of his eyes. He hisses at the chair, "Can you see him? Do you see that big brute?" He cackles after that, lost in his own private joke.
The chair makes no reply to acknowledge Crane, absolutely still once more. Bane can barely see the direction of its eyes, whether it is trying to lock gazes with him, or if it is simply just staring at the wall. Its eyes are dark and it is difficult to tell where pupil ends and iris begins. The wrappings around its face remind him of the Pit and the scarves the men wore around their faces during the years of plague.
The chair sits there, a formless shape, sexless despite being referred to before as 'she'. Bane looks to what he can see of their mystery cellmate. The glances of leg that descend beyond the medical smock are heavily scarred, but not in any ways that make sense to Bane. The scars are clean and follow a logic that makes them look predetermined, but just from their outline he cannot guess what their purpose was. The muscles in the leg seem atrophied and completely ruined. The same could be said of the arms.
The chair is still staring at him and Bane is getting a little tired of this. "I assure you, Crane can be far more amusing than I."
Bane had not expected that to garner a response, but the hand by the control stick suddenly shifts and the chair whirrs away from him, turning into a jerky arc to stop in front of Crane's cell. Crane seems delighted and pads over to his bars, trying to push his face through the gap again and begins speaking to it. It never speaks back.
Crane shivers and whimpers to himself, clutching his ragged uniform about him as if it will protect him. He claps his hands over his ears, the voices becoming too much.
"Scarecrow...scarecrow..." he chants over and over again, hoping to drown the other voice out, but the blanket of dark whispers tease insistently at him.
He looks over to the other in the cell beside Bane's, his eyes wide in horror and sweat dripping down his face. For once the big bully is asleep, his own breathing hissing gently through his mask, and Crane wishes fervently that he were awake.
He doesn't want to be the only one who knows that the other is whispering to him.
Cell #2 – Dr. Jonathan Crane
Cebjan settles down into his chair, but leans forward in concern when he sees the state Crane is in. The man has a flair for the dramatic, but today his shivering and the blank stare in his eyes are alarming.
"Jonathan? Are you well?"
Crane turns his head slowly, as if he is quite surprised that anyone has noticed him at all. In a very soft voice he says, "Doctor Crane isn't here right now."
Cebjan notes the absence of the usual high giggles and broken speech patterns. Crane's voice comes out flat and disconnected. He leans forward in concern. "Where is Doctor Crane?"
Crane licks his lip and dully shakes his head.
"Who am I speaking to then?"
Crane lies still, his hands folded underneath his head, and he stares somewhere beyond Cebjan's shoulder.
Cebjan tries again. "Are you the scarecrow?"
The name doesn't illicit the frenzied response it normally would, and Cebjan is deeply worried. Crane merely shakes his head again and answers in that deadly soft voice. "No...but he's coming."
Cell #3
Cebjan holds up small pieces of card, a stack balanced on his lap, and presents them one at a time to the chair. He watches its eyes intently, but if there is any response only he knows. The chair is silent the whole time.
Cell #1 – Bane
"What were you showing it, just now?"
Cebjan absently glances back to the stack of cards by his chair leg. "Inkblots. Did you want to look at them?"
Bane growls lowly, settling back on his bench. "Don't be ridiculous. I thought you had a higher opinion of my cognitive abilities than that, Nikolaj."
Cebjan opens his hands in an apologetic gesture, the stack of inkblots remaining where they are. He is about to open with a question when Bane interrupts him again. Their new guest has caught his curiosity.
"Did it respond to your obsolete test or just stare blankly at you?" Bane opens his own eyes wide, his tone mocking. "There's nothing there, hmm? Just a vacant mind."
Cebjan prickles slightly. "I believe I'll determine that in my own time."
"Of course, of course," Bane waves another meaty, dismissive hand in the air, "I defer to your expert opinion, doctor."
While the arrival of the new prisoner in the maximum security ward had shaken the others, it seemed Bane had gotten over his initial discomfort quickly and was now back on form. Sharp, and quick. Cebjan knows he has to engage Bane's interest quickly or he will get nowhere, and leans forward slightly.
"Do you know why Crane has been acting stranger of late? Did something happen last night?"
Bane looks at him suspiciously, but his tone is still mocking. "Isn't that why you're here?"
"Maybe you could help me, Bane. You are very capable after all?"
The bark of laughter that escapes the mask is amused in a derisive manner. Bane glances at him in contempt, his voice laced with distaste. "Oh well done, Doctor Cebjan, well done. Appealing to my pride and my disdain for Jonny Crane in the hopes of forging some sort of connection between us? You want me to be your little errand boy? I might have considered indulging you but unfortunately the law has already made its decision and no amount of 'cooperative behaviour' on my part will undo that."
He leans back, his back pressed against the wall and though the mask obscures most of his face, Cebjan can see the sneer in his eyes. "You'll have to try harder, I'm afraid."
Cebjan's face darkens, and the split second flash of utter contempt in his eyes makes Bane wonder if he truly had the measure of the doctor. Cebjan's face settles into a pleasant smile. "Of course, I must have been mistaken. A big man like you would never be someone's errand boy."
Bane doesn't like that tone...he doesn't like it all. He leans forward again, his broad shoulders flexing, and rests his hands on his knees. "Are you trying to provoke me, Nikolaj?"
If Cebjan is intimidated, he doesn't show it, to his credit. "A big man like you, of course, you could snap my neck like a twig if you wanted to. But in all of my years of expert work, I've noticed the bigger the man the bigger the inadequacy they feel."
Bane laughs a little again, but it is dangerous and not mirthful. "You are trying to anger me. Surely you're worth more than a cheap shot like that?"
Cebjan reaches for the stack of inkblot cards by his feet and gathers them with his files. He looks at Bane, that strange look of triumph still in his eyes. "I'm just a doctor. And it's my job to humour you, and if you want to see me as just a toy or distraction, I will allow you to do so. But I think we're just deluding ourselves onto which side of the bars the both of us stand."
Cebjan gets to his feet and gives him a polite nod before making his way down the corridor. Bane leans back against the wall, dislike colouring the already sour taste of the venom in his mask.
"As you say, doctor..."
Bane wakes in the middle of the night and at first is unsure why. He blinks, taking a moment to register that it is not dawn, the lights in the wing have not come up, and apart from Crane's usual panicked snores, all is quiet.
His eyes adjust to the darkness and he notices the chair is facing directly at him and the thing that sits in its monstrous, mechanical throne is staring at him. Not prone to being spooked, Bane nevertheless finds its scrutiny unsettling, and turns on his side so that his back faces the chair. He can't find sleep again that night.
A/N
So - question time!
A few people have been asking if the Joker is going to make an appearance. The simplest answer is no, the new cellmate is NOT the Joker. He is mentioned later on in the story, and because people have been expressing such an interest...there may be some more material for him but it is much much later and not as a regular character.
Romance - sorry, but there will be no slash between Crane and Bane (even if their names do rhyme). This story is not romance heavy, or even romantic at all, but Talia al Ghul was an important person to Bane and probably the love of his life. He will deal with her death in a...an 'interesting' way much later on, and this will be important to his development.
Crane - yup, he's crazy. I think Crane became really unhinged after Batman Begins, and when he was in Arkham he was totally off the deep end. I think he manages to keep it together now and again, but he was never the same after that, and being confined in a prison with just your mind for company would probably only make it worse. So, this is Crane after over 6 months locked up and totally lost.
