A.N. Sorry it took so long to update but this week has been super busy. First it was getting ready for my vacation and now I'm on vacation. Actually I'm updating from my dad's work in Bangalore, India. It's really intersting here but for more on that see my LJ. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews as usual. I think I'm gonna try and move this story to the Batman Begins category if I can figure out how so... Enjoy!

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christine sat, eyes closed, on the lid of a toilet in one off the bathroom stalls. It had been a day and a half since Greg had left. She was hoping against hope that her note had escaped Dr. Crane's notice and reached its destination. Logic told her that if it had been caught she would have heard about it by now. On the other hand Jonathan did have a way of messing with her mind.

Sighing she decided she should probably go back into the room with the children. Christine made a show of flushing the toilet and washing her hands for the camera mounted by the door. She pulled open the door and saw with shock that the children were quiet. They sat staring at Lucy who was reading them a book. Christine sat against the far wall and watched as Lucy carefully showed the pictures after reading a page.

"I would not eat them here or there," she enunciated with inflection. "I would not eat them anywhere." Silently Christine mouthed the words of her favorite Dr. Seuss book. "I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam I Am."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"And," the defense attorney continued, "in your professional opinion, was Mr. Ty responsible for his actions that night?" He looked intently at his witness.

"No," came the reply. "Mr. Ty could have no more prevented his reactions than could a diabetic keep their blood sugar regular by sheer will power." The witness leaned back from the microphone and glanced at the defendant with mock sympathy.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane." The attorney looked to the judge. "No further questions, you Honor."

Not an hour later a mob burst out of the courtroom, led by the defendant and his lawyer. "We're just happy that now Mr. Ty can get the help he needs," was the only comment the reporters received. The pair brushed by them to where Jonathan Crane stood with several Arkham employees.

"I can't thank you enough," the attorney whispered.

"Don't worry about it," Crane replied. "He'll be safe now." He watched as his employees led the man away to a waiting van and followed, getting in the passenger seat.

It had only been a day or so since Arkham officially reopened. Of course previous to that the city had used to house those who had escaped from there. Despite the short amount of time Jonathan already found himself bombarded with requests for his expertise. Not that he minded the fresh test subjects, but he found it ironic that one day he was the villain and the next he was the hero. That's Gotham for you, he thought.

So far all his assumptions about Gotham had been true. They ignored his constant declaring insane the criminals of the city, they ignored all of the facts proving his guilt, and they were all too pliable under pressure. Yet another one of Gotham's finest had broken under threats against his child. After one-week good behavior it was time for Daddy to get his little darling home. It was all too easy for Jonathan to get what he wanted. He needed a challenge.

Luckily he found one in Michael Fellman. The man refused to do anything Crane wanted. In fact he did the exact opposite. When Crane asked him to change the police report concerning the missing persons report on his daughter, Christine, he double checked it and added details. Michael was told not to file a report in the first place, but he had done it anyway. When Crane asked him to make sure there was no trouble with and incoming shipment of experimental medications Mr. Fellman had made sure the boat carrying them was searched by the federal police, a slightly less obliging crowd. The only reason he had not stormed Arkham Asylum yet was because Jonathan had Christine. Crane humored the rest of Michael's whims, to a point, but if he ever came near Arkham Christine would end up hurt, something he told himself he wouldn't enjoy.

Christine, he mused. What a piece of work she was. After one of their previous conversations Jonathan had dug up the old file from when she had been admitted for attempted suicide. The file told about how her depression had onset after her rape. It was made worse by the fact that she had no "Mother" figure in her life seeing as her mother had been murdered when she was nine. Jonathan studied the memos and notes trying to find some sort of advantage but the girl he kidnapped was not that same girl who had slit her wrists. Christine had grown up a lot and became stronger instead of weaker from her experience. All the more fun to play with, he grinned.

The van had arrived at Arkham so Dr. Crane followed his newest patient in and veared off to his office. He had an appointment to make with a certain young woman.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Alice sat and played with one of her dolls quietly. Everyonce in awhile she would mummer something to it and expect a response that didn't come. With a great deal of show she brushed it's brown yarn hair with her hands and then gave it to Christine.

"Why thank you, Alice," Christine grinned at the girl. She held the doll to her chest and looked around the room as Alice went back to playing. The girl was the sweetest thing Christine had ever seen. She was so nice to everyone and she shared well. It would be a shame when she had to leave them, although it was what was best for her.

Sometime in the afternoon the door to their prison opened and in walked Dr. Crane. Christine did all she could to ignore him but her singled her out.

"Ms. Fellman," he called over the children's greetings to him, "would you come here please?" She sighed not wanting to cause a scene in front of the kids. Standing she made her way across the sea of toys to where he stood by the door.

"What do you want?" she asked annoyed. Her arms were crossed across her chest and her hip stuck out in defiance.

"Now, now," he mock scolded in an all too friendly tone. "I would just like to talk."

"I'm busy," she lied. Jonathan looked arouond her at the children who were all keeping themselves occupied.

"Lying doesn't become you," he told her. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I don't want to be forced to compell you." Christine glanced away but silently gave in. Crane looked smug as she followed him out of the room.

After walking for a while in silence Jonathan spoke up. "Greg is home safe now," he told her, as though to piss her off. It didn't work.

"That's good. He needed to get out of this place." She kept match with his pace while walking although he seemed determined to keep her one step behind him.

"Alice will be next." There was a brief pause in which Christine looked at him in shock.

"Oh," she managed, surprised. "When will this be?" She sure would miss that girl.

"Tonight, before dinner." They stopped at the elevator to wait for it. "Some parents learn faster than others," he said with a hint of darkness in his tone. They stepped into the elevator and Christine leaned against the wall farthest from Crane.

"Are you implying something?" Her voice held anger.

"Only that I doubt certain people will ever see just how deeply I can hurt them." He paused and looked at her pointedly. "Unless, of course, I show them." Christine supposed she should be used to his threats by now but she wasn't. The only thing she could do was pray her fear did not show on her face or else she knew it would bring out the worst in him.

Once the elevator stopped she followed Crane out and into his office, not taking the offered seat but rather crashing on the couch. Crane eyed her but said nothing, grabbed his notepad off his desk, and sat opposite her in an over-stuffed chair. He crossed his legs and clicked his pen to write.

"We haven't really spoken in awhile," he stated. "How are you feeling?" Rolling her eyes Christine gave her standard issue answer.

"Oh just peachy," she replied sarcastically. "Never better."

Crane ignored her comment and continued. "I see you have been sleeping and eating again. Any changes you've noticed in mood?"

"Loads of changes," she continued with the same tone. "I find myself using my time prodictively, feeling better about myself, and overall just loving my position in life!" Her smile was almost too demented for even Dr. Crane to bear. He pulled off his glasses and set them on the armrest.

"Ms. Fellman, allow me to be honest."

"Oh please do," she cut in. "It would be the first time in history." By now she was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"I do not want to hurt you." Christine let out a laugh. "However I will if you don't start cooperating." His voice was dark and he could feel himself slipping.

"Really, now," she nearly shouted, standing up. "You would hurt poor defenseless little me?" She paced over to the window and looked out over the Narrows. She was beyond pissed off at this point. Furious wouldn't begin to cover it and she had no idea why she was so angry all of the sudden. Perhaps she had reached her breaking point. "Why don't you allow me to be honest," she told him turning around.

"By all means," Jonathan replied, standing as well and walking to his desk. In her anger Christine did not see what he had picked up.

"I am not going to play by your rules. I will not let you control my life." She was gesturing frantically, upset with the world. "And in case you haven't noticed, my father will not do as you tell him. He is a good man, something you will never understand!" She took a few measured steps towards Crane who was standing by his desk, hands in his pockets. "Why hold me any longer? Your plan will not work!" She was about a foot away from him when she stopped. They stared at each other a moment before Crane spoke.

"You are right," he said with a quiet determination. "Your father will not do as I tell him. He is a good man." He took a step towards Christine so they were face to face, although she did have to look up at him. "What you fail to see is that I do not care. I will have what I want and I will do whatever I must to get it." His eyes were fixed on hers in a dangerous stare although he felt completely in controll of his actions.

"And what?" Christine spat, her anger giving her boldness. "Am I supposed to be afraid now? Should I beg you not to hurt me or the children?"

"It might be a wise idea although it would not change my actions," he replied evenly. Before she could do anything about it Jonathan grabbed her wrist it a tight grip. With his other hand he showed her what he had grabbed off the desk: a knife. Christine hit him with her free hand as hard as she could but he only held her wrist tighter. Pressing the knife against the palm of her hand he said, "Stop." That was all it took. She stopped fighting and locked eyes with him.

"Well," she asked with a calm voice, "are you going to do it or not?" There was a moment when she thought he would back down, give up but no, not Dr. Crane. He pressed down the knife so that it almost drew blood. While he was focused on that Christine drew back her other hand and slapped him hard across the face causing him to loosen his grip momentarily. She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp and tried for the door. Unfortunately for her Crane was faster. He reached out and caught the back of her shirt and the sudden stop made her fall. Before she could get up Jonathan had flipped her onto her back and sat straddling her waist, pinning her arms with his hands.

"I'm not one for physical violence," he whispered harshly in her ear. "I'd much rather drive you crazy. In your case, however, I'm willing to make an exception." Christine could hardly breath and her heart was racing out of her chest. She looked up in abject terror at Jonathan's face. His eyes held the danger she had seen before.

"Don't," she whispered, pleading. A sudden image came flashing before her eyes. A face, a voice, a laugh. "Please."

As though reading her mind he let out a low chuckle. "That's right," Scarecrow mused aloud. "You're proned to flashbacks." His grin was sickening and even he knew it. Just a little more, Scarecrow begged Jonathan. Don't tell me this isn't fun. Beneath the exterior Jonathan sat quiet, knowing what was thought was true. It was fun and he did enjoy it, somewhat. Still, something told him that perhaps threats were not the way to control this girl. Perhaps a different tactic was to be employed.

Christine lay quiet and still not knowing what he would do next. She hated this man with all of her strength.

Scarecrow watched the girl's eyes. Her fear, so obvious, was so sweet to him. It clouded his mind, filled his senses. He wanted more, so much more. He shuffled her wrists so that one hand held both of them and reached out to grab the knife which had fallen on the floor.

"Someone needs to learn a lesson," he told her, voice crazed. With the tip of the knife he raised her shirt to expose her stomach. He pressed the blade down so she could feel the sharpness on her tender skin. Christine let out a soft cry and looked away. Once more using the knife he gently tipped her head to look at him. "Can't you see it?" he asked with amusement. "You belong to me and you will do what I tell you, as will your father." He carefully cut into her stomach, slowly drawing the blade. She bit her lip to keep from screaming as she felt each agonizing movement of the knife.

After a minute he was done. Blood poured and stained her clothes but Scarecrow simply stood and smiled, licking clean the blade. Christine curled up on the floor and sobbed, wishing once more that she could die instead if continueing to live this life. She put her hands to her stomach to stop some of the blood.

Slowly Scarecrow faded and Crane took controll once more. He stared at what he had done, unbelieving. Scaring her was fine but this? How could he have done this? Cautiously he made his way over to Christine and crouched beside her. He reached out his hand to brush her hair away from her face but in response she pulled away farther and refused to look at him.

"I'm," he began, but couldn't finish. This girl had done nothing to deserve this and he knew it. He was losing control. He tried to speak to her again. "I didn't mean to," but his words failed once more. Sighing he ran his hands through his hair. "It wasn't me," he told her.

Bitter she replied, "Of course not. The blood is only on your lips." Her eyes met his and Jonathan saw the mess left there.

"You don't understand," he said weakly sitting down cross-legged.

"Oh no, I do." She sat up feebly and sat hugging her knees, the blood form her stomach soaking her pants. "You have multipersonality disorder, also known as severe dissociative disorder. It's usually brought on by some traumatic event. So tell me, Dr. Crane," she mocked, "what's wrong with your life?" He grinned at her knowledge but there was no joy there.

"I do not have to tell you, but," he continued when he saw her open his mouth, "I will." He chose his next words wisely. "Accidentally I was dosed with a hallucinogen. Normally it would wear off but this particular dosage was far above normal. It changed the way my mind works." He sighed watching the girl's reaction.

Chrisitne sat and stared at him. "Nice excuse," she commented. "Just how am I supposed to deal with you mutilating me?" Her frustration was clear.

"I do not know," he told her. "That is your problem." Standing he offered her a hand. As usual she ignored it and slowly managed to push herself up. "Come with me," he told her. "We need to bandage that or else it won't heal properly." Christine just shook her head and followed him out the door.