It was late, Rachel thought, as she glanced at the watch on her wrist. Nearly midnight, and she was still at the office. Rachel gave a frustrated sigh, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, and stood from her seat with a stretch.

The office was still and quiet, as most of her co-workers had left early, except for one office beside hers. Rachel poked her head into the dimly lit room and spotted a man in his chair, scribbling madly on some paper.

"Hey, Harvey. Shouldn't you be getting home?"

Harvey Dent, a new attorney in her firm, glanced up from his paper and raised an eyebrow. "No, it's not time to go yet, is it?"

"It's almost midnight."

Harvey blinked and stared at the clock on the wall behind him. "I…I guess I lost track of time. I need to finish some stuff up before I get home though."

"Anything I can help you with? It'll make your work load a whole lot lighter."

Dent gave a small grin and shook his head. "No thanks Dawes. I'll be fine. You should get going though. Gotham streets are no place to be after hours."

"I'm a big girl, Harvey."

Harvey rolled his eyes and shook his head as the young woman glided out of his office and down the hall towards the entrance.

Rachel shifted her purse on her shoulder as she pulled her coat a little tighter around herself. It was cold, and Rachel could see small white flakes slowly making their descent to earth, twirling and dancing on the breeze as they passed through the harsh glare of the yellow streetlamps.

Rachel started down the sidewalk, her arms folded tightly over her chest and her eyes cast to the ground as it made a faint crunching with each step. She had learned to avoid people's eyes, but keep a close tab on them at all times. She had a taser in her purse, and knew a bit about close combat. Well, more like she knew how to claw and scratch and punch like a trapped animal. But people didn't seem to mind her much, and she liked it that way.

Rachel squeaked as she felt her heel snag in a crack in the sidewalk and cursed aloud as she spun around, stumbling backwards. "Stupid shoe!" She snapped, glaring around her to see if anyone had seen her shining moment as a klutz. Satisfied that no one had, she just rolled her eyes and turned to continue walking.

A shadowy alley lay beside her as she walked by, not bothering to give it a second glance. She should have been paying more attention, though, as a hunched figure crept from the darkness as she passed and slowly trailed behind her.

Rachel gave a soft sigh and watched her breath hang before her. But something caught her attention. Something soft, barely audible.

Footsteps.

Rachel slowed her steps and eventually stopped. But the steps behind her didn't. She heard long, drawn out steps, followed by a short one. Another long, another short. Rachel hugged herself tighter and shook her head. "It's just my imagination…" She whispered to herself, not daring to look back. Rachel brought her foot out to take another step just as something cold and damp came over her face. She tried to scream, but there was such an overwhelming, powerful smell that she could barely breathe, let alone call for help. Her heart raced and her eyes rolled as she struggled to see who was holding her. She felt a firm arm wrap around her stomach and start dragging her back. Back to the alley she had just passed. Her mind screamed to fight back, but her body seemed to fall limp in the arms of her attacker.

"Gee, Dawes…not the fighter I thought you were…"

Rachel couldn't recognize the voice. It was just as soft as the footsteps, but scratchy and strained. Rachel's eyes fluttered as she fought hard to stay awake.

"Don't try, Dawes. Give into the sleep…hush little baby, don't say a word…"

Rachel felt her body give out and everything went black.

Jonathan Crane grunted, shifting the woman's weight in his twiggy arms and pulled her up a bit more. He looked around carefully and chewed the inside of his cheek. "Where do I bring her?"

There's a door behind us…it leads to an empty office building. No one will look there.

Jonathan began to drag the woman backwards and scowled. "How did you know about this place?"

My, Jonathan…how could you forget? Jonathan's eyes narrowed as the voice laughed softly in his head. How could you forget?

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

Harvey Dent sank into his seat and stared at the papers before him…some long, boring documents, the kinds that he always fell asleep reading. With a small smirk on his face, he picked up a quarter on his desk and frowned at the paper. "Alright…heads, I sign this without reading. Tails, I keep on reading until my brain fries from boredom." With that, the young man tossed the coin into the air and caught it with one hand, then slapped it down on the table. He lifted his palm, hoping it read 'Heads', but gave a loud moan and stared at the eagle on the coin. "Fine. Tails it is."

Harvey reached for his lamp, giving it one twist and winced as more light filled the room. For some reason, he drew his eyes up to the door and suddenly gave a loud gasp. There, nearly filling up the space of the doorway, stood a looming black figure staring at Harvey with dark blue eyes.

Dent's shaky hands reached into the drawer beside him and pulled out a gun, aimed carefully at the intruder.

"Who are you?" He shouted.

The figure didn't budge. "Where is Rachel Dawes?"

"I swear to god I'll shoot if you don't tell me who you are!"

The figure hesitated before taking a cautious step forward. Dent felt the gun slip slightly in his hands, but recovered quickly. "You…You're Batman."

"Where is Rachel Dawes?" Batman repeated, this time a little more forcefully.

Harvey slowly put the gun down on his desk and swallowed. "She…she left, a few minutes ago. Fifteen, maybe twenty…Why?"

Batman didn't reply. He simply turned and disappeared into the shadows of the empty office building.

Harvey ran his hand through his hair and blew out a relieved breath. That was close. He never knew if that bat guy was really a hero or just another nut. He didn't care. All he knew was the bat didn't kill him.

Today, at least.

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

"The king was in his counting house, counting out his money. The queen was in the parlor, eating bread and honey…"

Rachel's eyes fluttered open. She groaned softly and felt her head roll back on her shoulders.

"The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes, when down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose!"

Rachel jumped as the voice speaking shouted the last phrase before bursting into laughter.

"I always wondered about that song. I hear it was used by Blackbeard to recruit pirates…What do you think, Miss Dawes?"

Rachel glanced down and looked at her arms. They were bound tightly to the rickety wooden chair she sat on. Her legs were tied to the legs of the chair as well, all ropes tight enough to keep her limbs still, but loose enough to allow blood to circulate through her body.

She glanced up to where she had heard the voice and gave a small, muffled noise in the back of her throat. A figure sat in the darkness, knobby knees sticking out on either side of his seated frame. He was playing with something on his lap, and seemed to be humming as he waited for her answer. Rachel only knew it was a he because of the voice she had heard. And now, almost immediately, she could place a face to that voice.

"You want to know what I think? I think you're crazy, Doctor Crane."

Rachel blinked as the figure turned on a small office lamp at his side and she sucked in her breath, her eyes widening. It was Crane. Only…he looked so different. Dangerous. His face was sallow and etched with dark shadows that accentuated his already statuesque features. His blue eyes, eyes she had always looked into with spite and annoyance, were seemingly void of anything human, instead replaced with an animalistic insanity. His body was the epitome of emaciation; he was thinner, he looked taller, and his clothes barely clung to his body. He wasn't the man she knew, or thought she knew. He wasn't the man that she had gone up against countless times in court. Jonathan Crane had changed for the worse.

The young man smiled, his full lips thinning slightly, and gave a dry, raspy chuckle. "Crazy? Miss Dawes, I'm not crazy." He paused, tilting his head away, although he kept eye contact for a mere second. "I'm not crazy…" then returned his gaze to the thing on his lap and began singing another tune. "Hush little baby, don't say a word…mama's gonna buy you a mockin'bird…"

Rachel shifted in her seat and furrowed her brow. "If…if you're not crazy, then why are you singing nursery rhymes?"

Jonathan didn't look up, and neither did he look at all perturbed by her question. "Children sing nursery rhymes all the time. I'm sure even you sang them as a child…so why would my singing make me crazy, Rache? It didn't make you crazy, did it?"

Rachel shook her head stiffly. "No…but I'm twenty-seven years old. And I don't sing little nursery rhymes anymore."

Jonathan snorted and stood. "No wonder you're such a miserable person, Dawes…" He began to walk around her. "You don't realize how charming they can be. They soothe and can put little kids to sleep. It's quite calming…if that mockin'bird don't sing, mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring…"

Rachel shuddered as she felt his thin, spidery fingers trail along her shoulders and felt anger rising inside her. "Don't touch me."

Jonathan scoffed and pushed her head forward from behind. "Don't flatter yourself, Dawes. You're nothing I would want to touch anyways. You disgust me."

Rachel blushed brightly in spite of herself, unsure if his comment should be a relief or an insult. Nevertheless, she managed to look up at him as he crossed by her side and gave him a scowl.

"Well, if I disgust you so much, why don't you just let me leave?"

Jonathan turned on his heels, facing her directly with his twiggy arms crossed behind his back. "What? And stop our fun-time?" He said mockingly, cocking his head to the side.

"This isn't fun," Rachel hissed, glowering at him. "This is sick, Crane." Jonathan shrugged and turned his back on her and began to walk back to his spot on the floor. Rachel growled, growing angry at his lack of care and sympathy towards her pain and fear. "I knew you were a nut-job…I'm sorry you didn't get the chair for what you did to the people of Gotham! People died, people went insane!"

Rachel gasped as the skinny pale man came down upon her, stopping just inches away from her face. A twisted smile crossed his lip and sent shivers down Rachel's spine. She never saw him smile before, least of all like this…This smile was different. It wasn't even his.

"I only wish I could have gotten the chair, Rachel. I only wish I could end my misery now. But I'm stuck here. With you. If you ask me," he straightened himself and stared down at her with a superior air, "this punishment is worse than anything after death."

Rachel swallowed hard, staring at him. Her frightened eyes traveled over the young man's face and paused on a small pink scar running along his cheek. Her eyebrows drew together slightly in puzzlement, but as Jonathan noticed her gaze, she quickly turned her eyes elsewhere.

Jonathan smiled lopsidedly and tilted his head. "What is it Rachel? You like my little scar?" The man squatted before her and peered up with hard, cold eyes. "Remember this, Rache?" He lifted his bony fingers to his cheek and traced the shiny pink skin. "I must say, you have excellent aim with that taser of yours. Luckily…" Jonathan produced a small, black, box-like weapon from his coat pocket, "you won't need this anymore." Rachel's breathing quickened as she stared at her taser, which Jonathan was now holding eyelevel with her. "Trust me, Rache…I have better aim…especially since you are a little "tied up" at the moment."

"Please don't…" Rachel murmured, pulling her head back as far as she could from the taser.

"Hmm, I think you're right. This little sissy toy won't get the job done. But this, my dear, will." Rachel stifled a scream as Jonathan took a rusted sickle in his free hand and placed the sharpened blade against her neck.

Rachel shook her head barely and looked horrified. "Don't…you…you can't do this. You can't kill me…"

"And why not?" Jonathan whispered, still holding the weapon tauntingly close. "It would be so easy, and it won't hurt much. I promise…"

Rachel's eyes watered as he slowly pulled the blade away and ran his thumb along it, not caring when it nicked him and caused a little bead of scarlet blood to trickle down his finger. She let out a shaky breath and drew in another equally shaky one. "Crane, don't do this…please…"

Jonathan's eyes lit up as he watched her with maniacal glee. "I never placed you as the type to beg, Dawes. I'm almost ashamed to even think I used to associate myself with you. But…perhaps…yes…" Jonathan slowly placed the weapon down behind him and smirked coyly. "I have better plans for you anyways."

Rachel let out a pent up breath of relief as Jonathan pulled away from her and started to pace the floor, staring at the dust that stirred beneath his feet with each step. Now Rachel was able to take in her surroundings, staring at the various empty, dust-covered desks, some still displaying papers on them. Chairs were toppled over, one wall was missing and the skeletal remains stood out in the shadows. "Where are we? Why did you bring me here?" She breathed, her brown eyes slowly drawing up to the ceiling.

"We're in an old office…I think it was a newspaper office. It's been closed for the better half of 17 years…forced to shut down during the Depression. I brought you here for my own reasons." Jonathan looked over at her blankly. "Why do you ask?"

"I…I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Rache," Jonathan murmured in a sing-song voice. "Actually this place holds a few memories. My memories. You know, I almost died here. Ironic that I brought you here, isn't it?"

Rachel shuddered and felt her lips tremble as she spoke. "What…what do you mean you almost died here?"

Jonathan waved his hand dismissively. "It's nothing important. I was a boy, and this place had just closed down. I was on my way to the library to return one of my books. I got mugged." He cast a look around the room and sighed. "It hasn't changed at all, save for the dust everywhere. The kids who mugged me dragged me in here. They knew people wouldn't hear my screams for help." He spoke as though he were discussing the weather, not a dark memory of childhood trauma. Rachel felt a pang of pity fill her heart, but the pity disappeared as Jonathan's twisted grin returned. "I got away from them, and was running out of this place, and ran across the street. Those idiots followed me. Too bad they didn't look both ways before crossing the street. Busy street, green light…" Jonathan turned to Rachel and grinned wider. "Speed-bumps." Rachel felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat and needed to look away from him to calm her stomach.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Don't look so sad, Miss Dawes. They got what they deserved." Rachel felt hot tears sting her eyes and looked down at the floor as they began to fall down her cheek. She was stuck with this madman…she was stuck here with this maniac. Jonathan noticed her tears and laughed coldly. "Aww, Rachel. What? You feel left out after my nice little story? You want something too? Well, I wish to show you a surprise I've been saving. Just. For. You."

Rachel jerked her head up and made a small cry as Jonathan drew a silvery aerosol canister from his coat pocket. "I thought you weren't going to kill me…" she whispered.

"I'm not." Jonathan stated simply as he picked up a burlap mask that had fallen to the floor when he had first stood from his spot. "But an old friend of yours wishes to say hi."

The light bulb in Rachel's mind finally snapped on and she began to shake her head madly. "No! No! Crane! Doctor Crane, please! Don't!"

Jonathan chuckled and outstretched his arms. "Rachel, dear, believe me…no one can hear you. Please, don't try to scream," he placed a cold pale hand on her warm shivering cheek. "You'll only hurt your voice."

Rachel ignored him and screamed as he slowly pulled his mask down over his face, dropping his glasses to the floor. "NO! Crane, please I beg you! Please don't do this! Don't hurt me!" She began to sob, shaking her head. She knew what this meant. She remembered the last time he had that mask on…she almost died if it wasn't for Batman. "Don't hurt me!"

"NO!" Crane suddenly shouted, his face twisting with fury and hatred behind the mask. Every fiber of his being hated her right now. Her…and that pathetic begging of hers. "No, Rachel! You see, I worked hard for what I did. I went through life being stepped on by bigger people. Do you know what it's like to have no home life? No childhood? No friends, money, job?" He drove his spindly finger forward, stabbing her hard in the shoulder. "You try so hard to defend the injustices of this world. Where were your people when my life was spinning out of control? Oh they were around when I was finally succeeding in life…with my experiments…" Jonathan couldn't contain himself as he wrapped his long fingers in her smooth brown hair and yanked down on it tightly. She screamed, more tears pouring down her cheeks as pain seared over her scalp. "Where are they now, Rachel?" He hissed in her ear. "Where are they now when you need help? You are losing this battle, Rachel. You are losing…and I am winning." Rachel sobbed as he breathed on the shell of her ear. She didn't like him so close. She wanted him away from her. She gave another cry as Crane twisted her head upwards and held the canister to her face. Rachel shook with terror as she stared up at Jonathan's masked face. His eyes twinkled with madness, filling with hatred and cruelty she had never seen before. He drew close to her again and placed the grinning mouth of the Scarecrow beside her ear.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't give you my medicine, Dawes…" he purred, his voice harsh and cold and his grip still strong as he held her hair.

Rachel choked as she tried to speak, her voice quivering and soft as she struggled and squirmed in her seat. "I…I'll help. I can…I'll find someone t-to help you, J-Jonathan. P-please…let…let me h-help you…"

Jonathan seemed to ponder this plea for a moment, and Rachel wondered if she had gotten through to the broken man behind the dangerous façade. But Jonathan felt the Scarecrow's grin crawl across his lips. "Wrong answer. I already have someone helping me. Good night Rachel…"

Before she could open her mouth to try again, he pressed the nozzle and released the gas into her face.

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

Batman leapt from rooftop to rooftop, listening carefully to the night chatter of those roaming the streets. People seemed busy, rushing around as usual, maybe more than usual since Christmas was coming just around the corner. It was snowing, and the tracks in the snow made Bruce's quest fruitless. He didn't know where Rachel had gone. She wasn't at her apartment, and she wasn't anywhere along the road, or at the train stations. Bruce had decided to return to her office, hoping to question that Dent character in the building again. Everything around him seemed so normal. But Bruce's gut feeling told him otherwise. Something was wrong…horribly wrong.

Just as Batman prepared to make another leap across the dark chasm of an alleyway, he paused and listened. Screams filled his hearing, startling him from his thoughts. Some people stopped and looked around for the source, but decided to continue walking. No one liked getting involved, especially if someone is screaming.

The caped crusader scaled the brick wall of the alley below him effortlessly and landed in the filthy, narrow lane in silence. He craned his neck every direction, trying to pick up the sounds of the screams to find the source. The special tools in his mask helped greatly and Batman's eyes landed on a thick metal door to his right, the kind used by delivery services to drop off packages. 'No…' Bruce breathed, his eyes locking on the door as the shrieks grew louder and wilder, then a cold, cruel laughter began to intermingle with it. 'Please let me be wrong…'

Batman pulled the door open and stole into the building. He followed the cries and made a sharp turn, stopping dead in the doorway and going absolutely cold with horror.

There, standing in the middle of the room, stood a smug-looking Scarecrow, watching as Rachel Dawes writhed in her seat, screaming and racing like a lunatic. She was pulling so hard on her restraints that the were burying themselves into her skin, leaving red rashes on her fair arms.

"Miss Dawes, please keep it down. It's not like I'm killing you. I'm just showing you how well your little idealistic philosophy of life works." Jonathan threw his head back and cackled as Rachel whimpered and writhed more.

That's what made Batman's blood boil. The cloaked man sped forward and grabbed Jonathan by the bottom jaw and snapped it closed. The young man, jarred by the blow, had no time to react and fount himself shoved hard against a wall, still dazed and bewildered. Finally, Jonathan collected his thoughts and stared at Batman in terror as his mask was ripped off his face. "No…you aren't supposed to be here…"

Another shock to his body came as Bruce's meaty fist struck Jonathan's cheek with sickening force. Jonathan slid down the wall and looked terrified. I thought I was going to be safe! You PROMISED I would be safe!

Promises, promises, Jonathan…don't worry…I'll keep my promise…

The dark knight picked Jonathan up from the ground effortlessly and held him against the wall. "What did you do to her!"

Jonathan was silent, staring at the steely blue eyes of Batman. Soon, however, he felt a smile tickle his features, despite the throbbing pain in his jaw. "We were only playing, Batman…"

The thin man grunted as he was pulled towards Batman and thrust against the wall once more. Bruce drew his face close and glowered. "What did you do?" He whispered dangerously as Rachel's soft screams turned into mutterings in the background.

Jonathan's blue eyes narrowed and he lowered his head defiantly. "Something that should have been done a long…long…time ago." Jonathan glanced over Batman's shoulder and he allowed a small grin to overtake him. "I suggest saving your lady friend again, Batman. She looks a little ill."

Bruce's body heaved with deep breaths. He couldn't leave Jonathan alone, but Rachel was suffering. He had to help her. Begrudgingly, Bruce released his death-grip on Jonathan and let him fall back to the floor. He needed to help Rachel now.

But Jonathan was no fool. He was already on his feet and scrambling out of the room the second Batman wasn't looking. Bruce cursed aloud and reached for his belt. He had kept a dose of anti-toxin ever since Crane had escaped, knowing he would need it one day. He quickly inoculated Rachel, and took off, not waiting for any results. He wouldn't let Crane get away again. Not this time…

Jonathan raced down the halls, pushing his legs to pick up the pace as he heard the flutter of Batman's cape swooping behind him. Jonathan blinked and gave a startled gasp as the hall before him stretched to unrealistic lengths. What was going on?

Run, little Scarecrow…the Bat's on your tail…skip along with limbs so frail…

Jonathan skidded to a stop as shadows around him grew along the wall and threatened to consume him in their inky blackness.

Shadows growing, mind is dying, don't stop, little Scarecrow…you must keep trying…

Jonathan threw a look to his side and saw a free-swinging door. With slight desperation, he burst through the doorway and groped along the wall, feeling for a light-switch. He flipped it on and blinked as the fluorescent lights of the old, cobwebbed bathroom stung his eyes. Jonathan stared at the rusty stall doors and then at the main entrance.

With the strength only a man completely out of his mind could possess, Jonathan began pulling and tugging at the stall doors, grunting and biting his lip so hard he was sure he would break the skin. Finally, the door twisted off its rusty hinges and Jonathan fell to the hard tile floor on his back. He had no time to nurse his pain as he started to his feet and placed the metal door against the entrance, wedging it tightly in the small doorway. Jonathan whipped around and looked at the other stalls.

One by one, doors piled atop one another until Jonathan stumbled back and stared at his handiwork. The bat would have a tough time breaking through now.

With a triumphant smile, Jonathan reeled backwards until he hit the far end of the restroom and slid his back along the wall. He slowly fell to the floor and watched the barricaded door with wide eyes, drawing his steepled fingertips to his lips.

A/N: Well, I can't say I'm a big Rachel fan (sorry to all you out there who liked her). I lost respect for her once she basically dumped Batman. You just...you just don't do that, Rachel.

Anywho, I quite enjoyed this chapter...only because I got to bug Rachel through Crane (evil laughter).

So, please review, and even if you don't, please enjoy this story :) Only a few chapters left until it's done.

...Amazon...