Chapter One: 'I was Alone'

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman (sadly)

This is set about four months after The Dark Knight.

Author's Comments: I hope this chapter will live up to expectations, thank you so much for everyone who reviewed, faved and followed this story. I am in your debt. I'm sorry this chapter is so long and I hope the jumping back and forth in time isn't too confusing.

Also there is a slight Red Eye reference in this chapter, see if you can spot it.

Six Months Earlier:

"You're late." Claire Lamont froze as the heavy metal door shut behind her. She quickly checked her watch, as small silver affair, 11:37am.

She glared at Daniels before smiling. "Shut up." He grinned back at her, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"I get you every time." Claire pulled a face. "I'll buzz you in."

"Thanks." She beamed and gave him a little wave as she hurried through the next security door. Daniels returned the gesture before sitting back in the small second floor reception office.

Claire broke into a half skip, half run as she hurried down he corridor. Her I.D. card swung back and forth around her neck, tangling with her bag strap, giving her the faintest feeling that she was suffocating. She glanced at her watch again as she turned the final corner. 11:42am – not bad.

Two guards Claire didn't recognize stood behind Doctor Quinzel at the West wings first entrance.

"Ms Lamont." Doctor Quinzel smiled at her in greeting, the emotion never echoing in her dark eyes.

"Doctor Quinzel." Claire breathed heavily and pulled her I.D. from where it had tangled around her bag strap, she shoved it into her jacket pocket. She could feel a thin layer of sweat on her forehead from her exertion and tried to wipe it away with the back of her hand, blushing slightly.

Doctor Quinzel observed her for a moment, a slight smirk on her face. "Well, shall we?" Claire nodded as the two guards entered their pass codes. There was a buzz and a small click as the door opened.

"Good morning Doctor Quinzel."

"Good morning." The Doctor gave a little nod to the guards on the other side of the door.

Claire smiled, a little embarrassed, before almost jogging to keep up with the Doctor. Harleen Quinzel was a tall woman normally, but her height reached an impressive and imposing altitude in her black heels. The click-er-clack of her shoes echoed down the corridor. Claire's plane, flat shoes were very masculine in comparison, the young woman had never been able to walk in heels. She stared, a little enviously at the older woman's slim frame and confident strides.

"How are you feeling about the presentation next week?" Doctor Quinzel glances at Claire before looking back at the papers in her hands.

"Nervous."

The Doctor laughed. "I would be too. I hate giving presentations… But you have nothing to worry about." Doctor Quinzel paused as they came to another door.

"Thank you." Claire fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of her grey skirt and smiled a little awkwardly.

The Doctor watched her with a vulture like stare. The door buzzed open.

"I also want to apologize to you for having to miss Professor Burnham's lecture," Doctor Quinzel picked up her fast pace once more. "I'm sure you were looking forward to it."

She glanced at Claire but gave her no time to reply. "Fortunately, he is a good friend of mine, so he has agreed to have a one on one meeting with you next Thursday." Claire's eyes widened. "It's all been arranged."

"Thank you." She stammered after a moment, a little shocked for words. Proffesor Burnham's research into the criminal psyche was legendary, just to have a second of the man's time was a dream come true.

"It's no problem." Doctor Quinzel waved her hand dismissively.

Claire blinked rapidly, not believing her own luck. She had been disappointed to miss the guest lecture, but she knew that missing her current appointment would have been far more serious.

A little shudder tiptoed down her spine, a cool sweat caressing her face.

"You're late Claire." "I'm sorry I-" "You know we don't like to be kept waiting!"

"I'm just thankful that you're always here on time."

Not always.

"And that you keep to the appointment slots, it must be irritating for you."

Claire shrugged. "It's fine."

Doctor Quinzel smiled. "Well, he always has been… unfavorable about changing time slots."

"We've waited and waited and waited." "Please… don't-"

"I want to thank you for your notes too." Doctor Quinzel broke Claire out of her thoughts. "They're very detailed." There was a pause. "I can understand his aggression to me after our… history. But the other psychiatrists…" They stopped as another door was opened. "Even the one's he didn't know." She signed.

"Pride?"

"It runs deeper than that." Claire nodded. "Anyway, I have enough to do now that the police department have finally stopped their 'little dispute' about our new patient."

Claire watched Doctor Quinzel carefully. "I mean it was completely ridiculous! The man is obviously delusional. I can't believe what Commissioner Gordon was playing at, it took nearly four months to get a mentally unstable man to be legally put in an institution where he could be helped!" Claire swallowed; Doctor Quinzel glanced at her.

"I'm sorry, I know you know the Commissioner."

"Don't worry… I can understand your frustration."

Doctor Quinzel smiled like a viper. "It just seemed like a personal vendetta."

The notorious criminal, 'The Joker', had been in the papers for months after his arrest, most recently due to a legal dispute regarding his sanity. Even though, after two months of court hearings and psychological tests, 'The Joker' had been branded insane, the police department had fought, nail and claw, for him to be tried as a normal man, claming that his crimes were too great to be over looked by the mark of insanity.

Doctor Quinzel had first assessed him during the proceedings of the case and as the new head psychiatrist of Arkham had quickly made enemies of the police department. Several words had crossed between herself and Commissioner Gordon, nearly a few blows too. Even though Claire did not feel comfortable with how Doctor Quinzel had gone about the issue, she could not fault her determination.

They cam into view of the interview room, two guards were waiting silently outside.

"Well, this is were you get off." Claire pulled her bag strap into a more comfortable position and tried to smooth her hair. "I'll be back in an hour and a half, I'd like to discuss a couple of things with you." Claire nodded. "Not a second to spare." The Doctor tapped her watch as she spoke – 11:59 am.

She gave Claire a small smile as a farewell and walked off briskly as the two guards punched in their codes. The door buzzed.

"Good morning Miss Lamont." Claire swallowed relieved.

"Good afternoon Doctor Crane." He smirked and watched her as she entered the room, his hands on the table in front of him, the fingers laced together. Claire's eyes skirted over his hands, subconscious checking that his slim wrists were bound together by metal.

The door clicked shut behind her and a small tingle of exhilaration ran through her limbs. There were no guards in the room with them, Crane refused to talk with any other soul present and he had a tendency to become… difficult if this rule was not followed to the letter.

He waited patiently while she retrieved her notebook, pen and dictaphone from her bag, watching her every movement like a hungry wolf.

Claire pretended not to know he was watching, just as she knew he pretended not to know that she knew he was looking.

It was exciting to be alone with him. Alone in the little white washed walled room with no windows, where she could kid herself that they were equals. Claire knew that Crane could quite easily kill her, no matter if he was bound, or if the panic button was mere inches from her hand. It was like being in a cage with a tiger without knowing the last time it had been fed. It was stupid but exhilarating. However, she still hoped that if he had wanted to kill her, he would have already. Still, she kept her pen in her hand and out of his direct reach, just in case.

"May I record?" She placed her hand on the dictaphone, her index finger resting on the play button.

"Of course." The little red light blinked on. It was a dance, a well-rehearsed play, she always asked and he always said yes. It seemed that Doctor Crane didn't care who heard what he had to say, only who he had to talk to.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Lamont?" He almost purred as he talked, his voice low, his full lips twitching upwards in a smirk.

"I'm alright, a little nervous about my presentation that's coming up." She smiled awkwardly as she took her seat in front of him; she never quite knew where to look.

"Have they given you a date?" His blue eyes never left her face.

"Next Monday."

"Ah, that's close. Your nerves are understandable, completely natural." Claire smiled and tried to focus on her left ear, his eyes were simply too distracting.

"I hope so."

Why is she looking away?

Calm yourself.

We should teach her some manners Johnny.

"I'm sure Commissioner Gordon has read your proposal?"

Don't try to distract me with him. He doesn't have the figure for it.

"Yes, he has." Claire, at twenty-four years was the younger than most candidates for the Emel grant. She had been a smart child with a bull's stubborn determination and was now studying for a PhD in criminal psychology, in the hope to work in law enforcement. Part of her studies involved interning, part time, in Gotham's police department.

"Perhaps you should ask Doctor Quinzel to read it over too?"

Are you trying to piss me off Johnny?

There was the smallest twitch in Doctor Crane's cheek, he clenched his jaw.

"I think she may be a little busy-"

"The clown?" There was a pause.

"Yes."

Maybe if we put on some make up we could make Quinzel wet Johnny-

Be Quiet!

"How is Scarecrow today?" Crane's attention snapped back to the young woman in front of him, she stared at her notebook.

She remembered me Johnny. I'm tearing up.

"He's… fine." Claire nodded and scribbled something on her notebook.

Make sure she knows I send my regards.

This isn't the time.

Oh come on, you never let me talk to her anymore.

I don't think she's comfortable with you after your last 'interview' together.

I promise I'll play nice.

I can't let you have all the fun. Crane smiled.

Two months previously

"Now… Miss Lamont," Doctor Mathews glanced at the papers in his hands. "I understand that you need to sit in on patient interviews for your… research," he looked at her distastefully. Claire stretched the scowl that was beginning to form on her face into a small, polite smile. "And I know you've somehow managed to get permission to sit in on my session, but I warn you," he stopped and stared at her. "Just because Doctor Crane was in the new doesn't mean he's no a highly dangerous man and he-"

"I know that Doctor Mathews, and I'm very grateful that you agreed to let me sit i-"

"Agreed?" He scoffed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. Claire clenched her jaw, she had no idea why this man had taken an instant dislike to her. "Just sit there and don't say a bloody thing." She could smell his breath and flinched as a spec of salvia hit her cheek. "Even if you want to go to the toilet, I don't want to hear a bloody word. Don't answer any questions he asks you, especially anything about fear."

"Doctor Quinzel already filled me in on-"

"Don't mention Doctor Quinzel to him either." He said ignoring her. Doctor Mathews turned to the guards behind him and Claire wiped the spit off her cheek.

"You already told me not to talk." She muttered, frustrated, she didn't appreciate being spoken to like a child. Thankfully Doctor Mathews didn't hear her.

"Open up." There was a buzz.

The room was smaller than she imagined, brighter, with a strip ceiling light.

Doctor Mathews motioned for her to sit on a chair in the corner of the room with a dirty finger, while he took a seat across the table from Doctor Crane.

Claire glanced quickly sat the psychiatrist, her breath catching ion her throat, for all the reading and research she had done, she had not bothered to loo photo of the man specifically and the few newspaper images she had seen had not done him justice.

She bushed deeply and looked away, cursing herself and her lack of professionalism. Jonathan watched as she carefully sat down, her cheeks burning a brilliant scarlet.

"Doctor Crane," Mathews began. "How are you today?"

Crane ignored him, choosing to focus his energy on the young woman; a smirk teased his lips.

Who's the fresh meet?

I have no idea.

Ripe for the plucking Johnny boy? I'll make her squeal.

No.

What? Why not? I haven't had any fun in weeks.

Look at her eyes.

Scarecrow paused for a moment, drinking her in. Claire glanced up to look at Doctor Crane again, but quickly looked away when she saw him staring.

Oh.

Oh indeed.

Oh Johnny, that's perfect.

Isn't it?

We'll have to make sure.

I intend to.

Only then did Crane realize that Mathews was still talking.

Can I shut this cockroach up?

Soon.

Scarecrow laughed.

"Doctor Crane, for the purpose of this-"

"What's your name?" He stared at Claire; it took her a moment to register that she was being spoken to.

Maybe she's a little slow.

Mathews opened his mouth like a fish and ran a hand through his dirty brown hair.

"Don't answer." He glared at Claire and she frowned. "Doctor Crane, I don't think-"

Jonathan's face changed suddenly, it was a subtle and quick movement of muscle but it was quite obvious that he wasn't Doctor Crane anymore.

"I didn't ask you who the girl was, did I Mathews?" He rasped. His voice had changed into something low and guttural, like an animal.

"Doctor Crane, calm-"

"My name is Scarecrow!" Scarecrow yelled, standing quickly and slamming his hands onto the table. Mathews and Claire jumped.

Scarecrow looked at Mathews like a spider that had just felt a fly in its web. Mathews swallowed, his eyes darting to the panic button on the side of the wall as sweat broke out of his upper lip. This was getting out of hand/

"My name's Claire." She swallowed and looked at Scarecrow hoping to have broken the tension.

Scarecrow turned his head towards her slowly and grinned. "And do you have a last name Claire?" He spoke softy.

"Lamont."

"Claire Lamont." Mathews scowled at her. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too."

How polite.

"This is most unexcept-"

"Shut it." Scarecrow growled, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Claire swallowed, feeling an adrenaline rush from speaking. Scarecrow turned back to face her.

"So Claire," he purred, lengthening the 'i' sound in her name. "What do you fear?"

She paused and bit her lip. In for a penny, in for a pound. "The dark." Mathews stared wide-eyed at her astonishment mixing with disgust on his face. But Claire didn't notice, she was mesmerized by Scarecrow and his sky before a sudden storm blue eyes.

"Really?"

Claire nodded.

"And what is it about the dark that scares you?" He tilted his head to the side. "Is it not being able to see?" Scarecrow sat back down. "So that you would be blind?"

There was a pause.

"No," Claire bit her lip. "It's different… it's more like being forced to look into the darkness, to just see black and not know what's coming."

"But knowing something will."

"Yes. And knowing you'll see it at the very last moment."

The silence was broken by Mathews scoffing, beginning to roll his eyes.

Without warning Scarecrow lunged forward, moving faster than Claire thought possible, and wrapped his hands around Mathews' throat. Claire jumped to her feet, moving on reflexes.

Mathews' eyes widened in chock and clawed as his throat, trying to prize the other man's fingers from his skin.

Look how thin his neck is Johnny. I can wrap both our hands around it so neatly. I can feel his panicked heart beat in out fingers.

"Miss Claire, would you please stay seated?" Scarecrow looked at her from under his eyelashes. Claire froze. "And if I see you looking at that panic button again, I'll break his neck." He shook Mathews gently for effect, the motion making the captive gurgle in pain. Claire sat slowly, her eyes never leaving Scarecrows.

"Now," scarecrow began, looking back at Mathews once he was satisfied with Claire. "We hate talking to you," he squeezed tighter.

Mathews tried to grab at Scarecrow's face but his arms weren't long enough. Scarecrow shook him violently before slamming his captive's head against the table, his hands never leaving his neck.

Claire flinched, why wasn't anyone helping? Surely there was CCTB in here, surely someone could see what was happening.

Scarecrow shook Mathews again, pulling his face from the table. A thick gash leaked blood from his temple.

"Johnny told me not to bother to talk to you until now. Can you believe it? How boring you must be."

Scarecrow shifted his position on the able. When he had lunched for Mathews he had managed to jump on to the table with both his feet bound and was now hunched over Mathews, both hands squeezing, unmovable like a vice. Mathews' face was turning red, his eyes bulging out of his face.

Why isn't he struggling Johnny? Is he too pathetic to even do that?

"Please stop," Scarecrow looked at Claire, angry in his eyes, Mathews gurgling the only sound. "Please don't kill him." She swallowed, she knew how stupid she sounded but couldn't think of anything better. She couldn't even focus. She was surprised that her brain even remembered to tell her to breathe.

"You don't even like him."

Claire paused, thrown by the statement. "No, I-"

"Don't. Lie." He snarled, his grip tightening. Mathews wheezed for oxygen. "Don't ever lie to us."

"I don't know him." Claire glanced between both men.

"But you still don't like him." He said, enjoying her panic.

"He… He wasn't very nice earlier," God I sound like a five year old. "But that's no reason to-"

"No reason to what?"

Claire swallowed, the salvia catching in her throat. "To kill him."

Scarecrow laughed. The sound sent shivers along her skin, made her want to pull out her eyes so that she could stuff them in her ears.

"Who said I was going to kill him?" Mathews stared at him and breathed heavily as Scarecrow loosened his grip slightly. "You have very unique eyes Claire."

What are you doing?

"Very unusual blue, so dark, you could almost call it cobalt."

I'm making sure.

"Tell me Claire," he watched her over the top of his glasses. "Do all the members of your family have such striking eyes?"

Claire swallowed, in her panic she did not realize the strangeness of the question. "No, my Dad's eyes are brown."

"And your mother's?" He asked matter-of-factly.

"Erm." Claire frowned in concentration. "Her eyes were green."

"Were?"

"She died."

"My condolences."

"It's fine." Just keep him talking, stay clam, keep him calm. She glanced at Doctor Mathews. "She died when I was young."

"How young?"

"Nine…" Scarecrow certainly didn't possess the Doctor's tact. Claire swallowed again, fidgeting under his stare and brushed her hair behind her ear. "She died of liver failure." She blurted out.

"She was a drinker?" Scarecrow smirked.

"No, it was an under lying condition, Ketermin deficiency, she never knew."

Oh that's perfect.

Happy now Johnny?

Scarecrow paused, listening. "Hopefully not a condition you share." He muttered, sounding like Doctor Crane again for a moment.

"No, I've been tested." Claire watched as Scarecrow cocked his head to the side, listening again to an unheard voice.

"Any siblings?"

"Yes, a sister."

"Younger?"

"Older, by eight years."

"That's a large gap. What does she do?"

"She's a surgeon at Gotham Hospital."

Scarecrow smiled and Claire's blood ran cold.

"Married?"

"Yes."

"Children?"

"No."

"And I assume her eyes are not the same nightmare shade as you?" He smirked.

"… No, hers are brown."

Mathews groaned, whether it was from slight lack of oxygen or boredom, Claire didn't know but Scarecrow didn't take it well.

"So tell me Mathews," he gripped his neck tighter, all his attention focusing on his captive. "Since you're so desperate to be in our little chat," Mathews spluttered, his limbs failing. "What do you fear?"

Mathews gasped, eyes wide.

"Sorry?" Scarecrow relaxed his grip a little.

"Spiders." He wheezed.

"Now Mathews," Scarecrow shook him, pulling his head closer until their noses almost touched. "I don't like liars, Johnny doesn't like lairs and I'm sure Miss Claire doesn't like them either, considering she's been so honest about herself…" Mathews gurgled and Scarecrow gave a fiendish smile. " I can tell when someone's lying…" He gripped tighter. "And you just stink of it!"

Claire watched helplessly, paralyzed by her own fear. Mathews squirmed, his heartbeat thumping in his head, black spots swimming in front of his vision.

That's enough.

Scarecrow gripped tighter. Mathews' eyes flickered closed.

That's enough!

Scarecrow's jaw clenched, his brow furrowed and he breath out slowly before Jonathan let go if Mathews' neck. Mathews, still unconscious, fell to the floor in a heap. Crane sighed and closed his eyes.

"You might want to press the panic button now Miss Lamont." He moved off the able and sat back in his chair, his hands neatly folded in front of him.

Claire stood and moved across the room slowly, keeping her eyes wide and fixed on Crane.

She pushed the red button in the middle of the white wall.

"It's very nice to have met you, Miss Lamont." An alarm sounded, the door to the room crashed open as guards and doctors rushed in.

They slammed Doctor Crane down on to the table as a nurse sunk a needle into his neck, injecting clear liquid. He stared at Claire.

"You really do have intriguing eyes."

Thirteen days later.

"I'm sorry to call you in like this Ms Lamont," Doctor Quinzel watched her carefully, Claire fidgeted nervously under her gaze. A little voice in the back of her head told her that the Doctor wasn't very keen on her. "But seeing as you are interviewing some of our other patients for your research,"

Doctor Quinzel leaned back in her mahogany chair, her hands on her desk. Her office was a moderate size, with large windows looking out over the asylum's grounds. Framed certificates of the Doctor's academic achievements littered the walls.

"Doctor Crane refused to talk to anyone but you, I have no idea why. I was thinking of you could-"

"Yes." Claire swallowed, she knew she had answered too quickly but a familiar surge of adrenaline had seeped into her veins. Even though she had been terrified during their last meeting there as something exciting about the prospect of seeing him again. And something flattering about being the only one he watched to speak to. It was arrogant, but undeniable.

Quinzel raised her eyebrows.

"It's just that, interviewing Doctor Crane would be amazingly helpful for my research. I mean-"

"You mean that not only is his psychological manifestation an interesting one, but he also happened to be a therapist in the place he is now hospitalized. Fallen from grace, if you like." She mused.

"It is a very interesting case." Claire rushed through her words, missing syllables.

Doctor Quinzel studied her again. "Very well." She said eventually. "I hope you understand the possible dangers. You would be alone in the room with him, even though Doctor Mathews has suffered no long-term injuries, Crane does not want to speak to him again and I would guess Doctor Mathews feels the same about him." She paused before sitting forward in her seat once more. "As you have already been informed, Crane also has violent tendencies towards guards when they are in the same room as him during therapy session-"

"What about CCTV?" Claire brushed her dark blonder hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry?"

"In the room, does he allow that?"

"Yes."

"So someone could see what was happening bef-"

"All the rooms are monitored except for some patient rooms and bathroom stalls… I understand you point, and it was simply unfortunate that no one was looking at the room at the right time." For some gut reason, Claire did not believe her. "However, I give you my assurances that all of Doctor Crane's meetings will be directly monitored from not on." Claire nodded. "also you will be in a consultation room were the panic button is on the underside of the table, all you would need to do wold be to reach under," Doctor Quinzel demonstrated with her own desk. "And press it. At least two guards will be stationed outside, as usual."

Doctor Quinzel stood. "I would also ask that you write up some notes for me on how the sessions go," she walked around to Claire. "I may give you things to ask Crane himself from time to time too."

"That all seems perfectly fine."

"Excellent."

* * *

"Goodbye Doctor Crane." Claire stood, turning off her dicaphone as she did so.

"Goodbye Miss Lamont."

She exited the door with a sigh and double-checked her bag, pulling out her I.D. pass and putting it on.

"Miss Lamont?" Claire turned to the young guard that had spoken her name. He couldn't have been much older than herself, with short dark hair and equally dark eyes.

"Hi." She smiled at him, he semen nervous.

"Doctor Quinzel asked me to take you to her office."

"Oh year, I remember." Claire rubbed her forehead, she had completely forgotten. She followed the young guard, leaving the two other guards outside of the interview room.

"So, Miss Lamont- "

"Claire." She grinned at him.

"Claire," he repeated. "I'm Adam, but everyone calls me Brent." He returned the smile. "That's my surname."

"It's very nice to meet you, Adam Brent." She rubbed her forehead again, she felt like she could go to sleep right there and then, but she still had a shift to do at the police station in an hour. "Have you just started?"

"Yeah, I just started the West shift."

"How are you finding it?"

"Good, good, everyone's been really nice." He paused and licked his lips. "But freaked out by Doctor Quinzel though."

Claire laughed at his expression. "She can be a but intimidating."

"Yeah, I feel like she's analyzing my all the time." He scratched the back of his head.

"I felt the same, I though she hated me, but I think she's just… cautious? You know? She's really nice once you get to know her." Claire pulled at her I.D. as it started to get wrapped around her bag strap again.

Brent nodded. "How long have you been here?"

"A little over two months, but I don't work here, I'm just a student." Brent's eyes lit up.

"Really? Me too. I just work here part time."

"What are you studying?"

"MA in forensics." He grinned "Are you doing an MA?"

Claire shook her head. "No, I'm doing a PhD." She brushed her hair behind her ear.

"Cool." He grinned at her, blushing slightly. "And here we are." Brent and Claire came to a stop outside Doctor Quinzel's office.

"Here we are. Thank you."

"It's my job." He shrugged. "See you round?" He asked hopefully.

"Sure." Brent grinned and turned to go before quickly turning back around to face hr.

"Oh, I meant to say, Doctor Quinzel told me that she had extended your twenty minutes leaving slot today in case the meeting goes over – so not to worry."

Claire nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem." Claire knocked on the office door as Brent walked back down the corridor.