Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any aspect of the Batman universe. I own nothing save for any original characters that I have created.
A/N: Just to clarify my notes from the previous Prologue: I'll be posting the updated chapters one by one. It's taking me a while to edit them, but I'll try my best to update in a timely manner.
Introductions
A young woman wrung her hands nervously as she stood outside the entrance of Arkham Asylum, Gotham's cold wind biting at her face and bringing a pink blush to her pale cheeks. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight, high ponytail except for a few loose strands that gently swayed in the breeze against her face and clung to her glasses. Snow fell into tiny clumps on her gray coat and she brushed it away absentmindedly, more concerned with what lay ahead in the asylum than the weather. She took a deep, calming breath in a vain attempt to prepare herself, and stepped into Arkham's entrance and through the doorway that so many enter and so few ever leave.
Dr. Jonathan Crane sat at his desk, poring over his notes and tapping his fingernails angrily against the wooden surface in a frantic, irritated rhythm of frustration.
His last few experiments had been disappointments, if not complete failures; the patients had proven to be discouragingly repetitive test subjects, their reactions to the toxin now predictable and unremarkable. Even a slight alteration of the serum's formula failed to illicit any new affect beyond the usual cries of fear and sobbing pleads, and the end results were dull, tiresome sessions and an utter waste of time.
Frankly, he was starting to become bored.
Crane glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock. Time for his meeting with Dr. Joan Leland.
As he walked down the hallway leading towards Leland's office, his mind wandered back to the notes locked away in his briefcase and the current stalling of his research. He had already exhausted the asylum's population, and the patients had far outlasted their use. He was in dire need of new test subjects; acquiring them, however, would create a plethora of new difficulties. It was simple enough to select an inmate from the dozens at his disposal and move them to Arkham's basement—the long-abandoned chamber has served him well as a home for his experiments—but smuggling a potential subject into the asylum would be next to impossible, no matter how effortlessly simple the night shift guards were to bribe with twenty-dollar bills and the offer of smoke breaks.
He paused when he reached Leland's office door and realized that he'd completely forgotten what the purpose of the meeting was. He considered his position at the asylum to be nothing more than an elaborate charade, his daily motions trivial but necessary to maintain a carefully-crafted facade of normalcy, and consequently he was often distracted while interacting with his colleagues. His real work took place during his nights in the basement, and everything else is simply routine deception—including pointless meetings with a fellow doctor that he found so irritating that he could barely even pretend to tolerate them.
He sighed with resolved aggravation before slowly raising a hand and rapping his knuckles sharply against the door.
"Come in," a woman said from behind the door, her voice warm and welcoming . Crane's features contorted into a grimace of disgust; the friendly tone that so many find to be gentle and kind struck him as sickly-sweet and patronizing.
Crane wiped the repulsed look from his face and turned the doorknob, opening the door just wide enough to stick his head into the office. "You wanted to see me, Dr. Le—I mean, Joan?"
Dr. Leland smiled. "Yes, Jonathan. Please, come in," she said, beckoning him towards an empty chair in front of her desk.
It took all of Crane's willpower not to let out another sigh of annoyance. He should have known that the meeting would be a tedious, long-winded affair; Leland thought of her coworkers as neighborly companions and often attempted to engage in lengthy conversations with them, interpreting Crane's obvious disinterest as a shy, quiet nature rather than irritability.
Upon stepping into the office Crane noticed a young dark-haired woman sitting across from Leland, her slender shoulders hunched forward and her lips pressed tightly together in an expression of timid anxiety. Crane quickly averted his eyes and took the seat next to her, doing his best not to look in her direction.
"Dr. Crane, this is Teagan James," Leland said, beaming at the apprehensive girl. "She is very excited to begin her internship with you." She smiled, clearly expecting both to be enthused by the introduction.
For once Crane did not attempt to hide his true emotions. His eyes darted back and forth between the two women in stunned confusion and disbelief as he tried to piece together what he had just heard.
"I...an internship?"
Teagan cast her eyes towards the floor as if embarrassed by her own presence, causing her glasses to slide awkwardly down the bridge of her nose.
Leland looked puzzled. "Yes, Jonathan, your intern," she replied slowly, clearly taken aback by his reaction. "You'll recall that we discussed the matter two weeks ago, when I first informed you that this year was your turn to take part in our program with Gotham University."
Oh. That.
He vaguely remembered Leland mentioning Arkham's annual apprenticeship program, a six-week curriculum where an honors student from Gotham University's psychiatric department interned under one of the asylum's doctors; the student's training was meant to include instructions over diagnostic protocols, medical dosages, and therapy session guidelines, but most of the doctors took advantage of the opportunity to have their office cleaned and coffee fetched. Crane cursed Leland inwardly—if she wasn't prattling on about the most asinine, mind-numbingly dull subjects under the guise of "friendly conversation" so often then perhaps he would have payed better attention the one time that she actually said something that held any importance.
Crane shifted in his chair, clearing his throat. "Of course," he said noncommittally, "I remember."
Leland's insufferably cheerful smile returned. "Teagan is top of her class at GU. She's set to graduate later this year with a bachelor's degree in psychology."
The girl continued to stare at the floor as a blush began to creep across her cheeks in heated red splotches, visibly uncomfortable with being the focus of their conversation. On second glance Crane could see that Teagan was an attractive girl, albeit a diminutive one; black hair framed a heart-shaped face, her skin a creamy pale save for the light pink flesh of what appeared to be rather soft lips. She looked like a little porcelain doll, doe-eyed and out of place in the cold, sterile environment of the asylum.
But the charm of pretty girls was lost on Crane, and he turned a blind eye to the opposite sex's allure in favor of his devotion to his toxin.
"That's great," Crane said flatly.
"Why don't you show Teagan around?" Leland suggested. "I'm sure she'd love that. So far she hasn't seen anything beyond the entrance lobby or this office."
Crane forced himself to grin tightly at what was sure to the first of six weeks worth of inconveniences.
"Certainly."
"Excellent. Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Teagan" Leland said, smiling brightly as she extended a hand towards the girl. "I have no doubt that this will be an educational experience for you."
Teagan gave Leland's hand flimsy shake before quickly returning her own hand to her lap, never once looking the other woman in the eye.
"You can start by organizing those." Crane gestured absentmindedly towards the row of filing cabinets lining an office wall. "That should keep you busy."
"Um." Teagan nervously shifted her feet, unsure of what to do. "Alphabetically or..."
"Just use your best judgment," Crane replied sharply. "I have a lot of work to do."
She flinched at his tone before crossing the room to the cabinets, and for the next hour the room was silent except for the frequent rustling of paper and the occasional creak of metal drawers being opened for the first time in years.
"I'm sorry," Teagan said suddenly, and the sound of her voice almost caused Crane to jump. He had forgotten she was there.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," she said, and Crane detected genuine regret and a weary sadness in her tone. "For bothering you. I'll try to stay out of your way."
She gave him a brief, apologetic look before hastily returning to her work.
Crane watched as she neatly filed papers into dog-eared folders, her small form slumped over a large pile of patient forms and her glasses askew on her face, attempting to be as quiet and as innocuous as possible.
For a moment, Crane saw himself.