A/N: Don't worry about Crane; I wasa Girl Scout and my dad was Boy Scout, so I've had some instruction in knot-tying. (sits on Crane's lap and opens laptop) I feel it's only fair to say that I like to update after I get a new review, so keep 'em coming!

Crane (to reviewers): Um, help?

D.A.: No. (smooches Crane)

Crane: OK then...

Chapter III

The docks are never safe. I should have known that after living in Gotham even for only a couple months. But stupid me, I went down to the docks anyway. I guess I was just curious. Well, they say "Curiosity killed the cat". But then again, "Satisfaction brought him back"… In either case, down to the docks I went. There was no one around, so I went poking through some of the crates to see what was in them; mostly stuffed teddy bears and rabbits. I wondered if the high school was doing a fundraiser or something. I didn't bother with the toys, though. I couldn't make much off of them anyway. I needed a piece of jewelry or art or something like that if I wanted to get out of Gotham.

'Unwanting to stay, unwilling to leave,' I thought. 'What a conundrum. Such is my life.' I really was becoming very cynical, but I couldn't help it. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my stolen jean jacket and continued on. The only crates that I could open were the ones with the stuffed animals, and what did I want with those? There was nothing here that was of use to me, so I started to leave. Then I turned back and sat on the edge of the dock, dangling my legs over the glassy dark water. It was very peaceful for once, and I liked it. I felt like, for the first time, I could relax and rest. So I did. Idiotic thing to do, really. I knew better than to ever let my guard down for anything. Well, live and learn I guess.

I lay back on the wooden planks, folding my arms under my head. I closed my eyes, breathing in the salty sea air. I always loved the smell of the sea, from what I had smelled of it from scented candles at least. In Gotham was the first time I had ever seen it for real. Sixteen years had passed before I ever saw the sea. Kind of sad, if you think about it. Most kids have fond memories of playing on the beach with their families at a very young age, but I had none of those. In fact, I didn't have many fond memories at all. It wasn't that my parents didn't love me, far from it; it's just that we had never been able to go to nice places and make nice memories. It was all very complicated, really. But I didn't want to think about all that. I just wanted to enjoy the moment. And I did. I enjoyed it so much that I didn't ever know I wasn't alone until the bomb went off.

I was blasted forward, only just managing to grab the edge of the dock and pull myself back up. There was some kind of territorial battle going on, and I had to get out of there fast. A couple of gangs were throwing cherry bombs around and firing guns. I was about to jump off the dock and try to swim away when one of them noticed me.

"Spy!" he roared, getting everyone's attention.

'Oh shit,' I thought, looking for a way out. I dove behind some of the crates and tried to sneak around to the street and make a break for it. It might have worked if I hadn't underestimated the mentality of the two groups. One of them saw me and threw a cherry bomb at me. It didn't hit me, but it didn't have to. I was thrown back a good thirty feet, my face and hands scorched and cut from the fragments. When I landed in the street, I heard and felt at least two sharp cracks. I had broken a few ribs and a collarbone. Groaning with pain, I tried to raise my head but found it nearly impossible. I needed help badly, but who would come to the docks except more gangs and criminals? I found myself thinking of Dr. Crane, and wishing he would come. I knew he would help me if he were there.

'Wishful thinking, and nothing more,' I told myself. 'You're on your own, as you always have been.' I tried to drag myself to my feet, clenching my teeth hard to keep from screaming in pain. I held my arm, trying to realign my broken collarbone, as I looked for an escape. But there was none. I was surrounded by the thugs, and they were all leering at me, wielding knives, chains, guns, etc. I refused to show fear, but I was terrified for my life. Still, I had to keep my head; it was the only chance I had. I looked off in the distance and smiled grimly.

"Isn't that a police patrol boat?" I asked, nodding off towards the water. The thugs immediately spun around to look, and I ran for it, barreling through the ones who had been behind me and running as fast as I could. I didn't know where I was going, but I had to get away. I considered the police for a moment before deciding that that wasn't safe for me. They might have connections with the local cops. I couldn't take that risk. Hell, even going to a hospital would be a risk! I didn't know what to do except keep running and pray that someone would help me.

I don't know how long the thugs from the docks chased me, but I didn't look over my shoulder to see. My eyes were burning with tears, and I couldn't breathe. I finally ducked into an alley and leaned against the brick wall, gasping. It was starting to rain, on top of everything, but I just didn't care. I didn't really notice until I felt something thick running down my arms. I looked and saw the brown dye from my hair was running, washing away. Perfect. Now I had to redo that before someone noticed. Maybe I'd go redhead this time. It didn't matter. I needed to set my collarbone and whatever else was broken. I would have slid to the ground if it hadn't hurt my sides so badly, so I just hung my head and cried. The rain mixed with my tears until I couldn't tell the difference. I couldn't tell if I had stopped crying or not, but I didn't think so. I cried and cried, shaking violently with cold, anguish, and fear. I had no one in the world, no one who'd be waiting up for me, no one who would care about me, no one who could help me. For a moment I felt that I was the unluckiest person in the world. Even the children starving in Africa had it better than me because they were at least with the people who loved them. But I had no one. My parents had been murdered in cold blood because they tried to protect me from Them. I turned around and pounded my fist against the wall, whispering over and over, "It's not fair! It's not fair!" And it really wasn't. It wasn't fair that I was all alone in the rain, broken and bruised and very, very cold. I laid my arm against the wall, leaned my forehead against it, and cried some more.

"What in the world happened to you?"

I jumped at the sound of the voice and spun to face it. Against all odds, standing there, under an umbrella, was one Dr. Jonathan Crane. I couldn't speak for a while, and Crane just stared at me. I wondered if he recognized me, considering that my hair was silvery-white under the dye. I wiped my eyes, trying to get ahold of myself, but I still couldn't talk. At length, Crane spoke for me:

"Are you all right? What happened?"

"I-I was d-d-down at the d-docks," I choked, trying to catch my breath. "Th-there was a g-g-gang f-fight and I g-got hi-it by a b-bomb. A ch-cherr-rry b-bomb. I think I b-broke someth-thing." I was struggling to speak more connectedly, but it was hard after so much crying. Crane was shocked.

"Oh my god," he said. "Here, let me see. I'm a doctor; I can help you." I nodded and let him examine my arm. The collarbone he deemed broken, but the rest only bruised. "Come inside with me; I'll set that bone and get you some dry clothes. You'll catch your death of cold out here."

"Thank you," I said softly and went inside with him.

The house was very nice, with a maid bustling about and cleaning the already spotless surfaces. Crane got me the dry clothes first and showed me to a room where I could change and dry off a bit. When I came out, dressed in a pair of fleece leggings and a sweatshirt that was too big for me, Crane was waiting, sitting on a couch with a lot of medical supplies. I had to remove the sweatshirt for him to set the bone, but I was beyond caring at that point. The bone had to be set, end of story. I had brushed out my sodden hair and all the dye with it, so it was now white. I'm sure Crane noticed, but he didn't remark on it. I hissed in pain as he realigned the bone, but did my best not to move.

"Shh, I'm almost done," Crane said soothingly. "You're going to be all right now; don't worry. I know it hurts, but it has to."

"Pain lets you know you're alive," I said through clenched teeth.

"I can relate," agreed Crane. "There, all done. Do you want to call your parents?"

"My parents are dead," I said sadly. "I have no where to go."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Crane, slightly surprised. His expression softened as he gazed at me thoughtfully. "What's your name?"

"Czarina," I said, somewhat flatly. "My parents wanted me to always remember my royal heritage."

"I see," said Crane thoughtfully. "You remind me of someone I…knew."

"Really? Who?" I asked.

"It doesn't really matter now," said Crane. "She disappeared. I thought she was dead, but she had run away and I have no idea where she could be now."

"Oh," was all I could say in reply. So he didn't realize that I was Sirena. Good. So much the better for me. "Was she your daughter?"

"No," answered Crane. "She was a patient of mine. Sometimes, though, I truly wondered if she was really…" he broke off, shaking his head. "I shouldn't say any more."

"I understand," I said quietly. Crane looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and smiled.

"Well, you said you had nowhere to go," he said. "Why don't you stay here for the night? I guarantee it's a lot more comfortable than running around out on the streets."

My heart jumped. I wanted to stay so badly, but then he might figure out who I really was and put me back in the asylum. I was through with that place, but he had just said he didn't really believe I was insane. I didn't know what to do, so I just said the first thing that popped into my head:

"I'd love to."

Maybe I should have thought it over better first, but I was exhausted and sore and really wanted a real bed to sleep in for once.

Dr. Crane set me up nice and comfortable in a very nice guest bedroom with a soft full-sized bed covered with warm blankets. He bade me good night and I was left alone. The maid had given me a nightgown of hers to wear, even though it was a little big on me, so I changed into it and sank into bed, sighing at the delicious warmth that surrounded me. I slid under the covers, wiggling my toes under the soft sheets. I smiled as I closed my eyes. As I drifted off, I allowed myself to pretend that I was sleeping in my own bedroom in my own home with a family of my own who loved me. Nice fantasy. One I had held on to for about a year now. Content for the first time in that year, I fell asleep.

I dreamed of seeing Dr. Crane being held roughly by some sort of monstrous bat-creature. The giant bat sprayed Crane in the face with some white gas and Crane's astonishingly blue eyes filled with fear, bordering on outright panic. The bat-monster growled and snarled at Crane, apparently speaking in some strange language that neither of us could understand.

I woke up with a gasp when I felt someone's rather cold hands touch my bare arms.

"I'm sorry," said Dr. Crane (for of course, it was he). "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just checking on the bone. I didn't mean for you to wake up."

I caught my breath. "It's OK. I was just having a strange dream, that's all. Just a weird dream." Crane nodded and lightly touched my collarbone…and frowned. "Something wrong?"

"No," he answered in wonder. "In fact, everything's perfect. The bone's completely healed, and it's only been about six hours." He looked up at me and his eyes – those beautiful blue eyes – widened as they gazed into mine. "Sirena?" I nodded guiltily. He looked at my perfectly whole collarbone and back into my face. "How is this possible? Wait a minute..." he broke off, thinking for a moment, before he whispered, "You're not human!"

My eyes filled with tears as I looked up at him. "Nobody's perfect."