Setting down the phone Jonathon leaned back in his chair with a content look on his face. Soon his merry mayhem could begin. He had just gotten off the phone with none other than Bruce Wayne. Of course he didn't reveal his identity but his message had been short and clear. Come down to Arkham Asylum or that which he held dear would die in his place.
Although Crane didn't relish the thought of murder, he somehow couldn't see minding it when Batman would be the one dying. That one man had caused him quite a headache when his last plan had not gone as he wished. Besides Gotham could use a few less do-gooders. All he had to do now was wait.
Rachel and Christine were sitting, talking over any plans they could come up with to get Rachel out of there. She was the only one who had to worry about being killed and therefore was a high priority.
"We could sneak you out on the food cart," Christine suggested. She had exhausted most of her logical plans long ago.
"No," Rachel replied. "They'd be able to tell it wasn't empty with me on it." She sighed and tugged her blouse strait.
"Well how about knocking out the aide who gives the kids their sedatives at night, stealing her clothes, and leaving that way?" She bounced a ball on the ground repeatedly catching it again.
"That might work," Rachel said. "What does this woman look like?" If they looked remotely close she would go with this plan. It sounded as though she stood half a chance.
"She's a little shorter than you, and older, but I don't think it will matter. At night the halls are so dim you can barely see anyway." Christine stopped bouncing the ball and looked at Rachel. "You know, this is actually the first good idea we've come up with."
"I agree. So it's settled. That's how I'll get out. Then I can warn Batman that it's a trap before he comes." A panicked thought came to her. "What if Crane has already told Batman?"
"We'll just have to take our chances," Christine sighed. She looked over at the children playing on the floor. They had no idea what danger they were truly in. The world they lived in was so simple and she found herself wishing she could go back.
The door once more opened and a demented version of the lunch lady came in pushing a cart full of trays. She parked it by the door and left leaving them to eat.
The children noticed it and looked to Christine who stood and passed out the trays one by one. For the ones who couldn't carry them she set them down for them to eat off of. The meal today reminded her of dog food with a side of baby poo so once again she decided not to eat. It had been at least 4 days since she had eaten a full meal. Sure she sometimes picked at the food there but never really ate it. Christine just could not find a reason to trust Jonathon Crane to feed them safe food.
Rachel followed suit with Christine and didn't touch the food. She settled back down onto a cot and closed her eyes. Her head was pounding and soon she knew a headache would come. Ignoring it she looked around for a weapon she could use to knock out the night aide. She decided she would use a toy truck that looked to have some weight to it. With that figured out she turned to see Christine had lain down and was faking sleep. Rachel grinned and went back to watching the kids.
Across town a very worried Bruce Wayne was rushing to his cave. The voice on the phone had been so familiar yet he couldn't place where he'd heard it before. The man had made it clear he knew whom Batman really was and who would die for him if he did not come to Arkham Asylum. He didn't even say her name but Bruce knew it had to be Rachel. The only other person he really cared for was Alfred and he was upstairs, not at Arkham Asylum.
Jumping into his car, lovingly nicknamed the Bat mobile, Bruce sped out of the cave and into the evening. It wasn't quite dark yet but it was dark enough to hide in. He raced through town heedless of the near collisions he was causing. Coming to one of the bridges that crossed to one of the bridges that crossed into the Narrows he cursed, seeing it was up to let a boat through. Oh well, he thought, it's never stopped me before. Punching the accelerator he jumped the gap and landed safely on the other side.
Poor street urchins jumped out of his way as the sped down the small streets. Finally reaching his destination he slammed on the brakes and the Bat mobile slid to a stop. He got out slowly, watching every movement the shadows made. Needless to say, he himself was being watched.
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Jonathon looked down at the large car, if you could call it that, which had pulled up in front of the Asylum. Turning away he went out the door of his office and down the elevator to greet his new visitor. Moments after he had reached the foyer the doors burst open to reveal none other than Batman. Right on time, Jonathon thought.
The children were getting sleepy and began to slump on their cots. As if on cue the door opened to reveal the aide to give the kids their sedatives. The door thudded shut behind her and the lock clicked. The woman glanced at Rachel as though she hadn't known she would be there but shrugged it off and went to the child opposite Rachel and Christine. The pair glanced at each other and nodded.
Rachel grabbed the toy truck and used all of her strength to slam it into the back of the woman's head. Christine hushed the children and kept them from crying loudly enough to alert the guards outside of the door.
Rachel dragged the woman into the bathroom and stripped the clothes off of her limp body. Piece by piece she replaced her own with the woman's and visa versa. Coming out of the bathroom she placed the woman in an empty cot and pulled the covers over her. Digging in the pocket of the uniform she was wearing she found the keys to open the door. Looking back at Christine and the children she said, "I won't leave you here forever, ok?"
"Don't worry about it," Christine said. "Now go!" Taking her advice Rachel opened the door and walked out. The guards said nothing to her as she walked by so she kept her mouth shut and continued like she knew where she was going. Coming to an elevator she calmly got in and pressed the button labeled G for ground. After the doors had closed she slumped against the back wall and let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. Just calm down, she told herself. Everything will work out fine.
After what seemed like an eternity the elevator doors opened and Rachel stepped out. What she saw made her gasp and almost scream.
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"Rachel!" cried Batman. "Let her go, Crane." His mind spun as he stepped towards her.
"Bruce," she screamed back. "It's a trap don't-" Her words were cut off by a hand at her throat.
"What she meant to say was don't take another step or else her short pathetic life will end," Jonathan said from behind Rachel. Her fear was getting him high. He tightened his grip on her neck only slightly causing Batman to cry out.
"I can see you're past reasoning," Bruce said. "Just let her go. This is between you and me." He spoke calmly although he was far from that.
"Is it really?" Crane released Rachel who tried to run to Bruce. Somewhere between her third and fourth step a shot rang out and she fell to the ground with a dull thud. Blood poured out of her chest from a wound that had obviously punctured a lung. Jonathan pocketed the gun and walked to her. Batman beat him there, however, and was holding Rachel's hand in his.
"I'm so sorry," he cried. "It should be me dead not you." She chocked and sputtered, blood running from her mouth. "No don't. Shhhh. Don't worry, I'll save you."
"It's too late, Batman," said Crane who had donned his Scarecrow mask. In his hand he held a dose of his new and improved hallucinogen, one that Batman was not immune to. "She's already dead to you. I know it and you know it."
Bruce hung his head over Rachel's almost limp body, close enough to hear her last word: "Run…" Her body went limp in his arms and he cried, unable to bring himself to deal with the situation.
"It's your fault, you know," Scarecrow continued. "If only you could have let Gotham be, then maybe Rachel would still be alive. You feared this would happen, and now it has. Her blood is on your hands. You took her life to save yours." His accusations continued, not really following logical order but then again Bruce wasn't thinking logically.
All that Crane said was true. Rachel would still be alive if it wasn't for him. He might as well have been the one who shot her. It's all my fault. I killed her. I took a human life. I killed her. He barely even heard Crane talking anymore. He just sat and cried.
"All of this is your fault, Bruce," Jonathan said kneeling down next to Batman and removing the gun from his pocket. "It would be better if you didn't live at all." Silence rang out as Scarecrow placed the gun next to Bruce's hand and sprayed out the hallucinogen, although he wasn't sure he would even need it. The guy was an emotional wreck and this had set him over the edge. Walking away Jonathan removed the mask and looked at the broken man, smiling. Being a psychiatrist definitely gave him the edge in verbal warfare.
Bruce looked at the gun and picked it up, feeling the weight in his hand as he had the day he was going to kill his parent's murderer. He ran his hands down the cold steel barrel and glanced at Rachel's face one last time. It looked peaceful. She was in heaven and he knew it. Never again would he see her. Turning his face upward he bid this world goodbye.
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A.N. Suicide is a serious matter and I do not by any means intend to turn it into a spectacle or theatrical act. If you or anyone you know feels like they want to die or kill themselves please tell someone. As a person who has been there and come back from the edge I know that there are a lot of steps between where you are and suicide. There's always something.
Also not eating is not something I encourage or make light of either. Anorexia nervosa is a serious disease and should not be ignored or belittled. Christine is not anorexic she just refuses to eat the food there.
I'm not sure if this is the end of the story. I'd like to write more about Jonathan's observations of the children. I may or may not attach that to this story.