Now we're getting into the events of "Begins". :D

Chapter Seven

Favors

Jonathan smiled as he held his wife's hand in his as they laid together in bed after making love. It was their wedding night, and he felt like he had been bathing in the sun and relaxing like putty. He wanted to just melt away and not feel guilty about it. He wanted to enjoy every bit of it even if it melted or burned until there was nothing left of himself.

Married.

His hand which held hers...he smiled at the shiny silver band, dainty as his own fingers, delicately wrapped around that finger, which rested next to the diamond-engraved one which now joined the solitaire he gave her only five months ago. He still couldn't comprehend the fact that this wonderful woman was finally his. And he never thought he would find the woman for him, never considered it possible - and he never thought he would have it in him to love another. He always thought the fairytales and literary works were full of impossibilities. Who ever would have thought it possible?

"Do you want to start a family sometime?" Miranda asked after awhile.

He didn't know how to respond. Jonathan felt his throat tighten as he thought back to his childhood and the possibility he would be no different than his own father. To him, as much as he wanted to say yes to her, his family was cursed with the absence of loving female figures, as well as distant, abusive fathers in his case. What if he ended up losing Miranda the way he lost his mother, and that way he would be the way his father had been to him? He didn't want to lose her, and he didn't want to have a child unwelcomed into the world as he had been.

As though reading his mind, Miranda's hand inside his tightened around so they were interlocking fingers. "Nothing will happen to me, and you're going to be a great father. Far more than yours." He smiled down at her, his confidence coming back to him.

~o~

Five months later...

With his eyes, he glared at the bald man in the orange prison suit, who would eventually become his newest addition to Arkham Asylum. Damn you Falcone. You've struck my nerve nearly the last time. Endangering our operation because you want your prized slaughterer back on the team. You have no idea that once he's in, he can't get out. But you'll find out soon enough. He slowly leaned into the microphone, keeping his eye on the topnotch himself instead of the calm glower of his rival, Rachel Dawes. "In my opinion," he said calmly, keeping it together, "Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger himself as to others, and...prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation." He almost spat the last word when he saw the smug smile on the animal's face. He would love nothing better than to find out what he was really afraid of; he could in no way be that proud and fearless, simply hungry for a thrill of carving flesh into strips before slicing a tally mark onto his own body after his very latest victim.

So it was settled. Victor Zsasz would be going to Arkham, and Dr. Crane was excited for a new test subject. Carmine Falcone was a mere puppet who thought he could get off that easily, but once Ra's al Ghul - Ducard - came to Gotham in a matter of days, he wasn't going to be thoroughly pleased with any of this.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he strode from the courtroom, suitcase in hand, ready to get back to the hospital and then at the end of the day, go home to Miranda for a nice dinner. They'd gotten an apartment together near the bridge which was close for him to the Narrows, but slightly further from Wayne Enterprises. He had considered asking Miranda to quit her job so he could get her to work closely with him and so he could give her greater access to chemicals in the lab, perhaps find an excuse to fire Nina and put Miranda as his secretary. But Miranda wouldn't be too happy about that; she was better than simply setting up appointments. He only came up with that so they could be closer together by day than simply at home at night.

"Dr. Crane!" He whirled around and almost groaned when Miss Dawes came hurrying his way. She never knew when to give up, just never. "Do you REALLY believe a man who butchers people for the mob doesn't belong in jail?"

Jonathan scoffed; she asked nearly the same question every time she confronted him after a case involving the sanity of a criminal. "Please, I thought you knew by now, Miss Dawes. I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, now wouldn't I?" He tried to pick his pace up and get away from her, but the persistent woman stopped in front of him and blocked his path. He wished he could let loose the visceral growl rumbling mildly within the tunnel of his throat at her statement.

"This is the third of Carmine Falcone's thugs you've had declared insane and moved into your asylum."

Blame Falcone for that. "Well, the work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane," Jonathan sneered, turning away and knowing he caught her off - until she called him corrupt behind his back. He smirked to himself; she really shouldn't have done that. Calling an important figure corrupt and in a public location got you in deep every time.

He could feel Dawes' eyes burning into both his shoulders, but he gladly spotted from afar the man who was her boss. "Mr. Finch!" The DA turned in his direction when he heard his name called. He paled on the spot. "I think you should check with Miss Dawes," Crane drawled, "here just what implications your office has authorized her to make. If any." Striding past Carl Finch without another look, he knew that she acted on her on brash instincts without further proof. But she was close enough that her end might meet her soon enough. If there was one way to evict her once and for all.

He needed to see Falcone for this. And while he did, it was time to call off the favors he'd be asked off, but that didn't count the shipments brought in from Asia.

It was still broad daylight when he drove deeper into downtown Gotham, deciding returning to the hospital could wait a little longer. They would do nothing to him since he was the administrator. As soon as he stepped in through the front door of Falcone's bar, two of his goons recognized him and nodded, gesturing him in the direction of the crime lord's office. He refused to knock, choosing to go right in and in time to see Falcone getting off the phone. He frowned disapprovingly. "Doctor, you just couldn't knock before you come in? Acting like you own this place when it's ME." He pointed to himself for emphasis. Jonathan shook his head as he closed the door behind him.

"No more favors, Carmine," he said, getting straight to the point and ignoring him altogether. "Someone is sniffing around, and you asking me to be Victor Zsasz's 'get out of jail free' card is wearing it up."

Falcone's face softened only to tighten again. "Hey," he returned, "I scratch your back, you scratch mine, Doc." A small smile formed. "And you couldn't have come 'unexpectedly' at a more perfect time, because my new favor requires bringing in the next shipments."

"And we are paying you for that." His frustration was ebbing on the verge of eruption. He was beginning to think perhaps he should have waited until Ducard came and they would have confronted their middle man together.

"Maybe money isn't as interesting to me as favors," Falcone replied smugly.

This was when Jonathan finally allowed a small smile of his own to form on his face. Taking off his glasses, he let loose a slight sigh. Falcone thought he wasn't afraid of him - although he could see that he wasn't, but if only he knew what Jonathan could do behind his closed eyelids - and thought he could smuggle his way in and out just because he was oh-so powerful. "I'm well aware that you are not intimidated by me, Mr. Falcone, but you know who I'm working for, and when he gets here -"

Something compared to dismay and worry appeared on the man's face. "He-he's coming to Gotham?" He just couldn't resist becoming a small child afraid of his misbehavior getting back to his parents.

"Yes, he is," Crane answered proudly, his lip curling. "And when he gets here, he's NOT gonna wanna hear about how you've endangered our operation just to get your thugs out of a little jail time." He almost rolled his eyes at the lowering of the head, an act that didn't work on him. Falcone wanted him to believe that he understood very much, but Crane wasn't a fool.

"Who's bothering you?"

"There's a girl at the DA's office."

Falcone nodded. "We'll buy her off then, then she'll leave you alone."

Jonathan shook his head, although the idea would have been nice. "Not this one."

"Oh, idealist, huh?" Falcone lowered his head and shook it while laughing at the "quick fix" he came up with. "Well, there's an answer to that, too."

Jonathan was more than ready to leave now that he was happy this was finished. If Dawes was out of the picture soon, his problems were solved. His hand was on the doorknob behind him, ready to go home to his wife now. "No need to explain."