Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.
Yvonne twisted the tea towel tightly between her hands, anxiety getting the better of her.
Cat had come home at 4am, her eyes had been glassy, her face coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and she'd merely mumbled some form of excuse before retiring into the guest bedroom.
It had taken five cups of coffee to wait up, and still, even knowing that Cat was home didn't put an end to her anxiety.
"Cat." She knocked on the door again, already knowing that it would go as unnoticed as the first six times.
"Cat, do you want to talk?"
Suddenly, Yvonne felt completely useless. She had 8 years of psychological science theory and 2 years of practice under her belt, she had successfully granted several patients early parole and others she had diagnosed and treated serious mental illnesses. And yet, it was all futile.
Yvonne couldn't help Caterina, not anymore, perhaps she never did.
It was hard to consider; on the one hand perhaps Yvonne was incapable, that was preferable, and on the other hand Caterina was too broken to be fixed, that was sickening.
Yvonne sighed, and turned away from the door again, retreating into her own bedroom to tackle the thunderstorm of emotions that rattled her mind.
Her small window was obscured by pale grey blinds, and thus her bed and set of draws were barely visible in the dim light. It never made much sense to her, to invest in anything she didn't need, and thus her house was decorated to the bare minimum.
"With a few exceptions." She murmured aloud, and gently traced a finger along the black flowerpot on her windowsill.
The plant inside had a long, spindly green stem, opening up to a dark red flower. The petals were oval in shape, swirling into the centre of the flower; a black disk of florets.
Yvonne breathed in the subtle vanilla fragrance that gave the 'chocolate cosmos' flower its name. According to many profiles, this plant was entirely extinct, save a single clone kept in ornamental conditions. Up until recently, smuggling this flower from a supplier in Mexico was the only illegal act she had ever committed.
Flowers had always fascinated Yvonne, how they could range from delicate daisies to the absolutely lethal cherries of the deadly nightshade plant.
This interest led her into a small flower shop one day.
A 19-year-old girl looking for a splash of colour for her new apartment in a lonely city. She was greeted by a smiling, brown-eyed girl behind the counter. The florist had shoulder length, ash brown hair that was pinned over her right shoulder in a loose bun, thin tendrils framing her face. She was wearing a delicate white blouse, and a long lemon-yellow skirt that trailed behind her as she walked.
It seemed to any outsider that the second Iris Huntley opened her mouth and greeted Yvonne Isley in her sweet British accent, that Yvonne was in love. In reality, she was helpless as soon as she had laid eyes on the florist.
And so, Yvonne had spent a number of years collecting and sampling teas, as well as building a small but beautiful collection of rare flowers that were now scattered around her house.
Her favourite, her pride and joy, was a small pink plant kept under carefully sealed bullet-proof glass in her study. While 'oleander' had striking pink flowers, and a faint aroma similar to lavender, all parts of the plant contained lethal cardiac glycosides. It was Yvonne's opinion that the sap could have healing properties, as she had witnessed an odd reaction when a sample was combined with a set of damaged tissue cells. Her research was fairly unprofessional, and so she had yet to take oleander as a tea, she wasn't exactly confident in her own results.
A sharp knock on the front door hauled her attention away from the flower, and she was suddenly and unexplainably anxious again.
"Douglass?" She asked in surprise, staring at the man that stood before her. "Everything alright?"
Douglass seemed more than a little tense, and he practically pushed past her into the house.
"Is Cat here?" He turned wildly on the spot, his navy-blue sweater straining over his rippling muscles.
"Uh, yeah." Yvonne was slightly intimidated by the hulk of a man, and she thought she would feel much safer if Cat was beside her. "I mean, I haven't seen her all day, but I think she's in that room down the hall."
Instead of following her instructions, Douglass nodded, and sat on a nearby arm chair. The leather sagged slightly under his weight, and Yvonne sat on an adjacent couch with her arms folded nervously around her chest.
"You ok?"
He looked to the left slightly and sighed, as if vigilant for eavesdroppers.
"I've heard some talk…" He muttered. "Around the underground, not all of Joker's men were so prepared to follow Cat. And the rogue ones, well, it seems they've grouped."
Douglass paused, running a hand through his black fringe.
"Anyway, I got to talking with one of them. Mack, we call him, he was actually one of Miss Morgan's security guards at Arkham. Smuggled her Napier's little 'gift', and kept a close eye on her for me. Well, Mack was saying that they're receiving actual orders now, from some big shot who thinks he's the Joker. I have my own theories."
He stood up, obviously uncomfortable, and began to pace the small, carpeted room. His footsteps falling heavily in slow, heart-beat rhythms.
"And they got a target now," Douglas muttered, passing Yvonne without meeting her gaze. "Someone at Major Crimes Unit. Someone who is serving a 15 year, second-degree credit card fraud and theft, no trial."
Yvonne stood up suddenly, sending her armchair toppling back on itself.
"Did you get a name?" She demanded, losing all wariness and walking up to meet Douglass eye-level.
He cleared his throat and seemed to shrink into himself, a difficult task considering his height and muscle mass.
"That's why I'm here," He murmured. "The name 'Huntley' reached me, 'Iris Huntley'."
Yvonne fell back onto the sofa, breathing heavily and choking on a string of words.
She thought the consequences for lying to Cat would be her own inner turmoil, now, however, it was almost laughable to think Joker would continue to cower in dark warehouses and old hotels until Caterina crawled back into his arms.
"Don't worry," Douglass reassured her quickly, resting a sturdy arm on her shoulder. "We tell Miss Morgan, and I'll bet she'll have Iris out by tomorrow, you've got absolutely nothing to fear."
Yvonne laughed humorlessly, and buried her head in her hands.
"We can't tell her." She muttered, mostly to herself.
"Cat can't help us."
Douglass frowned and quickly sat beside Yvonne, gently prying her hands from her face.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, and was surprised to find a few stray tears cascading down the red-head's face.
"I mean," She explained miserably. "Cat can't come with us, I told her they found Joker's body."
A beat.
Douglass leaned away from Yvonne, his expression completely aghast.
"What…did you do?" He picked his words carefully, but was feeling rather less sympathetic. "Did you get between them? Did you give a madman an agenda?"
Yvonne shrugged hopelessly, and burst into silent, shoulder-shaking sobs.
"I-I had a choice," she hiccupped. "I chose to keep Cat away, wasn't that the right thing to do? He'll destroy her, everything I've ever done, just gone."
Douglass stood up again violently, a snarl of frustration escaping him.
"This," He turned rapidly, a finger pointed accusingly between Yvonne's eyes. "This is just fucking selfish, you couldn't take it, you couldn't let your 'Mona Lisa' into jeopardy. Well guess what, 'doc'," He spat sarcastically, his tone rising in fury. "Now, not only have you risked the life of everything you love, you've also lied to Miss Morgan. She trusts you, do you fucking understand? She has been burned and scarred by everyone she's ever trusted and now it's gonna happen again."
Douglass' face was beet red, a single muscle in his jaw was twitching uncontrollably. Yvonne could do nothing but watch his outburst, feel like shit, and let a constant stream of tears fall down her cheeks.
"W-what should I have done?" She asked in anguish, her voice shaking.
"You should've trusted her, like she did you." Douglass retorted without hesitation. "You should've had faith in her, faith that she's in a good place. And she was, Yvonne, she was in a good place, she would've been strong enough. But you didn't want to take that chance, you didn't want to feel incapable of treating a patient. You are so afraid of failure-"
He was cut abruptly short as a door slowly creaked open, the two of them snapped their attention to the hall, where Cat was watching them from the doorway.
Neither of them spoke, Douglass was glaring angrily at Yvonne, Yvonne was staring miserably at the ground.
"A lot of shouting." Cat muttered, her eyes were red and glassy. She was also hastily pulling down her left sleeve, over her exposed elbow and forearm. "Anything I should worry about."
Douglass flicked his gaze down to her arm, and then straight at Yvonne as if to say 'this is your fault'. Yvonne would've agreed, she knew the signs of drug use when she saw it, and it certainly didn't make her hate herself any less.
"I-It's fine." Yvonne managed, wiping her own eyes in case any tears still sprinkled her cheeks. "We were just…"
"Planning our next job." Douglass injected quickly, his accusatory gaze never leaving Yvonne. "I heard some talk, and Yvonne's wife is a target."
Caterina swore under her breath, and brought a shaking hand up to push her messy hair behind her ear.
"Fuck, I guess word spread that you're helping me. I've got a lot of enemies."
Yvonne swallowed a lump in her throat, finding it incredibly difficult since her mouth had unexplainably been depleted of all moisture.
"I…The rest of the League can help me…You're still recovering from the news, you should probably stay here."
Caterina laughed hollowly, a sound fitting her own hollow appearance.
"Like hell."
She made her way over to the two of them, her legs shaking under her weight and her knees semi-buckling. "I'm coming with you, I know the MCU better than anyone, and if you think I'm gonna abandon you, Yvonne, because of 'Stockholm syndrome', or fucking whatever, you're absolutely bonkers."
Yvonne had no reply, she no longer had the heart to tell Cat that she didn't need her. Undoubtedly, Joker was behind this personal attack, and so, maybe Caterina could stop him from doing anything to Iris.
'Damnit Yvonne' She inwardly criticised herself. 'There you go again, using Cat for your own selfish agenda.'
As Caterina started to contact the other members of the league, and began to formulate a careful plan with a number of blueprints; Yvonne could only think of her 'Iris'.
"Forgive me, Cat," She muttered, watching the League huddle around her dining table with mugs of coffee, exchanging ideas for an escape mission.
"Forgive me, but now I need you. I need to use you."
Crane sauntered down the road, whistling a nameless tune and enjoying the sunlight that hit his face. As he passed a tall, glossy black building, he noticed a blurred shape behind him in the reflection.
He suppressed a smile, revising Caterina's plan in his head. For some odd reason, the entire league was surrendering time to break a florist out of Major Crimes Unit. Not that he minded, to be honest, he was enjoying playing the 'anti-hero', and currently, any time spent with Caterina was worth the investment, in the long run.
"Still picking us off the street? Forgive me, but you seem to be uncharacteristically cautious."
Crane turned on his heel, the full effect of a smile on his face. Sure, enough he was facing a man he knew all too well, a man who had tried to kill him the last time they'd met.
"It's good to see you again." Crane was genuinely pleased to see him, he had a few things to settle.
Joker seemed less enthusiastic about the reunion, evidently shown by the knife he was brandishing at Crane's throat.
"Despite what it may look like," he snarled. "I am not currently smiling."
Crane shrugged, and raised a hand to push the knife from his face. "Come now, Joker, we're both civilised men, let's just talk."
The knife did not move.
"I'm warning you, Jonathan, I'm in charge here, we're gonna play this by my rules."
Crane shrugged again, the smile shrinking on his face as he attempted to appeal to Joker's serious tone.
"Sure, you call it. But, uh, if I may say, you've been slinking around for so long, stopping members of the League and interrogating them to find your little 'toy'; honestly, it's a wonder you haven't found Caterina yet."
This remark earned him a sharp right hook, where Joker's fist split Crane's lip directly down the middle. Crane ran a thumb over his bottom lip, glanced at the blood that coated his thumb and chuckled softly.
"That is promising." He muttered, looking up and studying Joker's seething expression.
"You're angry, it means you're afraid. I've spent some time with your Cat, and I've gotta say, she's certainly something; a man could lose himself for her, forget his own name in her eyes and curves. You've got my sympathies, not my dissatisfaction."
Joker seemed a little taken back by Crane's remarks, and for a moment the knife in his hand faltered.
"What's your point?" He asked, running his tongue swiftly over his lips.
"Ah," Crane held a finger up between them, an indication of a proposal. "Let's just say, I've got my bets on the lucky number. You've probably guessed, I'm not helping Caterina out of the goodness of my heart. I'm even guessing you were afraid when you found out I was with her."
The way Joker clenched his jaw answered the question loudly enough, and Crane nodded with a laugh.
"To put it simply; Caterina is my prisoner now. And if you want her in one piece when we're done, you'll stay out of my way, you'll stay out of her life, you'll be a good little doggie and hide in your cage."
There was no missing the condescending tone that dripped from every word, and Joker once again fought a wave of unease and fear.
"I know Cat." He spat, carrying the 'c' sharply in his throat. "I also know that she's anything but weak, she'll kill you before you can ever mention the word 'prisoner'."
Crane laughed again, a response that was highly unexpected.
"Weak?" He shook his head in disbelief, the sigh of a laugh in his throat. "Who said anything about weak? Caterina's never weak, but now, she is rather vulnerable. That tends to happen, when you find out that the man you love is dead."
Joker was well and truly shaken, unsure if it was the concept that Cat thought he was dead that upset him, or the fact that Crane had labelled her as 'in love' with him. Both sent his heart thundering into uneven splutters
"It turns out," Crane continued, obviously enjoying the effect his words had on Joker. "That Doctor Huntley prescribed 'mourning' to Caterina, an interesting medication, if I do say so myself. Oh, wait-"
He grinned widely, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth.
"-Don't tell me you thought Caterina abandoned you? Oh my, that would've so fascinating to watch. How did you react? I assume you killed someone immediately, but then again, maybe I'm romanticising it."
Joker resisted the urge to clock him again, he needed information more than he needed justice.
"How exactly is she your prisoner?" He managed to keep his tone even, despite the sickening way that Crane's face lit up.
"I'd love to take you through it, actually," Crane clapped his hands together excitedly, as he began to recite his method.
"Well, Caterina has always been so very malleable. Her mind is basically a wad of putty, if I had to diagnose it, I'd say that growing up she had no real emotional connections. Everyone she connected with, everyone who ever helped to nurture her personality, emotions, opinions; they all left at some point, and thus, no concrete foundation."
"I'm sure you saw this straight away, faster than I did, I bet. I just convinced this poor girl that the adrenaline she craved, the sense of belonging, of emotional response, it was all obtainable through a very special fear-toxin. And I have to say, there hasn't been a day where she hasn't asked me for a new dose. I have you to thank, really, she was so distraught that she let me in, she actually trusted me."
Joker was completely paralysed, most of the recount he already knew. Yet he had somehow forgotten about that first impression; at Bruce Wayne's party, where Caterina had attacked him with a butter knife and no hope of escape. He thought that all he had seen was promise, potential for thoughtless violence. It was slightly frightening to consider a deeper meaning, an unconscious pull, one vulnerable mind reaching out to another; exactly how long had Cat been inside his head?
"So, this is how it's going to go." Crane snapped his attention back to reality.
"You're going to wait for me to finish this little case study, you're going to remain dead, and if you're a good little doggie I'll give you Caterina as a treat, mostly unharmed."
Joker finally found his usual self, and he raised the knife again to press it sharply under Crane's chin. A thin dribble of blood ran down the blade, yet he couldn't wipe the smile from Crane's face.
"What If I disagree?" He asked loudly, running his free hand through his green fringe of curls.
"Disagree?" Crane shoved Joker from him, and straightened his suit indignantly. "My dear, dear, maniacal friend, you must be under the delusion that this is a negotiation."
He flashed him a final grin, and pushed his thin-framed glasses further up his nose.
"I'm honestly surprised that you don't recognise blackmail when you see it."