Chapter Four: Pretty Little Flower

A month past with no help from the studies of the medication, or the autopsy, which had led to more questions than answers. The toxin report taken from Rune's body indicated a high dosage of a rare fear inducing hallucinogen found in Asia. After nights of research on this plant, Harleen learned only that it was a very rare blue double-bloomed poppy that grew somewhere near Bhutan. The question was how did it end up in Rune? The Medication she had administered didn't have a single trace of the hallucinogen in it.

After taking a sip of her coffee, Harleen slammed down her laptop and massaged her temples. She had sworn to find what had killed Rune, but now that she finally had, the road hit a dead end.

"Dr. Quinzel?" It was Crane. For the past few weeks, he had been artfully trying to persuade her to stop her investigation, even going so far as inviting her to work with him on his own case. The infamous Carmine Falcone case. Unfortunately for him she was already far too invested in her own.

"Yes?" she answered tiredly, looking up from her hands.

"It's seven o'clock and you've been working sixteen hour shifts for the past month. As your superior I am telling you to take some time off."His tone was neither empathetic nor warm, though his face tried to be.

Harleen did not respond. Instead she took out a small tube of ointment and gingerly rubbed a pearl sized amount on the small scar atop her cheek. His eyes contemplated her attentively as he stood in front of her desk.

"Have you come across any indicators of foul play?" He asked, in the way only Jonathan Crane ever could.

"No, I haven't found a thing." Harleen replied. Until she could find any more details about the mysterious hallucinogen, Harleen decided it would be best to leave Dr. Crane out of it. He would only tell her it was a mistake in the toxin studies anyway, a trivial mistake for a novice physiatrist. His shoulders seemed to relax slightly as she said this. Then after pausing for a few seconds he took a seat in front of her.

"Go home Harleen. Stop this tedious quest; it was never yours in the first place. He was sick; you proscribed a perfectly fine medication. As he had no records of any allergies his death was not your fault, do not let this guilt obsess you. I would rather not have to examine one of my own doctors." A hidden smile spread on his lips after he said this, Harleen only caught it for a moment then it disappeared. Awkwardly, he placed a hand on hers, and gave it a small squeeze. "Get some sleep, and take a mental health day." He added, and then removed his hand quickly.

"Dr. Crane?" It was Holly; she stood by the door, tapping the frame nervously. "Rachel Dawes is waiting for you on the first floor."

"I'll be down in a moment." He answered as he stood from the chair. "Take in what I've said Dr. Quinzel. Leave now." After he left, Harleen gave an exasperated sigh and ran her hands through her scalp.

"I guess I could continue at home anyway." She said to herself quietly, her fingers twisting a strand of blonde hair. After picking up a stack of late paperwork, she left the room and continued down the hall to Dr. Crane's office. Opening the door, she walked in slowly but instantly dropped the heavy stack as soon as she reached his desk. On top was a small blue flower, sitting in a tiny white vase.

"The Poppy…" her voice was a whisper, but it felt like a scream from the silence of the room.

"A very rare blue double-bloomed poppy, that grows somewhere near Bhutan."

"It was Crane…but where was he-?" After trying to decipher a possible location for hiding a chemical as volatile as this hallucinogen, Harleen remembered the dark room in the basement level of the Asylum.

"What is this place?"

"Just an empty garage."

"The basement!" Running out of the room, Harleen skidded into the wall but kept going. While hitting the elevator button, she cursed loudly. It was locked. Turning around in frustration, her eyes locked on the window and she gave a startled whelp, a dark figure lingered, watching. Batman. Walking over to the window, she fumbled with the lock and opened it quickly.

"You know what's going on?" Harleen asked quietly, after looking behind herself.

"Yes." He answered gruffly; his eyes seemed to scan everything about the room at once while still locked on her.

"It's in the basement." Harleen said flatly, hoping he would catch her meaning. She couldn't read his expression, but she assumed he understood. "But the elevator's locked." She added taking another quick look behind her; at this point in time she didn't know who she could trust.

"I don't use elevators." He replied then vanished like smoke before she could utter a word.

"Wait! I…want to come with you…" Stamping her heel in frustration, Harleen ran towards the stairwell entrance and opened the door. In high heels she ran down the stairs, flight after flight, the only thing keeping her going was the adrenaline and the anger coursing through her body. Finally she reached the basement floor and pulled on the door handle franticly. Of course it was locked; the window latch above the door however, was not.

"Alright Harl, you were a gymnast, this should be no problem. I mean this is how you got your scholarship right?!" She tried to prep herself, but her mind was already in denial. Taking off her heals; she threw them through the window, but winced as they crashed to the ground. Regaining her composure, Harleen backed away from the door and took in a deep breath. After lifting her hands up with ease she ran towards the door, jumped, grabbed a hold of the frame, lifted herself up, and slipped through the window feet first. Smiling at her accomplishment after she landed, Harleen put her shoes back on and looked around the hallway. There seemed to be more doors than she remembered, luckily the loud noises of a fight seemed to be coming from one in particular. Pulling it open quickly she was met by a startling sight. The Batman grabbed a masked man, from Harleen's vantage point it looked like a burlap bag, torn in places to look like a face, a scarecrow face. A gasp left her lips as he pulled off the mask roughly, revealing Dr. Crane.

"No, no he's still here! The mask! The mask!!"

Batman held Dr. Crane by his hair, as he thrashed violently against the hold. Around them other men lay on the ground subdued by the Batman, in the factory purely dedicated to the production of the hallucinogen, the very factory that had been here right under her nose. A rush of emotions ran through Harleen so fast she couldn't seem to catch her breath. After a month of sleepless nights and a guilty conscious, it hadn't been her at all, but the man she had respected as a Doctor. The last man in the world she expected, or wanted to.

"Taste of your own medicine doctor?" Batman asked in his menacing voice, as he took Dr. Crane's wrist and sprayed the toxic fumes in his face. Harleen was silenced in utter shock, gripping the railing in front of her, her knuckles turned white. Opening her mouth she tried to yell out but couldn't, she tried to move but was paralyzed. The same look Rune Davis had on his face the night he died was the now the look that Dr. Crane wore now, his lower jaw being held in a tight grip by The Batman. An interrogation passed between them quickly, Dr. Crane shivering in The Dark Knight's clutches.

But as soon as The Doctor's mind was utterly spent, and the last words were said between them The Batman threw him aside and sirens began bellowing out in the street. It was that moment when Harleen noticed a woman laying on top a table, Rachel Dawes. The Batman scooped her up gently then he turned his eyes to Harleen and gave a slight nod before he quickly departed. After a few moments she unglued her eyes from the scene around her and remembered the drugged Dr. Crane and ran over to him.

His eyes were clamped shut, and his skin was whiter than she had ever seen it. Placing two fingers on his neck she found a pulse, then pushed back his hair softly and placed a hand on his forehead. She was furious with him; inside she hated him for what he had done. But the doctor in her couldn't let that bias his treatment, no matter what he had done. Shaking her head, she placed a hand under his chin and ran her fingers over it gingerly, while the police filed in loudly shutting the place down.

"Welcome to the East Ward, Scarecrow…"