A/N: Hello m'dears… I hope the week has been a good one to you!

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The Berkeley Estate was in the north end of Gotham's Bristol District. To the three men staked out at the perimeter of the property, the house represented little more than a place where evil had been committed. Yet, for the woman they all cared about, in their individual ways, they knew that this house represented nothing more than an extravagant prison. Forged nearly a century ago, out of brick and mortar, the Berkeley Estate was built along the same Gothic architectural style as Wayne Manor.

This house lacked the little details that made even the imposing Wayne Manor feel like home. The Estate was surrounded by a thick wrought-iron fence topped with points that reminded the three men of the blivet the devil was frequently depicted as wielding. In Dick's opinion, it was an appropriate symbol that represented the man who had inhabited this residence until a short time ago. Miles of neatly tended green lawn was blanketed in snow and the limbs of the majestic oak trees circling the drive bowed beneath its glittering weight.

Yet, for all its glacier beauty, the Estate represented nothing more than a dark stain upon his memory. Anger throbbed and hate pulsed as Dick faced the structure that had been witness not only to the loss of innumerable lives, but the innocence of youth as well. It had not been a happy home. That thought ran through him like the winter wind, even though he was protected by the polymer fibers of his suit. There was no echo of a little girls laughter, or the feel of love and joy in any of the rooms that the Estate boasted. This was a cold, cold house, full of secrets and lies and anger and hate.

And death.

Oh, yes, death, in all it's cruelty, shrouded this house in its sinewy web. Its shadow ran deep. Cloaked by it, whispers stirred the leaves in the trees or upon the ground, in the tangled trap of the vines that fastened themselves to the bark of those old oaks, around the stately columns perched like sentinels at the front walk. Its breath was thick and fetid, and its eyes gleamed in the dark. A breeze stirred the air, then was gone, like the single sigh of a ghost trying to reach out. Just one of dozens who are trapped inside that domicile of evil. There was a scent on the air, a sweet and heady fragrance that made him think of cemeteries and death. Lilies, he realized, his body shuddering as it recognized the sickeningly sweet scent. Near the edge of the property, high up in one of the oak, shadowed by snow coated limbs and thick moss, an owl hooted two warning notes.

"Well, this place is just one great big ball of cheer," Jason muttered as he stared at the white manor that stood waiting; watching in the moonlight. "This has ta be the only place I can think of that manages ta feel even more dark and depressing than the Manor."

"It's even colder inside," Tim said somberly. "The Manor may be haunted by its own dark memories," he went on saying, "but it was home."

"For you and Dickie it was home," Jason retorted.

"It was home to Raya," Tim shot back. "It still is home to her. Something you'd know about had you taken the time to actually get to know her."

Jason cocked his head to the side. In the shadows, his eyes were unreadable. "Got something on your mind here, kid?" he bit out slowly. "If so, please, spit it out."

"I've said what I needed to say," Tim said quietly. Too quietly in Dick's opinion. Instantly his body tensed, anticipating that this verbal barrage was about to culminate in his younger brother's getting into a fist fight.

"I don't need ya lecturing me about my mistakes, Drake."

"I'd be here all night if I was to bother with listing off all your mistakes."

Dick let out a sigh. "Both of you knock it off," he chided in a soft, but firm voice. "Now isn't the time for these petty squabbles and fights."

"Whatever ya say, Grayson," Jason replied.

The look he gave Tim, though, said loud and clear that they'd finish this at some other time. That was fine with Tim. In fact, it was more than fine. It was beyond time that they hammer out a few things still standing between them. He was about to say as much when he saw movement by the trees at the edge of the property. Using the optics in his mask, he zeroed in and blinked his eyes wide when he saw two of the Joker's goons standing there and surveying the house. What are they doing here? he wondered. He made a low, speculative sound deep in his throat as he continued watching the two men. That single sound was enough to get the attention of both older heroes, however.

"What is it?" Dick asked in a hushed tone. "Crane?"

"No," Tim replied in the same tone. "Two of Joker's goons are watching the house from the southeast corner of the property."

Jason snorted. "Ain't much of a shock that the clown has his idiots keeping an eye on us." His lips tilted at the corner. "Pretty clear that we either stop Crane, or Joker is gonna do his best ta put my ass back in a grave."

Dick shot a glance at his face. Jason may have said it nonchalantly, but he knew there was a wealth of unresolved pain and anger from that moment in his life still alive within him.

"We'll stop Crane," he promised his younger brother softly. "And if we don't? Well," his eyes flashed with the heat in his voice. "Then we'll just make sure that the Joker doesn't get to make his sick fantasy come true."

"Aw." Jason wiped away an imaginary tear. "I'm touched by your brotherly concern, Dickie bird."

Dick ignored him and flashed Bruce on his comlink. "Wing to Bat."

"What is it, Nightwing?" Batman's voice crackled over the com.

"Joker's henchmen are here."

It was silent for all of thirty seconds. Then Batman said, "Keep an eye upon them. If the Joker shows up..."

"We'll stop him," Dick said firmly. "You stop Crane."

"Fine," was Batman's response. Then the com went dead. Dick glanced at his brothers.

"He's such a great conversationalist."

Jason and Tim both snorted.

"Right," Tim said dryly.

"Sure he is," Jason added.

Then they all chuckled before resuming their vigil.

When he was at the monastery, he'd learned to make use of the darkness-any kind of darkness. He could conceal himself in the shadows, hide in the open, or, if necessary, use the darkness as a trap. That was why Bruce knew that any number of booby traps could have been laid out beneath the thick snow covering the Estate's sprawling grounds. With his paranoid and highly suspicious nature, Matthew Berkeley Jr. had believed that the more security he had, the better protected he was.

Berkeley's paranoia was also Crane's biggest weakness at that moment. Crane believed himself invincible, locked as he was in this lavish compound he'd confiscated for his own use. Since Berkeley's goons were able to stop a normal person, Crane thought he was safe. Batman and Robin were far from average, though. Arrogance was a mortal sin that had led many a pompous ruler to their downfall. Given all that he knew about Raya's father (and the Scarecrow), Bruce decided their best approach was from the tunnels that ran below the main house.

"Stay close to me," he ordered his youngest son.

"Yes, Father," came his quiet reply.

Together, the dynamic duo crept around, careful not to step on hidden twigs. When they reached the stretch of open ground that led to the underground tunnels, Bruce paused. There was no sign that the entrance that led into the caves were being guarded. Still they needed to tread cautiously. Where a man like Jonathan Crane was concerned, safe rather than sorry was always the best policy to have.

"Father?"

"Yes, Damian?"

"Are you angry about Raya and I keeping her bunker a secret?"

Bruce turned to look down at his son. He could not make out much of Damian's face in the twilight, but what he could see told him that the boy was feeling just a tad guilty about holding back vital information. Bruce, however, knew his son had had no choice but to keep the secret he'd been entrusted with. That was why he said, "No, Damian, I'm not angry with you for keeping the knowledge of Raya's bunker a secret."

"You're not?" He heard the chord of surprise that tinged Damian's words. "But... I don't understand. Why are you not angry with me for keeping something so important to myself?"

"Because I understand that you were holding to a promise that you made to Raya."

He saw Damian frown his confusion. "But if I had broken my promise..."

"Then you would just have become another on an already long list of people who have broken a promise to her." He knelt down to stare into those eyes like his own. "She's had enough promises broken to her, Damian. So, son, no matter how annoyed I might become about not being told something," he set his hands upon those small continuing, "don't ever break a promise you've made to her."

"But some promises are meant to be broken, aren't they?"

Bruce gave a slight nod of his head. "Some, promises, yes, do have to be broken. Necessity or need require those promises to be broken."

Damian cocked his head to the side. "How do I know when a promise needs to be broken?"

"You'll know," Bruce assured him. He saw Damian nod and hid a smile. He was so much like him at times. Always questioning, always wondering. Damian never took the simple answer as being the only answer. He examined every possible angle, took account of all possible outcomes and created a plan that responded accordingly. It was what made Damian a good Robin. He rose back to his feet and turned again to stare at the tunnels that led below the white manor.

"Are you sure that there is a secret passage in the basement?"

He saw Damian nod. "Raya showed me where it is."

"Then let's go."

As they walked towards the tunnels entrance, Damian glanced left and right. Nothing, and nobody stirred. A fact which had the hair on the back of his neck prickling. He ducked into the tunnels moist shadows mere inches behind his father. The tunnels were dank and dark and would have been difficult to navigate were it not for the night-vision filters in their masks. Slippery slime coated the rock walls. Rats and other vermin scurried into the shadows, rustled overhead. Tunnels and caves were a favorite nesting spot for bats- as they well knew.

A switch flipped on inside Damian at the same time it did in Bruce. Shifting between his real persona and his crime fighting one was such a part of him now that Damian no longer recognized when he did it. Damian Wayne took a backseat and allowed Robin to slink through the underground caverns with his partner and mentor (and parent, of course). He kept his guard up, and his body tense, always at the ready for attack. His eyes probed the thick shadows for sign of human movement. His ears strained to detect even the minutest of sounds. There was... wait. Footsteps were echoing from up ahead. Batman signaled and he grabbed onto a hanging pipe and swung up and out of sight.

A few seconds later, a goon came walking from the other end of the tunnel. Padded smoke colored body armor, a burlap mask with thermal night-vision goggles, and an automatic assault rifle made it clear that Crane was just paranoid enough to cover every base he could. The mercenary paused to scan the dimly-lit tunnel, the light of his goggles cutting the shadows in two. Batman was presented with just one chance in which to eliminate him before he decided to use his thermal vision and scout the pipes above him. He hung from the pipe by his hands, and wrapped his legs around the man's neck, cutting off his airflow. The man was unconscious in less than ten seconds. As Batman cuffed the mercenary's wrists and ankles, Robin dropped down to the ground.

"Is he one of the men that Berkeley hired?" he questioned. "Or do you think that Crane hired them?"

Batman made a soft sound deep in his throat. It was a valid question.

Raya's father had beefed up his security in order to keep Batman out. He'd prepared for a war. This, though was not about Batman and Robin coming to stop a madman hellbent on drowning the city in a river of fear. This was about setting a trap. And there was only one person that Crane could be hoping to ensnare: Raya.

"Crane definitely hired this man," he said finally. "And he hired him for one purpose..."

"To trap Raya." He saw Batman nod. He made a Tt sound beneath his breath. "I assume that this means that Kent kidnapping Raya should be considered a good thing?"

Batman's lips twitched. "Yes, Robin," he said softly. "Superboy kidnapping Raya is a good thing, Robin. He's keeping her out of Crane's hands. He's protecting her while we work to put an end to his plans."

Robin heaved a sigh but made no further comment. Batman scanned the basement with his detective vision before making his way over to a huge wooden door that sat at the end of the tunnel. He tested the door, found it unlocked and slowly pulled it open. His eyes tracked everywhere as he made his way into the basement. He heard footsteps on the floor above and scanned to see how many guards were prowling the first floor.

His eyes popped wide as he saw there was only one person walking around. Their petite size and shape gave him a moment's pause. A woman? That was... unexpected. He watched, his brow puckered, as she made her way across the front foyer, moving in the same stealthy way that he did. Who the woman was and why she was there made absolutely no sense. Yet, he was forced to shake off his concerns as he walked over to where Robin was standing. He scanned the wall quickly.

"Is this the door that Raya showed you?" he asked.

Robin nodded. The hidden door was cleverly worked into the white paneling. Without his detective vision, he'd never have spotted it. Robin reached out to touch a spot on the wall. The creak of the hinges sent chills coursing up and down Batman's spine. The door popped open, releasing a rush of fetid air and the smell of dust and mildew.

"Be mindful, Robin," he cautioned. "And stay close to me."

He heard a slight Tt, but then Robin said, "Of course."

As one they stepped into the hidden passageway and began making their way through the labyrinth to where the psychotic doctor was performing his evil experiments.

As assignments go, this one had to be the absolutely most boring assed one that the Joker had ever given him. For a week, Bopo had been staked outside the ole Berkeley Estate, tasked with watching the comings (of which there was only one van that ever left the premises) and goings (which was when that same van returned.). If it weren't for FaceTime chat and his exhibitionist lady friend, this week woulda sucked donkey balls. His phone buzzed and he glanced down at the message on the screen: get ready.

"Get ready," he muttered. "The hell am I getting ready for?"

A minute later, Bopo found out what he was being told to get ready for. He spied the black van, the same one he'd been watching for the last week as it drove up the long, circular drive and parked in front of the house. He raised up his binoculars and watched as two burlap masked goons carried out a long, rectangular shaped box that they placed in the back of the van.

"What the hell is in that..." Bopo wondered aloud. His attention was drug away from the pine box when he saw Crane (in full Scarecrow regalia) as well as the bandaged man called Doc stepping out onto the front steps.

"There ya are," he breathed out in one long exhalation of sound. He was about to pick up his phone and text his findings to Harley when his phone buzzed again. He grabbed it and read the message: Grabbing Doc soon as he gets in the van.

"Shit," he breathed out on one long breath. "'Bout fricken time."

"Are you sure," Doc rasped. "That outside Dr. Kean's apartment is where you want me to leave Dr. Nichols' body?"

The Scarecrow inclined his head. "Yes," he said. "It is."

"Any particular reason why you want it left outside the building instead of in her apartment?"

Scarecrow turned and stared at him. Doc imagined delight was flickering in the lucent eyes hidden behind those black eyeholes. A grin stretched that gaping black maw wider than it was. For a moment the doctor wondered if he'd been injected with a dose of that treacherous serum in his syringe tipped fingers. When the bête noire didn't turn him into a sniveling, shivering and shrieking mass, he assumed he hadn't been infected.

The Scarecrow let out a sinister giggle, almost as if he knew what Doc's thoughts were and found them amusing. Then he crooned, "Why, yes, there is a very good reason for why I want Dr. Nichols' body placed outside Dr. Kean's apartment rather than inside it."

Doc felt his patience quickly start to wane (something he'd noticed had been happening a lot more frequently) and had to reign in a sudden desire to grab hold of the skeletal figure and slam him against one of the marble columns. "Care to share the reason with me?" he asked coolly.

"Why, my good man," Crane simpered. "My intended does not live at that apartment."

"Then why are you leaving the body at a place that she doesn't even frequent?"

"Oh, she will understand why I have chosen to leave the body of my betrayer outside her apartment." Crane extended that hand of avarice to a point in the distance. "She will know that it is not only a reminder about what happens to those who betray me, but about those who toy with me as well."

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at that. "You think Dr. Kean has toyed with you?"

"It is the nature of women to toy with a man's affections," Scarecrow uttered petulantly. "A fatal flaw I had believed the kind and gentle doctor to be free of. I, regrettably, was mistaken about that."

And he is going to make the young doctor pay for her imperfection. Doc was able to understand that threat easily.

"So leaving Nichols' body outside her apartment is a reminder about what will happen if she continues to play games with you."

That masked head dipped urbanely. "Yes, it is," Crane said.

How is Crane feeling about what his other side is doing to his beloved? he wondered as he watched that lanky body slither back into the mansion. It was clear the Scarecrow was as obsessed with Raya Kean as Jonathan Crane was. Only, he didn't want the doctor just because she was a highly desirable female. Oh no. Doc knew that the Scarecrow wanted Dr. Kean for one reason and one reason only: Inceptive.

That was all that mattered to the Scarecrow. He didn't care about what happened to the doctor so long as he got his skeletal fingers upon Dr. Berkeley's research notes and journal. But what about Crane? he mused. Would Crane fight his other side for the woman he's been pursuing for the better part of the last year? Or will he allow her to be discarded as his other victims have been discarded?

It was something he almost wanted to stick around and find out about.

Almost.

He glanced at the two masked goons who'd been silently waiting by the back door of the van. "Let's go," he commanded. "I want to get this over with before Batman starts prowling the streets."

The two men just nodded.

Doc had no idea that they were both grinning beneath the burlap masks they wore.

Heckle and Jekyll had been patiently waiting for him to give them the order to mount up. Soon as he did, they both nodded. Outwardly, it just appeared as if they were agreeing with him. Inwardly, however, they were elated. Beneath his mask, Jekyll grinned like an idiot before he flashed the thumbs up at Heckle. His partner gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Jekyll imagined he was smiling like a raving lunatic beneath his mask. Working for the Joker, they'd found, was less hazardous to ones health than working for the Scarecrow was. With the Joker there was just the risk of being shot. The Scarecrow loved to torture his victims by gassing them.

A bullet was a quick and painless death.

Being dosed with fear toxin on the other hand? Was a slow and excruciating one.

Jekyll climbed in the back of the van while Heckle circled around to the front, his hand in his right front pocket as if he was searching for the keys to the vehicle. In reality, he was sending out a text alert. Once he was done, he got in the van, waited until Doc hopped in, and drove off.

Bopo glanced at his phone when it buzzed. Doc procured. Let the boss know, the message read.

"Yeah, right," Bopo muttered as he started his car and slowly began to follow after the van. "I'll let the boss know after we get ta the Mill."

"Ain't gonna be my ass that the boss shoots if we mess things up," he said. "Nah-uh, no stinking way am I gonna be the sacrificial lamb if this all goes ta shit. Fahget you."