A/N: I'm so sorry for this super long wait for an update. School was messing with my brain and sucked out all creativity. I wasn't even sure if I'd MAKE a new chapter.
So thanks for being so patient you guys. I tried to make this a little more of a transitional piece, and wanted Crane there somewhere so...yea. Enjoy! Please R&R:)
This all seems familiar. Bruce threw a look over at the hospital bed containing the body of his friend Harvey Dent. Too familiar…
"How did I let this happen, Alfred?" Bruce murmured, shaking his head. "I knew…I should have helped her. I should have been there sooner…"
Bruce stared at Harvey's face. Or…at least what should have been his face. The young man was practically mummified; bandages wound around his face and obscured his visage and his left hand was so burned from the acidic liquid that Joker had doused him with that it too needed to be wrapped. It now lay flat against Harvey's chest, rising and falling with each breath. Bruce slumped over in his creaky seat, placing his good hand to his face and letting his elbow rest against his knee. He should have known the Joker would pull a stunt like this…one final gag before being locked up in Arkham for good.
The young man's stormy blue eyes flickered up at the clock and he sighed. He had been here in the hospital overnight, waiting for his old friend to wake up so he could talk to him. Harvey had been slipping in and out of consciousness, but Bruce was either out getting a breath of fresh air or had nodded off for a quick nap when Harvey was alert. Yet it was always for a few split seconds. Never long enough to hold a conversation.
Bruce frowned deeper. He would have to tell Rachel about the accident. Hopefully she wouldn't find out from one of the inmates…more specifically Crane, who would love to use this juicy bit of gossip to torment her. Bruce wanted to be sure it was he who broke the news to her. Gordon, too, was devastated by the attack. The young DA and older cop had grown to become friends…it was a hard blow to him.
But right now, Bruce had to contact Lucius. He was supposed to have a meeting today about Talia's merger and…
Talia.
Bruce closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He had completely forgotten…what with nearly being killed and then taking care of his injured friend. Thinking just wasn't coming to him easily, it seemed. He would tell Lucius to apologize for him. After all…Bruce Wayne was still a playboy, even after all this drama. And Playboys don't apologize themselves.
Besides, all he cared about now was his friend lying in that hospital bed…strung up with tubes and wires everywhere. "You should have stuck with the Falcone case, Harv…" Bruce murmured quietly to his incapacitated friend. "Not like you had a choice." He pressed to a stand from the rickety maroon hospital chair, brushing off his suit, and hovered over the other man's body. "Rachel will understand…and she'll be proud of you, Harv."
"Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce calmly glanced at the door as an elderly nurse in clean white scrubs entered the room. She pushed her black cat-eye glasses up her nose and clasped wrinkled, age-worn hands before her. "We need to change Mr. Dent's bandages…and, I think it'd be wise for you to leave the room. We can call you when we're done."
Bruce hesitated, looking down at Harvey, before nodding in agreement. "That's fine. I need to make a few calls anyways," he murmured, meandering out the door and into the bare hospital hallway. The fluorescent lights were painfully intense after being in the dimly lit room all night, but Bruce's eyes quickly adjusted. He brought out his cell phone, his eyes following a man as he passed him in the hall. After punching in a few buttons, he placed the phone to his ear and released an angry breath through his nose as the ring buzzed through the speaker. It rang only once before a female voice answered.
"Wayne Enterprises, how may I help you?"
"Morning Jessica, this is Bruce Wayne."
"Oh! Good morning sir," the cheerful secretary on the other line twittered. "And how are you today?"
Bruce ran a hand through his hair, allowing himself to lean his back against the cold, sterile walls. "Not so good. Hey, Jessica, do you mind patching me in to talk with Lucius?"
She laughed again. "Not at all, sir. One moment please."
Bruce waited as she transferred the call, tapping his foot on the tile floor until the phone picked up.
"Mr. Wayne, nice to hear from you. We were getting worried after you went missing on us for the past few days."
"Sorry Mr. Fox, I had a little accident…horseback riding."
"Mmhmm…I see." Bruce could just see Lucius shaking his head at the pathetic excuse, but he would never question Bruce's activities. For that, he was very thankful.
"And…if you haven't noticed the news, a friend of mine was hurt in that attack by that freak in the courthouse."
Lucius grew quiet, allowing Bruce to listen as the nurses worked in the other room. Finally the older man cleared his throat. "Is he alright?"
"They're fixing him up now. That's why I'm calling. I don't think I'll be able to make it to the meeting today. I'd like to stay here and make sure he's okay."
"I understand, Mr. Wayne. I let the board know—"
"And Mr. Fox," Bruce cut in quickly. "Please…let Miss Head know I apologize for not contacting her myself about this whole mess."
This time Lucius gave a gentle chuckle, barely audible. "Will do, Mr. Wayne."
"Thank you Mr. Fox." With that, Bruce snapped the phone shut and let his head fall back, hitting the wall gently. Without moving his head, Bruce stared at the door containing his bed-ridden friend.
When I took up being Batman…I knew this sort of thing would happen. But…not to Rachel…not to Harvey. Who's next?
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Talia strode down the rich ivory carpet and deep mahogany-lined corridor, her head held proudly and her hips swaggering haughtily. She left her bodyguards in the elevator, deciding to make the trip to the board room herself.
Talia grinned. It would be a bit disappointing to not see Mr. Wayne's charming, handsome face again, but it was a small price to pay for revenge at its fullest. That little hubbub and the courthouse gave her and her men just enough time to swoop in and get the blueprints for Arkham. Tonight, she'd get one of the League members to create a ruckus farther away from the asylum in order to break Crane out. Then, she would complete what her father had started. Purging the sins of Gotham through fear and chaos.
A chill swept over her as she drifted past Jessica the secretary and pushed open the door to the board room, spotting Lucius instantly as he was the only man in the desolate room.
"Good morning, Mr. Fox," she said, her voice a sultry tone. "And how are you this wonderful day?"
"I'm doing just fine, Miss Head. And you?" Lucius asked politely and gave her a nod, motioning to the seat beside him.
"Excellent," she gave a small laugh, placing her hands on the back of her seat. Her eyes, however, focused on the spare chair opposite her. It seemed to be vacant one very important person. Talia resisted the urge to grin.
Lucius noticed her gaze and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne will not be joining us today. Or for a while, for that matter. I suppose we'll have to finish this deal ourselves."
Talia quirked her head, concealing the look of smugness on her pretty face and instead masking it with feigned concern.
"Is he alright?" Talia purred, sitting down in the chair. She knew very well he wasn't. He was dead. She had seen it happen: the explosion, the Joker…everything. The bat was dead. And so was Bruce Wayne.
"Yes, Mr. Wayne seems to have had a riding accident," Lucius murmured, picking up a manila folder from the desk and squinting as he studied its contents.
Talia hesitated, blinking a few times. No. She couldn't have heard him correctly. Talia gave a nervous laugh and smiled, her full red lips thinning slightly. "Oh…wait, what?"
The older man looked up from his folder, frowning. "That's right…" Lucius shook his head. "I don't think the tabloids got hold of this 'revelation' sooner. I'm afraid Mr. Wayne had an accident horseback riding. Not to mention that he's in the hospital after a stir in the courthouse today."
"Yes," Talia breathed, struggling to keep her composure. "It was th-the accident with the lawyer, right?"
"Mm," Lucius hummed in agreement. "He's over there right now making sure his friend Mr. Dent okay. He called a few minutes ago…gave me the go-ahead to start the transaction without him." Lucius lifted his eyes, but Talia was no longer looking at him. She was staring out the window behind him. Her jaw hung slightly and her fingers were wrapped around the arms of the chair in a death-grip as her caramel-colored face paled slowly.
"Ms. Head? Are you alright?"
"I…I…" Talia shook her head and rose quickly. "I should go."
"What?" Lucius asked, bewildered, as the woman shifted the purse on her shoulder. Then it hit him. Of course she wished to go…probably to call and see if Mr. Wayne was alright. After all, the news had come as a surprise to her. The older man inclined his head and sighed. "Well, I…I guess this is your money, and you can invest it whenever you please." He gave her a faint smile. "Have a nice day. Oh," he added quickly, causing the young woman to turn around again. "Mr. Wayne…when he called earlier, told me to extend an apology…for not contacting you sooner."
Talia stared at Lucius, her eyes searching the older man's face until she finally jerked her head around. "Thank you," she murmured, stealing out of his presence. Lucius sat in puzzlement and set the folder down on the table, pressing his fingertips to his lips in thought.
The second the door to the reception's desk closed behind her, Talia was leaning against the wall, her heart pounding in her ears.
Alive.
He was still alive. Talia curled her trembling fingers into her palm and shook her head. "He can't be. He had to be dead," she breathed. Bruce Wayne was dead! She broke herself from her disbelief and stumbled down the hall towards the waiting elevator where her bodyguards stood at attention. The two men glanced down over their glasses at her, taking in her trembling, pale appearance as she folded her arms, glaring at the elevator doors as they closed before her. Neither man dared to speak, sensing something very wrong with Talia.
That feeling was confirmed when she gave a piercing yell and balled her fist, slamming it against the metal doors of the elevator with a loud thud.
"You two were there!" She snarled, wheeling on the two men. Both blinked and stared at her as her body seemed to twitch with rage. "You saw Batman die. We all saw him die, correct?"
The men looked at each other before returning their attention to Talia. "Yeah," one growled. "So?"
He had no time to react when her palm connected with his face and Talia pointed at him, her finger pressed to his nose.
"Address me with respect. I am in no mood for this."
"Yes, Miss Al Ghul," the man murmured again, his face turning red from the slap and from embarrassment.
"Good," she continued, as if nothing had happened. "Then you will be just as surprised as I was to hear the bat is still alive."
The other man quirked an eyebrow. "Then what about the plan with Dr. Crane…Miss Al Ghul?" He added quickly, so not to receive the same punishment as his comrade when her eyes flashed with anger.
"I will speak with him today. He's just going to have to deal with the fact that plans are changing. Once Batman is out of the picture…we can proceed."
Talia managed to calm herself down slightly as the doors slid open, revealing the posh marble and steel lobby of Wayne Tower. She strode out of the elevator at her usual proud gait and held her nose high, her auburn hair floating behind her as she walked. Her bodyguards followed, one pulling ahead of her to open the door, the other walking behind her. She was halfway out the door when startled from her thoughts with the buzz of her cell phone. She snapped it up to her ear and barked out a sharp, "What?"
"Is that how you always answer your phone?"
The rest of the color from Talia's face drained on the spot and she straightened up immediately.
"N-No. I'm very sorry."
"Will the plan commence tonight?"
Talia swallowed back a lump in her throat "No…unfortunately not. Some unforeseen troubles have arisen."
"Troubles?" The voice growled. "What sort of trouble?"
Talia took to murmuring something in a foreign language as the two guards threw looks at one another. They could hear the voice on the other line growl out something in gibberish. Talia nodded frantically and quickly said her goodbyes, closing the phone and clearing her throat.
"You," she pointed at the man behind her, "go to the suite, explain the situation to our men. You," Talia whipped around and nodded to the other, "are to come with me. We are going to Arkham. Now."
"Yes Miss Al Ghul," both guards bowed obediently and Talia quickly followed behind her driver.
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Talia cleared her throat, causing the man at the desk to jerk his head up and blink at her. "Excuse me, I'm here to see Jonathan Crane."
Arkham's lobby was completely empty save for the guard watching the screens in front of him. Talia and her bodyguard threw a look at each other as the security man stared her up and down. The man shrugged her off and looked back at the screens before him. "Sorry. No visitors."
"I think this is important."
He snorted, chewing some gum idly. "I think I don't care."
Talia's hazel eyes flickered with suppressed anger as she leaned against the desk, her hands flat against the surface. "I think you should Mister," she quickly glanced at his nametag, "Young."
The man smirked at her, a look of disinterest crossing his face. "Listen, sweetheart. Threatening me won't help. Crane's been unruly the past few days, and his safety was questioned after the break, so the director locked his scrawny ass in solitary. He can't get any visitors." He snapped the piece of gum in his mouth, much to Talia's annoyance, and turned back to the monitors.
Talia made an angry noise in her throat and reached in her purse, producing a large stack of new $100 bills. The man stared at the money, his eyes widening slightly as his hand slowly moved to a button on his left. A loud buzz rang through the room and the metal door opened slowly. Talia smiled and dropped the money on his desk.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Young," she purred as she strode down through the door, her hips swaying with each step. The man smiled wider, leaning over his desk slightly to let his gaze follow her down the hall until he heard the large bodyguard give what sounded like a snarl. Young gulped loudly, choking slightly as he felt himself swallow his gum, before slumping quietly into his chair and thumbing through his new fortune.
------------------------
Talia waltzed down the rows and rows of cells, her heels clicking against the dirty linoleum floors. She could hear screaming, thumping, incoherent babbling…it was a disturbing mix of terror and insanity. She was sure Crane had done most of this mental damage, though, when he was still the director of the asylum…so pity wasn't up in her idea of importance at this moment.
Talia paused at the far end of the building and stared at a heavy iron door marked Cell 13. "Hm…how fitting." She quickly looked over her shoulder, making sure she was in the clear, and pushed open the door.
Crane lay flat on a wobbly cot, his body sunk into a lumpy yet stiff mattress, and his left arm dangling off the side. He ran a slender, bony finger across the padded floor in a figure 8 pattern or series of swirls. He seemed so preoccupied that Talia wasn't sure if he had heard her. But the second the door opened, his hollow blue eyes gently moved upwards, locking on Talia's figure as she shut the cell door behind her.
"You made quite a stir here yesterday, Miss Al Ghul," he murmured, not bothering to stop his swinging arm as he doodled on the floor. "Reckless…reckless…"
"We need to talk, Crane."
"Because of you, I got stuffed in this cell…and recreational time taken away."
Talia rolled her eyes. "This is more important than your little play time."
"Rec time was the only time of the day I got to do anything useful. Anything fun. And thanks to you, they think maximum security patients must be locked up to ensure their 'safety'…" Jonathan snorted in disgust. "The bastards…" he growled to himself, clenching his drawing hand for a split second before relaxing and resuming his little scribbles.
"I mean it, Crane. This is important. It's about tonight."
Crane sighed through his nose, looking as if he wished she'd just get out, but managed to push himself up with wobbling arms and slouched as he sat on the edge of his cot. He pursed his full lips, now chapped and peeling, and straightened up, looking as he always did when conducting business of any sort. Professional. "Fine…fine. What is it?"
"We ran into some trouble concerning the Batman."
Immediately Jonathan's eyes flashed and he kept his gaze riveted on her. "What sort of trouble," he snapped, tensing slightly.
"It seems Gotham's hero is…alive."
Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head in disbelief. "W-what? You said he was dead. You told me he…he…it was in the news! You said—"
"Well he's still alive, Crane," Talia replied quickly, folding her arms and staring up at the ceiling. "I should know better than to take things for granted."
Crane turned away, his jaw slack as he racked his mind for ideas. "…but…but it won't matter. He was caught in the blast…that's for certain. So…so he's probably injured…he probably can't fight." Jonathan looked at Talia as she stared at him. "We…we can still get out, right? You…you can still get me out…right?"
Talia flipped her hair over her shoulder and shook her head. "Crane…it would be far easier to keep you here."
"WHAT!" Crane yelped. "What do you MEAN? Easier? For whom? YOU!"
"I've been ordered to let you stay here until further no—"
"By who?" Jonathan shrieked. "Who gave you that order?"
Talia scowled. "That's none of your business. You are to stay here in Arkham until we can get the job done. Properly." Talia waved her hand flippantly. "I am growing very tired of this game the bat is playing, and I'll be sure to deal with it per—"
Jonathan's lips curled as he leaned forward, his eyebrows drawn together in an intense glare. "This isn't a game, Miss Al Ghul," he spat, practically foaming at the mouth. "This is my life you are gambling with!"
"Your life?" The woman's eyes canvassed the cell, searching each inch of the padded walls and bare cot. She snapped her attention back to Crane and smiled slightly. "What life, Doctor? You live in an asylum. Your days are spent in this pathetic cell or over in that rec room with drooling, babbling idiots, most of them the result of your little experiments."
Jonathan trembled out of rage as she spoke. Demeaning him. Always demeaning…
Always…
"My experiments…were successful, if that's what you are aiming at," the young man whispered, struggling to keep his temper in check. He swallowed hard, tightening his fingers into a fist. "And I don't see what insulting me will do, as we are conversing about your inability to break me out of this hell-hole."
Talia smirked wider. "My inability? Oh, no, Dr. Crane…you have that all wrong. It's not that I am unable to break you out, it's just that I believe I'm starting to realize why my father dropped you from his project."
"I wasn't dropped—"
"Oh," she laughed coldly, rolling her head back on her shoulders, "that's right. You went crazy."
There she goes again, Jonathan…insulting your intelligence. Shut her up, Jonathan…
"I'm…I'm not crazy," Jonathan growled, his breathing growing quicker and shallower.
Talia shook her head, leaning forward. "You are a pawn we are willing to let go. We do not require your assistance. At this time, at least. So until we deal with the bat, you get to keep your straightjacket on for a bit longer."
Jonathan was on his feet in a flash, sending the young woman reeling backwards.
"NO!" He roared, his fingers curling and writhing as he spoke and moved towards her. "You will NOT let me stay here! This was a deal! YOU cannot BREAK the deal!"
"Take one more step and I break more than just the deal, Crane," Talia hissed, prepared to strike him if he attacked. Jonathan brought his hands to his hair, clutching at it as he gave her a pathetic, confused look.
"Y-You can't…can't keep me here!" He yelled, his voice cracking. "I can help you! You said I'd get out!"
"Lower your voice!" Talia yelped back, but the man was in a panic. He paced the floor, his eyes wild as he screamed at her.
"You're just as cheap and unreliable as your wretched father. He didn't see the potential! The potential of this city! WEALTH! Wealth beyond imagination! We could have had Gotham in the palms of our hands!" He groaned, stretching out his hand and making a grasping motion to emphasize his point. "Don't you see! We could be rich!"
"Wealth?" Talia laughed. "And what would wealth have gotten you? Did it give you happiness before, Mr. Crane?"
Jonathan glared at the floor. "Doctor—"
"No! You're no doctor. You're useless. Father told me about you…"
Jonathan stopped pacing and snapped his attention to her.
"Yes, he told me so much before I came here. Do you honestly think I didn't know a thing about you? You…always dressed to the nines with your pristine leather shoes and pressed suits. Did dressing well make you happy? What about the Lincoln Towncar? Or the charming penthouse you owned…with the money you spent on that place you could have fed a third-world country." Jonathan's eyes narrowed as his body slowly turned to face her. "Money, Mr. Crane, is obviously no good to me. Just look where it landed you."
Show her, Jonathan. No one speaks to the Scarecrow like that…NO ONE.
"Shut up," Jonathan snapped.
Talia smirked "Excuse m—"
"SHUT UP!" Jonathan lunged in a fit of rage, surprising the young woman, but missed her by a mere inch. He reached out with his gangly arm, wrapping his hand around her ankle. Talia cursed and swung her free leg, striking him across the jaw with a well placed kick. She managed to slip out of his grasp as he swore at her, picking himself up and charging at her again. Talia slid through the metal door, slamming it shut immediately, and cringed at the deafening thud from the other side.
At first, she thought the young man had knocked himself out with that sort of force. But soon she heard thumping…merciless hammering against the metal. And yelling.
Jonathan bit his lip, slamming his fists against the steel door. "NO ONE TALKS TO ME LIKE THAT!" He roared, pounding, pounding, pounding his hands against the steel until his arms felt like gelatin…weak…tired. His fists screamed in pain, but the sensation was dulled with each blow to the metal. "Not you!" Jonathan felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of his lip and tasted blood, but his body continued to thrash. "Not your father!" He was sure every bone in his hand was cracked, but nothing could faze him. "NO ONE!"
With one final punch, Jonathan slipped downward, his forehead against the cool metal, and crumpled into a heap on the floor from exhaustion. Every ounce of his energy had been expended in that split second attack…every ounce of energy he didn't have. Malnourished and feeble from his life in Arkham, he just couldn't handle it.
His shoulders heaving with shallow, ragged breaths, the young man fell face down, his expression blank and empty. Sweat rolled down his brow, mingling with his greasy dark brown hair and dripping onto the padded floors to mix with the blood leaking from his split lip. He could hear the guards barreling down the hall, coming in to restrain him. He didn't care. Jonathan drew his legs up slowly, hugging his knees around his chest as he clenched his jaw behind tight, thin lips.
Talia watched from the small window and stared at the man as he lay very still in the fetal position. She looked over at her bodyguard and Mr. Young as the reached her, but held out her hand. "I'm fine."
The men frowned and the security guard motioned to the door with his chin. "And him?"
"Tired. Probably injured." Talia stepped back, revealing the window displaying the battered young man in his cell. "Persistent fellow, isn't he?"
"You don't know the half of it, lady," the guard chuckled. "You sure you're okay?"
"I said I'm fine." Talia glanced through the glass once again and watched as Crane seemed to be speaking to himself. Perhaps it was wise to keep Crane in his cell…it seemed he hadn't lost the edge of insanity and was still volatile. No matter. She didn't need him. He would have been helpful, but he was an expendable resource. She could find others to help house her father's league members and keep their secret.
"Perhaps you should check up on him when he's in a better mood," Talia breathed. She pulled her shoulders back, whipping her auburn hair behind her, and snapped her fingers, pointing to the exit. Both she and her bodyguard walked away as Mr. Young stayed positioned at Crane's cell in case he decided to throw another fit.
Jonathan blinked as he listened to the woman's shoes clicking down the hall, growing fainter and fainter until she was gone.
Gone.
Everything was gone. His opportunity…his chance at freedom…gone.
Don't act so pitiful, Jonathan. We don't need her, do we?
Jonathan kept quiet, his body throbbing with pain and the remnants of anger starting to fade.
Jonathan…JONATHAN!
"No…we don't…don't need her," Jonathan murmured through bloody lips, flexing his fingers and wincing as a sharp pain ran through them.
We can get out ourselves, right?
"Yes," he breathed, cupping his good hand over his ear and moaning. "Yes we can."
Yes…because you are bright…very bright Jonathan. Such a good boy. You don't need the likes of her to bail you out. Nasty, vile woman…You can handle it yourself.
"I'm a very good boy. Very…very smart. I know I…I can get out. I know I can."
Of course. And the bat?
Jonathan stared at the opposite wall, his gaze dead and empty, and never blinked once. "We kill him if he tries to stop us."
Excellent idea, Jonathan. See? And she thought you were crazy…
"She was wrong," Jonathan whispered, his lips curling in a faint smile. "Very…very wrong."
And when we get out…what will we do to show her she's wrong?
Jonathan emitted a small titter of laughter, hugging his knees tighter. "We…we take back…everything; our reputation, our money," Jonathan smiled wider, despite his eyes narrowing, "and our dignity. Talia Al Ghul and her father will rue the day they crossed the Scarecrow."
