"Good morning Darcee." Jonathan Crane murmured sleepily as the blushing blonde coffee shop attendant giggled at him.

"Good morning, Jonathan! The usual?"

Jonathan smirked and took his seat beside the café window. "Of course. Thank you Darcee."

Darcee skipped off, grinning ear to ear as she began to brew Jonathan his coffee.

Jonathan drummed his fingers on the table, pulling his pen out of his coat pocket, and stared out the window. He hadn't slept well at all last night, having spent half of it exploring Adriana De Soto's home. He closed his eyes, yawning as he propped his head on his palm, and brought up last nights events.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After hauling Adriana into her bed and carefully removing her jewelry, Jonathan started a little evaluation of the home. The first thing he noticed was the enormous collection of photographs tacked to the wall. He stood there, his blue eyes scanning the wall, with his hands placed one over the other behind his back.

"Hmm…she has textbook sociopathic tendencies, as well as what resembles moderate schizophrenia. Probably brought out by her depression and isolation…" Jonathan cast an apathetic look at the unconscious woman and raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. De Soto, you were screwed up LONG before I got to you…" He chuckled, heading out into the hall.

He poked his head into a room and flipped on the light. It was a cold, almost empty office, one large desk and computer that looked as though it had been untouched for a while. He ran his finger across the desk and had a disgusted look come over him. "The least she could do is clean this place."

He headed back out into the spacious living room. Crane picked up a photograph sitting on one of the tables, frowning. "So…this is the mysterious husband I keep hearing so much about?" He was tall and handsome; Dark hair, bright eyes, a definite ladies man as far as Crane could tell. He looked about the same age as Jonathan, but still had a childish grin on his face. Jonathan placed the photo back and flipped it around. He didn't care much for looking at other people's pictures.

The young man swaggered into the kitchen, looking around and sighing. The digital clock on the microwave glowed in a bright blue-green hue.

1:57 AM

"It's two am? Are you kidding me? Oh that's just perfect." Crane scowled. He wanted to be sure the young lady was alright, but she was still out-cold. He had no way of seeing any results from his experiments.

Jonathan wandered over to the couch and collapsed onto the furniture sleepily. He flipped the television on as he rested his head on one of the plush, cool pillows. Perhaps she would wake up soon. Until then, Crane saw no reason to leave this warm home for his rat infested shack. He gave a large yawn, pulling off his glasses and stretching lazily. He just wanted to rest his eyes for a moment until he could leave the house without falling asleep at the wheel.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"BAM! Just look at that bacon sizzle!"

Crane woke with a start, swinging his hands in front of his face wildly. The man paused, struggling to slow his breathing and rapid heartbeat, then looked up at the television. His eyes narrowed and he switched the channel. "Stupid cooking shows…" He snarled and stood to his feet, arching his back until a pleasing pop! came forth He scratched his head, his hair disheveled from sleep. How long had he been out? He looked towards the clock. It was blurry. Realizing he was missing his glasses, he immediately pushed his spectacles onto his face and stared up at the clock once again.

9:03 AM

Crane's eyes grew wide. He shot a glance out the window at the gray morning sky and mentally slapped himself. "How could you just fall asleep like that, Crane?" He staggered into the hallway and frowned. Adriana was still blissfully asleep in her bed. Jonathan had to leave, or he'd bee seen by one of the neighbors.

He walked groggily to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast for his "specimen". If he couldn't be there to see results, what harm could there be in continuing his experimentations? He pulled something from his pocket, inspecting it carefully before dropping the little white object into a cup. It bounced around the glass, clinking against the sides, until Jonathan poured orange juice into the glass. He stirred it thoroughly and set the cup on the table. After cutting up some fruit and almost setting the toaster on fire, Crane set the table and folded his arms proudly. He surveyed the spread with a growing pride and turned on his heels, heading to the bedroom.

Jonathan rummaged through the nightstand, pulling a pad of paper from the drawer and a pen from his coat pocket. He started scribbling on the paper, mouthing the words as he placed them on the page. He looked up at Adriana and, for a fleeting instant, stopped writing. A frown crossed his features as he rose up, hovering over her motionless figure. Jonathan brushed away some strands of hair from her face. A large bump stood out on her forehead, probably a result from hitting her head against the car window. "I told you that would turn out to be a nasty bump…" Crane murmured. He traced his thumb over her injury and cocked his head curiously. She looked so peacefully unaware of her strange and morbid life. Here she looked so…normal.

Jonathan was startled when the young lady's face creased with a frown and she gave a soft whimper. He must have pressed on her injury too hard. Crane retracted his hand quickly, switching his movements to smoothing out his jacket and fixing his tie. He turned back to his note, wrote something else down, then headed back to the living room. He folded the paper, sticking it under the bowl on the table. Crane grimaced, looking over his shoulder at the open door and Adriana sleeping. He stalked out the door, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

He was hungry and would rather be eating a scone instead of hovering over an unconscious psychopath.

He climbed into his car and glanced at the cracked window. "I really must get that fixed…" Jonathan looked up at the building one last time before taking off down the street.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Jonathan?" Crane blinked from his thoughts and looked up. Darcee was standing over him, holding out a cardboard cup and beaming. "Here's your coffee."

"Wh-what? Oh…oh thanks. Thank you Darcee." Crane plucked the cup from her hands and forced a smile as the girl skipped back to her post. Crane rubbed his sleepy eyes and sipped his coffee. The warmth rushed into his body like a flame, his cheeks reddening from the heat. It was a cold day in Gotham. He was usually used to the cold, but as the rain fell outside, he was thankful for the warmth of the café.

'No matter how annoying its occupants are…' Crane cast a scathing look at Darcee before looking out the window. He listened carefully as soft sirens caught his attention. Funny, the police barely came around this part of town. He looked up at some of the other patrons. None seemed to take any notice of him…he was being silly. The police weren't after him. He sank back into his seat and watched the squad cars sail by the window. 'You see? You're being ridiculous, Crane. Just calm down and drink your coffee.'

After about twenty minutes of silent musing, Crane was broken from his thoughts.

"Like ohmygawd!"

Crane glanced at Darcee, who was staring at the small television screen in the corner of the café. She was glued to the screen and struggling to keep up with the big words as a reporter spoke on the news.

"What's the matter Darcee? Big sales at the department store or something?" Crane sneered smugly.

"No, silly...Like, they caught that girl that's been all over the news!" Darcee rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "Jeeze, like, what a little—"

Crane frowned and stood up from his seat, staring at the screen. A picture flashed on the screen as the reporters continued to speak in the background. Jonathan's jaw dropped.

"Adriana."

"Like, I can't believe her. She totally killed people. That's so mean." Darcee clicked her tongue and returned to making coffee. She looked over to Crane so she could continue her angry rant, but Jonathan was gone.

"I can't believe it. I can't…she…how on earth did she get caught?" Jonathan fumed as he blazed down the road in his speeding car. "It was a matter of time before they caught her. How ignorant could she be? She should have made SURE Bruce Wayne was dead before leaving." Crane pursed his lips. He'd never see the result from his experiments now. He knew that, although she was a woman, her crimes were cause for major punishment.

But he knew a few things about the justice system. He WAS, of course, the man sent to evaluate many criminals…so he knew just how to keep Adriana off of death row…at least he hoped so.

Crane skid to a stop in front of a grungy payphone and hopped out of his car, pulling out a card from his coat pocket. He fed the machine a few quarters and dialed the number on the card. A wry grin slipped over his face as the other line was picked up.

"Rachel Dawes, district attorney."

"Miss Dawes…"

Rachel frowned as a familiar chill crept over her shoulders. The voice on the other line was cold…quiet…dangerous. She looked around her office and clutched the phone tighter.

"Yes…this is she. Who—"

"Miss Dawes, I congratulate you and the entire police force for their excellent job on catching that psychopath that was poisoning people."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Uh…thank you? Excuse me sir, I hate to sound rude, but I really must get going. I have to go down to the station and—"

"Of course…you have to do your job."

"Yes, now if you'll excuse me…"

"One thing before you leave, though…" The voice paused a moment. "Make sure you thoroughly evaluate that girl. Something seems a little off if you ask me."

"Excuse me?"

"Just make sure you give those with mental imbalances a fair chance in court. I would hate to think how a guilty conscience could affect your habits. I would hate for you to lose your beauty sleep over sending a clearly schizophrenic young woman to the electric chair."

Rachel scowled. "Sir? Are you suggesting that this young woman who is CLEARLY guilty can justify her actions due to insanity?"

"Ms. Dawes, you and I are both professionals. I know what I'm talking about. Ship that kook off to Arkham and we'll keep the prisons a whole lot safer."

Rachel rose from her seat angrily. "Hey! Just who is this? Hello?"

But all she could hear was the dial tone. Rachel placed the phone back on the cradle and looked down at the papers in front of her. Perhaps the caller was right. This young woman had no previous records, and she was the wife of a policeman. Sure, that doesn't exactly prove innocence…but maybe…

She looked at the phone one last time and picked it up quickly. After a few seconds, a rough voice came on the other line.

"Commissioner, this is Rachel Dawes. I would like to have a meeting with Adriana De Soto this afternoon. Would you be able to accommodate that?"