Author's Note: A huge thanks to my reviewers! It means so much and it gives me inspiration when it may be lacking at times. I hope you're enjoying the story and please…keep the reviews coming!

The Space Between

Chapter Five: The Safe House

Amy wandered around the two bedroom apartment that her brother had called home here in Gotham. The police were everywhere around it by the time night fell but as the night wore on, more and more left. Finally, when it just down to two, they waited for the one go on a coffee run and, as luck would have it, the second dozed off. They climbed up the fire escape, which was in much better condition than her hotel's, and entered through a window that Jon never locked. They had traded their orange jumpsuits for street clothes. Jon was almost invisible in his dark jeans, t-shirt and sweater. He moved noiselessly through the shadowy apartment, grabbing different things and throwing them into a duffle bag. She couldn't be certain but she thought he just threw a burlap sack into the bag. Strange.

Meanwhile, every place she stepped the floorboards creaked. She was surprised Jon hadn't told her sit on the couch and stay there. She didn't have any of her stuff there, of course, so she was forced to wear a pair of Jon's khaki's with one of his belts cinched as tight as it would go, and a similar type dark colored t-shirt and sweater. She had given up her hospital slippers for a pair of flip-flops she had dug out of the back of Jon's closet. She just hoped if she had to run, it wouldn't be that far.

She tried to find interesting things in the apartment to take her mind off of Jon's "explanation" as to what happened during his stay in Gotham. The conspiracy, mob connections and experimentation of asylum inmates just seemed so far removed from the brother that she had grown up with. He wouldn't even let her kill bugs when they were kids. However, she was a psychologist that dealt with troubled children and their childhood had been a gothic novel. The only problem now was she couldn't psycho-analyze him. He would know straight off what she was doing and that would make him angry and withdrawal more. She needed time to think, process everything that had happened and what was the best course of action to take. That and she felt as if her emotional nerves were rubbed raw.

"I've got everything," he whispered across the room.

"Where are we going?"

"I know a person."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Jon."

He sighed dramatically and she could hear him place the duffle bag on the floor before coming to her side of the room. "We need a safe house, sleep and time. I know a guy who owns an apartment building with furnished apartments. I got his brother out of some jail time and he owes me a favor. He has a fully furnished three bedroom apartment with a stocked kitchen." He held up a cell phone. "He's expecting us tonight."

"Where is the place?"

"Downtown Gotham."

Amy rubbed her forehead. "We're not even getting out of the city?"

She could make out his smile even in the dark. "Where better to hide than out in the open?"

Amy could think of a hundred better places to hide but she kept her peace. Maybe this "safe house" really would be safe for them and give her enough time to come up with a plan on getting her brother back to where he used to be.

The sun was just coming up when Jon and Amy stepped into their new "home." Mark hadn't let him down: the orange and pink light gleamed off of the hardwood floors, leather couch and chairs. There was even built in bookcases along one wall. The kitchen was large and just as Terry said, stocked. That should make Amy happy as long as her passion for cooking hadn't dissipated over the past year and half.

"Like I said, Dr. Crane," Mark said, handing him the keys to the place, "only the best for you."

Jon smiled tiredly. "Thank you, Mark. It is much appreciated."

Mark then turned to Amy, who had her arms crossed and was practically shoved in the corner of the entrance. "I wasn't sure what size clothes you wore but my wife gave me some to give to you. They're already hanging up in the closet along with some shoes."

"Thank you, Mark," Amy responded and quickly ducked her head, rubbing her eyes. Jon knew that was her trick of hiding the fact that she was crying.

"I'll just tell you a little about your neighbors and then I'll be gone," Mark was saying. "The guy next door is hardly ever home, spends a lot of time with his girlfriend. The apartment across from him is empty and the one across from you guys is being taken by some English girl who's only going to be here for a few weeks. She's some sort of musician. I'll have your new driver's license and credit cards later on this week if that's okay?"

Jon nodded. "That's fine."

Mark gave them a brief smile before heading out the door. Jon watched Amy very closely as soon as Mark shut the door. She was still propped up in the corner, hands covering her face. Jon dropped his bag on the high polished floor and went back to door, locking the handle, deadbolt and chain.

"Amy?" When he checked the corner where she was, he found it was empty but then he looked down and found her on the floor. She had crumpled into a fetal position, silent sobs causing her to shudder uncontrollably. He didn't really know what to do for her as he knelt down next to her. Her face was turned into the floor, her shoulder length black hair covering it from his view.

Out of the two of them, Amy was always the emotional one. Never afraid to cry or show empathy, he found himself comforting her just as often as she found herself defending him. That was how they worked: Amy the fighter, Jon the comforter. Though he hadn't been much of one in the last year and half. He had originally gone into psychiatry in an effort to ease people's pain. The Scarecrow, his alter-ego, had robbed him of all sympathy and willingness to comfort. Instead, he relished seeing their fear of him. Finally after decades of depending on his sister to protect him, he could now protect himself.

Jon shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister was having an emotional breakdown with everything that he had put her through and he was struggling, for the first time in his life, to comfort her. The Scarecrow may have taken away his want to bring people peace but he refused to allow the Fear Monger to rob him of his relationship with Amy. Reaching down, he pulled Amy up into a sitting position and she quickly grabbed a hold of his sweater and burying her face into the material. She was mumbling incoherent things into the fabric and he just let her cry. He tried to soothe her by rubbing circles on her back, it had worked before when boyfriends broke up with her or a favorite pet had died. Apparently it was doing the trick as her sobs turned to sniffles and finally a slow steady breathing. By that time, the repetitive motion had soothed Jon's nerves and he let his head fall back against the wall and fell asleep himself.

Lynnlee looked around the apartment that she had rented for the next few weeks. It was nice, much nicer than some of the other places she had to call temporary homes. The floorboards had been refinished recently, the furniture looked brand new and the kitchen was larger than any one she had seen in a two bedroom apartment. The ceilings were cathedral and that was her favorite aspect of the place. For some reason, nothing sounded better than a violin played in a room with high ceilings.

"Is it to your liking, Ms. Grayson?"

"Oh yes," she answered the landlord. "It's beyond my expectations."

He grinned proudly and brushed some blonde hair out of his eyes. He was very young to own and run his own apartment building but Mark seemed to do it with an ease that could only be from a raw talent for his job. She could understand that being twenty-five and in a punk-violin band.

"This is a fairly quiet floor," Mark was telling her. "There's no one next to you, the guy diagonal from you is hardly home. Now," he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "the couple across the hall are siblings and they really like to keep to themselves so don't be offended or alarmed if you don't see them that often."

Lynnlee nodded. "Fair enough. Do you think they will be bothered by my practice?"

Mark shook his head. "No, they're both cool. They'll probably like it." He chuckled, "They're the intellectual type. Well, I will let you get settled in, if there's anything you need or have a question about just give me a call."

"Wonderful," Lynnlee shook his hand and closed the door after him, locking it just to be safe. It was only mid-morning, the bright sunlight shining through the large windows and making the space just glow. She only had a suitcase and small duffle bag so it could wait to be unpacked. She pulled out her cell phone and sat down on the overstuffed couch that faced the sliding glass doors out onto her balcony. After admiring the view for a few minutes, she flipped open her phone and hit the speed dial. Punctual as ever, on the second ring he picked up.

"Good Morning."

Lynnlee couldn't suppress the huge smile that broke out on her face. "Hullo, Uncle Al."

"Lynnlee, are you in the city now?"

"Yes, I am. I just got into my new place and am settling in. I gave you the address, didn't I?"

There some rustling in the background. "I have it right here. Perhaps you wouldn't mind your old Uncle stopping in for lunch?"

"Of course not."

"Can I come too?"

Lynnlee rolled her eyes and laughed. Only Bruce…"Tell Mr. Wayne he is welcome too."

"Of course. Is one o'clock alright?"

"Perfect."

"We will see you then."

"I look forward to it, Uncle Al."

Lynnlee closed the phone stared out the window for a few more minutes, just admiring the sky scrapers and bustle of the city. There really was nothing like living in the heart of it all. She decided she could put her suitcase and bag in the closet for now and be able to get in a few hours practice before her Uncle and Bruce showed up for lunch. But as she went back to the front door to pick up her things, a strange sound stopped her. Not knowing what it could be, she went over to the front door and pressed her ear against it. There was no mistaking it this time: someone was screaming.