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.
Deceit
They were lying in bed—Crane wide awake and contemplatively staring upwards at the ceiling while Teagan rested her head against his shoulder, her long hair pooling across his chest and dark eyelashes fluttering on the cusp of slumber—when he spoke the irreversible words that would forever change the course of their relationship.
"I have something to show you, Miss James."
She lifted her head to look at him with bleary eyes. A sliver of neon light radiating from the signs perched throughout Gotham to advertise the city's nightlife (ICEBERG LOUNGE GRAND OPENING! BE AMONG GODS AT CLUB OLYMPUS! NOW PLAYING AT THE MONARCH THEATER!) peered through the curtains and illuminated her face with a cherry-red glow in the otherwise dark bedroom, and it occurred to Crane that she looked reminiscent of a rose petal—delicately beautiful, easily crushed, and ready to be plucked at his whim. The once-soothing sound of rain pelting the outside window suddenly seemed jarringly-loud and unpleasant to Crane, and he hated himself for feeling nervous.
"Oh?" Teagan stifled a yawn before fixing Crane with a tired-but-inquisitive smile. "What is it?"
Without saying a word Crane switched on his bedside lamp, opened his nightstand drawer to retrieve a slim folder, and tossed it into her sheet-covered lap.
She blinked, any trace of sleepiness now wiped from her face and replaced with curiosity. "What is this, Dr. Crane?"
"Read it," he said softly. "Read it and tell me what you think."
Puzzled but obedient, Teagan complied; she reached for her glasses, carefully opened the file with a flicker of uncertainty, and began to read. Crane watched as her smile faded with every turn of the page until her lips were parted in shock and she looked up at him with watery eyes full of hurt and confusion.
"I...I don't understand. So this—everything—was all just some experiment?"
"Well, not entirely," Crane replied evenly. "You're here now, aren't you?"
"But it could just as easily have been someone else, right?" Her voice was pained, shaking as if on the verge of collapse. "If you'd had another intern instead of me, then they would be the one who you..."
Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
"I don't mean anything to you," Teagan whispered. "I'm just a means to an end, something for you to study and dispose of once you've gotten the results you wanted." She sighed, sad and weary. "I suppose I'm to blame as well. Stupid me, I should have known it was all too good to be true."
Crane thought back to her first week at Arkham Asylum, when she had been too timid to speak and couldn't so much as look at him without turning crimson with shyness—she'd even apologized for being assigned to him, as if the inconvenience was her fault alone. And now here she sat, blaming herself for Crane's behavior once again. Teagan was still the same girl who reminded Crane of the insecure, troubled side of himself that he'd spent years trying to smother and forget, only to feel a spark of self-reflection every time she inspired unwanted emotions within him.
Pathetic and weak, Crane thought angrily, unsure if he was referring to her or himself.
He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and turned his lips upward into an expression more smirk than smile. "You do yourself a disservice, Miss James. I wouldn't have been able to continue my work if not for you."
"That's nice of you to say, Dr. Crane," she replied in a defeated, resigned voice, "but you don't need to lie. Like I told you before, there's nothing remarkable about me."
"Oh but you are, and for several reasons. I needed someone who I could trust, someone I could confide in and share my research with, someone who would view my work for what it truly is—enlightenment, not torture. I needed someone who was so dedicated, so absolutely devoted to what we were doing, that they would allow themselves to be repeatedly exposed to my toxin. I needed someone extraordinary, Miss James, and I thought that person didn't exist and my research would stagnate forever. But then you came along, and you were perfect—exactly what I wanted and exactly what I needed."
Teagan cast her eyes to the floor, visibly wounded by the night's revealed secrets. "Just like a lab rat," she muttered darkly.
"No, Miss James. A lab rat serves only one purpose. You aided my work instead of merely sustaining it. You see people for what they truly are—frightened and mindless and dull, confined to a numb existence they've tricked themselves into believing is fulfilling just to avoid their fears. I told you before: you aren't like them because you're just like me."
Crane cupped her chin with spindly fingers and leaned towards her until he could see his reflection in her wide, dewy eyes.
"Help me, Miss James," Crane whispered. "Help me enlighten Gotham. Help me rid it of its parasites and destroy their numb culture of meaningless distraction. Stand by my side, and watch as the city gorges itself on pure fear until it bursts and falls to its knees before our feet."
She gazed into the icy blue of his eyes. "Do you really mean that, Dr. Crane?"
"Every word," he replied solemnly, and turned off the lamp before climbing into bed beside her.
Beneath the blankets he felt her move closer to him, her soft flesh pressing against his and her arms wrapped around him until their limbs were entwined in an embrace. The slice of neon had returned to cast bright red across their bodies, their skin the color of blood as kissed and caressed and sighed.
"Is this another test?" Teagan breathed into his ear.
"No. No more tests," Crane replied, and buried his lips in her hair to hide his smile.
Oh darling, he thought with amusement, if only you'd seen the entire file.