Forgetting Names and Faces
I apologise for the lack of updates and how long this has taken me to put up.
Claire woke to the sound of her own shout. She frowned, completely disconcerted for a moment, before she remembered where she was.
It took her a minute to work out that she must have called out in her sleep, the dream already nothing more than a half faded memory. But it had been bad.
She shivered. Very bad.
That was when the pain in her nose started up. It throbbed, thumping with her heartbeat. She touched it gingerly, it felt swollen and stiff.
She sighed and carefully got out of the cot and walked to the sink. She tried not to look at her puffy face in the small, grimy mirror.
Claire carefully pulled out the toilet tissue she had shoved up her nose the night before to stop the bleeding. She gave a little gasp as the dried blood gave way and threw the tissue down the toilet. She swallowed, gripping the sides of the basin as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Commissioner Gordon reread the file on Claire Lamont's kidnapping for what must have been the fortieth time. Things just did not add up. How Crane had managed to get out, to almost control the asylum from the inside was unsettling to say the least. Plus at least a dozen of the guards had, in fact, been Crane's men.
He also had two injured detectives on his hands; Mackenzie was still walking around the department with a black eye whilst Lawson had only just been released from Gotham General with a skull fracture and, what she insisted was a minor concussion. The details of what had happened four days ago were hazy at best.
Even though Crane was the only patient at Arkham to escape, most of the patient's rooms had been opened causing chaos in the asylum that had only just been calmed.
Doctor Quinzel had been surprisingly helpful; the woman's usual coldness had all but disappeared in her resent dealings with the police.
A knock at his office door brought Gordon out of his thoughts.
"Come in."
Lawson poked her head around the door. The great ugly gash on her forehead was still angry and red as it trailed upwards and into her hairline. The black butterfly stitches stood out noticeably against her pale skin, her fiery hair was pulled into a messy bun.
"I thought I told you to take the day off." Gordon said. Lawson smiled and shrugged, dismissing the comment.
"We got a lead on Lamont, a trace on the car." Gordon nodded and started to pull on his coat. "Grace had agreed to read the press release too."
"Good." He tried not to think about Grace's face when she found out about her sister's kidnapping, the image haunted him.
Claire had decided to waste time drinking water and trying to see if she could use her chain as a lasso and throw it around the taps on the sink. Her left shoulder ached, but she ignored it.
She had been so distracted that she didn't hear Crane enter the room. He coughed gently behind her.
Claire spun around, her muscles tensing, fear in her eyes.
A painful looking line of red marks still decorated his neck, dark purple bruises standing out like jewels. He was wearing a dark blue suit with no tie; Claire assumed he had taken it off just in case she tried to attack him again. He looked almost apologetic. Almost.
"Sorry about," she stammered, motioning with her hand. "Strangling you."
She better be fucking sorry.
Jonathan shook his head dismissively. She looked a mess, dried blood strained her top, her nose was a deep red and swollen, her eyes puffy. Bruises darkened her left wrist was well as her neck, a ring of red marks circled it, a kin to his own.
You certainly did a job on her.
Bitch deserved it.
"I came to set your nose." He held up what Claire assumed was a small first aid kit. "I suggest you sit down."
Claire nodded and sat on the edge of the cot, her hands in her lap.
Crane sat carefully next to her, observing every movement. He slowly placed his thumbs on either side of her nose, his fingers, cool and comforting, rested on her cheeks.
He inspected her nose; it seemed like a clean break. "This is going to hurt." He said. Claire closed her eyes and braced herself. He moved quickly, snapping her nose back into place.
She let out a small cry, clenching her hands into fists.
"Are you alright?" Claire nodded, blinking heavily; she tried not to pass out as waves of dizziness swept over her.
Crane searched through the first aid kit. "I'm going to give you an anti-inflammatory. It should help." He quickly stuck a thick plaster over her nose to hold it in place. "Now I can give you an anti-inflammatory and a pain killer or an anti-inflammatory, pain killer and sedative?"
"The later please." Crane raised his eyebrows.
Didn't expect the little Miss to go for the knock out drug did you Johnny?
He took a small bottle out of the box and began to fill the needle. "How is your wrist?"
It took a moment for Claire to work out what he meant. "Oh, it's fine."
"Can you move it?"
She lifted her hand and rotated it slowly, wincing slightly.
Crane put down the needle and took her arm carefully in his hands. How thin her wrists were surprised him, they looked like they were made out of porcelain, so delicate.
So easy to break.
"I think it's just sprained. I can bandage it if you like?"
"It's fine." She gave him a small nervous smile. "Thank you." She had no idea why she trusted him, maybe I'm going insane.
"It's nothing." He gently let go of her wrist and cleaned a small patch of her upper arm with an alcohol swab before checking the needle for bubbles and injecting her.
The cold sensation in her arm quickly disappeared.
"I suggest you lie down, the drug works fast." He said, standing. Claire complied and lay down on the cot, already feeling drowsy.
"Good night Miss Lamont."
"Good night Doctor Crane." He walked to the door, looking back at her once.
That should make her start trusting us again.
Well done Johnny. He smiled.
The last thing Claire saw was Jonathan open and closed the door. The realisation that it wasn't locked was the last thing to cross her mind before she gave in to unconsciousness's cool embrace.