I apologize if I'm rushing anything in this story, but seeing as everyone pretty much knows the background of Talia al Ghul and Jonathan Crane - though I'm thinking something else for Jonathan based on his origin in "Gotham", most notably the idea of a more realistic telling than the comic version of his abusive grandmother, which I support with every fiber of my being; it is sort of based off of his origins in the Dark Knight comic issue, however. Also, the name of the patient Jonathan handles in here is a minor OC I own, but I'm unsure if the name is one I came up with or if it is coincidental.

Chapter Two

Fear

"Hmm, fascinating," Crane mused as he read over the information, three weeks later, on Miranda Tate. "Thank you, Nina. I won't need anything else," he told his assistant without looking up at her. She answered welcome and left without another word. Jonathan paid no mind of her exit, only continued to peruse the file. She was an employee in the Applied Sciences division of Wayne Enterprises, and a personal philanthropist. Eighteen years old and already accepted, childhood said to have spent in Istanbul and worked all her life, mostly since she was fourteen. She was brilliant, but why would she be working in the lowliest section of the greatest business of Gotham if this was the case?

Everyone starts from the bottom and work their way up, his mind whispered to him. He acquiesced there and ceased his questions on Miss Tate. She was a young woman with a bright future ahead of her, but chances were he might not see her again - but anything was possible. His mind was always open.

He found himself looking at her face in the photograph taken not long after her arrival here in Gotham. Piercing blue eyes as wide as the sky, embedded in a soft honey-golden face framed by luscious chestnut waves. Her naturally dark, full lips were pressed in a firm line defined between a smile and a scowl, as though she was in between happy being here in Gotham and not.

His ringer buzzed. "Dr. Crane? Miss O'Brien is ready for you now."

He nodded and pressed the button. "I'll be there. Five minutes or less." He opened the top drawer of his desk and put Miranda Tate's file in place, locking it so no one else found it.

Amanda O'Brien had been his patient for two years. Her case involved severe erogenous trauma, but the case ran that much deeper - she suffered from RTS, known as rape trauma syndrome. Her stepfather had been involved, his semen found in her upon examination by the hospital, and she'd been brought here, expected to make a full recovery which could very much take months. Jonathan considered her a suitable candidate, and she'd been ever since then. She proved vital to his research and made improvements over time unlike some before her.

However, since he hadn't been able to create an antidote yet, it didn't seem possible that Miss O'Brien would ever leave the institute so soon.

She was crying when he arrived in her room, where the nurses were just checking up and setting up the IV. She had agraphobia, which was exactly what she endured. The fear of sexual abuse was not only observed in victims who witnessed the hysteria or simply learned about it through sensational news headlines regarding such cases and vowed to never be exposed; it was common in real victims of assault, such as this one. "There, now, how are we doing?" Crane asked gently as he leaned over her. She was currently trembling slightly, taking in deep, rapid breaths - oh, and her heart was beating at an erratic pace, he noted when he applied the stethoscope. Common symptoms of agraphobia. He sighed. So many of them were alike in the symptom department, but that never stopped him.

Something admirable about someone who won't stop, his other, narcissistic self whispered to him, making him smile when sweet little Amanda whimpered and turned her head from him. "S-stay away from me," she whispered. All of his patients knew who he really was and feared him for it, but no one would really believe them. Jonathan smiled broader, his back turned to the nurses. Fear was the driving force of life; it was the king of all human emotions, and if no one felt it, no protection from danger ahead as well as no facing the danger ahead.

~o~

Her lips were throbbing from chewing too hard on them as she helped Mr. Fox check in the latest configuration of the Tumbler. This was a remarkable military-inspired vehicle - also having a touch of the Lamborghini - and equipped with all of the necessities for combat, such as cannons and outer armor to protect from exterior damage. The sad fact was that while this poor vehicle could function perfectly, and was constantly checked upon and taken care of, there was never the right use for the outside world or even a bridge made for it.

But Talia was mostly focused on the unexpected dream she'd had not long after her meeting with Dr. Jonathan Crane, which progressed in the three months that followed. Dreams in which she was kissing him with uncontrollable passion, resulting in bruises and coloring skin, heat searing the flesh and blood, their bodies together and hands exploring, and finally waking up in sweat and throbbing below. It was always the same thing, and a few times Mr. Fox would snap her out of her reverie, teasing her about it. "Earth to Miranda, is there something on your mind?"

"Nothing really," she lied, but he saw right through her, giving an amused, knowing smirk.

"Let me guess, you've found some guy already."

"Mr. Fox!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with a laugh, bringing the clipboard to her chest.

"Lucius, remember? We're more friends instead of employer and assistant," he reminded her gently.

"Yes, Lucius," she answered. "Well, you could say that. But let's say it was one meeting only, and for some reason, he's been on my mind ever since then. We met at a bar downtown one Friday night." She looked down at the clipboard and checked some more off before continuing. "Some big man tried to come onto me, and he was there to help me, but got a swing to the face. I knocked the fiend down myself and took my rescuer back for an ice pack. But nothing happened," she added at the chuckle he gave her.

He shook his head. "Miranda, I told you that a pretty girl like you should get out more often, and you took my word. But why haven't you seen him again after that night? And do you remember his name?"

Talia wasn't afraid to tell him. "Dr. Jonathan Crane."

His face contorted into surprise immediately. "Dr. Crane, head of Arkham Asylum? Hmm, I never thought you'd find interest in him of all people."

Talia shrugged. "I wouldn't say exactly that it is interest. He just...simply caught my eye, that is all." Simple eye catch, when "strange" dreams occur once every week or so? Hardly.

Lucius nodded even though he looked doubtful. "He's a bit of a strange one, Miranda," he told her, walking past her and to the computers. "Odd and distant, and I've met him a few times before. Matter of fact, his father used to run the asylum before him, and his mother passed away when he was born, at least from what I heard about him. But other than that, devoid of anything involving people other than his 'fascination with the understanding of the human mind'." Talia pursed her lips at this newfound information. Her father used to tell her that fear gave you great power as your anger did, but if you let it, it would destroy you. She learned that he was a psychologist specializing with phobias - he proved just now to be an interesting study - yet she also sympathized with him because they'd lost mothers early in their lives. But she didn't know anything about him. Talia felt something inside her stir, which she had never felt before, and it slightly bothered her because in the League, there had been very little to no physical contact. Her father forbade her from linking with anyone in their ranks, but he wasn't here now. He felt her virtue was the fuel for the fire that was his power, as other cultures believed the same for their own daughters. But to her, virtue was a burden, lacking thrill. She had always wanted to explore that realm, but the right man never came along; she always wanted her first time...special, if it was put that way. It was mostly fear of the consequences that stopped her. Fear that whatever the worst was that could happen.

~o~

Amanda O'Brien's screams were music to his ears. Her cries as she begged for her imaginary stepfather to stop were unimaginable paradise to his body and his own mind. Scarecrow laughed sadistically behind his mask, relishing it all. He moaned to himself when he felt himself getting aroused; all subjects alike did this to him, for it was fear that roused him, granting him his body's desires. He didn't want this to end even though it had to come to a close. He would be leaving for home soon.

Her eyes were squeezed shut when she howled and sobbed at the same time. Sitting down behind the desk of the basement office, Crane groaned to himself at the painful hard-on in his trousers. He felt if he didn't relieve himself soon, he would end up leaving work with an embarrassing erection. If O'Brien noticed at all, he wouldn't care because this would have served to increase her terrors. His belt loosened and his zipper down, his hand traveled down south and first met with the rough pubic hair before finding his hard length. Crane uttered wordless sounds when he stroked himself, arching his back and his cheeks burning under his mask. He seldom handled himself, having never been with anyone because some mindless woman like the one on the table before him was not worth his time.

And then, for some odd reason, the face of Miranda Tate flashed before his mind while the girl was still crying.

He was unable to stop thinking about her over the course of three months of not going to see her again after she helped him with his face. He remembered sitting nearly so close to her, smelling Moroccan incense, lotus and perhaps Asian fruits off of her. She was soft and gentle, showing kindness to him even though it was brief and even though he didn't need or deserve it. She intrigued him, unlike the patients he handled every day. There was something about her that he'd seen in another person - a man - such as a case of coldness in her eyes that little would spot from a mile away. He wondered how they could possibly be related, but there was no solid proof to this. He was working for said man, and the slightest hint of what he was implied to ask would be very dangerous. The man gave him the key ingredient to his prized hallucinogen he'd expanded from childhood, heightened the compound and led to how it was affecting the woman on the table. The man was very powerful and had him on the line, in his grasp so he couldn't back out if he wanted to.

He groaned when he found his release, shooting himself all out and under the desk. Nobody would go behind it like he did, and no one would ever know but himself. Smiling with satisfaction that his climax had timed perfectly with the end of Miss O'Brien's sobs, Crane fastened himself back into place and stood from behind the desk. He walked over to her and smoothed her hair out from her face. She flinched and jerked her head away from him. He chuckled and reached into his lab coat to pull out the sedative so he could get her back upstairs and into her room.

And now, finally, a visit to a certain lady who clouded his thoughts.

Scarecrow gone for the time being, Jonathan Crane took a taxi up to the middle-class section of Gotham, finding Miranda Tate's correct number and walking up the stairs. A part of him wondered what he would get from this if she wasn't interested in him, and rejection was the last thing on his mind. He certainly didn't want to force her into it, either. He was many things, but a rapist wasn't among them. Waiting for the door to open felt like an eternity before it opened to show her standing there in a jewel-toned silk caftan of pure luxury unfitting for a seemingly lower-class girl. Her long hair in luscious curls over one shoulder made it irresistible to look away from. Jonathan wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at her before she spoke.

"Dr. Crane. What a surprise. I never thought I'd see you again."