AN: There is an episode in animated series, called 'Lock-Up', where the titular villain accuses Batman of caring about his rogues. FINE. I'll give Batsy credit where credit is due-he sort of does. (But he's not forgiven for tossing Scarecrow around in Begins. Asshole.)
SwordStitcher-It was a copycat. I dealt with him when he was committed to Arkham. There is only one Master of Fear-in Gotham or otherwise-and that is me. Obviously.
Jonathan Crane has never been this easy to find. Nor has he ever been this…despondent.
He's sitting in a metal chair by the bed, a cup of something clasped in his hands. His mask is on the table next to him. Batman can see blood on his clothes. He shouldn't be sitting up.
"Crane."
"It'll have to wait."
He doesn't even look up. He doesn't do anything except look from the cup to the bed and back again.
"Crane…"
"It'll have to wait, I said. If you try to drag me out of here, I will gas you. And you don't have the antidote to this one yet." Dammit. Batman supposes he could lunge for him, but he doesn't want to antagonize the man. He's never seen him like this before, and he doesn't want to know what he'll do if provoked. "You can sit down, if you must."
"She'll be fine."
"So they tell me." He doesn't sound convinced.
"What happened?"
"Some idiot tried to double-cross me." A bitter smirk graces his features. "He's learned his lesson."
Batman shudders. How the Scarecrow keeps anyone on is a mystery. Then again, the Joker kills over pimples, so…
"Crane…"
"I can't believe what they say." he says softly. "They don't want to upset me by telling me the truth."
"They told you the truth." He checked on that. The only thing wrong with Kitty Richardson is a (likely) concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. The blast threw her hard enough to knock her out, but there isn't anything to worry about. Fortunately. Crane would probably gas the hospital if something happened to her.
"Did they."
"Yes."
"Good." He takes a sip of his drink and slumps forward. "I'm still not moving."
"You shouldn't be sitting up."
"What…oh." He prods his stomach and grimaces. "They said something about minor lacerations."
His voice is slurred and Batman wonders if they drugged that drink. He hopes not, because there will be hell to pay when Crane finds out.
The door opens and a short, balding man wearing glasses and a white coat peeks in.
"Doctor Crane?" Crane looks up. Typical. He'll cooperate with anyone but Batman. Childish. "May I come in?"
"Show me."
The doctor sighs but holds his coat open, turns around, and turns out his pockets. Crane nods and returns to staring at his drink.
"Batman."
"Ignore him." His voice is sharp. "What do you want."
"Doctor Crane, you really need to be looked at yourself. I promise you that she will be fine. Nothing is going to happen to her."
He doesn't say anything for several minutes. Then he turns to Batman.
"Please."
Please? Oh, god, he's in the Twilight Zone!
"Fine."
He finally gets up and follows the doctor out of the room. Batman eases himself into the metal chair and hopes he doesn't crush it by accident.
It's going to be a long night.
THE END
