AN: So, I love the world right now. I just found out I have fans I didn't even know about, all talking about how much they like my stuff on Livejournals I've never posted on. I love you guys. You make me feel so wanted.

Thanks for the reviews!

There was a moment where everyone sat there, staring at each other without speaking. Or rather, Leland and Crane stared at each other, and Batman was left looking back and forth between the pair, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on.

Crane had no idea either, it seemed. He'd suspected that, from the doctor's expression, but it was verified when he finally responded. "How did you know I was here?" He sounded beyond irritated, and he'd all but stopped shaking.

"Jervis called me. He's worried about you." In contrast to his annoyance, she stayed calm as ever, despite sitting next to a vigilante outlaw and across from an agitated psychotic, while other criminals were presumably still waiting outside. Bruce couldn't decide whether to admire her dedication to helping her patients even in such ridiculous circumstances, or wonder if she wasn't a little insane herself.

Probably the latter. If Jonathan Crane and Harleen Quinzel were anything to go by, psychiatrists at Arkham weren't the most stable people. The pay there must be fantastic, to keep any employees.

Crane's annoyance lessened for a moment, replaced by confusion. "He spoke to you? Coherently enough to give an address?"

"Texted, actually."

"Oh." And the irritation was back. His moods seemed to change about five times a minute, even when medicated.

"So, can we talk?"

For a moment, Batman thought Crane was going to shout at her. Then he caught himself, with a glance out of the corner of his eye toward the Batman, and relaxed somewhat. Well, not relaxed, but pulled himself back under as much control as he had. "I would rather not."

Bruce felt mild, entirely inappropriate humor at the response. So his presence frightened the villains into being civil toward their psychiatrists. A sign that the fear as a weapon method really worked, but also slightly depressing just as it was slightly amusing. He supposed moral ambiguity was only to be expected in this line of work.

"Jonathan?"

He exhaled slowly, tensely. "Yes?"

"Would it be all right if I sat beside you?"

That's it, she was definitely insane. True, Bruce had also entered the room and started a conversation with Crane willingly, but at least he hadn't tried to get into a small, enclosed space with the man. That was just asking for either an attack or a violent outburst. Besides, he would never have fit under there, and increasing his proximity would definitely make matters worse. Leland stood a far better chance of having a positive effect by sitting beside him, but the odds of this being successful, to Bruce, were about as likely as Gotham reforming itself into a utopia to rival Metropolis.

Crane felt the same way, it seemed. "I don't know if you'll fit." His tone was barely controlled.

"I think I will, if you can. Is it all right if I try?"

He let out the loudest, longest sigh that Bruce had ever heard. Ironic, that when he was restrained from having a villainous temper tantrum his response was to react like a sullen child. "I suppose."

She made her way across the tile to the cabinet, pulling herself inside through the other door. She fit in easily, although she let her legs hang out. On the other side of the water pipes separating them, Crane started to shake a little again. "How have you been, Jonathan?"

He rolled his eyes, although he was able to keep from sighing this time. "I've had better days."

Leland glanced at his bandaged hand, his arms still hugging onto his legs. She was unable to keep a look of concern from flitting across her face when she saw the blood there, though it was masked almost immediately with the same serene happiness she'd be using since she came in. "Did you hurt your hand again?"

"Obviously." Upon speaking, he went rigid, eyes darting over to Batman. Expecting violent retaliation for his words, perhaps. "It's not bleeding anymore," he amended quickly, as if to make up for his sarcasm.

Bruce was surprised to find that it hurt a bit, knowing his enemies were so ready to believe he'd injure them for something that minor. So ready to believe he'd be as viscous and vindictive as them.

"Does it hurt?" The fingers of her own hand twitched, as though she wanted to reach out and touch him but had thought better of it.

"Not a lot."

She nodded. "Are you still hearing voices? Or seeing things?"

He blushed, lowering his head. Bruce imagined, briefly, what it would be like to have someone drag up your mental issues in front of your nemesis. Unpleasant, he guessed. Necessary, on Leland's part, but unpleasant. "No."

"Not at all?"

"Not hardly."

"Good." Her fingers made that twitching motion again. Bruce felt for her as well, though reaching out and touching a maniac was asking for it. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

He raised his head, turned to face her. "So what happened to everyone else? Are they on their way back to Arkham now?"

"No, they're still in the hall."

Crane blinked, tilted his head. "You came here without backup?"

"Yes. I didn't think it would help you to have orderlies breaking in and dragging you into a van." Batman noted the way her expression hardened slightly there. She was trying to hide it, and doing a good job, but doubtless she'd be hearing about this from the powers that be at Arkham. He was fairly sure that showing up to an apartment full of escaped inmates without backup or even notification was violating some procedure.

If Crane realized the risk she was taking, however, he didn't show it. "Are you insane?"

"No. I'm concerned for you."

And the incredulity faded to back to anger. "Like everyone else in the world."

"Don't be angry with your friends, Jonathan. They only want what's best for you."

"They don't know what that is."

"Can you understand why they're concerned?"

He tensed again. "Of course I understand why they're upset. I'm not an idiot, I've got a PhD too. I hired you, for the love of God. Yes, I know why they're concerned. Because I'm starved and I've been hallucinating. I understand that. And in anyone else's case, they'd probably be right. But I'm fine and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I don't need anybody's help." The last sentence was rushed, as though he didn't quite believe it himself and wanted to get it out before he could start doubting things. This was one of the moments where Bruce would have expected Crane to glance up at him again, but he seemed to have forgotten he was there.

Leland reached out, moving her hand around the pipes and onto Crane's shoulder. Batman stiffened, ready to intervene should the need arise, but other than going rigid as the wood around them, Crane didn't react. "I wasn't trying to insult you. I only meant that you've been out of it for a while."

"Well, I'm not anymore." He shook his head slightly as he spoke, like a subconscious admission that he wasn't sure on that point.

"All right. I understand that. I'm sorry if I upset you." She stroked his shoulder and although he stayed tense, he didn't pull away. Not that there was much room to pull away to. "Jonathan, is this all right with you? The contact, I mean. You look uncomfortable."

"It's not…" He closed his eyes, shook his head. "Not entirely you. There's not a lot of room down here."

"Ah." Still, she pulled her hand back. "Do you want to come out? We could talk on the floor, if you want."

"No." When answering her contact question, there'd been a hint of uncertainty in his voice. That was gone now, the word coming out like steel. "I like it here."

"Okay."

"You can get out, if you want."

"No, I like this, too."

Crane sighed again, pushing his glasses back into place. "I'm not going to agree to go back to Arkham, you know."

Leland only shrugged. "Maybe you won't. But Jonathan, if your friends broke out once to come find you, what's to stop them from hunting you down even if you leave the city?"

"I can throw them off my trail."

She raised an eyebrow. "Even Edward Nigma?"

He glared, then glanced back to Batman and averted his eyes. "I didn't say it would be easy. But I'm going to do it."

"Jonathan…" she paused, took a moment to collect her thoughts and went on. "If your friends want you to come back and will stop and nothing to make sure that you do, wouldn't it be easier to prove to them that you don't need to be there?"

Crane stared. Bruce did the same. What was she suggesting?

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"You don't believe that you need to be in Arkham. So why not go back and show your friends and the doctors that they're wrong? If you can convince them that you're well enough to take care of yourself and not hurt other people, they'll appeal your sentence. And I'm sure Edward and Pamela and the others would be fine with your leaving, in that case."

He shook his head, still staring. "Because the doctors have ever believed me on that point before?"

"You've never shown us that you're all right, Jonathan. You've only said so and then ignored or frightened everyone away. What harm could it do you to try really responding, for once? If you're right and there's no reason for you to be there, we'll see that. If you're not, then at least talking to us will let us help you."

"I don't need help." He said it almost before she'd finished speaking.

"All right. If that's what you believe, why not prove it?"

"Joan, I'm not an idiot. I know exactly what you're trying to do. And even if I was stupid enough to fall for that, which I'm not, there remains the matter of the Joker." His eyes darted to the door and a shudder ran down his body.

"We'll find a way to deal with that, Jonathan. I promise." Despite that trying to contain the Joker was an exercise in futility and everyone knew it, her voice still sounded firm. "You don't have to be afraid of him. He's not going to hurt you anymore."

"Because I'm not going to give him the chance."

"Will you be happy, spending your whole life running from him?" She was trying her hardest to keep that level tone, but there was a hint of sadness there that she couldn't fully block. Bruce wondered what it would be like, to end up treating the man who'd formerly employed you.

"Happy? More than likely not. But alive? Yes."

"And what kind of life would that be?"

"Better than none at all." He shifted, crossed his arms, and glared at her when she placed her hand on his shoulder again.

"I would prefer it that your life be happy."

"Well, I would prefer that too, but that's not going to make it happen."

"Jonathan, please. You have to try."

"No, I really do—"

The doorknob turned and they all looked towards the door, which had opened slightly. For a moment the hall outside looked empty, and then the Joker stuck his head through, obviously no longer bound. "Hi. Can I borrow Jonny for a minute?"

AN: Another shorter chapter. Sorry. Then next will be longer.