What happened to us?

Author's comments: Thank you so much for everyone who has faved and followed! A special thank you to KnoKnayme, I hope this chapter keeps your intrigue! Hench-Girl95, you're very welcome :) I love your story! I demand more updates! :D I haven't seen the film, but I really want to! (I've only read the book). C0nt0rt3dM1nd, hopefully everything will start to come together soon :) faeriemaiden96, your comment made me laugh! Thank you! And TykiPyon, thank you so much for your comment, it means so much and your reaction to Harley's hammer made me giggle!

I'm so sorry that there has been a gap for this update, I have another two chapters already written (on paper) I just have to tighten them and then type them up (with always takes a while) I have been messing around with this chapter for ages, it just doesn't quite sit right with me, but I thought I'd better post it or I never would.

Six months previously

"I know it sounds crazy." Claire looked at him, imploring him to believe her. commissioner Gordon watched her carefully, her eyes were wide with dark circles ringing them, her hair messy and spilling out of a clip.

"So your saying that you believe Simon Crinton was murdered?"

"Yes." She shifted in her chair, she felt like a naughty school child sent to the head masters office.

"And that Crane had something to do with it?"

"Yes."

Gordon sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Claire Lamont had been interning at the police station for almost four months, she was friendly, worked hard and was mostly well liked.

Until know she had not been prone to the fit of diluted panic she seemed to be experiencing. She had come into the department at ten in the morning, looking dishevelled and asking to see him. She had waited forty five minutes as he finished his meeting before they went into his office. It was there that Claire explained that she had got the Emel grant. Gordon, a little confused as to why she had come in to tell him, congratulated her at first. But then she went on to explain about Simon Crinton, a car crash victim that had happened early in the morning that Gordon had been aware about before Claire had come in.

She had pulled her dictaphone out of her bag to let Gordon hear Crane for himself.

"Hmm, perhaps something will come crashing along for you soon."

"Crane doesn't talk like that, it's so... obvious. So un-poetic," Claire was too busy rushing her words to notice Gordon raise his eyebrows at her. "He said this so there would be no doubt. He's sending a message."

"But why would Crane want him dead?"Claire faltered, running a hand through her messy hair.

"I don't know, for kicks? To screw with me? I know he's locked up but..." she rubbed her forehead desperately. "Last week there was a note on my desk that said 'fear' and-"

"Do you still have it?"

"No," Claire sighed. "I threw it away." There was a pause before she looked at Gordon, pleading. "Please Commissioner; just run a tox-screen on Simon Crinton as part of the autopsy. If nothing comes of it, then there's no harm done." Gordon sighed. "I know it sounds crazy."

"So you're saying that you believe Simon Crinton was murdered?"

"Yes."

"And that Crane had something to do with it?"

"Yes."

Gordon sighed again, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Okay."

"What?" Claire frowned and leaned forward in her seat.

Gordon put his glasses on. "Okay, what the hell?" Claire gapped at him, unsure how to react. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Thank you." She breathed, relief calming her heart beat. "Thank you so much."

Gordon waved his hand dismissively. "Well," he looked at his watch. "You have to be at Arkham in forty four minutes."

"Oh," Claire had completely forgotten. "Right, yes." She stood up quickly, grabbing her bag.

"McKenzie and I will give you a lift."

"No, its fine, I can get the bus."

"I insist. Besides we've got our own appointment with Quinzel." Gordon stood, by now he knew 'I can get the bus' meant 'I'm going to walk.' The exited the office. "McKenzie," the afore mentioned police office looked up and scowled.

"Quinzel?"

"Got it in one." McKenzie's scowl deepened.

The car journey was an uneventful one, Gordon and McKenzie talked amongst themselves as Claire looked out the window. She felt like the butterflies in her stomach had evolved into rapid dogs.

Claire pulled out her I.D. as they walked into the reception.

"Hey Claire," a thin woman smiled at her from behind the glass of the reception booth.

"Hi." She returned the expression, feeling guilty that, for the life of her, she couldn't remember the receptionist name.

"Warren and Fleming are here to take you to your meeting, Commissioner Gordon, Foster and Walter are here to take you to Doctor Quinzel's office, she's expecting you."

"Thanks." Commissioner Gordon said before turning to Claire. "Lamont?"

"Yes?"

"Don't confront Crane." Claire nodded.

"I won't." She lied. Gordon nodded at her before turning and walking away.

Claire didn't remember the walk to the interview room, she didn't even remember opening the door, but she heard it when it locked behind her.

"Good morning Miss Lamont."

"Good afternoon Doctor Crane." She seemed to move on autopilot as she sat on her chair.

Whose hedge has she been dragged through?

She ran a hand through her hair before looking at him.

And why weren't we doing the dragging?

Crane watched her carefully, his blue eyes like shards of glass cutting into her skin.

She didn't even get out that stupid dictaphone of hers. We reallymust've broken her brain this time.

Scarecrow laughed.

"How are you feeling today?"

"I found out that I got the Emel grant."

"Oh?" Jonathan smirked. "I thought it had gone to someone else."

"So did I," Claire watched Crane until she could bare his constant unblinking stare no longer. "But he died."

"How sad." He adjusted his glasses. "But fortunate for you." The room began to swim.

"Did you have anything to do with it?" She spoke softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you have anything to do with it?" She said her voice still quiet.

I like the new tough girl routine.

Crane watched her for a moment, studying her face.

"First of all, Miss Lamont," he adjusted his glasses again, making sure the frames were as perfectly a lined as they could be. "I commend how direct you're trying to be and the attempt to hide how frightened you are, wide-eyed-deer disposition you have is very endearing, really. But," he leaned forward in his seat. "How could I have anything to do with a car crashin here?"

Claire swallowed. "I never said he was in a car crash..."

"Oh," Crane raised his eyebrows, still smiling. "Didn't you?" She felt sick before briefly thinking about the dictaphone in her bag. For a moment she toyed with the idea of somehow turning it on and tricking a confession out of him, but she quickly dismissed it. She knew Crane was smarter than that and definitely smarter than she was. Talking to him was like a game of chess, and she had just lost her queen.

"So how are you Doctor Crane?" He smiled as she accepted her failure.

The session ran ten minutes longer than usual and Claire left the room feeling emotional and physically drained.

"Hi Claire!" Brent beamed at her and she smiled weakly, now really wasn't the time.

"Hello Brent." She began to walk towards the exit, two guards following her.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" He gently touched her arm, bringing her to a stop. He seemed nervous.

Claire looked at her watch, she had eight minutes. "Sure."

"You see-" he looked up at the two guards standing directly behind her. "Could you guys give use a minute?"

They nodded and walked back to the end of the corridor out of ear shot.

"What's up?" She tried to sound normal but all she could think about was her conversation with Doctor Crane.

Claire swallowed. "I never said he was in a car crash..."

"Oh," Crane raised his eyebrows, still smiling. "Didn't you?"

"Erm, it's just... it's just..." Brent sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You work in the police department right?"

"Yeah, well I just intern there."

"I handed my application in for the intern position in the forensics department, I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me?" He said, disappointed.

"Sure, no problem." She smiled weakly and checked her watch, five minutes.

"Thanks." He turned to go before spinning back around again. "Are you busy Friday?" He paused. "'Cause I was wondering if you'd like to see a film or?.."

She smiled politely while he fidgeted nervously. She swallowed. What the hell."That sounds nice." Four minutes.

He broke into a massive smiled. "Great, that's really great, um," he glanced at his watch. "You're in tomorrow right?"

"Yes."

"We'll sort it out then, 'cause you've got to make your slot." He motioned to the guards to come back. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye." She gave him a little wave and then hurried towards the exit. She half ran, half skipped with the two guards beside her. They reached the exit door with two minutes to spare.

There was a guard she didn't know in the small office reception. What's with all the new guards?

"Hi," she breathed. "Claire Lamont." She held up her I.D.

"Your late." He didn't even bother to look up.

"I've got two minutes."

"Not by my watch." He tapped his wrist.

"Come on Johnson," the guard behind her said. Johnson looked up, annoyed.

"I can't help you, you know the rules. Everyone gets a twenty minute slot to leave. If they go over they need either the warden, Doctor Quinzel or the head guard on shift to confirm and sign here." He held up a form and pen. "Before they can get out of the building. No exceptions."

The guard behind her sighed. "Where are they?"

Johnson smiled, there was something about the expression that distressed Claire. "Doctor Quinzel isn't in today, the warden is in his office and Tarrant is the head guard this shift and he's," Johnson scanned his computer screen. "In the fifth floor lunch room."

"We'll go to Tarrant." The guard turned to Claire, "he's closer." He sighed again and they set off. "Sorry about this."

"It's okay, it's my fault."

"Johnson has a stick up his ass."

"Brent shouldn't have kept her talking." The other guard said.

"Brent's love struck." Claire blushed deeply.

They walked in relative silence before taking the lift to the fifth floor and walking down another corridor. The journey was lengthened by the constant entering of pass codes and opening of doors.

They paused outside of the lunch room.

"Fifth floor is minimum security, so don't worry, there are plenty of guards in there, plus us." He gave Claire a smile, which she returned. She took off her I.D. from around her neck and shoved it in her bag all the same.

The room was full of people but quieter than she expected, with white washed walls that matched the rest of the asylum's decor.

The spotted Tarrant standing with Daniels on the far side of the room and walked over.

"Tarrant."

"Green, what are you doing here?" He frowned.

"Johnson went all high and mighty and enforced the twenty minutes ruled within the twenty minutes."

Tarrant's scowl deepened. "For God's sake." He took out his radio. "A11-Tarrant."

The radio crackled. "M31-Johnson."

"Why aren't you letting people out in their appointed time slots?"

Claire didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation and smiled at Daniels. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"Ditto." He grinned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." She glanced at the thin white scar on his temple, goosebumps running over her skin.

"Why so late? We've waited and waited and waited." "Please... don't-"

"You're on a main shift again."

"Yeah, I thought it was time." She nodded.

"I'm glad." They shared a small smile.

"So, how has-" There was a loud commotion from across the room. Two patients stood and grabbed hold of each other. One pulled the other across the table and began punching him viscously.

There was the smallest pause, an intake of breath, before the other patients began to yell, most forming a circle around the fighting pair, some trying to get involved instead.

"What the hell?" Daniels rushed over, the other guards doing the same. Tarrant talked rapidly into his radio. Claire watched, unsure what to do, as the guards tried to calm the situation.

"Excuse me, are you Claire Lamont?"

She turned to face the speaker. "Yes?" She answered automatically.

A small dark haired man stood in front of her. He smiled nervously, his hands behind his back. His clothing showed him to be a patient.

"I'm sorry." He said, giving a little shrug. Claire frowned.

"Wha-"

Without warning he lunged at her, not giving her a moment to react, she didn't see the needle until it was stuck in her arm, directly in her elbow crease the metal piecing through the thin material of her blouse.

Shock blotted out the pain of the inch long metal needle sticking into her. It looks like someone else's arm...

She stared, moving to slow to stop him as he pressed down on the plunger, emptying the clear liquid into her veins. Her arm tingled cold around the entry wound for a second, the moment seeming to last forever.

Claire moved without thinking and punched the man in the nose with all her strength. There was a small click of cartilage as her fist connected.

The assailant fell to the floor groaning and holding his nose. However the action caused the needle to drag down her arm, cutting in, blood welling around the wound, before it feel out and clattered onto the hard floor.

Claire hissed, feeling that pain and gripped the wound with her left hand, applying pressure.

"Claire!" She turned to see Daniels running over, the fight having been defused. "Are you okay?" He asked before seeing scarlet seeping through her fingers, the bloodied needled on the floor.