The Puppeteer Patient 120402-To be fair, we don't make life easy for them. I can't begrudge them being a little...upset. That doesn't mean I'll tolerate it, but I understand their concerns. Just admit it, you love to wind them up. Or freak them out if I wound them up. Yes.
"You'll be sorry." she says from the cell. "You'll see."
Jim has to feel sorry for her. Deep down, she's still the teenage girl sitting at her friend's bedside, being ridiculously optimistic about him waking up.
Sorry or not, she shot at them. Twice. And then she put up a nasty fight when they finally closed on her, leaving Harvey with a beauty of a black eye and him with a bruise blossoming on his ribcage.
They put her here for the time being, and she's been very cooperative. And very, very sure that Crane will come by to pick her up. He's seen this kind of thing before, and he knows she's in for heartbreak. If the man's got half a brain, he'll have gone to ground.
The power goes out.
"I told you so."
Coincidence.
The emergency power comes on, bathing everything in an eerie yellow sheen. She's gotten to her feet and leaned against the bars. Harvey is not happy about that.
"Back away, Richardson."
"Might want to be nice to me."
"He's not coming. Trust me, they never do."
She smiles at him, bats her eyelashes.
"They don't. He will."
Jim's starting to worry that she's right. The last time she spoke with such conviction, she turned to be absolutely correct despite the odds.
The main doors swing open and the first thing he sees is a wave of men dressed in heavy jeans and thick coats and cheap gas masks. They're armed, but he's not particularly worried about them or their shotguns.
He is, however, worried about the man who came in behind them. Tall and thin and wielding a goddamn scythe, he is the cause several disappearances these past few weeks.
"I told you so."
Yeah. She told them so.
"Hi, Kitty." He comes across the room. "Hello, Jim. Harvey."
"Crane…"
"I'd keep a civil tongue in your head, Harvey Bullock."
For once, Jim is inclined to agree. He's outnumbered, but it's not worth him hurling capsules of insanity at them-which he will, guaranteed.
Harvey appears to have to come to the same conclusion, and he falls silent. Thank god.
Crane borrows the keys from somebody's desk and opens the door.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"No, no, I'm okay."
He gives her the scythe to hold and checks her over-going so far as to borrow a penlight to check for concussion-before nodding.
"All right, then."
"Told you."
"You told me you were fine when you were bleeding out from a gunshot wound." he says. "Forgive my skepticism."
He takes the scythe back and turns around.
"I'm not very happy that I had to take time to do this." he says. "You really should have just minded your own business, Jim."
He draws his gun and is met with the cocking of several shotguns. Crane raises an eyebrow.
"That wasn't the best idea, was it?" He starts for the door. "We'll be leaving now. Follow, and you'll wind up in a nice padded cell with a snug jacket all your own."
He swipes a candy from Harvey's desk and calls, "Keep them here for a few minutes, then do what you like."
And then he's gone, leaving his goons here with their shotguns at the ready. Harvey shifts and Jim hears him mutter, "Bastard took my candy."
THE END
AN: No way is he getting into a firefight with the police. They're better shots. He respects Jim enough not to straight-up poison him (though he is fair game for death traps), but if he'd been out…it would've been ugly.