Hi again! I really hope you all like this chapter! Huge thanks to JanEyrEvanescence12 (hope I spelled that right), I LOVED your comments! It's really nice to have some encouragement.

Anyway, in this chapter we get to see some of Kristina adapting to her new home; as with most adoptions, it doesn't go super smooth. Then we see some more Crane at the end of the chapter

Kristina's Bedroom pin/503136589623970834/

Kris's mouth fell open as the car rolled up in front of Wayne Manor. When Bruce said he lived in a mansion, she was thinking of the only mansion she'd ever seen, the one on The Adams Family. But this was huge. It honestly looked more like the Hogwarts castle than a house.

She jumped out of the car, lugging her backpack and garbage bag full of clothes behind her. When she had exited the group home to meet Bruce and his butler, Alfred, they'd looked extremely startled that she didn't have a suitcase or anything big enough to carry all her things.

As she started the walk to the door, Alfred walked up beside her. "Allow me to take those things, miss." He offered gently, holding out his hands. Kris hesitated. Thievery was so common in her life, she'd learned it was best to always keep track of the things you treasured, no matter what. Unconsciously, she gripped her bag and her trash sack tighter.

Alfred smiled warmly. "I promise no harm will come to them, Miss Kristina. I will simply put them in your room."

Biting her lip, she hesitantly handed her trash bag to him, but kept a tight hold on her backpack. Upon exiting the home, she'd asked if they could go by the store and get her things, if they were still there. Bruce had told her she could stay in the car while he got her stuff, and came back out with the backpack and all her books, reassuring her that James hadn't been any trouble. She was just happy she wouldn't have to see him again.

Bruce stopped beside her, and she noted how he again kept a safe, comfortable distance between them. "Well, would you like a tour?"

The manor was so big, it took them almost an hour to do the full tour. The kitchen was full of food, and Alfred showed her a pantry full of snacks that she was allowed to eat. He also asked her what she wanted for dinner that night, and she had just stared at him silence, a little shocked. What did she want to eat? Nobody had ever asked, they just put the food on her plate and told her she should be grateful.

She'd finally found her voice and requested some meat and potatoes, since that was usually what was served at the home on special occasions like Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was then they showed her the living room, ball room, parlor, dining room, Bruce's study, (which she wasn't allowed to go into without him) the multiple bathrooms, and right before her room, they showed her the library.

"These are all yours?" Kris asked, walking around. Her jaw was almost on the floor as she stared at the shelves and shelves of books, and she didn't have to check them out or have them back by any amount of time. She could just read.

"Well, they're yours, too." Bruce teased lightly, "Just don't go climbing up the ladder without me or Alfred there, you get hurt."

Finally, they stopped at a large, heavy-looking brown door. Bruce twisted the handle, and the door swung open to reveal a large room.

It was nothing like Kris had braced herself for. She had been expecting lots of pink and purple, which she didn't have a problem with, but they weren't her favorite colors. The room was dark blue, with a teal, cushioned looking bed that held some pink pillows and a white comforter. It was a few feet from a window with white curtains and cursive black writing above it that read Kristina Elizabeth. There was a green lava lamp on the white beside table, and a hanging chair that she had never seen before but really loved sitting across from it as well, filled with cozy looking pillows and blankets. A large, star-shaped chandelier hung over the room, and the wall opposite to the bed was filled with shelves, empty, as well as a large white dresser. A door was just to the right of them which she assumed was to the bathroom, another door was on the other side of the shelves that was probably a closet, and directly across from them were a set of French doors that lead to a balcony.

"I know there's no books on the shelves," Bruce told her, sounding almost hesitant, "but I was thinking you could pick them out, so that way you kind of have you own private library."

She couldn't say anything, only staring at the room in shock. Bruce watched her, feeling nervous for the first time in a long time.

"If you don't like it, that's totally fine, we can get someone in here to-"

"I love it." Kris cut him off, turning her head to face him. Even if the room was nothing like she'd wanted, she wouldn't have said anything. This place was much nicer than the group home, and she would avoid going back there at all costs. Bruce's face dropped into a relieved smile, and he ran a hand over his face.

"Well, great! I'll let you get settled, and then you can join Alfred and I for some dinner." He told her gently, then left to let her get settled in. Kris heard the door click behind her, and wandered to the center of the room, looking around.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

After she had loaded her limited wardrobe into the dresser, she went through her backpack and pulled out her books, placing them all on the lowest shelf she could reach, right at the farthest left corner. It looked almost comical how little space her collection took up in the large room. As she finished dumping her things out on the bed, a picture fluttered down onto the bedspread. Her chest ached a little when she saw it was of her and John, taken the year prior at the school Christmas celebration. The two were making silly faces at the camera and wearing ugly green, red, and white sweaters.

The conversation between the two when she left had been painful. John was sad to see her go, but they had both teared up when they realized they would no longer be together, even if she stayed. Her best friend told her he would be moved to the boys home that was almost on the other side of town, and would remain there until he was either adopted or turned eighteen. It was an unspoken, ugly fact that they knew he would never leave until he became an adult.

Another thing she worried about was Jonathan. How would he find her? Would he still be able to bring her books and puzzles? She knew she should be grateful for her new life, and she was, but she still kind of missed him. Something about him was just so familiar.

Finally, Kristina brushed her tangled hair back into a ponytail, wincing as the hairbrush caught on a few larger rats. She attempted to detangle them, but eventually gave up. Her hair had gotten quite long, reaching past her waist and almost to her hips.

Her sneakers squeaked against the shiny wooden floors as she jogged down, hooking a left and walking towards the dining room. A part of her actually began to fear she'd gotten lost when she finally found herself in the large room, the glittering chandelier hanging above the table as Bruce sat, the paper in his hands. When she entered, he looked up, smiling.

"Hey, Kristina," he greeted lightly, "I hope you didn't get lost trying to find your way here."

She shook her head, lips twitching at his joking tone. "No, it was fine. Thanks, Mr. Wayne."

As she climbed onto a chair, (it was almost embarrassing how short she still was for someone who was in middle school) Bruce shook his head.

"You know, you can call me Bruce, Kristina. Mr. Wayne is my father."

"Oh, ok. Bruce." They sat in awkward silence before she blurted out, "It's Kris."

"What?"

"I like to be called Kris. Kristina's just too long."

Bruce looked at her for a second before a genuine, happy smile pulled across his face. "Alright, then. Kris."

They sat there for a few more minutes before Bruce suddenly folded up the newspaper, setting it on the table. "How about we go eat somewhere where I don't have to shout, huh?"

She nodded, giving him a small smile as he stood and gestured for her to follow him. They turned a few corners and she realized he was leading her back to the kitchen. Speaking of which, an extremely delicious smell was getting stronger and stronger, making her mouth water. Finally, they entered the kitchen through a swinging door, and she was met with a sight she'd never seen.

A steaming pot of mashed potatoes sat cooling on the island, with a large bowl of brown gravy next to it. There was a soft sizzle in the air with the delicious smell, and she realized it was coming from the stove where she could just see a large piece of meat. Alfred looked up from a jug of juice in surprise, wearing an apron.

"Master Wayne, Miss Kristina," he greeted kindly, "I was just finishing up the steak. I assume you would take yours medium well, Miss Kristina?"

Kris stuttered, shaking her head with wide eyes, "I'm not even really sure how to eat steak, I've never had it before."

Both men stopped and turned to her, before smiling at themselves. "Well, then I guess we'll just have to rectify that with Alfred's famous cooking." Bruce told her warmly, sitting down at the table in the corner.

An hour later, their plates were all empty. Kris couldn't remember the last time she'd been so stuffed. The steak was delicious, and so were the potatoes. Alfred had happily responded to her requests for seconds, and then thirds, telling her she was much too skinny. It was true, of course. All the running around with John and the limited meals and snacks at the group home had given her elbows and knees like knives, with wiry limbs and quick feet.

"And then, I go out to the garden to find Master Wayne stuck in the tallest oak there was, complaining about how he was stuck." Alfred finished telling her, and she laughed at Bruce's expression as he shook his head.

"Hey, I thought I had that squirrel," he defended, and the three laughed loudly together. It was probably the most Kris had ever laughed with strangers, if she was being honest.

Dinner finally dwindled down, and Bruce brought up her name. "So, Kristina; is that a family name?"

She felt her good mood dim, and she looked down at her empty plate, not noticing the slight glare Alfred threw Bruce's way. She shrugged, fiddling with her fork.

"I'm not really sure where my name came from. I asked about it all the time, but nobody could ever tell me anything. I lived with a foster family until I was two, and then they decided they didn't want to adopt me and turned me over to the group home."

An awkward beat of silence followed, and then Bruce spoke up again. "So, Kristina, I've been meaning to ask you; do you like your school?"

Kristina paused, then shook her head. "No, not really. The only good thing about it was my best friend, John, but he just transferred to the boys home in the Narrows, so there's not much I like about it anymore."

"Do you think the work is hard enough for you?"

This time, she shook her head harder. "No, not at all. I'm always done with my work really fast, and then I get bored, and the teachers get mad at me." She almost told them about the things Jonathan said about her school's curriculum, but held it in. She didn't want Bruce to think she liked someone better than him, even if was kind of true. She had just known Jonathan a lot longer.

"Well, what if we did things a little different now that you're living here?" Bruce suggested, and she cocked her head at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know some good personal tutors, and we could have them start teaching you so, that way, they can determine what level you're actually at. Then, we can place you somewhere that you'll be challenged. How does that sound?"

Kris paused, biting her lip. As much as she didn't like her school, she also didn't really want so much to change. Was she ready to suddenly leave everything?

Then, a thought occurred to her. Maybe if Jonathan saw how smart she'd been getting, he wouldn't be so mad about her being adopted, and he would be proud of her, too. With that in mind, she raised her eyes to Bruce and nodded, her ponytail bobbing. A relieved smile took over his face, and he nodded, sipping on the glass of wine in front of him.

"Alright," he said lightly, "we can start next week."

The next two weeks with Bruce were, different.

It wasn't worse than the home, in many ways, it was a million times better. But Bruce always seemed to be gone, and her tutors could only keep her busy for so long. She had to admit, it was nice to have schoolwork that didn't bore her. The math and science tutor, Ms. Litwenn, always had lots of nice things to say about her work and seemed genuinely impressed with her intellect. The same went for her English and Literature tutor, Mr. Hiddleston. She and her history tutor, Mr. Moore, didn't get on too well, but she hadn't told him to take his work and shove it yet, so she supposed they were doing ok.

Alfred was probably the best person in the manor by far. The old man always seemed to know exactly when she needed cheering up, and did it in a lot of great ways. He showed her the gymnasium and the pool, both of which she loved. She would often spend her time hitting the volleyball or kicking the soccer ball against the wall, attempting to get good enough so that when she and John saw each other again, she could keep her status as champion. Swimming was fun, too, but she always got tired pretty quick. Bruce seemed reluctant to let her leave the house, saying the press would want to catch pictures and stories. It kind of hurt when he said that; but she tried to ignore it. Maybe he hadn't meant for it to sound like he was embarrassed by her.

Another thing that had been keeping her busy was following the Batman.

He'd popped up in the papers the morning after she'd gotten to the manor, and ever since then, she'd been following the story. She hadn't told Bruce or Alfred about what James had done; a part of her was afraid they'd be angry, for some reason. She had kicked another adult, after all. But she was convinced the man who had saved her was Batman, she was sure of it. Bruce seemed to raise an amused eyebrow at her whenever she asked for the story about the Bat but would happily hand her the article from the paper.

But she was really, really lonely.

Being in the new environment was starting to suffocate her. She felt like she couldn't speak her mind or truly say what she wanted to, in fear that Bruce would get fed up with her and send her right back to the home. She tried to force it down, but then she remembered that lesson in science about how if you put a bunch of baking soda and vinegar in a bottle and shook it up, it would just build and build and build until eventually, the pressure would become too much, and something would pop off somewhere.

Finally, one day, it happened.

Kris was bored to tears, and Alfred was at the market down in Gotham. He didn't have to go, they usually got groceries delivered, but he told her with a wink that he occasionally liked to get out of the house. He'd told her in a regretful voice that Bruce didn't want her being seen by the public, which has stung more than she was willing to admit.

So, she wandered around, wondering what she could do. She'd already finished about a quarter of the young adult books in the library, as well as The Divine Comedy. She'd loved it, especially the Inferno part. She wasn't sure why, but just the thought of fire and the element itself had always captivated her. So warm and beautiful, but at the same time, able to cause so much damage. She thought it was really cool.

But what she really wanted was to read something just as hard as that; she'd already finished the Harry Potter series, Lord of the Rings, and The Hobbit. Bruce was in his study doing some work, and she didn't want to bug him. She bit her lip as she looked up at the higher shelves, and the rolling ladder that would give her access. That was one of Bruce's few rules about the house; she couldn't use it without someone there. But she'd fallen and scraped her knees and elbows all the time before, how could this be any different? Besides, she didn't have any fear of heights.

Casting a glance behind her to ensure Bruce or Alfred weren't near the entrance to the library, she quietly padded over to the ladder, placed her hands and foot on it, and pulled herself up. The ladder wobbled slightly, but stayed sturdy for the most part. She climbed up slowly, her eyes scanning the titles. Once caught her eye, making her pause.

The Book Thief; she knew that book! She'd started to read it during library time, but completely forgot about it when the teacher told them it was time to go back to class back in fifth grade. She reached for it, but swore quietly when she saw that it was out of her reach. Biting her lip, she wiggled on the ladder, testing its durability. The ladder definitely moved, but not by much. Satisfied with the outcome of the experiment, she reached to the side, straining to grab the books spine. The pads of her fingers ran across the other books, and she smiled slightly as she got closer. Almost there…

"Kristina!"

Bruce's voice startled her, and she jumped, losing her balance on the ladder. It wobbled, then tilted, and a startled scream left her lips as the ground rushed up to meet her-

-and a strong pair of arms grabbed her, tucking her against a broad chest and rolling out of the way.

She and Bruce landed with collective groans, and they both looked over just in time for the ladder to fully tip over, the heavy wood knocking against one of the tables with full force. The table was knocked backwards, and a large, expensive-looking sculpture that had been sitting on it was sent soaring a few inches in the air, and straight through a window. Kris stared in horror as the glass shattered, and there was a beat of silence before she heard the distinct sound of the sculpture breaking against the cement below them.

Bruce swore loudly as he pulled her to her feet. She bit her lip and twisted the toe of one sneaker against the carpet as he went over to inspect the damage. The ladder was effectively broken in some areas and had knocked one of the legs of the table and splintered others; not to mention the shattered window and now broken piece of weird art that was about three stories below them. She watched nervously as his shoulders tensed and he ran a hand through his hair, turning around.

"Kristina, I know for a fact that Alfred and I told you not to mess around with the ladder when we're not here, right?"

Looking down at her blue converse, she shrugged.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, young lady!"

An indignant, angry feeling flared in her chest as the tone of his voice, and her head shot up, meeting his green eyes with fire in her own. She knew she was in trouble, and what she did was definitely wrong, but she hated being spoken to like a child.

"Now, I realize this has been a hard adjustment for you, and I'm sorry, ok? I get that it's hard-"

"No, you don't!"

She had honestly shocked herself a little with the outburst, and Bruce looked over at her in shock, as well. But she continued, almost unable to stop the fire spewing from her mouth. "You don't get it, you never will! I don't have any friends, I don't have any brothers or sisters, or even a mom! And even if I was still at the group home, no one liked me there, cause I was a freak!" The word felt like acid in her throat, and made it burn. Bruce held his hands up, walking towards her slowly.

"Ok, Kristina, I understand-"

"No! You keep saying you understand, but you never will! No one does!" Her voice broke slightly as she continued, "You've got this big house and this butler and all these people love you and call you a prince, but nobody thinks that about me! You don't even want people to see me!" Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but she was on a roll. "You keep saying this is my home, but you're just some rich jerk who took a little orphan in so he could feel good about himself because the rest of this city sucks! You don't care about me, nobody does!" Tears were running down her face now, and her chest ached from screaming, but she didn't stop. "And no matter what happens, you're going to think the same thing about me that everyone does, that I'm some weird little girl that wasn't as great as the first time you saw me, and then you're gonna send me back to the group home!"

"Hey, Kristina, I'm not going to send you back-" Bruce kept his voice low, but her emotions were starting to really get out of hand, and it felt like it was impossible to keep them in check.

"That's what you say, but I can tell you're going to! Otherwise, you would have let me leave the house so that the papers could see me. But you're ashamed of me!"

"Kristina, I am not ashamed of you, but you need to calm down…"

A white-hot fury rose in her chest that she couldn't describe; just hearing him trying to convince her to calm down just pissed her off more, for whatever reason. Look how hysterical you are, he thinks you're crazy, just like the rest of them… a little voice in the back of her head whispered tauntingly, He's gonna send you right back, nobody cares about you, stupid little girl…

"Don't tell me what to do!" She shouted back, and Bruce rose to his full height.

"You will not talk to me like that, young lady, I am your adoptive father-"

"You are NEVER gonna be my dad!" Unable to stop herself, she picked up one of the books that had been knocked off the shelf when they fell and heaved it at him with all her might. Which wasn't much, and he easily knocked it away before it hit him in the face, but she was already running. She heard him calling out to her, and then Alfred's voice joined in, but her eyes were so flooded with angry tears that she had to focus all her attention on not tripping on the way to her room. Finally, she flung the door open and slammed it shut, locking it. She turned, pressing her back against it, and slowly slid down. Sobs began to wrack her body, and she heard knocking.

"Kris? Kristina open the door, I'm not angry at you, I just want to talk to you."

Bruce's gentle voice just made her cry harder, and she shook her head, wrapping her arms around her legs and putting her head on her knees.

He's gonna send me back. Why wouldn't he?

No one wants me.

Jonathan Crane was not having a good day.

No, scratch that, he wasn't having a good anything. He'd been very close to gassing that entire damned group home when he went to visit Kristina and discovered she'd been adopted. He almost screamed at the incompetent administrator that he hadn't given permission for that to happen, but that would have been stupid; not only had he taken concrete measures to ensure no one knew his genetic connection to Kristina, he'd given up all custodial rights the day he left her at the hospital.

The doctor sighed angrily through his nose as he straightened his jacket, walking down the steps of the holding cells for the GCPD. The psychologist there smiled at him pleasantly.

"Dr. Crane, thanks for coming."

"Of course. So, he cut his wrists." It wasn't a question, more of a statement. He didn't have time to waste with politeness, he needed to ensure Falcone didn't jeopardize he and Ra's entire mission.

"Probably looking for the insanity plea. But, if anything should happen…"

"It's better to be safe than sorry." He finished her sentence, giving her a tight smile as she let him into the room.

"Help me, doc, I can't take it anymore. The walls are closing in, blah, blah, blah," Falcone deadpanned, sitting at the table with two bandaged wrists. Crane shut the door behind him with a quiet click, having to take great care to not slam it in frustration. "A couple of days of this food, and it'll be true."

Crane released a heavy breath through his nose, narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him as he set his briefcase down and sitting in the chair on the other side of the table.

"What do you want?"

"I wanna know what you're gonna do to convince me to keep my mouth shut."

"About what? You don't know anything." Crane told him smugly, but Falcone only smirked.

"I know you don't want the cops taking a closer look at the drugs they seized." Crane's expression hardened, but he steeled himself as Falcone continued, "I know about the experiments on the inmates at your nuthouse. And I know about that cute little niece of yours; just got adopted, right?"

At the mention of Kristina, Crane's carefully crafted façade slipped just enough for Falcone to smirk wider. "See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding about his dirty secrets. Now, I've been bringing this stuff in for months. Whatever he's planning, it's big, and I want in."

Crane leaned forward, tilting his head mockingly. "Well, I already know what he's going to say. That we should kill you."

Falcone scoffed, shaking his head. Then, his eyes zeroed in on Crane again. "Well, you might wanna try, doc. Cause if you don't, that cute little niece of yours, Kristina? She might have an accident. Walking across the street to the playground, a car is going too fast, doesn't see her. Maybe she's not being careful enough on the monkey bars and has a bad fall." The mobster shrugged casually.

Crane's chest tightened in fury. Elizabeth had been dead for twelve years now; that was twelve years without his younger twin, the one he'd shared a womb with. Kristina had been the only connection he had left, and now, not only had some other family tried to take her from him, now Falcone actually had the gall to threaten to separate her from him for good.

Show him, Johnny, Scarecrow whispered in his mind, sounding giddy, show him what happens when he threatens us! He's gonna hurt her, are you going to let that happen? Let him hurt your niece?

He took off his glasses, folding them neatly and setting them on the table. "Would you like to see my mask?"

Falcone's eyebrows shot up in confusion as he watched Crane. The doctor popped open his briefcase rather aggressively. "I use it in my experiments. Probably not every threatening to a guy like you," he said softly as he double checked the breathing filter in the mask before pulling it from the case, showing it to the mobster, "but these crazies? They can't stand it." He whispered, shaking the mask a little as he slipped it over his head.

Falcone stared at him in disbelief, raising a hand to gesture at him in confusion and exasperation, "So when did the nut take over the nuthouse?"

Crane hit the button at the corner of the case, and the fear gas sprang in the air. Falcone jumped, inadvertently inhaling it, then began to scream. Crane stood, bracing his hands against the table as he relished in the fear of the man who had just threatened what was his.

"They scream and they cry," he taunted, knowing whatever Falcone was seeing and hearing was much worse than what was actually in front of him. "Just like you're doing now." The feeling of pure power was intoxicating, and he sat there in front of the greatest crime boss in the city, listening to him scream in fear.

In fear of him.