CHAPTER 13

Someone was calling her name.

"Katie…Katie, wake up. Katie…"

It sounded like Jonathan. For a brief moment, Katie hoped that the events of the past several days had been a terrible nightmare, and she would open her eyes to find herself in her own bed, in her own house, with Jonathan demanding to know if she had slept all damn day. But even as she hoped her nostrils filled with that unmistakable institutional smell, and she knew it wasn't gonna happen. She would find herself in Arkham when she opened her eyes, as she had been for…well, she wasn't sure how long. The voice was undoubtedly that of one of the doctors, nurses, or orderlies, although it was odd they were calling her "Katie"; they usually called her "Mrs. Crane" and treated her in a deferential manner as befitted the wife of one of their psychiatrists.

She decided not to open her eyes.

The voice was tinged with impatience now. "Katie, damn it, wake up. Katie!" if it wasn't Jonathan, it sure sounded just like him…or maybe she was hallucinating again.

"Katie! Open your eyes right this instant! I know you're not really asleep, and I've got to get you over to the police department!"

Right this instant. Yep, it was Jonathan, all right. She opened her eyes.

Sure enough, she saw the white walls and worn linoleum of Arkham. But it was none other than her husband standing at her bedside, and—oh happy day!—he was holding some of her clothes in his hands.

"Morning, sunshine," she croaked. God, her mouth was dry.

"This is no time for your facetiousness," Jonathan snapped. "We have to be at the Major Crimes Unit of Gotham Police Department in an hour. I don't know what you've done now, Katie, but so help me God—"

"I haven't done anything," Katie said, confused. "How could I have done anything? I've been here in the cuckoo's nest for…how long have I been in here anyway?"

"Ten days," Jonathan confirmed. "A…Detective James Gordon called the house a couple of hours ago asking for you. When I told him you were indisposed"—Katie was lucid enough to smirk at the euphemism—"he asked that you come to the Major Crimes Unit as soon as possible to speak with him. He was…very insistent about it. Katie, did you call the police about Jack?"

Katie shook her head. "I don't think so," she said.

"Are you sure? Not even before your last…breakdown?"

"No," she replied, sitting up. "I was going to call them after…after I talked to Jack last, but…he …and I was sick, and…then I was in here. I never got to call them."

"Well, Detective Gordon said it was 'pertaining to Jack Napier,'" Jonathan pressed. "Are you absolutely sure you didn't call them and maybe just—forgot?"

She knew what he was driving at. "I never called them, Jonathan!" she snapped, a little more viciously than she'd intended. He stepped back.

"All right, Katie," he said in the patented "Soothing-Patients" tone. "All right. Just…get dressed then, and we'll go see what this is all about. OK?"

Without another word, she got up and yanked the clothes from his hands. He had brought her a Gotham U sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. As she began to dress, she couldn't help being amused at the fact that he turned his back.

"You can look, you know, Dr. Crane," she said mockingly. "I'm not one of your patients—well, not just one of your patients." He whipped around and arrowed his icy glare at her, but didn't respond. He stayed facing her as she finished; however, his eyes never seemed to fall on her.

They left Arkham by a side door to find a taxicab waiting for them. Jonathan, ever the gentleman, opened the door for Katie and helped her into the back. She acknowledged his chivalry with a curt nod. They rode to the Major Crimes Unit in silence.

During the short ride, Katie didn't think about where they were going or why; she was just too happy to be in a car, wearing her own clothes, going someplace, being free. When they pulled up to the tall, imposing gray building, though, she remembered what this was all about. They wanted to talk to her about Jack. What were they going to tell her? That he was indeed on the loose and coming after her and hers? Or maybe that he was dead or otherwise incapacitated, and everything from the last few months had been only in her mind? Which would be worse?

She couldn't suppress a small shiver as they walked up the concrete steps. Surprisingly, she felt Jonathan's arm go around her.

She turned to him. "What are they going to tell me?" she asked quietly. There was no mockery or defiance in her now. She looked small, lost, scared, and very young.

He gazed down at her, and there was nothing now of the doctor reassuring a troublesome patient. He was only a man concerned for his wife. "I don't know," he replied just as quietly. "But whatever it is, we'll deal with it together."

--

The inside of the Major Crimes Unit was dingy, cramped, noisy, and poorly lit. However, Katie didn't get much of a chance to look around before they were ushered into a small office. This office was every bit as dingy and cramped as the outside, but much quieter and slightly better lit. Behind a battle-scarred wooden desk sat a vaguely familiar man. I know him from somewhere, Katie thought, but where?

The man rose as they entered. "Mrs. Crane," he said as he came wound the desk and extended his hand. "Dr. Crane. Thank you for coming." He shook each of their hands in turn. "Mrs. Crane, I'm Officer Jim Gordon. I don't know if you remember me, but—"

"I do," Katie said as it came flooding back to her. "You were at Wayne Manor after…" she faltered.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "That's right." He had changed some in the last few years, Katie noted. He was slightly stooped now, and his hair, which had been brown then, was leaning toward salt-and-pepper. But the eyes were the same, although the lines around them were deeper. Blue eyes, not as striking as her husband's but still pretty. Mild, kind eyes, with a certain keen intelligence lurking underneath. This was a good-hearted man, but you'd have to get up early in the morning to pull one over on him.

"Please, have a seat," he was saying. She shook herself out of her reverie and sat in one of the hard plastic chairs he indicated. Jonathan took the other. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like some, or I could get you some water or a soda."

"No, thanks," they murmured. Gordon took his seat behind the desk. There was an uncomfortable silence. Katie decided to break it.

"You know it was Jack," she said abruptly. "At the party, I mean, and afterward. Jack was the Red Hood." Jonathan shook his head at her slightly, but she pretended not to notice.

Gordon cleared his throat. "Well, yes," he said. "We do know now that Mr. Napier was responsible for the Red Hood robberies. At the time, though, he was never even a person of interest. He had no prior criminal record—although he had murdered Tino Arroyo in Atlantic City years earlier, but he was never a suspect in that either. But that's not what this is about."

He took off his glasses and began to polish them, more as a way to keep his hands busy than anything else. "Mrs. Crane—"

"Katie," she said. "Please call me Katie."

He flashed a tired smile. "Katie, then, I'm afraid I have some bad news. A few days ago we received a call from the Philadelphia police department. They were looking into the death of a man named Alex Martinez."

Katie felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. Alex. It was true, she hadn't imagined it. Oh, God, Alex. Tears sprang to her eyes as memories assaulted her: meeting Alex for the first time at Gino's, Alex doing his Chong impression, Alex and Jack arm-wrestling while she cheered them on…oh, Christ. How could Alex be dead? He was one of the most alive people she'd ever known.

Officer Gordon was offering her Kleenex as Jonathan stroked her hand. "I'm sorry, darling," he soothed. To Officer Gordon he said, "My wife has been ill recently. She's not fully in control of herself right now. I'm sure you understand."

Gordon fixed Jonathan with a slightly frosty gaze. "Well, the death of an old friend is enough to upset anyone," he said. Jonathan flinched a bit. The two men stared at one another with inexplicable but definite dislike.

In the meantime, Katie had accepted the Kleenex, dabbed at her eyes, and composed herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "Please continue."

"Mr. Martinez's death was originally thought to be due to a fire," Gordon continued after giving her a sympathetic look that nearly caused her to start bawling all over again. "However, further investigation revealed that he had in fact been shot, and the fire set to cover up the crime. Unfortunately, several other people died in the blaze."

Katie covered her face with her hands. At the sounds of distress from the two men, she held up one hand indicating that she was fine, and to go on.

"A man was seen around Mr. Martinez's apartment building shortly before the fire started," Gordon said. "He matched the description of Jack Napier…except this man had rather horrific facial scarring."

Katie sat bolt upright. "He cut himself with a piece of glass," she gasped. "That last night, the night he went crazy…he stuck a piece of glass in his mouth and he…" Racked with shudders, she couldn't finish.

"Yes, Mrs. Crane, we know," Gordon said gently. "It was in the police report you made when he disappeared. While the Philly PD was tracing Mr. Martinez's history, trying to find out if he'd had any enemies, they contacted us. When we heard about the scarred man who fit Jack Napier's description, we started to put two and two together. We began to do a little investigating of our own."

He paused then, and pulled a battered pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked. "Technically this is a no-smoking building, but…"

"Not at all," Jonathan surprised her by saying. "In fact I'll have one myself if it's all right." She turned to look at him, shocked; she hadn't known he smoked.

He took out a pack of his own, pulled out a smoke, and wordlessly handed the pack to Katie. She accepted it gratefully. If she'd ever needed a cigarette it was now.

Once they all had a comfortable level of nicotine in their bloodstreams Gordon resumed the ghastly story.

"During the course of our own investigation, we attempted to locate Jack Napier's mother in Atlantic City. This was quite difficult, as no one answered the number we had on file, and the address we had was abandoned. We finally found her in a New Jersey hospital."

Katie jerked so hard she nearly burned herself. "A hospital?" she squeaked.

"Yes," Gordon said uncomfortably. "Apparently several days before he killed Alex Martinez in Philadelphia, Jack Napier visited his mother. He attacked her…quite savagely. She was in the hospital with severe facial lacerations. Severe enough that she would have required surgery."

"Would have required?" Jonathan asked.

Gordon sighed. "Yes. Apparently she got hold of a mirror somewhere, and when she saw the extent of her injuries she…well, she cut her IV line and an air bubble reached her heart."

Katie was beyond shock now. She could only stare, dazed.

"She did talk to the police before she died. She said that Jack had admitted to her that he killed his father. Joseph Napier did vanish from the small town in Maine where he'd been living a few years ago, but his boat vanished as well and it was believed he had been lost at sea. He lived under an assumed name in this town, so there was no way to connect him with his son."

He stubbed out his cigarette. "Katie, she said something else too. She said that Jack told her he was 'going to get' everyone who'd ever known Jack Napier…but most especially you."

He paused then, waiting for her reaction. Jonathan was waiting too, she knew. Well, she was going to surprise them.

"I know," she said calmly.

She felt rather than saw Jonathan start. Gordon stared at her incredulously. "You know?"

"Yes," she replied. It was time to tell her own story: the story that began the night she heard the dedication on the radio, and ended with the phone call that sent her to Arkham. And that's just what she did.

A/N: Finally, an update! This has been a hellacious winter. I had no inspiration for the longest time, and then when the inspiration finally struck I was having PC issues. But everything is resolved now, and I've already begun work on Chapter 14. After 14 though, it gets a little hazy. All I know is that we're nearing the end--three or four more chapters, tops. If anyone has more ideas for Joker fun/Katie torture, let me know. Otherwise we'll be reaching the denouement within a couple more chappies. As always, mad love to my readers and reviewers.