Author's note: Looking back at the previous two chapters, I realized there were a couple missing words – like one "not" that would have helped a sentence make more sense. I have put myself in time out and I promise to be more careful. If you're on to chapter 3, though, it can't have bugged you too much. Lastly - if you review for me, I would be so happy I would kiss you. Or not kiss you, whichever you prefer. Just note that reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything about Batman, but I do have some action figures.
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The night nurse made her way down the hall checking off each inmate's name and writing short notes. She looked no older than seventeen, with deep brown doll's eyes and enough long, curly brown hair for three women her size. She stood on tiptoe to peek in each small, shatter proof window, her petite white shoes squeaking as she strained to see.
"11:31pm K. Allen," she wrote, "sleeping on floor again."
"11:32pm J. Carlie – singing to self, rocking back and forth."
The nurse didn't need to peek into Crane's room. His nose touched the rectangular window, his eyes peering down at her.
"Is something the matter?" she asked in her high, sweet voice.
"Yes. Not one of your colleagues administered my medication this evening." Crane looked down on her with a cold, accusatory stare.
"I'm sorry. Let me go check your chart."
The nurse returned with a clipboard. "Mr. Crane, it says in the intern's notes that you received your medication at 7:28 this evening," her apologetic tone grated against Crane's ears.
"Doctor Crane, little nurse," Crane spit the words "little nurse" as if they made him gag. "I didn't go through a decade's worth of schooling and training so a two-year graduate like yourself could call me mister."
The nurse looked around for a guard, but at this hour there were few of them, and they were making their own rounds.
Crane smirked. "You don't need help. All you need to do is give me two pills through this door," he pounded his fist against the window emphasizing the last two words. "I refuse to have a night filled with terror because some sloppy intern mistakenly noted that I received my medication."
She looked down so he wouldn't see her eyes fill with tears.
"Just give them to me! Why is this so challenging for you? Walk your little legs over to the medical closet and bring me back two pills. That's all. I think you can manage."
She looked around again as if someone might rescue her. "I need to reach the doctor on call first."
"Why would they put someone so incompetent in charge of a floor full of crazies? You don't need to call a doctor," Crane toothlessly smiled. "You're in charge. Make the decision they empowered you to make and bring me what I need."
The nurse retrieved the pills and opened the small hole at waist level. She reached in with a shaky hand. "Please take these."
Crane wrapped his hand around her wrist and rubbed back and forth with his thumb. "See? That's all you needed to do. You're a good girl." He took the pills with his free hand.
The nurse ripped her hand away and frantically locked the little hole.
"Thank you!" Crane called, now sitting on his bed.
"11:55pm J. Crane. Patient insisted he was not administered his regular evening medication. Administered dose at 11:52pm."
Crane forced the large capsules down without water. He lay back on his pillow and grinned.
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Katie arrived Thursday morning to find Crane's cell wide open and Crane nowhere in sight.
"Chris?" she asked the guard. "Where's my patient?"
"Crane's in sickbay."
"Is it something serious?" Katie noticed the sheets on his bed, even the fitted sheet, were in a rumpled ball at the bottom of the mattress.
"Looked like it. Around four, the AM nurse found him gasping and spitting up bloody foam. Be glad you missed it," he looked at the bed gravely, recalling the scene. "It was like an exorcism or something."
"Thanks," Katie said, patting the stocky man on the shoulder. She ran through the hall and down two flights of stairs to sickbay.
Katie searched the large whiteboard in sickbay for Crane's room assignment. "73A!" she said out loud, sprinting to the room.
Katie froze in the doorway as Dr. Desai stood over an unconscious Crane. He was hooked to an EKG monitor, the receptors stuck to his chest under his white t-shirt, an IV pumping into his scratch-covered arm. Hoarse, shallow breaths slowly escaped his parted lips.
"He overdosed," Desai said.
"How? That's impossible." Katie said, slowly approaching the bed.
Desai looked up from Crane's limp form to Katie. "Not when he's given two doses four hours apart."
Katie examined Crane's chart. "You're kidding me!"
"Luckily he was found in enough time. He should be awake by this afternoon, probably even strong enough to return to his cell tomorrow morning. A little worse for ware, but better."
Katie frowned deeply, still looking at the chart. "This is ridiculous."
"That's exactly why I came down. This kind of thing is unacceptable. I called Jennifer back in – she should be here within fifteen minutes. You can address this with me if you'd like."
"Oh, I'd like," she said, shaking her head at the nurse's note.
Desai left Katie alone with Crane. Minutes later and with more clarity she noticed the marks weren't just on his arm. Fingernail scratches ran down his cheeks and neck, and across his shoulders. Blood had dried around his nails. She seethed inside at Jennifer.
"She's here, Katie," Desai said softly from the door. "Do you need more time to calm down before we meet with her? It took me a good half hour to lose the desire to strangle." Dr. Desai was a lean man in his late forties. His thick black hair was just beginning to gray by his temples. The gray stood out against his russet skin.
"Never been more ready," she said, forcing a smile.
The night nurse sat across from two empty chairs waiting for her inevitable punishment. She burrowed her hands in her sweatshirt pockets and stared at her sneakers.
"Why did you give him a second dose," Desai asked in a measured tone. She hadn't noticed them come in.
She wiped her tear stained cheek. "He said he wasn't given his medicine." She began to weep.
"Jenny, take a breath. We need to figure this out and you need to stay calm."
"He was very insistent. He said he- he said he…he would have night terrors and he didn't want that."
"Why didn't you get in touch with the doctor on call."
Jennifer was silent.
"A night of terrors is better than an overdose. He's lucky he isn't comatose," Katie stared at the sniffling girl. "You're lucky he isn't comatose."
"But he said he wasn't given his meds."
"And you trusted him?" Katie began to raise her voice, but Desai placed a hand on her shoulder.
"These men are here in part because they can't be responsible for themselves," Desai explained to Jennifer. "We need to trust each other and the careful notes we take, not the patients."
There was a long pause before Jennifer said quietly, "I'm so, so sorry. I'll never do it again."
"You're on probation," Desai said softly. "Someone else will be assigned to your shift and you'll help in sickbay for the next week. Afterwards, you will remain on probation for two months. You'll have your shift back, but any serious mistakes and we will have to suspend you from the position."
Jennifer breathed a long sigh through her nose. She wasn't fired.
"You need to trust yourself. Don't let these guys push you around."
Jennifer nodded. "Thank you so much. Thank you, both of you, so, so much."
"Your first shift in sickbay starts at 7 tonight. Go home and get some sleep and return then."
Desai left the room, but Katie stayed seated across from Jennifer. "This is a not a place for the weak. You need to decide if you're strong enough to be an Arkham employee. You still have a job because we think you're strong enough. But if you don't think you are, then you need to consider other employment." Katie placed a hand on Jennifer's knee. "Do you think you can do this?"
The girl nodded and smiled.
"Good," Katie said, patting the girl's knee, then leaving her alone again with the empty chairs.
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Crane opened his heavy lids and saw Katie sitting by his bed. The reinforced window in his small room revealed the sun falling across the Narrows.
"Shouldn't you be home heating up some pad thai and watching Jeapordy?" Crane croaked.
"I should, but one of my patients decided to overdose. Can you believe that?"
"He didn't decide to overdose, the little nurse allowed him to."
"Why did you do this, Dr. Crane?"
Crane was quiet as his lids drooped, reopening just as slowly. "I wanted to see if you'd be here when I woke up." He licked his dry lips in order to smile.
Katie rolled her eyes.
"And here you are. See? You were playing by my rules and you didn't even know it."
"Don't tell me you did this to mess with my head," Katie said with disgust. "That's a copout."
"Is it?" His eyes opened wide. "There's no other reason."
"There's another reason."
"What, then?"
"I don't know, but I'll figure it out."
Crane slid his limp hand between the bars of his hospital bed and rested it on her skirted thigh.
"Take your hand off me," Katie said through gritted teeth. "Now, before I make you."
His smile broadened and he retracted his hand slowly, letting his fingers slide down her thigh and over her knee. "Why haven't you handed me over to someone else yet?"
"Why? So you can do this to them?"
Crane's eyes became heavy again. "I wouldn't do this to someone else."
"Why me, then?"
Crane breathed in and out slowly, making great effort to open his eyes. "Because…you're…" he smiled, breathing in. "You're pretty Katie Saunders, the teacher's pet." The overhead lights were off and the single lamp by his bed illuminated his eyes. "My pet."
His face turned away from Katie as he drifted to sleep.
Katie gathered her coat and walked slowly out of the room and to the parking lot. She drove home absently, swearing at the curb that jumped out in front of her. She parked crooked and made her way up to her apartment. Katie's building was an old, stately home miles away from the Narrows. Her apartment was small but cozy, with new steel kitchen appliances, large, old windows, and wood floors. She ignored the flashing light on the phone and tumbled onto her bed, falling asleep in her gray skirt and green camisole.
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Jennifer reported for duty that evening with renewed energy. Working sickbay wouldn't be so bad. There were always other staff members around, and most of them were friendly and funny. They were happy to have her on board as well. Her personality matched her sweet exterior; she was hard to dislike.
"You're checking IV's until 10," the head nurse on duty informed her. "If you have any questions – anything at all – do not hesitate to ask me or someone else for help."
"Yes, of course," she nodded.
The nurse handed her a clipboard and returned to her station. Jennifer made her way around the large, octagonal sickbay, checking each patient. A friend flashed a smile as they passed, also relieved Jennifer wasn't fired.
She reached 73A and looked down at the clipboard. Maybe she shouldn't check this patient, she thought.
"Madeline?" She said to the head nurse. "I'm sorry, but would you mind…"
The nurse looked at her chart. "Oh, of course not, honey. I'll take care of it."
Jennifer walked to the water cooler as the nurse approached Crane's room. She felt so guilty for allowing Crane to end up in this state.
The nurse returned quickly, grabbing the microphone to the PA system. "Lockdown, all floors, all wings." Red bulbs lit around sickbay. Inmates throughout Arkham shielded their ears to the alarm's drone as guards began securing all exits.
"Wha-what…" Jennifer tried to ask.
"He's gone," the nurse said.
"Oh my God, are you kidding?" Jennifer shrieked.
"I wish I was," she said, picking up the phone and dialing Desai's extension.
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"There's no trace," Dr. Desai told Katie over the phone.
"Please, please tell me you're joking," Katie said, rubbing her eyes and looking at the digital clock by her bed.
"We're on full lockdown and alert, there's no way he could have escaped the grounds."
"But who knows how long he was gone before the nurse noticed."
"No, no. That's the thing of it. She looked at Crane's monitor before she approached the room. During the time it took to walk from the desk to his room, he was gone."
Katie sighed, "Ok, then he's somewhere inside."
"Yes, but he knows this building inside and out. This isn't just any inmate getting loose."
"Should I come now?"
"No, get some rest and come in early. I'll call you if anything changes."
"I don't know that I'll rest now, but I'll try." She fumbled for the phone's off button and stared at her ceiling. You idiot, she told herself. And you thought you were making progress. She stumbled out of bed and slipped out of the skirt and shirt. She found last night's attractive hospital pants and tank top combo, then settled back into bed. The effort was useless.
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"This is not your fault, Jenny," Dr. Desai said, placing both hands on Jennifer's shoulders.
"It is, it is! It's all my fault! I got him sick!"
"We already addressed that. His escape is not your fault." Desai squeezed Jennifer's shoulders. "You've been through enough today. Go home. I'll call down to the gate and give clearance."
Jennifer nodded and hugged the doctor. She sniffled all the way to the parking lot. She punched her fist on the steering wheel. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she shouted inside the quiet vehicle.
"They'll get him, Jenny," a guard at the gate said. "Don't worry."
"Ok, thanks," she muttered.
"You have a good night."
The gate parted and Jennifer left Arkham, happy to have an evening of peace.
She turned the radio on and pressed the buttons twenty times before stopping on an Oldies station. She sang along to keep herself distracted, almost forgetting to stop at a red light.
"Oops, that would have been bad," she said out loud.
"Well, not as bad as this," a voice said behind her. Before she could scream, a needle dug into her shoulder. Her head flopped onto the steering wheel, honking the horn. The noise ricocheted across the empty street. The light turned green and cast a neon glow across her face.
"Thanks for the car, though."
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Jennifer woke up at 1am on the sidewalk, shaken to consciousness by a young police officer.
"Too much to drink, little lady?"
She reached to her shoulder and rubbed the small welt. "No. I don't know. Someone carjacked me."
"A mosquito?" the officer asked, examining the welt.
"Someone with a needle," she said. Then she gasped. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" she repeated.
"What, what?" the officer asked with concern.
Jennifer hyperventilated and stared off in the direction the car likely went. There's no way I'm keeping my job now, she thought.
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Katie's eyes were puffy when she arrived at Arkham at two in the morning, still in her pajamas, her work attire slung over her arm. Desai called when Jennifer alerted him to the carjacking. They would wait to alert the media later in the morning. For now, they hoped the police (and more realistically, Batman) would find Crane before he disappeared completely. Katie finally brightened around 4 in the morning. She tapped Desai on the shoulder.
"He doesn't have his meds," she smiled.
Desai thought for a moment. "What do you think he'll do?"
"Well, they're not exactly over-the-counter or of any interest to dealers, so I can't imagine he'll find a dose somewhere. By the time he misses two or three, we'll find him."
"And he hadn't received them this evening yet, either."
"Perfect," Katie said. He would be too exhausted to drive very far, she hoped, and they would find him within city limits.
Katie found her way to the staff cafeteria and sat at a table in the corner, inattentively eating corn flakes and watching the news on an overhanging television. Katie shared everyone else's desire to find Crane, but her reasoning caused the flakes to flip in her stomach. She pushed the bowl away and laid her head on the table. "Grow up," she groaned quietly.
She closed her eyes and remembered a day five years earlier when she ran in to Crane at a coffee shop. He was stirring some milk into his coffee, holding his scarf back so it wouldn't fall in when she approached the shelf with the condiments. He looked up, recognizing her instantly. His face beamed.
"How is life after college?" Crane asked, adjusting his glasses.
Katie's mitted hands strangled the coffee cup, caught off guard by how excited he was to see her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her soft purple hat framed her face.
"No life after college, I'm in grad school now. Same school, but all evening classes, so I haven't seen you."
"I see. Well, it's nice to see you now."
"You too," she said softly. "Do you have a moment?" She motioned to a small, round, empty table.
"I don't," he said, looking into her eyes. "I honestly don't. But I wouldn't hate running into you again."
"No, me either, Dr. Crane."
He regained some of his professional composure when she said his name. Student, he told himself. But former student, another part of his brain reminded. Shut up, brain.
They smiled at each other.
"So…" Katie nodded.
"I have to go."
"Oh, right. Ok, well…"
"You know where my office is."
She smiled. "Yeah."
"Right, then. Don't be a stranger."
She watched him walk down the street from the coffee shop window.
A week later she stopped by his office. He wasn't there, so she pinned a note to the bulletin board on his door. He read it five minutes later when he returned from the washroom.
"Sorry I missed you. I've been missing you for a while. I'm in the student directory. I wouldn't hate running into you again, especially on purpose. –K.S."
He smiled at the note, savoring the carefully jotted letters on the scrap of white lined paper. He never looked her up, however, because shortly after he would be dismissed from his position. When she eventually heard of the dismissal, she was upset, but at least it explained why he hadn't called.
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"Here you are!" a colleague gasped.
Katie lifted her head off the table, startled.
"Press conference started ten minutes ago in the Corbett room."
"What time is it?" Katie yawned while following the woman.
"Six."
The two women slid into the room between wall-to-wall reporters.
"…we are still at the beginning stages of reforming Arkham," said Paul Annino, the Arkham spokesperson. Desai stood to his left and Lieutenant Gordon to his right. "Our best and brightest are on the job, but the task is enormous. There have been vast improvements in the short window of opportunity we have had so far, and we recognize there is a long road ahead."
The room erupted until Annino pointed. "Johnson," he said.
"What about the car?"
Annino stepped aside for Gordon. "Crane is very ill, and thankfully it impaired his driving. We're currently inspecting the car."
"Where did Crane go?"
"He's on foot, but he caused more than a fender bender. Wherever he is, he's sick and hurt."
Annino pointed again. "Kerry."
"Where was the car?"
"Inside Gotham-proper," Gordon said.
"Do you have any idea where he might go?"
"We have ideas. We're exploring them as we speak, and now we have daylight to help."
"We have time for one last question. Thompson," Annino said.
"What is Batman doing about this?"
Gordan out looked across the forest of lights and cameras. "What he always does. He's on it, too."
"Thank you, everyone," Annino said, addressing the crowd.
Desai passed Katie on his way out with Gordan. "Where do you think he went?" she asked quietly.
"Probably somewhere to find medication and aid, like you guessed. Thank God he was too sick to drive well."
Katie remembered the little yellow car from the game room. Apparently keeping a car on the road wasn't Crane's specialty.
"Can I do anything?" she asked, following them to an emergency exit.
"Now it's bigger than you and me. Just take care of yourself, that's all I ask."
She waved as the men disappeared inside a police cruiser.
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Katie stood in the doorway of 73A, looking past the yellow police tape. "You can come in," a detective told her. The same detective questioned her earlier, as he did numerous other employees who interacted with Crane.
Katie ducked under the tape and approached the older man. "How do you think he got out?"
The man gestured his white-gloved hand to a large, missing ceiling tile. "It's a drop ceiling. There's easily enough room to scurry around up there if you know what you're doing. Not for the average nut," the detective jotted a note and looked up at Katie, "but we're not dealing with your average nut here."
Katie looked at the ceiling. He was right, it was lower than normal.
"Why would they install this type of ceiling?"
"This building is older than dirt. The kind of electricity, ventilation, heating, cooling, and plumbing you need nowadays didn't exist. You see this kind of thing in lots of old buildings – restaurants and stuff. Schools, houses."
"But you can't see up there."
"He probably didn't need to." The detective closed his notebook and tossed his latex gloves in the trash. "Thanks again for your assistance. I'm sure it'll help us bag this guy."
Katie followed the squat man back under the tape. "You're welcome," she said without enthusiasm.
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By 7pm Katie couldn't keep her head off her shoulder. She was able to meet with her patients by sitting on a chair outside their cell door, speaking to them through the low slot. No inmate could leave his cell for any reason. Those in sickbay were tethered to their beds with restraints, even minor offenders. "He just keeps on messing this place up," a guard muttered to Katie.
There was no news on Crane's whereabouts throughout the day despite continuous coverage on TV and radio. Desai never called with news. At 9pm Katie received a ride home from a colleague who lived on her block. "Have a good weekend, Katie," the woman called through the car window. Katie's head bobbed as she meandered up the walkway, the front stoop, and the stairs to her apartment. She failed to get the key in the door four times before success, then smacked the wall three times before giving up on lights.
She jabbed the button on the answering machine. She threw her work clothes at the hamper and changed into a long t-shirt as the messages played.
"Hey, sis. I'm sitting here watching the news and hoping you're ok. Call if you can, but I understand if you can't. BEEP."
"Katie! I called your cell but I think it died. Oh my god! Do you ever see that guy when you're around Arkham? How totally creepy. I'm creeped out. How did he get out? I'm in need of gossip, here, girl! Call me! BEEP."
"It's Eric. Nothing that exciting ever happens at my workplace, you brat. Hope you're ok. BEEP."
"Hey, Katie. It's Amanda, just checking in. Call or email me and let me know you're alright over there. Don't stress too much. BEEP."
"Katie, this is Samantha calling on behalf of Dr. Lewis' office. You missed your chiropractic appointment tonight, but we saw the news so we won't charge it. Just call to reschedule whenever you're ready. BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEP."
Katie stuck her tongue out at the machine and wandered to the kitchen, still feeling her way around the apartment. She grabbed the refrigerator door handle and jerked it until it finally opened. She bent down and poked around take-out boxes on each shelf. "Where are you, vanilla pudding?"
"Right here, cupcake."
Katie spun around. In the sliver of fridge light she saw two fierce, narrowed blue orbs glaring down at her.
"What the fuck, Crane!" she shouted, instantly wide-awake.
"Always the lady. By the way, I love the outfit. I think you forgot the bottom portion, though." He breathed deeply after finishing his comment.
The two were cast in a fluorescent white glow. Katie reached for the wooden block of knives.
"That is so cliché, grabbing for a knife. You're intelligent enough to know that if you do," Crane breathed deeply again, "I'll retaliate, and it will be a lot worse than whatever you'll find on that counter. Put your hands in front of you."
Katie froze, her hand inches from the block.
"In the amount of time it takes your hand to make it to a knife, you'll be on the ground. Put your hands in front of you. Don't force me to make a mess on this sparkling floor."
Katie retracted her hand slightly from the block.
"That's it, Katie," Crane's breathing was becoming shallow now. "I just need to see your hands so I know I can trust you not to try anything silly. You know I won't hurt you."
"I don't know that," she managed to say. Her voice faltered but remained firm.
"I didn't come here to hurt you."
"Then why are you here?" She was shouting again, holding back tears. Her breath quickened.
"I need your help."
"Why should I help you?"
"Because it's your job. And you care about your patients." Crane took a small step towards her.
"No!" she yelled with venom. "Back the fuck away!"
"Yikes," he said quietly. "This little situation seems to have brought out the best in you."
Katie was very aware of her state of undress and lack of anything resembling weaponry. She felt like a baby bird abandoned in its nest.
"You just need to calmly and slowly put your hands in front of you. I'm not going to hurt you, but I can't let you wield a knife, either."
Katie stayed put.
"Katie," Crane said softly, taking a step backward.
She bent her arms at the elbows and held her hands in front of her shoulders, palms out.
Crane flicked the light switch on the wall at arm's length. Katie closed her eyes as her hands fell to her sides.
"Jesus, Crane," she sighed, opening her eyes. "You need to get to a hospital, I can't help you."
Crane held onto the counter with one hand for support. The scratches from earlier were dwarfed by a still bleeding gash in his forearm. A diagonal welt across his forehead wasn't bleeding through his skin and instead caused a large, deep purple circle around his left eye. His other hand was clutched over a blood-soaked hip. He licked a trickle of blood from a cut in his bottom lip.
"Don't be stupid. I won't go to a hospital. This is nothing I can't fix with a little assistance." He was shaking.
"I can't be your assistant in this."
Crane's head hung but his eyes looked up at her. "On the very first day we were reacquainted, you said you wouldn't prosecute or judge me. Your sole purpose was to help your patients."
"It's pretty obvious I shouldn't need to add the caveat, '…but I won't help you escape'."
She wanted to hold him up, but she looked at the floor instead.
"I don't care what you tell them. Tell them I forced you. Tell them I had a gun."
"It sounded like you had a gun a moment ago."
"I was bluffing." Crane swallowed and shut his eyes.
"Are you hearing voices, too?" she asked, looking back to him.
Crane lifted his head, "I haven't had my medication in a day."
Katie stood in silence for a moment, hearing the clock click away the seconds.
"And if I were to help you, what would you do next? Where do you think you would go?"
Crane's voice found its intensity again. "I was sentenced to forty years without parole. Wherever I go, it's not back to Arkham."
Katie sighed. "Why did you choose to escape now? You were sick to begin with."
"Because I figured, given the overdose, I would be in sickbay for at least several days. They planned to send me back to my cell this morning. Obviously I wouldn't be able to get extra pills again. It was now or never."
Katie didn't speak. The silence lasted more than a minute.
"Just…otherwise I rot in Arkham for the next four decades. I trespassed against law and order, but I don't deserve a near life sentence."
Katie rubbed the top of her bare left foot against the back of her right calve. The silence weighted on her chest.
"Katie," Crane said, leaning harder on the counter, "I would sooner let myself die than go back to Arkham. The choice is yours."
TBC