II. The Most Deadpan Man She'd Ever Meet
Unplugging the landline from the wall didn't feel good enough. Seriously, if 'Netmile, K' popped up again she would not be able to stop herself from smashing that phone to pieces. What else was she supposed to do? Crawl back to him like nothing more had happened than an accidental utterance of some other woman's name moaned during sex? Not that that would've swung with her well either but all in all the jerk smothered her heart. Maggie had never been one to forgive so easily. It was just another trait she shared with Rachel.
His heartfelt apologies were of zero significance. You don't fall in love with someone to accept their infidelities. Love didn't work like that. Not to Maggie it didn't. If Keith was in such a horny rush to screw the nearest bimbo while his girlfriend was out of town on just a wee bit of business work, then what did she really matter to him anyway?
None of that mattered any by now. There was no going back, even if Keith truly did regret his choice. What was done, was done. He'd left his ex lover to woeful two-hour long baths after work, burning her entire collection of romance novels, and sobbing herself to sleep each night in reverie of her and Keith's best moments.
It was pathetic.
By the end of April, Maggie had chosen to strive for her sister's more abstinent lifestyle; anything to exterminate any future heartbreak, for a while, at least. She had to change the locks on her apartment's door after coming home to find the loser awaiting her, almost as if everything between them was normal. After that last horrible call, she would have her number changed. If direly necessary, she would get a restraining order against him, but she really didn't want to resort to such desperation yet, though Rachel would have it taken care of in a heartbeat and easily at that, with her highly ranked sovereignty. If and when that measure had to be taken, Rachel would be right on it.
The heated words of that conversation stung in her mind as she prepared her nightly bath, searching for the lavender scented bath salts she'd gotten for her birthday last December. She avoided using anything that the Bastard had ever gotten her, being sure to rid every last necklace, pair of earrings and even the mugs he'd gifted her with.
She would not cry this time. She'd done quite enough of that over the last few months. Her tear ducts were bound to dry out if much more useless weeping was done, and it was time to be strong and move on anyway.
On her radio tuned a song that would dishearten her spirits more so than what was healthy after twenty minutes of listening to recent, top-grossing pop songs. On came the hour of sixties hits, and so played 'Somebody to Love' by Jefferson Airplane. It was only appropriate to cringe in depression, regardless of how typically cliched doing just that may have been.
Maggie was on the prowl for another client while her sister was situated in the conformity of the City Hall's courtroom with Zsasz's case. She could only keep her fingers crossed that the incarcerated felon would keep his stare and focus off of Rachel. As true as it was that her sister knew how to deal with the crooks and keep herself safe at the same time, Maggie still fretted fixatingly over the whole set-up.
What if she spoke out against him when the case shifted towards Zsasz's favor? Rachel fought vigorously for righteousness to result in each of her cases and lately only wrong was going down. Falcone had his shit together, and it wouldn't be soon before long until Gotham's Justice System fell apart in its entirety. Well, the system was already pretty fragmented at that point. Maggie, being the gloomily logical lawyer she was, knew that their society wasn't going to blossom into an established nor secure one anytime soon, if ever.
Rach could stand her ground all she liked, but Maggie was proud to slink into her seat after giving something her best shot. Hopefully Rachel wouldn't reel in any direct attention from the mob; that was what Maggie was worried about the most. She'd seemed to steer clear in those last two cases involving Falcone's men and this doctor, but she couldn't debate this much longer, or else she'd have to enroll herself into the Witness Protection Program before she wound up six feet under.
Maggie had voiced her concerns again and again all through their twenties, but as always, Rachel would do what she felt necessary. Now that she was turning thirty in just weeks to come, what more could the youngest Dawes do or say to morph the ADA's instincts? Perhaps the 22nd's case conclusion would make Rachel relax her methods.
...
The sisters had met up at noon, just an hour and a half after Zsasz's sentencing...to the homely nuthut. They sat outside a cafe with their frappuccinos, lunches and much to discuss.
"I know he's onto something. He's obviously working for Falcone. This was his third attestation of bail. This time, I caught up with him and got straight to the matter of why he views it essential to treat these murderers with counseling, decent heating and well-cushioned living arrangements. And what he had to excuse - ooh! I'm still pissed out of my mind about it…"
"Mm, so what did he counter with?" Maggie asked, fighting back a smile.
"Well, his first response didn't get to me as much as what he had to say when he saw Carl in the lobby. He said he would've "testified otherwise" if he deemed Zsasz's placement where he really belongs...the wisenheimer asshole."
"You must admit, he had a point there," Maggie said in all technicality.
"...I went on to bluntly state his involvement, with this being his third visit. He looked at me as if I'd told his mother to fuck off and said "Well, the work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane", but as he began to heel off in an attempt to cowardly escape our discussion, I told him off on his corruption. That's when Carl was hurled into this mess. Crane had the balls to critique Carl on his arrangements for me, like he thought I have my limitations when it comes to trying to bring out the good in these kinds of cases...he told him he ought to "check with me" on the implications I'm authorized to make! I cannot begin to explain how difficult it was for me to refrain from telling him to go blow himself! Formality is such a nuisance to withhold some days…"
"You know I'd've told the ass off. You can't let people get away with snide remarks like that. Hell, he probably got off on that. You let him win not only the case, but a godforsaken argument. That's shameful, Rach."
"Ugh...well, it's not over yet. I've got to look into this man...see where his motives are going from here. I hardly believe I'll be able to stomach another day in that courtroom with him. He's testified his last occupant. I'll see to that."
Maggie loosened up and felt a wave of delight wash through her. She did like to see Rachel keep on her heels, bold and primed in circumstances like this.
…
The News had been all about this mysterious caped crusader for the last couple of weeks. He'd struck Gotham out of nowhere, his strike having decreased criminal activity profoundly over that space of time. Despite the oddness of this man - or thing, whatever or whoever this discreet savior was, it, he or possibly she was making things a whole lot simpler for Maggie. She rather liked working with people who wrote bad checks and tried to smuggle lipstick and CDs out of stores over the cold and hardened killers.
Rachel nor Maggie were too concerned with the identity of this vigilante who sported bat-like gear until Rachel was affected by this thing...personally. It must have been just five days after Mr. Zsasz's case when the ADA was just about offed by two men, whom without a doubt worked for Falcone.
She'd stayed at Maggie's apartment the same night of her attack and confrontation that left her baffled and in shock. For the first time in her life, she could say she was borderline traumatized. Maggie had feared something like this would happen, but the uneasy premonitions had wafted around the back of her mind, being the least of her worries, for she hadn't truly believed that the mob would ever go after her sister, especially over what seemed so petty.
"I'd gotten my taser out, and the one guy ran, and I thought I'd scared him off," Rachel explained as she laid curled up on the sofa more shaken up than her very first day in court. Not even the four glasses of wine had eased her down any as she recalled that night's wild experience. "Then I sawhim, the Batman. Out of caution, I shot at him, but it only clung to his suit, leaving him unharmed. However, this man had come to warn me. As I'm sure you could guess without me telling you, Falcone had sent them to kill me. He told me that I have rattled his cage...he gave me these photos, for um, leverage to get things moving along. Cutting to the chase, I asked him who he was, and he didn't give me his name, only the assurance that he's on our side. Then, after I'd picked up the photos had I looked up to see that he disappeared, literally out of thin air…"
"Jesus Christ, Rach, this was too fucking close! Shit! What are we going to do? Surely this - this Batman can't be at your side the next time this happens! God!" She paced around her living room in a frenzied panic. "O-okay! Not to worry, babe! We'll get you into witness protection asap! I'm sure Carl can hook us up with-"
"No, no, Maggie, that won't be necessary...for now, at least. We just need to devise a strategy here. This man has confirmed who's side he's on. I've got this evidence here that'll get the ball rolling. I think we'll be fine."
"And what if we're not? Hmm? It looks as if your outrageous undertakings have finally crossed the line!" She swigged her Merlot straight from the bottle, consumed with anxiety, anger and hopelessness as she continued to move about the vicinity. Tears were soaking her cheeks with new purpose tonight, and now she had something to legitimately freak out over.
"Calm yourself. Everything is going to be alright. This Batman knows what he's doing. He's got crime under control on some level, which is improvement from what we were dealing with just several weeks ago."
Not paying much attention at being solely focused on her sister's attack, Maggie inquired "That doctor did this to you, didn't he? Had a hit placed on you for...that son of a bitch! What a pussy! I can't believe it, Rachel! You go and uh, 'rattle his cage' or whatever and he retaliates by whining to the mob, going as far as to have ya killed just because you ruffled his fragile little feathers! We've got to report him!"
"We don't have definitive proof, Maggie. I can't just accuse the Head of an asylum of affiliations with the mob until I have actual, reliable evidence...It's unfortunate, yes, but there is nothing we can legally do-"
"We'll confront the timid bastard then," she proposed with enlightenment. "We'll pay him a little visit over at his facility and we'll get ours...make him suffer for what he tried to do to you."
"No, Margaret, we're not doing that either. That would just invite more trouble in...more unwanted, unneeded trouble. The best thing we can do right now is keep a low guard and have faith that this vigilante can make a positive difference. Neither of us should put ourselves out there for attention, or else we'll both be meeting an early fate."
"Why don't we tell Artie? All I want is for that asshole to feel immense pain...y'know, we need to work some karma into his meticulous environment. What goes around shall come around, Rach. We can have Art beat this worthless guy to a stump-"
"Did you not comprehend what I am saying? No-one, not you, Arthur, nor myself, are going to be in the same building with Crane until further ado. We are not going to blindly go forth and punish anyone when we're this defenseless. Don't be a fool. I'm okay. That's what is important. He'll get his later on. I can guarantee that."
Maggie had never felt so vulnerable to this suspenseful joke of a city. She was supposed to lose her sister that night. That, she couldn't have lived with. As irksome as Rach could be, she was loved heavily by her family, the most by her sister, whether she realized that or not. Maggie would not be arranging a premature funeral in short time to come. She would make damn sure of that.
"Can you?" she asked, leaving that question in the air, alone, without an answer to accompany it.
Maggie was on the streets at by 7:30 that next morning. Her nerves were aflame and her train of thought was relentlessly drunken on what terrors and hell awaited her sibling and herself down the road. How long would it be until they both found themselves before gun barrels, tied up to chairs in some private garage where they'd be bulleted down and carelessly tossed into a ditch or lake to be found weeks, if not months later by some drifter or other passersby?
Rachel was being hunted, and that fact within itself made Maggie's heart skip a minute's worth of beats. She was incredibly repulsed that someone would even think to perform such barbarity on a young businesswoman. She chose to let Rachel's request to keep out of this conniving asylum director's way fly right over her head because she simply couldn't just sit around and wait for this mask-wearing freakshow to swoop around and beat these villains...For who knew when that would happen or if it would even.
Maggie had crossed over to the Narrows seldom during her life growing up in Gotham. Artie had done some security work in this region of the city before, though he would try to avoid those openings if he could. As brute and masculine as he was towering at 6'2, he still struggled to brave the run-down slums that made up Gotham's worst section.
Murder, rape, theft and other basic factors of terror overpowered the whole of the Narrows, thereby only making it rational that the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane is located in that particular area. These limits were no place for a female lawyer of Midtown Gotham to be exploring, especially during nightfall. Early morning rendered the coast clear in the eyes of Maggie. The derelicts and rapists were at bay in their underground hideouts or alleyways and business men and women were out and about at this hour. She didn't count on spotting a police officer resting at every other lane, assuring her safety, but she had her mase and taser handy, and she was going nowhere else after her stop at Arkham.
The streets were dead, more so than she was content with. She braced herself for an out-of-the-blue jump or hit-and-run, even as she drove at thirty-five miles per hour. She'd watched those reports. She'd seen all that went on in this town, even when one was careful.
The bridge leading to the sanatorium had been lowered an hour and forty minutes before her arrival. As she parked, she wondered whether or not she needed to make an appointment beforehand, though it was a little late for that consideration. Besides, this wasn't your average business meet; it was a message that needed a curt and lucid delivery. A fierce, livid, threat that was intended to stain his mind for the remainder of his days. He was not to dare ponder tormenting a Dawes again.
She allowed herself a shaky sigh of hesitation before she got out of her car and scurried for the entrance. The building's exterior had appeared tidy enough with the simple brick layout and aligned array of windows both vast and minuscule. Upon entering the facility, she could see nothing of much more thrill with the view of bland, pale walls, tiled flooring and no more than eight chairs in the lobby's waiting room. She soldiered on towards the front desk where a middle aged woman with defined frown creases and ordinary rectangular-framed spectacles was typing away, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her, apparently ignorant to the lawyer's arrival.
Retrieving her identification for show, she cleared her throat before introducing "Attorney Margaret Dawes. I would like to have a word with Dr. Crane. Do you know if he is available at this time?"
Without casting a wink her way, the secretary monotonously muttered "Well, do you have an appointment set up with him?"
"...No. However, it is crucial that I see him...within the hour. I have something of great importance to discuss with him."
"He generally only holds private sessions with people who've scheduled for an appoint-"
"Yes, I know," Maggie cut in briskly. "But would you please just see if he's free at the moment."
After being gifted with a glare and swift nod, the secretary spoke into the buzzer asking for the Head doctor's availability. Momentarily, he confirmed that he had fifteen minutes to spare before a meeting.
"I've got a lawyer here who says she needs to speak with you immediately."
"Very well. Send her up."
"The elevator is right down that hall over there. Go up to the seventh floor, then onto room 413 where his office is located. His name is labeled on the door. He should be in there."
"Thank you."
"He may rush you, just so you know. He's not known for his patience."
Neither was she. Her message shouldn't have taken too long to convey anyway.
"Alright. I won't be long."
As she neared his personal quarters, she began to perspire and feel nauseated in spite of nervousness. Her usually cool ego was trampled at the prospect of being slaughtered right in his office. She had no clue who she was dealing with here. Rachel hadn't told her much about this man, aside from a brief physical description of blue eyes and moderate handsomeness. He may have been a big fellow, tall and bulky, and quite capable of taking advantage of the twenty-something lawyer effortlessly, or, he could have been small and lanky with an attitude that dominated all…
She stood outside of Dr. Jonathan Crane's office, wary of knocking, even after what grotesque deed he'd almost gotten away with. She leant flimsily against the wood of the door, resting her head on the thick, opaque glass window that displayed his full name. She'd give herself no more than a single minute to dawdle out here. She did force this on herself. Why, if Rachel had known where she was at that moment she'd've gone ballistic.
When the nerve wracking sound of her own jittery breathing annoyed her well enough, she brought her knuckle to the glass just once to be promptly permitted to come in. Her knees went numb and her palms were almost too sweaty to give the doorknob a measly turn.
With just the amount of endurance she needed, she stepped into the room to be faced with a broad wall of plaques and framed diplomas before turning her attention to the man seated at his desk, his hands folded neatly atop a folder and his gaze critical on her own.
"...Are you Dr. Crane?" she asked, more meekly than she would have liked.
"Yes, how may I help you?"
As a sudden sense of aggression entwined with mutiny swarmed through her, she closed the door rather roughly and marched up to the gawky albeit attractive director to slap her palms onto his desk and bark her vehemence right in his face.
"Just what the hell do you think you were doing sicking the mob on my sister?!"
She left her statement at that to await his explanation, though it wouldn't excuse anything.
Putting on a facade of innocence already, he shrugged, saying "I'm afraid I am not up to date on your accusation. You must have me mistaken with someone else-"
"I knew you would try to pull off something like that. Don't bullshit me, Jonathan. You are in cahoots with Carmine Falcone, and you ordered a hit on the Assistant District Attorney, Rachel Dawes. You have threatened the life of my sister as well as the balance of my family. The next time someone, whether it be my sister, someone who bumps into you in the streets or, hell, I don't know, your own mother gets on your nerves, settle your frustration like an adult rather than seeking the assistance of top of the line hit men. God, you're pitiful."
She composed herself by straightening her posture, but how could she remain relaxed when such a nonchalant, detached expression was presented for her? Silence filled the air they shared while Maggie thought hard on what to snap at him next. She couldn't just leave her words at that. It didn't feel potent enough.
"Will that be all?" he asked, breaking the silence for her.
As if that were an invitation to further test her argumentative skills, she ground out "I'm going to have the authorities know of your illicit actions...I wouldn't be surprised if you are mistreating your patients. In fact, I'd bet my yearly salary that you are. However, that is out of my league, whereas family matters are not."
"And do you have corroboration? Or are you planning to tell the police with nothing to prove against me?"
"W-well, I - I know it was you!" she countered.
"I'd love to see where your 'knowledge' will take you. I bid you luck. Now, I have somewhere to go in just a few short minutes, so I'm going to have to ask you to be on your way."
"Why, you smug-"
"We can meet again another time if you'd like if my assertions haven't appeased your pointing fingers."
"I don't want anything more to do with you! You better stay the fuck away from my family or I will-"
"You will what?" he interjected coldly, coming to his feet to meander around his desk. "You know you can't display my guilt when you've nothingto display. It was rather mindless of you to come around here and trigger my stress further. With that declared, will you dismiss yourself independently or will I need to notify security?"
"Oh, I can tell you don't like dealing with people. Frankly, I'm no socialite myself, and I too deal with assholes frequently. Look, I think we both explicitly understand that my sister is notorious for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, but that does not give you free reign over her fate. What you did was cruel, ruthless, cowardly and ignorant. I apologize for the irritation Rachel has brought youfor her, since she will have nothing more to do with you. Andwith that said, I'll leave you alone to what corrupt lifestyle you've got going for yourself." She spun around towards the doorway. "And furthermore, piss off."
Before her right hand could even reach the doorknob, another statement hit her ears.
"I'll have you know that I took the required measures against your sibling not for my own personal benefit. Yes, she was pesky, and immensely so, but I reported her imprudent eavesdropping on strict protocol. Let us just say it was for the better."
"And how does ordering my sister dead meet obligatory standards? I was kinda prepared for cheap denial from you before I got here, but this exceeds my wildest expec-"
A hasty ram into the door cut her off. She could scarcely think to yelp out in defense as her chin received its most piecing grip to date. The man in advantage stood mere inches from her, his left hand resting on her hip with smarting pressure, his right on her chin, no more soothing. His glasses had slid down his nose and slanted from the pace at which he'd stormed for her, and his breathy pants reeked of the melting mint on his tongue, assaulting her burning cheeks as he let her off with his final warning.
"I'd would strongly advise departing my institution unless you'd prefer to find yourself deceased in little time to approachor locked away in one of the many unoccupied cells we have here in the building. Validating you insane is of far more simplicity than you'd understand."
"Let. Go. Of. Me. You. Cunning. Prick."
Strengthening his clutch, he seethed "Mind your dialect, Miss Dawes. I'll do what I must. I could care less whether or not my actions suit you or your sister. I'll remind you once more that you've no solid evidence of anything, so save yourself and your sister anymore turmoil that could escalate in time and surrender your futile efforts. If you're as perspicacious as your occupation would suggest, then you will move along and forget about the incursion she was fortunate enough to survive and pretend this little confrontation of ours never transpired."
Squirming against him, she whispered "Do you promise to leave us alone, then?"
"As you so wish."
He stepped away and went back for his desk, leaving her right hipbone throbbing from the sudden release and her senses bewitched. Resisting the urge to spit on him or backhand that lovely jawline of his, she scoffed as she trembled to open the door.
"You've got a lot of problems, doctor."
"Have a nice day, Miss Dawes," he said benevolently, as if nothing even the slightest bit terse had crossed between the two of them over those few minutes. By God, he was freakishly immaculate. As she stepped out into the hall, she, for some, unclear reason, found it necessary to inform him of her first name. She knew their business was far from over even if he did not. She'd be back.
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I'd like to thank my reviewer and those who've followed/favorited. Thank you for reading. Review, let me know how ya like it, or not :) This will follow the events of Batman Begins chronologically (or closely enough) onto The Dark Knight in the long run.
