"NO!" Crane sounded panicked.

"And why shouldn't I? You've pushed me in front of traffic, nearly killing me, and now you've locked me up in this jail cell. I want out."

"I can't let you out. You would be forced to stay in here, or in another hospital ward; and I don't think that I need to tell you about the conditions there."

"How long?"

"A few weeks. Things may be very comfortable, or…not."

"Is that a threat Crane? Wow, that toilet looks quite lovely." She said cheerfully.

"Of course it's not a threat, Amber. I'm simply stating that I could improve things substantially." He replied coolly. Amber smiled; he was nearly begging for it back.

"What could be improved?" She asked him.

"Oh, many things. I could have you moved to a larger room. I believe that you would find that there are sheets on the bed there, along with a pillow. I would also allow you some activities in your cell. And better food." She felt a pang in her stomach when he mentioned the food; she was very hungry. Something to do besides plot evil things that she would love to do to him also sounded nice.

"What kinds of things could I do?" She didn't dare mention the food; she thought that it would be giving in too much.

"Draw, read, there are all kinds of music that I could allow you."

"I want all of the above, and I want to be allowed to paint."

"Done. And the food?" He asked her. He sounded relieved.

"I suppose that it couldn't hurt. But first I want you to promise me that you won't cheat me."

"…Fine."

Jonathan couldn't believe that he had been so careless to drop his card, and now this woman had extracted a promise from him to improve her living conditions. He refused to lie, or to break promises; it would put him closer to the riff-raff that was locked up here. The card slid through the bottom of the door quickly. He snatched it up. He had been desperate to get it back. The card had been specially made in Japan. It was hideously expensive, and it would take at least a month to get another.

He sighed with relief and walked up to the main security office. Frank was waiting there with a questioning look on his face. "Sir, why were you talking to Ms. Larks through her door?" he asked him politely. Jonathan felt irritated that Frank was watching him on the camera, but he then he remembered what wing of the asylum that he had been in. It was only logical that he was watching to make sure that there was not something wrong.

"Oh, I just had to mention something to her." He said simply. He could tell that Frank was doubtful of this, and was suddenly glad that the cameras couldn't record sound. He didn't want Frank to hear him begging for his card back. "Do we have any paints around here?" Jonathan asked him suddenly.

"Umm, yes, I believe that there are some left over from when we still had the group art therapy." Frank answered slowly. Jonathan smiled.

"Excellent, could you send some down to our new patient?"

"Certainly, Dr. Crane." He replied.

Frank scowled as he dug through the dusty closet in the basement. It wasn't usually like him to question Dr. Crane's orders, but there was something distinctly suspicious about this new patient of his. She didn't seem to be psychotic, only confused and distraught that she had been brought here. And then there was the business of waiting to give her an examination. When a patient requested a psychological examination it was always to be of first importance and generally considered a sign that they could leave.

Spotting the paints and paper, but no brushes, Frank grabbed them and stalked out of the basement, slamming the door behind him. This was not the way that Adam Crane would have run things, the current Dr. Crane's late father. Frank had also heard what Dr. Crane had said to the patient when he was outside; unbeknownst to him, Frank had sound capabilities installed in the cameras when he was gone. It was rather disturbing that the lady was not to be allowed any visitors. Surely her family would want to come and speak with her when they heard about what happened. But Dr. Crane knew best, Frank thought as he walked down the hall to Amber's room.

"Miss, you wanted some paints?" Frank asked her through the slot in her door.

"Please." She replied listlessly. He handed them through the slot cautiously.

"I'm quite sorry, but I can't find any brushes. We seem to be missing them."

"Oh, that won't be a problem. Thank you." She replied. Frank frowned. This woman seemed to be in fine mental health; but it could all be a guise. After all, a man in the most violent ward also seemed polite and courteous, and he had murdered twelve people in a most unpleasant fashion. Sighing he walked back up to his office to finish paperwork.

Excellent, Amber thought with happiness. Crane had been stupid enough to give her the paints. She unscrewed the top of the blue paint while examining the label. 'Non-Toxic Daisy Paints'; it said in curly letters. Reading it closely, she saw that there was a warning not to get any on clothing. That meant that it wasn't washable. She grinned as she flung paint at the walls. It would be a lovely night.

As she threw the paint on the walls, she plotted on how to get out. There would be no chance of escape right now; Crane would be watching her too closely. But she could start on her article now, she thought as she looked at the paper. She finished her masterpiece on the once stark-white walls, and sat down on her bed. Digging a pen out of her pocket, she thought about what exactly to include in the article. It seemed to be that all of New York saw Jonathan Crane as an angel. Amber smiled; oh how far from the truth it really was.

Nearly three months ago, Dr. Jonathan Crane was the Administrator of Arkham Asylum in Gotham City. He had disappeared the night it had nearly been destroyed by a fear toxin that had been released into the air by the infamous Scarecrow, claiming that he had been visiting his sister in India. Not many people questioned the wonderful Dr. Crane's alibi, and Amber had the feeling that those who did were given a great deal of money or disappeared. She had been promised a promotion at the New York Observer if she could disprove this alibi, but her editor had warned her that she could easily not wake up one morning while covering the story, or worse, be woken up by a man in a heavy burlap mask.

Amber hadn't thought that it was that much of a threat then; after all, how on earth could Dr. Crane know that she was checking into his background? Obviously he had found out and now she was going to be in this asylum until someone figured out what had happened to her. She wondered what the connection Dr. Crane had to the League of Shadows that was connected to the events in Gotham City, or his connections to the Scarecrow.

An hour later, she looked at her watch, and to her surprise, saw that it was about 8:30. She was extremely bored, and had finished her article. She climbed up on the chair in the room, and looked out the window. The sun was just finishing setting, leaving vibrant streaks of orange, gold, and red-pink across the horizon. She looked over the Atlantic, and thought about what she would be doing at home. Probably just sitting around, or watching TV. She hadn't had a boyfriend in around three months now. Lexi would have left at least five messages at the apartment, and was probably looking for her, but how could she possibly know that Amber was in an asylum; Riverside Asylum nonetheless. Amber wanted to play with the small bouncing ball that she always carried with her, but she was afraid that she would have it taken away.

Her editor, Mark Alexander would be looking for her as well, but probably only to fire her. She had now missed two days of work, without notifying him. When she got out though, she could explain everything to him. There would be weeks to endure of I-Told-You-So, but he would give her job back. That was assuming that she would get out of here of course. Amber felt dread building inside her as she thought about the awful possibility of Crane never letting her out. As she thought about this, she felt the fear sink into hopelessness. Of course he would never let her out. She had uncovered his past, and was determined to tell everyone about it. Amber was shocked to feel tears starting to flow down her cheeks. As she lay down on her bed, she was grateful that the camera had been taken out of her room and sobbed herself to sleep.

Jonathan paced around the main office. He could feel Frank watching him as he sat down at his desk. A two contacts of Amber's had already called the asylum, and he had been forced to schedule them appointments as to not appear suspicious. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to keep her here so that she wouldn't publish her article in the newspaper. Looking at the papers on his desk, he saw that one of the patients hadn't had their medications yet. As he was about to ask Frank to give them to the patient, when an idea struck him. He got up and unlocked the room that the medications were in. He chose two bottles carefully, and walked down the hall.

Amber woke to a sharp tapping at her door, groggily, she sat up as the door opened with a breeze of fresh air rushed in. "I knew it was an awful idea to give you those. But I thought, oh no, she wouldn't do that! Well, I've been wrong before…" Crane said when he eyed the splattered paint. Amber eyed him suspiciously. He had a dish of what looked like wonderful food in his hand, and water in the other. "Hungry?" Crane asked her.

"A little." She replied uneasily. He scanned her face without emotion.

"Have you been crying?" He asked her as he set the food down on the table. It took most of her strength not to leap up and devour the steaming food.

"No. I get allergies this time of year." She said.

"What are you allergic to?" He asked her. She knew that he didn't believe her.

"None of your business." She replied stiffly. He nodded his head and stared at her. She found that she couldn't look into his bright blue eyes for very long, and looked away.

"We will speak in the morning." He said as he walked out.

"Unfortunately." She muttered after him as she got up to eat. It was delicious food. After she was done, she set the dishes in a neat pile at the corner of the table. Crane's reaction to her painting wasn't what she expected. She wanted him to at least be a little upset, and perhaps yell a bit, but not completely brush it off as though it was just something a silly child would do, and would need to be cleaned up. Maybe that's what he thinks I am, Amber thought with pleasure. He would be proven very wrong when she typed up her article on him.

Amber paced the room, what if she never got the chance to publish her article? Speaking of which, where was it? She thought with sudden dismay searching the relatively small room quickly. Crane must have taken it when he walked in, along with the other papers. She scowled, knowing that he had purposefully taken advantage of her hunger and distraction with the food. She sat down on her bed, and leaned against the wall. She looked up quickly when the door opened again. A man she didn't know brought in a new girl, who looked to be 18 or so. She had brilliant emerald green eyes and dyed bright blue hair. The man walked out quickly, leaving the girl.

"Hi, I'm Anna. Nice to meet you." She said cheerfully. Amber nodded without saying anything. She wasn't sure what to make of the new patient, and fervently hoped that Crane hadn't booked her with some kind of horrible psychotic as punishment for her mural. "Who are you?" the girl asked her quickly.

"I'm Amber." She paused for a moment, wondering just how to word her next question for Anna. "Umm, this might sound a little rude, but why exactly are you in here?"

"Me? I'm a student; studying the conditions at asylums." She replied cheerfully. "So, why are you in here?"

"I was pushed in front of a taxi, and the hospital thought that I jumped."

"Oh." She looked around for a moment, and spotted the painted picture. "Nice. You paint it?"

"Yeah." Amber was relieved that the girl wasn't insane. At least not in the raving, 'I'm going to fucking kill you!' way. She did seem to be a bit hyper though.

"So how long you have been in here?"

"About two days now."

"They got any music? It must get really boring in here…" Anna was studying every corner of the room, and then climbed on the table to look out the window.

"You have no idea." Amber replied dryly. "Hungry?"

"Nah. I kinda need somewhere to sleep…" Anna said while looking at Amber's bed. "That looks uncomfortable. Is it?"

"Of course, but it's good for getting attention quickly." Anna frowned. Amber proceeded to get up and start slamming the bed against the wall loudly. Soon, the door swooshed open.

"What do you want? Must you insist on creating all kinds of noise?" Crane complained loudly. Amber narrowed her eyes.

"Anna needs somewhere to sleep. And why are you always around? It's creepy." Amber said shortly, and glanced over at Anna.

"Wow, he's hot." Anna said, sounding surprised. Amber looked over at her, horrified. "What? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." She replied to Amber's look. Amber rolled her eyes and looked back at Crane.

"Whatever. Umm, yeah, so you could bring in another bed, right?"

"Of course…" He said slowly, giving her a strange look, and then looking back at Anna.

"What's your problem?" Amber snapped at him. He looked at her oddly.

"Nothing. I am going to bring, Anna's, bed and then I'm going home. If you need something, go about in the normal fashion of pressing that little button on the door. The night personnel aren't used to your antics." He said quickly while motioning to a button on the wall, and walked out.

"Wonder why he was acting so strange…" Amber muttered.

"Probably the hair. Not a lot of people are used to seeing someone with blue, 'specially not his sort." Anna replied simply. There was a brisk knock at the door, and an orderly walked in, pushing a small cot. They slammed the door behind them. "Wonderful!" Anna squealed as she jumped on it. "Hey, are there any more paints?" She asked Amber cheerfully.

"Yeah, you want to paint some stuff on the walls?"

"No, I just want you to. And try and paint something real; not meaning that what you have now isn't sweet!"

Amber grabbed the paint and stuck her fingers in it and painted a dark tree. Anna sat in silence as she was watching her. Amber liked Anna; she reminded her of Lexi in her bright and cheerful way. Amber soon lost herself in the painting, and when she came out of her trance, Anna was asleep. Careful not to wake her, Amber crept into bed.