Crane rolled the slightly chunky piece of metal in his long fingers, resting his chin in his other hand as he awaited the return of his subject. It was ticking towards 9pm, a whole hour after her usual arrival. His mind buzzed – perhaps she had taken her chance and left. No matter. He would have her found and taken care of – his main concern would be the research from his latest experiment going to waste…
The wail of a police car rose and fell as it passed Arkham Asylum, and he glanced up vaguely at the sound. The last thing he needed was them turning up, especially after all his hard work. Hopefully he had made his mark, and there would be no trouble this evening. Tonight, he would make his link to The Bat's side.
Five past nine. He continued to roll the metal around his fingers, and waited patiently.
- -
Rachel sat nervously in the car park, having swiped herself in an hour earlier. After the night before, she was tempted to make a run for it, leave the whole week behind…but she knew Crane's ways. She knew where he would be and what he would be doing – most likely in his cold interview room, his men less than half a kilometre behind her, wherever she ran…
At least she knew.
A prickle running up the back of her neck, Dawes stepped out of her car, locked the door, and walked briskly towards the dark building. The handles on the entrance were like ice, and she rubbed her bitten fingers when she got inside. Unknown to her, a figure in the shadows noted her every step, before slipping away into the building through another entrance.
- -
"She's on her way. I can hear her." A patient at the asylum, and assistant to Crane called through a crack in the door. Crane ceased his contemplation and placed the metal in his pocket.
"Very well, allow her in when she arrives."
Rachel peered apprehensively around the doorway, looking back at what must have been the two men framing the way out. Crane unfolded his arms and retrieved his notebook.
"Come in, Miss Dawes. Have a seat." He dated the fresh page neatly.
She staggered in, eyes cast downward and legs feeling like rubber. She automatically took her usual seat in them chair opposite him, and her hand went to her hair again.
"How are you feeling today?" Crane didn't look up, making headings and underlining them. Rachel pulled a little harder.
"Nervous." She admitted, with more confidence than she felt, strands of hair snapping under the stress she put on them. "Tired…exhausted even. I don't want to be here."
The Doctor hesitated at her honesty, and glanced up. "We can go somewhere else, if you wish."
"No…I just don't want to be here…in this room. I…I want all this to stop." Her bottom lip began to shake with her voice, and she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. Crane let his breath out audibly and positioned himself straighter in his chair.
"Tell me, do you think this is 'all going to stop'?" He observed her as she shifted further down in her chair, trying to think of an answer that would please him. He noticed her high-necked white dress was creased…it amused him how a patient's appearance would often reflect their mentality. She began to toy with a black-feather earring. "Tell me…" His voice softened as it had done so many times before. "…What will you do if it does stop? Can you imagine this ending?" He began to tap his pen again. "Would you feel safe if it did?"
Rachel shook. She didn't know how she felt anymore. She knew as long as she turned back to him, she was in little danger except from her own petty fears…yet one of them would always be in front of her. On the other hand, her fear was the only thing that was completely honest…
Crane rose swiftly, and dropped his notebook on the seat of the chair. The abrupt movement startled her, and she jumped up as well, knocking the chair over backwards. Surveying her as she backed away a step or two, he absorbed her body language and outward show with interest. White was the colour of innocence – perhaps the body and mind would always be at opposite ends of the spectrum…perhaps that was the very magnet that drew the two together…
He stepped forwards and pressed something into the palm of her hand. Rachel unfurled her fist and gazed at the plain ring in her hand, which was set with a black stone. She looked up in confusion, but his expression remained unrevealing, as ever.
"Take it. It's yours." He gestured briefly. "That is, if you want it. In that ring…all your fears are in one place – if you accept it, you needn't worry about them any more."
She twisted it about between her fingers, studying the characterless ring. She didn't understand what he meant – what was it for? Why would she want it?
"If you accept it, your only concern will be other people's fear. I can keep you safe from your own…you know this."
She considered his words cautiously, aware of being watched, and not understanding. She ran a fingernail alongside the black matte stone, and there was a tiny 'chink' as the front came away, hanging back by a hinge. A small wisp of blue gas snaked out of a minute hole hidden behind it, set deep into the ring, and she coughed, recognising the earthy smell.
The room began to rock, and she fell to her knees before Jonathan Crane, his aura pulsated madly. The stitches in his lips stretched painfully as he spoke to her, and her eyes became wide with terror; her body seizing up, making it impossible for her even to look away.
"Now's your choice, Miss Dawes." His voice was distorted once more. "Here I am, in your raw emotions – you know who I am. You know who I was and will be."
She let out a small whimper, her muscles aching with tension. He threw a canister, seemingly a small refill syringe, into her lap. A blue-green liquid spilled around inside the plastic tube. She twitched her fingers, finding herself still clutching the ring.
"With me, you will always know where your fears lie, and how safe you really are. With me, no one will be trying to kill you…no one will be kidnapping you and holding you to ransom. Take it or leave it, Miss Dawes."
- -
A lifetime passed. Rachel found her way back onto her feet, fear driving her. She slipped the ring onto her finger, her eyes never leaving Crane as the pulse around him began to ebb away…at least in her mind. He offered her his arm, and formally she took it, staring into his face with a mixture of terror and relief. Crane simply looked at her the same way he always had – the fleeting, clinical look as he took in her reactions. Her fixated stare only broke when one of the men from outside burst into the interview room.
"Doctor Crane. There's someone moving around on the ground floor. We caught them on camera."
"Very well, looks like Miss Dawes gets her wish." Crane packed his notebook into his briefcase, straightened his jacket and calmly gestured for her to follow him out of the room. In a daze, Rachel accompanied him to the door, stepping to one side when he turned around. "Of course, I almost forgot…"
Rachel waited for him as he scrawled a short note on notebook paper and left it folded on one of the chairs. It was addressed to a name she couldn't make out from her place by the doorway. As he extended an open palm as an invitation to leave, she exited the room whilst Crane switched off the lights and let the door slam to. Their footsteps echoed along the corridor, Rachel finding herself walking willingly at his side.
"You asked about the man in the mask, Miss Dawes." Crane interrupted the silence between them. "What do you think now?"
It wasn't a question; she could see that. Rachel didn't care, anyhow. She wanted to be safe, to be on the side where others weren't trying to kill her. She wanted the truth.
They came out through a fire escape, and up a set of stone steps into the back car park. At the press of a button Dr. Crane's car unlocked itself, and it's lights shone momentarily across the car park. He opened the passenger door for her – she got in, her face pale and her mind dark, and he joined her on the other side.
"Don't look so nervous, Miss Dawes." He said, casually glancing in the rear-view mirror as he turned the ignition, before turning to her. "I'm really nothing to be afraid of."
"Maybe it's you." She whispered back, the sound of the engine drowning out her words as they left Arkham Asylum.
- -
Bruce strode into the interview room, flicking on the lights and finding it cold and empty. Muffled shouts could be heard between the basement and the ground floor, so he made a start before it became difficult to leave. Listening for the footsteps of those coming to find him, he searched the room to find nothing but a work-surface, two chairs and a note. He unfolded it with a shake of the wrist, and his shoulders slumped as the words sank in.
"Dear Batman,
Scarecrow and the Raven have left the building."
THE END