Disclaimer: I don't own Dr. Crane and/or any of the characters/places associated with Batman Begins
Vanessa couldn't move; she could hardly breathe.
No, this can't be happening.
Finally taking action, she began to back away from him slowly. The whole situation didn't seem real. He wasn't even looking directly at her; he was glancing over her shoulder. Vanessa was tempted to turn around and see what held his gaze, but dared not take her eyes off him.
For a man who was supposed to have been on the run for the past two weeks, he seemed to be holding up quite well. He was clean shaven and appeared well fed; had he actually gained weight since she'd seen him last? He was wearing her husbands clothing and, if her nose was correct, his aftershave as well.
"How did you get in here? It's not possible; the security system was armed," she said in disbelief.
"I was here when they installed it; I've been here for quite a while now," he answered as he drew his gaze upward.
Unable to stand it any longer, Vanessa turned around. The three-by-three entrance to the attic, located in the hallway, lay open; along came the realization that the creaking she'd been hearing at night was not the house settling after all. Vanessa could picture him moving through her home while she slept, quietly going through her husband's things; watching her. It was a horrible thought. Why hadn't he made a move until now?
"What do you want, Jonathan?" she asked.
"What any doctor wants, what's best for my patients."
"I don't understand."
"I've been watching you, Vanessa – watching you long enough to know that you try to drown your sorrows in alcohol; long enough to know that you cry yourself to sleep most nights. Did you think I would just ignore your cries for help? You need me, Vanessa. Don't you think our therapy ended too soon?" he asked as he began to move towards her.
Vanessa shook her head and was careful to keep her tone calm and even as she spoke
"You're not my doctor anymore, Jonathan. I don't have to answer your questions. You need to leave now, or I'll call the police."
Seeming to ignore what she had just said, he pointed at his clothing and asked, "How do I look?"
The question was a trap, posed only to incite anger, but she couldn't help falling right into it. He had no right to brazenly claim her husband's belongings as his own.
"He won't need these things any longer; I didn't think he'd mind if I helped myself," Jonathan taunted.
Her husband had been over six feet tall and weighed 200 pounds – Jonathan was positively swimming in the clothing.
"With that over-sized shirt, you could pass for a flying squirrel," she said in as obnoxious a tone as possible. "Or maybe a little boy who raided daddy's closet."
Jonathan's smile quickly faded, turning to a scowl. He lunged for her, and Vanessa turned on her heels, running for the hallway.
If I can just reach that panic button…
The button was mere inches from her reach when he pulled her outstretched arm away from the control panel and slammed her against the opposite wall with strength only the mad possess. Vanessa screamed once before his hand covered her mouth. He was holding something long and silver in his other hand; Vanessa couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. She recognized what it was as Jonathan raised it above his head – the stainless steel flashlight she kept in the basement. He brought it down forcefully, catching her on top of the head. She slid down the wall, coming to rest on the floor, dazed from the impact but still awake. Jonathan was standing over her, motionless. Vanessa brought her hand to her head; she was shocked by the amount of blood she saw when she pulled it away. She began to crawl along the soft white carpet; watching drops of blood stain the rug as she moved down the hall. Jonathan watched her pathetic attempt at escape until she was a few feet away from him. He caught up to her easily and planted his foot in the middle of her back, pinning her to the floor. He struck her with the flashlight again and again; sometimes hitting her squarely on the head, but mostly striking her neck and shoulders. Vanessa could only wonder why she wasn't unconscious by now.
Knowing that this attack would have to end or she would not survive, Vanessa stopped moving and let her breath become slow and shallow, hoping he would think her dead or unconscious. The plan worked; she heard Jonathan throw the bloody weapon to the floor. He pulled her hair back and his fingers probed her neck, searching for a pulse. When he determined she was still alive, he dragged her back to the bedroom. Somewhere between being dragged across the floor and thrown onto the bed, she really did lose consciousness.
When she awoke, the sun had set. The whole afternoon was gone; she couldn't believe she'd been out for so long. Her hands were bound tightly in front of her, and she strained against the knots to no avail. The only source of light was coming from the bathroom; a toilet flushing was the only sound. Vanessa's head throbbed, she felt like she was in a haze. Her back hurt but, more alarmingly, her hips ached more. As she tried to lift her head, Jonathan's form appeared in the doorway and he turned on the bedroom light. Vanessa squinted as her eyes adjusted to the brightness; when they did, she saw a pair of ice-blue, myopic eyes regarding her coldly.
"What have you done?" she asked him with little emotion in her voice.
"Time will tell," he said as he came closer. "You remember your request, don't you?"
His hand stroked her leg and she pulled away from his touch.
What the hell is he talking about? What request? Oh my god – of all the things his crazed mind could have remembered; why did it have to be that?
Had he violated her while she was unconscious? That didn't seem like him at all. If he were going to force himself on her, he would want her to be awake so he could enjoy her reaction, wouldn't he?
"Poor Vanessa," he said, leaning over her. "Do you really think that's going to make everything better?"
His hand came to rest on her abdomen and he moved it in a circular motion. Vanessa exploded in fury.
"Shut up, you bastard. Get your hands off me!"
"Oh my; I think I've struck a cord," he laughed.
"I said shut up!" she yelled louder.
Against her protests, he shoved something into her mouth and then wrapped one of her husband's ties around her face to hold this make-shift gag in place. Her mouth was filled with so much fabric that it repeatedly triggered her gag reflex, and she fought the urge to vomit.
"The neighbors will be home any minute now, Vanessa. You'll have to keep it down."
He pulled another tie from his pocket and dangled it in front of her.
"A little added excitement," he said playfully as he covered her eyes.
Having rendered her blind and mute, Jonathan untied her robe and slowly pulled it open as if she were a gift to him. He ran his hands down her torso several times before climbing beside her and forcing her legs apart.
"I brought you something," he whispered. "Can you guess what it is?"
He dragged the object slowly up the length of her right thigh. Vanessa could feel the serrated edge graze across her skin; she knew it was a knife.
Stay calm; he wants to see your fear.
"I spent night after night in that cold attic, thinking about how I was going to kill you," he said.
Vanessa couldn't help but stiffen at the word kill.
"I thought about smothering you with a plastic bag, but that was far too predictable. I could have strangled you; but, that didn't seem right either. A knife, however; it's so personal, and befitting a doctor…don't you agree?"
He didn't wait for a reply; with a flick of his wrist, he cut into her leg, leaving a three inch cut on her inner thigh just above the knee. Vanessa arched her back against the pain, but was determined not to cry out.
"Uh-oh; let me kiss it better," he teased.
Settling between her legs, he laved the wound with his tongue. When it was wet with his saliva, he blew against it gently. After the burning sensation of the knife, this felt strangely soothing – that is, until he cut again. Vanessa jumped; her breath quickening as he placed this new mark on her body, two inches above the first. It was now that she did cry out, her screams muffled to all but him. This cycle continued: he would cut her, she would feel his mouth upon her body and then always that cool breath. By the time the knife tore her flesh a fifth time, she was on the verge of hysteria.
Somebody help me!
Jonathan was close to the very center of her now; so close. What would happen when he got there? The anticipation alone was worse than any act. She gagged and felt vomit rise to the back of her throat. Knowing she would choke if she didn't, she forced herself to swallow it back down.
Sensing her plight, Jonathan stopped what he was doing and rested his body on top of her. He removed the gag and grabbed a fistful of her hair, thrusting her head back.
"Don't scream," he ordered while pressing the knife against her throat. "Beg, Vanessa; beg for your life."
"No, I won't do it," she said stubbornly.
"Then you'll need incentive," he said in a huff.
She gasped as he rested the knife between her legs; the very tip of it poised to enter her.
"Beg," he growled.
Vanessa had wanted to remain strong so very badly, no matter what he did to her - but every person had their limit, and she had reached hers. She knew he would not stop. This man had no mercy, no morals and no restraint. Even with the blindfold in place, she could feel his eyes on her, hungrily watching her growing fear and desperation – taking pleasure in it. Her breath came in short gasps and, despite her best efforts, she began to cry.
"Please, don't," she pleaded.
"Please don't what?" he asked.
Vanessa could hear the satisfaction in his voice and it crushed her.
"Please, please don't…h-hurt me."
She sounded like a frightened little girl again; just as she had when she'd first met Dr. Lehman and Jim at Arkham.
"He hurt me," she had told them.
That's what he does, Vanessa; he hurts people.
"Good girl. That's all I wanted to hear," he said and then kissed her roughly. "Well done; you've earned a stay of execution."
He pulled the knife away from her and she heard it drop to the floor. Her sigh of relief was quickly interrupted as he gripped her right leg and wrapped it around his back. With their hips pressed together, she could feel his arousal and accelerated breathing.
"But you said you weren't going to hurt me."
"Correction, I said I wouldn't kill you…yet," he said.
Vanessa struggled to escape him, but with her hands bound and his body pressed against hers, it was impossible.
"Please don't do this," she cried as he let go of her hair and shoved the gag back in her mouth.
It's the only way he can do it. He can't enjoy the act otherwise.
Vanessa shook uncontrollably, like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. She could feel him tugging at his pants, eagerly trying to pull them down.
"Is this how it was that night, Vanessa?" he asked, the words dripping from his mouth like venom. "I saw this place before everything was cleaned up; pretty gruesome stuff. I saw where your husband was shot. How did it feel knowing that the man who had just murdered your husband was fucking you just a few feet away from his corpse?"
This is only physical
"He made you spread your legs wide for him, didn't he? He made you bleed."
Don't listen to him. Don't let him in your mind. He can't really hurt you unless you let him in.
Just as Vanessa abandoned all hope, the doorbell rang, catching both of them by surprise.
"We have company," Jonathan said cheerfully.
He stopped his assault and climbed off of her. In an unexpected display of respect or compassion, he closed her bathrobe and tied it securely shut.
"I wonder who that could be?" he asked.
Vanessa knew who it was; he came by every two days at the minimum to check in on her. It was Jim.
No, don't come in here.
"I hate interruptions," Jonathan sighed. "I better go see who that is."
Author's Note: As always, thank you Not Human for the beta read. You're the best!
Special thanks once again to everyone out there for reading and/or reviewing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
