Author's Note: A huge thank you to my reviewers! You're the best! Please keep them coming! I love to hear people's thoughts about the characters and storyline and their guesses as to where things are going. It gives me inspiration and makes me look at the story at different angles too! So please, share your thoughts! Just don't be mean...I cry easily.

Chapter Nine: Sanctuary

"Did you have a nice chat, Master Bruce?"

Bruce tried to brush the raindrops from his coat and ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Yeah, I guess."

"Wonderful, perhaps now we can be only ten minutes late to your board meeting as opposed to being on time before this little detour."

"'Little detour?' Anytime the Crane's step foot out of their apartment, they're in my territory and I want to know what they're doing."

"Your territory or Batman's territory?"

"It's all the same, Alfred." Bruce watched the twins by the graveside and felt a stab of jealousy. He had Rachel and Alfred standing by him at his parent's grave but the connection Amy had with her brother surpassed anything he had felt at that time. Maybe that had been the defining point for the two Crane siblings…standing next to their parents grave and realizing all they had were each other. He had been eleven when his parents were killed and he couldn't imagine having to bear that burden at the age of six.

The car started to move forward and Bruce glanced out the window one more time to see if the Cranes were still there. Apparently a lot had happened in those few moments of introspection. Jonathan was face down on the ground with Amy leaning over him, wildly looking around for help. Before he even knew what he was doing, Bruce had told Alfred to stop and was back in the rain, running towards them.

He didn't really care what happened to Jonathan Crane. The man had done severe damage to the city and almost killed him and Rachel. But the look on Amy's face was one he had never seen before. He had seen steely determination, annoyance and fierce protectiveness but never outright panic. By the time he reached the fallen duo, Amy's wide eyes were filled with tears. He could have been a stranger and she still would have reached out to him.

"I don't know what's wrong…" she took a shaky breath. "I don't know what to do."

Amy kept repeating her mantra but Jonathan was saying one of his own, which strangely enough, sounded like "I'm sorry" over and over again. It almost seemed as if the good "fear" doctor was in a state of shock and as if to confirm those suspicions, he suddenly went completely limp, draped half way across Amy's bended legs. Bruce quickly felt for a pulse and found one, just very rapid. Amy's mouth opened and Bruce quickly slapped his hand over it. Keeping a low profile, even in a cemetery, was crucial right now. He couldn't afford to have her hysterical.

"He passed out. That's all."

Her eyes closed, more tears spilling down her cheeks and mixing with the rain. Bruce removed his hand slowly and her face tensed. Her forehead wrinkled, lips quivering and she shoved both hands into her wet hair, grabbing fistfuls of dark curls.

"I can't do this. I can't do this anymore."

"Amy," he placed a bracing hand on her shoulder and found her to be trembling, almost to the point of shivering. "Amy, listen"

"Don't know what I was thinking…"

Bruce gave her a good shake. "Amy!"

A dim sense of recognition sparked in her hazy blue eyes. "Bruce…Wayne."

"That's right. I'm going to take your brother-"

Her hands slipped out of her hair and grabbed a hold of Jonathan.

"Listen," he continued, "I'm going to put him into my car and take him back to my house, alright? You're coming too."

She shook her head. "No, cops…Arkham…"

"Don't worry about that. I won't call the police, I won't call Arkham. I just want to get you out of the rain." Was that why he had gotten out of the car the second time? Could it really be that simple?

"I don't know you." She reached down and brushed back some of her brother's hair from his face. "I don't him anymore."

"Then what do you have to lose?"

She fixed him with a steady gaze, her eyes that funny, transparent blue and suddenly he felt like he was staring at the photograph of a six year old Amy Crane. "Everything."

Bruce swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "Well, that's not going to happen." He looked up to see Alfred standing behind Amy and nodded to him. Alfred laid a hand on Amy's shoulder and her head turned slightly in that direction.

"Come along, then, Miss Crane." Alfred had to slip a hand under her arm and gently pull her up to her feet. Amy's eyes never left her brother as Bruce picked him up in a fireman's hold and started back to the town car.

Lynnlee watched her uncle pace back, forth, in and out of the kitchen at Wayne Manor. She had to admit, the re-design of the kitchen was flawless: functional and yet it still held that country-charm the original had. It was very comforting, especially with the sound of rain lashing at the windows and a cup of hot tea in her hands. The only thing destroying the moment was her uncle's tense movements.

"Uncle Al, what's the matter?"

He didn't even look up from the dishes he had decided to wash. "Nothing."

"Oh, come now. You've been all over this kitchen in the last few minutes. Something's bothering you." She absently rubbed her finger over the raised patter of her tea cup. "Is it the Crane's being here?"

"Of course it is."

Lynnlee almost dropped her tea cup. She hadn't expected his response to be so blunt. "Why?"

Her Uncle's jaw tightened. "Jonathan Crane developed a gas that contained a hallucinogen that causes the person infected to literally see what they fear. I had to watch Master Bruce and Miss Dawes be effected by it and both of them almost died. So forgive me for not feeling amiable towards Mr. Crane at the moment." He turned and gave her a hard look. "I would appreciate it if you weren't so friendly with him either."

Lynnlee turned to look out the window. She had wondered what it was the Crane twins were running from and now she had an answer. It wasn't a nice answer, one that she could explain away as misguided ideals. To knowingly develop a drug that would be used to literally frighten people to death was not something to which you could respond "well, his heart was in the right place."

"Lynnlee?"

"People can change." She tried to make it sound convincing but it rang hollow even to her ears. Her uncle sighed, dried his hands and sat down at the table with her.

"I know you like to help people, fix them up and send them on their way. You've always been like that and it is a most admirable quality. But do not try that with this man. You can't fix him. Professional psychiatrists have already tried."

"Amy seems to think that today might have been a breaking point for him. What if he can be saved?"

"Then you let someone else do it."

"What if no one else can?"

Her uncle sat back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. "Why are you so determined to be his saviour?"

That was the million dollar question at the moment. Why did she feel an inexplicable draw to the Cranes, Jonathan especially? "I don't know. I just feel..." she shrugged, "this is what I'm supposed to do because no one else can."

An odd look passed over her uncle's face, as if he had heard another explanation similar to the one she just gave. The undefined look faded and a weary resignation set in. "Just be careful. Do not let yourself get pulled into their game."

"Uncle Al, I don't think they're playing a game."

"Amy may not be, but I'm worried Jonathan is."

Lynnlee nodded and patted her uncle's hand. "I will."

For the first time in a year, Jonathan Crane woke up to complete silence. No raspy voice overriding his thoughts, whispering promises or just creating a solid buzz of noise in his brain. He could hear plainly the rain on glass windows, wind whipping through the trees, someone breathing steadily…his eyes flew open and looked towards the direction of the breathing.

Amy was curled up in a ornate looking chair, a heavy throw covering her and she was sound asleep. He looked around the room, trying to place where in the world they were now. The windows were high and arched and with the cloud cover it was difficult to say what time it was. The room was large and furnished in all antiques. Wherever they were, it was beautiful.

Getting out of bed, he found he was wearing a borrowed pair of track pants and an over-sized shirt. The mystery continued apparently. He thought about waking Amy up, seeing if she knew anything about their whereabouts but for the first time since he saw her in Gotham, she looked peaceful. He didn't even want to run the risk of having her wake up if he tried to move her from the chair to the bed he just vacated, so he decided to leave her where she was.

He found his glasses on a small table by the bed, wiped them off with the edge of his shirt and put them on his face. He half expected the Scarecrow to make an appearance then but his mind remained strangely clear. He started to allow hope to take hold that maybe the worst was behind him now. He went to the door, half expecting it to be locked but was surprised when it opened easily. He realized why when he looked down and saw Lynnlee's green eyes staring up at him. She must have been leaning on the door when he opened it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, afraid it might wake Amy up. He offered her his hand and pulled her back up to her feet.

"It's alright," she whispered back. "I should have been leaning on the wall anyway."

"So," Jonathan shut the door, "I take it you're my guard?"

She looked sheepish. "I wouldn't think of it that way. Just a concerned friend."

"That makes it sound much better." He felt practically giddy without the Scarecrow present, he almost didn't care where he was. Almost. "So, where-"

"Wayne Manor," Lynnlee answered and started walking down the hall. "This where my Uncle Alfred lives and works. He's Bruce Wayne's butler. I figure you're hungry, so let's head down to the kitchen."

Jonathan followed after her. "And does Mr. Wayne know who his house guests are?"

"I think so. But Amy told me that he told her he's not going to call the police. Personally," she leaned towards him and the scent of jasmine drifted up to him, "I think he's a little sweet on her."

"I wasn't even aware they knew each other."

She grinned. "Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?"

"Of course but I don't put much stock in it." He bit the inside of his cheek. He hadn't meant to sound so "psychiatrist" to her.

"Oh, I forgot," she waved her hands dismissively, "you're one of those 'follow your head instead of your heart' types."

"Well," Jonathan smiled, the first true one in a very long time, "people can change."