Chapter Seven: Touching Your Hand

Alexis's head was pounding. The persistent beeping of the alarm clock had never seemed so goddamn annoying before. She reached over, pounded the top with her fist, and allowed the weight of sleep to crush her once more.

The next thing that woke her up was someone shaking her shoulder. She tried to slap the person who was shaking her, but her flimsy palm never came in contact with skin.

"Alexis…Alexis…Lexi…it's time to get up," a soft voice whispered. It sounded just like her mother's.

"Five more minutes," Alexis mumbled. She felt little pats on her cheek.

"No, it's seven o'clock. Your shift starts in an hour," said the voice sternly.

"Fuck," she exhaled. She forced her eyes open. Everything was dark and blurry. Faint morning light filtered through the drapes, illuminating Maria's silhouette. Alexis sat up quickly, too quickly, for her head began to spin. She burped. It tasted of domestic beer and cheap wine. She remembered having the wine at dinner with that mustached man and his cohorts (and, of course, her boyfriend). But when the hell did the beer show up? Surely it was after they left dinner. They probably stopped by a liquor store, picked up a six pack, and rushed home so they could drink it all in peace. There was probably some congratulatory sex slipped into that chain of events.

"Hey…sorry if we woke you," Alexis mumbled as she climbed out of bed. She didn't have any underwear on: the only thing covering her was the giant t-shirt she usually wore to bed.

"No, it's fine. You weren't loud at all," Maria half-lied. When they entered the apartment at around midnight, Maria had been asleep for an hour or so. Her eyes had jolted open, for she thought that someone was trying to break in. But then she heard giggling and knew that it was just Alexis and Jake. With her mind relaxed she was able to fall asleep for a short amount of time. She was tossed out of her sleep again when someone entered the room, reached into the cabinet, and dropped a couple of glasses.

"Aw shit," Alexis had giggled as she stepped over the glasses she dropped. She retreated to the bedroom, so Maria felt that she should get out of bed and clean up the mess before someone got hurt. Once the glass was taken care of, she went back to sleep.

"You're a virgin, right Maria?" asked Alexis as they walked into the kitchen. Maria was ready to leave, and was almost out the door when Alexis asked the question.

"Oh…yes, of course," Maria answered sheepishly. Alexis reached into the cabinet for a bowl and a coffee cup.

"You need to find a guy who likes to take it slow. You're a tiny thing. A rough night will shake the stuffing out of you." She rummaged through the cabinet. "Where the hell are all the wine glasses?"

"I think you took four into the bedroom," Maria replied as she slipped on her coat and shoes. "The other two are in the trash."

"Aw shit," Alexis chortled. She then released a heavy sigh. "God I'm exhausted…"

"I'd love to stay and chat, Lexi, but I have to get going. My shift starts in twenty minutes," Maria said timidly.

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure, go for it!" Alexis answered, a kick of pep in her voice. "I'll just sit here and wait for the coffee to brew."

Maria left the apartment and caught the train just in time. As the train screeched and tottered down the track, she glanced around the cabin. The people accompanying her were roughly the same as the ones who traveled with her the day before, and the days before that as well. Her life, it seemed, was just one big constant. No surprises, no turns into strange lands, no excitement.

She stepped off of the train and rushed to the bus stop. The bus was just about to close its doors when Maria placed her foot on the steps. The driver had no choice but to let her in. She inserted her bus tokens and found a spot near the back, unaware of the other passengers for the moment. When she sat down and got herself comfortable, she spotted a familiar face in the corner of her eye. Pale skin illuminated by incredibly dark hair, thin, sharp glasses, lanky frame. He was leaning into a book that looked like it had seen better days. The pages were stained yellow, torn; the cover was faded and cracked.

"Good morning, Dr. Crane," Maria greeted him shyly. This was the first time she had ever noticed him on this particular bus. Had he always been a fellow passenger, and she just didn't realize it? Crane looked up from his book. His seat was right across the aisle from hers. He was sitting at the window, as was she.

"Good morning, Miss DuPont," he answered in the same low voice. They looked at each other for a few moments. Maria's lips curled into a small, friendly smile.

"Do you take the bus often?" she asked.

"Most of the time I do, just not this early. Usually my shifts start a little later," he explained.

"I see," replied Maria. "I was just wondering...because, well, I take this bus every day, and I could have sworn that I've never seen you here before."

"You have the morning shift every day?" Dr. Crane inquired, a perplexed flip in his voice. Maria gave a small shrug.

"Well…no one else really wanted to take it…" she responded softly.

"I see. And you work a twelve hour shift, do you not?"

"Ah…y-yes, I do," she said sheepishly.

"You shouldn't work too hard, Miss DuPont. I'm sure you know it's very easy to catch something once the body's defenses start to slack," he chided her lightly.

"I-I'll be fine!" she blurted out. "Really, I have lots of stamina. And, well, as long as I have the energy I should put myself to good use, right?"

"Whatever you say," he replied quietly.

"Ah…pardon me if I'm intruding, but who were those people you brought to the Asylum the other day?" she asked, feigning ignorance, trying to carry on the conversation.

"Those were my students," Dr. Crane answered. "I like to take my doctorate students to the Asylum from time to time so they get some real hands-on learning experience. It also gives me time to collect research notes and such."

"So that's why you work at the Asylum?" questioned Maria. It was her turn to be the interrogator. "For research purposes?"

"For the most part," he replied. "You've probably realized by now that they are a little short-staffed over there, so after my internship they offered me a full-time job. I told them that I wanted to pursue teaching, and once I got the job at Gotham University, I returned asking if I could use the Asylum for my research."

"That was kind of the Asylum to let you," she commented. Dr. Crane nodded in agreement. A long silence lingered between them. There was a strange pressure in Maria's throat, like a foreign object had taken roost there and was choking her words. She leaned back against the hard seat, her body shifting slightly out of discomfort. When she glanced out the window, she could see the Asylum perched on top of a hill, the gates firmly shut.

The bus pulled into the station and opened its screechy door. Maria and Dr. Crane rose at the same time, he let her go first, and the two stepped off of the bus. All that was left was to trek up the hill. The icy winter wind began to pick up a little. Maria closed her coat tightly and pulled her scarf over her mouth and nose, afraid that she would catch a cold. Dr. Crane didn't take any extra measures towards protecting himself besides stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Are you okay?" he asked, seeing that she was blowing into her cupped, unprotected hands. They were starting to turn red.

"Oh! Y-yes, I'm fine," she responded timidly. "I just…I forgot my gloves at home and this is the only way to keep my hands warm." Crane felt something leathery and warm in his pocket. When he pulled it out, he saw that it was a weathered old glove. The other pocket contained its partner.

"Perhaps…you could use these, if you'd like," he offered quietly as he held out the gloves. "They're a little old and worn, though." Maria smiled warmly.

"That's all right," she said happily as she accepted the gloves and pulled them on. "Thank you very much." The gloves were cracked and faded on the outside, but the inside still possessed some warmth. They were a little big on her and threatened to slip off. Despite that, her frozen fingers began to thaw, and moving them didn't hurt as much.

It didn't take the pair too long to reach the gates of the Asylum, for they were rushing up the hill to escape from the nipping cold. They flashed their ID tags and the guard let them in. Once they reached the entrance hall, they turned into opposite directions. Maria had to head to the Hospital wing, while Dr. Crane was going to the Psychiatric Ward. Before travelling far, Maria pivoted, realizing that she still had his gloves.

"Ah…D-Dr. Crane, your gloves!" she exclaimed. Dr. Crane glanced over his shoulder.

"It's all right…I don't really need them. Keep them, if you'd like," he responded. Maria stepped a little towards him, her mouth open to object, but Dr. Crane kept on his way, his hand raised as a way of silencing her. A soft smile passed over her lips as she watched his back shrink and disappear into the hallway. She held the gloves gently, afraid that if her grip was too tight they would break into dust. Her heart was fluttering and a nervous, giddy feeling was pulsing in her veins.

"Thank you," she whispered.


Alexis didn't go to work that day. A little after Maria left, she made the decision to call in sick. Her head was throbbing madly and there was an empty feeling in her stomach that food wasn't enough to fill. She guessed that she drank too much and it made her ill.

Jake wasn't scheduled to start his new job until the next Monday, so he was home with her. Alexis found little errands for him to run out and do. The mail had to be picked up, the garbage had to be taken out, and groceries had to be bought. Jake was out doing the third task and Alexis had the whole apartment to herself.

"Finally, some alone time," she mumbled as she leaned back on the couch. In her hands she held a photo album, while her Gotham University yearbook sat on the coffee table. She opened the album and started flipping through the pictures. Most of them were from her senior year at college, but there were some that were taken during her graduate years. She could see a few obvious differences between her undergrad and grad selves. Her hair was much shorter (it barely reached past her jaw) when she was younger, while in her graduate years she allowed it to grow. Faint dark circles became more apparent over the years. She lost about fifteen pounds during her sixth year at school, but then by the time she graduated she gained ten of them back. As an undergrad, she had many friends, and those friends were shown off in the photos from her first four years. Then most of those people graduated and attended other schools for their graduate degrees. That was when Jonathan Crane came into the picture.

He hadn't really changed much since college. His face may have matured a little, but he was still the lanky, bookish, timid man he always was. A playful smirk inched across her lips as she flipped through the pictures of the two of them. Since they were majoring in the same subject, they had many classes together, and eventually they became quite good friends. At some point in their school days, they became even more than friends.

"I still can't believe we actually dated for six months," she said to herself, her voice riding on a half-hearted laugh. Their relationship was never the same after they broke up. Alexis couldn't help but feel it was her fault. She was the one who pushed too much, the one who was being too strong, the one who forced him to stay. After meeting Jake, she had no problems with pushing Jonathan away. He seemed relieved, actually, to finally be out of a relationship he didn't even want. But Alexis would never know for sure how he really felt about her dropping him like a broken toy. "I was terrible to him…I really was." She sighed and closed the album. Then she gathered the album and the yearbook and returned them to the bookshelf. While she was there, she picked up an older looking album containing family photos. "He deserves much more than I can give him."

The album had a faded image of a sunflower on the cover. When she opened it, she came face to face with her young parents on their wedding day, their mouths opened in wide smiles.

The next few pages were snapshots from their honeymoon in Hawaii. Then came the baby pictures. First there was Maxwell's section, then hers, then Fern's, and finally Maria's. Alexis turned the page and found a picture of herself holding baby Maria. That was back when she wore her hair in twin braids. She was six when Maria was born. In the photograph, she was proudly displaying the baby she was holding in her arms, like she was offering it to the person taking the picture. Alexis couldn't help but chuckle at the picture.

"Even after all these years, I'm still doing that."


The sign on Crane's office door said that he was taking his lunch break. However, he was not in the poorly sanitized hospital cafeteria. He was actually in the basement of the hospital wing hunched over a table. In the dim light he was mixing a concoction of chemicals. The liquid in his test tube had a bright amber color to it and a faint aroma. His gaze was locked on the mixture as he stirred it. He then reached for a spatula and dipped it into a tray of yellow powder, using it to measure out exactly how much he wanted for the mixture. Carefully he fed the thin spatula into the test tube, allowing the yellow powder to drop in and dissolve. A faint fizzing sound rose from the test tube. Grinning, he placed the spatula on his tool tray and grabbed a stirring rod, which he used to stir the powder into the liquid. The mixture began to take on a darker orange tint.

"Almost complete," he murmured. He removed the large set of goggles that covered nearly half of his face and set them down. After the mixture stopped fizzing, he used a large eyedropper to transfer the liquid from the test tube to a serum bottle. On the label he wrote "Serum Two". The notepad next to him had the recipe for the second drug. "This one should be stronger, but there's only one way to find out." He slipped the drug into his coat pocket and packed his materials into his briefcase. Then he went to a shelf and placed the remainder of the powder on the top shelf, taking care to hide it. Once everything was cleaned up, he went to the stairs and began his journey to the ground floor of the hospital wing.

The basement had been his secret working place ever since he took up the job at Arkham. Because he was a Psychology professor, he wasn't authorized to use the labs at Gotham University. If he wanted to use the labs, he would have to go through an extensive application process, and even if he was given permission, someone from the science department would have to supervise him while he was using it. The secrecy of his experiments was a key factor, so Crane had to be as sneaky as possible. The basement of the hospital was never used (it was in terrible condition: the remaining furniture was rusty, the floors were dirty, and it was freezing), making it the perfect place to create his fear drugs.

As he made his way up the stairs, Maria was on her way down. By chance they met on the second floor landing. Maria greeted him with a small, friendly smile.

"Hello again, Dr. Crane," she said cheerfully.

"Ah…good morning, Miss DuPont," he responded, his voice low. Her smile grew a little bigger.

"Well…it's afternoon now, actually. It's almost two-thirty," she corrected him.

"Oh…is it?" he inquired, glancing at his watch. She was right. He had been working much longer than he thought he was. "I'm sure the staff's been looking for me for the past hour," his inner voice muttered. Seeing that he looked worried about something, Maria's smile faded.

"Is everything all right, Doctor?" she asked.

"I'm fine. I just got so caught up in my work that I wasn't keeping track of the time," he explained, his gaze on the floor. "I should be going." With that said he slid past her and continued up the stairs, his pace quickening. Maria turned to face him, watching as he opened the third floor door and stepped into the corridor. A sigh fell from her.

"I wonder what he could be working on here?" she asked herself out loud as she turned towards the stairs and continued down. "I mean, shouldn't he be in the Psychiatric Ward?" Curiosity panged in her blood. "What sort of research is he conducting, exactly?" She reached the first floor and peered down the next flight of stairs. From reading maps of the Asylum, she knew that the Hospital Wing had a basement level, but it was used for storage. There couldn't possibly be any labs or offices down there. Gripping the rusty banister tightly, she went down the steps, putting her weight on her toes. Her shoes clacked against the metal steps and echoed throughout the stairwell. She reached a gray metallic door that was caked in rust. Red chipped paint barely spelled out the letter "B". When she touched the door handle, she found that it was slightly warm.

"Maybe Dr. Crane was down here," she said to herself. She twisted the handle and pushed the door in. The hinges squealed as she stepped inside. The only thing before her was darkness. She prodded the wall in search of a light switch and, eventually, she found one. A few lights flickered on, giving her a limited view of the filthy basement. A moldy odor filled the room. Her stomach churned. "What in the world would he do in this place?" she wondered.

Pieces of old furniture were littered about the room, covered by dusty tarps. The only unveiled piece was a long table that looked like it had seen better days. Splotches of liquids scarred its face. Most of them were dark, showing that they had been there for a while, but there was one stain that carried an orange tint. She guessed that it was fresh. She bent over the table and sniffed the stain. The odor wasn't nearly as offensive as the one in the room, but it didn't smell of roses either. The acidity caused her to gag, and as she straightened she let out a series of coughs.

"What an odd smell," she mumbled as she removed her hand from her mouth. Her gaze turned to the closed door. "I should get out of here," she added as she retreated to the door. She twisted the handle and pulled, but the door didn't budge. A gasp rose from her throat. She pulled harder, only to no avail. "Come on," she gritted as she pulled with all of her weight. The door refused to move. Her hands lost their grip and she was sent flying backwards. A shelf caught her, but in the process a box was knocked off. As it hit the floor, it opened and released a yellow powder. Maria, upon inhaling the substance, coughed furiously.

She looked around for something to clean up with. In a corner she found a broom and dustpan, so she used those to sweep up the powder and return it to its box. Yellow stained the concrete floor. Some of the particles had settled into the little grooves in the concrete. There was no way she could sweep those up. After placing the box on the shelf once more, she wiped her hands on her apron. Yellow smeared the white article. She let out a sigh.

"Well, this thing was due for a washing anyway," she said nervously, trying to be positive. "Now…how do I get out of here exactly?" She scanned the dank and dark room in search of another exit. Her efforts bore no fruit. The stubborn door was her only way out. Her heart began to race. She suddenly felt a cold sweat on her face. Her knees started to tremble. She gulped.

"Is anyone here?" she called faintly. She could have sworn that she heard something moving. Her senses seemed to have heightened. She suddenly became aware of the drops of water dripping from the leaking pipes. She could hear rats scampering. The walls seemed to creak, as if they were moaning in agony. The shadows seemed to have taken on other shapes, shapes of frightening creatures and people. Her head was throbbing, her heart pounding. Her eyes were wide, pupils glassy and dilated.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" she cried. "Someone…someone please, help me! Help me!" Maria scrambled towards the door and furiously tugged on the handle. She was on her shaking knees, and every time she tried to stand her knees buckled and dropped her. The darkness seemed like it was falling on her. She pounded on the door. "HELP! HELP!" she shrieked. She shut her eyes tightly and leaned against the door. Her trembling body was beginning to shut down. It was freezing. She thought she was dying.

"Mom…Daddy…I'm sorry," she whispered.