"I won't make a run for it," Isabelle promised Jonathan as she sat in the corner of the living room and watched him toying with his briefcase, pouring liquids into bottles, his eyes narrowed in concentration as she messed with the ropes which were binding her wrists. She felt as if circulation was being cut off from them.

"No," Jonathan said, becoming annoyed with her persistency as he tried to perfect his antidote once again. The demand for it was quite overwhelming. It could be used as a weapon and that was what he planned to do. Every major dealer of drugs was running wild with the Batman on his way to domination and the arrival of Harvey Dent. Jonathan could easily see that being a problem. He'd kept Isabelle for two weeks, and, she hadn't been much trouble.

Appeals had been made for her safe return. News cameras had followed her mother and Daniel around, asking imposing questions. Even Bruce Wayne had been followed. He was always followed, but, questions about Isabelle had been thrown at him. He'd denied any kind of affair, insisting nothing had gone on between them and Jonathan had snorted as he watched it on the small TV his thugs had brought him.

"Jonathan," she wailed like a little child and he looked at her before standing up from his spot, marching across the room and untying them for her. She managed to nod at him in thanks as he went back to his work.

"We'll be going out tonight," Jonathan said curtly to her. "I have a meeting with a client. He doesn't seem impressed by the drug which I am selling him."

"Why do I have to come?" she asked him and this caused a smirk to form on his face. He pushed his overly long hair from his face before looking at Isabelle. Always the believer in hope, she was.

"Because," Jonathan drawled, "I don't trust you enough to let you stay here by yourself. It's horrible that, isn't it?" he checked. "When you can't trust your own wife then you know you need counselling."

"You're a psychiatrist," she snapped at him. "Surely you can provide the counselling."

Jonathan reached into his pocket, pulling his glasses out and placing them onto his eyes before closing his briefcase and Isabelle stood up, her hands running along her wrists as she winced slightly at the contact.

"I know everything already, Isabelle," he muttered to her. "I know how you feel."

"I don't know how you feel," Isabelle snapped back at him and he took in her appearance. She didn't look much like the woman he had married at that moment in time. Her hair was growing at an alarming rate, meaning she had to have it pulled back into a ponytail and even then it came to her waist. Her clothes weren't at their best. Jonathan had made some of his thugs go and find her some, but, they were ill fitting. The jeans she wore were slightly too big along with the vest top.

Jonathan had managed just fine, yes, his hair was as uncontrollable as his wife's, but, he managed to don a simple suit and he looked healthier than she did. She was losing weight at rapid speed.

"I feel just fine," he said, giving her a smug grin and she rolled her eyes, walking in the empty living room and stopping at the fireplace, looking into the simple mirror which hung above it as Jonathan studied her every movement. "This is how it was meant to be, Isabelle."

"I disagree," she responded, turning back to look at him.

"Is this because I murdered your father?" Jonathan asked her, his voice bored as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "It's becoming dull, Isabelle."

"Wow," Isabelle replied, sarcasm evident in her voice as she looked back at him. "You honestly think I'll get over that?"

"I think you love me enough to get over that."

"Then you're not as clever as you seem," she informed Jonathan.

"You hated your father, anyway," he waved it off and Isabelle's cheek turned red as she watched him move into the kitchen, unable to believe his nonchalance attitude was directed towards her. "You do need to eat."

She followed him through the archway into the modern kitchen as he peered into the fridge, seeing what was available before Isabelle folded her arms and continued to glare at him.

"I may have hated him," she hissed, "but I didn't want him to die. I loved him, too."

"He would have ruined your life. He wasn't helping you, Isabelle," Jonathan assured her as he pulled out two eggs and began looking for some utensils. Surely, his thugs had managed to find a frying pan or something.

"There's no point in arguing with you," Isabelle muttered, flapping her hands by her side as Jonathan smirked.

"Glad you've realised that," he whispered. "I think you could get used to this, Isabelle."

"What?" she wondered, slightly confused as he cracked an egg into a bowl and began to beat it, motioning around the kitchen as he did so.

"You won't have to work again...you can just stay here...be with me...that's what you always wanted, isn't it?" he checked with her and her mouth fell open in complete disbelief. He was deluded.

"It was," she admitted, "before I found you had an alter ego."

"Details," Jonathan simply shrugged off.

"It's a bit deeper than that," Isabelle promised him. "Unlike you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jonathan wondered from her and she rolled her eyes, leaning against the worktop as she pulled her vest top up and shook her head.

"Is that all there is to you?" she wondered from him. "You just want to use your toxin for evil? Even before this...you never...you never told me anything about you...you're a closed book, Jonathan."

"It is how I am," he simply shrugged, placing the pan onto the hob as he stirred up the omelette.

"I'd thought that one day, not in the near future, but not far off, we'd have kids," Isabelle shrugged awkwardly, looking at the blind which blocked out the setting sun into the kitchen, her eyes wide whilst Jonathan looked into the pan.

"We still might," he said and she laughed in disbelief and shook her head.

"It's too late," she reminded him. "Everything's changed, Jonathan."

"Not the way we feel about each other," he reminded her.

"And what is that?" she pushed him.

"You love me, Isabelle," he reminded her.

"And I hate you, too," she informed him and he smiled gently as she watched him. That smile. She was sure he could easily break hearts with it, but, unluckily, it was her heart which was being broken. "And you never even loved me."

"Says who?"

"You, apparently," Isabelle mused. "You never said it to me."

"And that's what you want, isn't it?" Jonathan checked with her, fed up of making the omelette when they were in a discussion like this. He turned the heat off, looking over at her as he folded his arms and read her. "You want me to say it, don't you? Even after all I've done, you still crave it."

"I want to know that I didn't marry a man who didn't love me," she informed him before she felt his hands on her waist, drawing her body against his as he looked down at her, his eyes glittering with delight.

"You're so naive," he whispered, stroking her cheek with the tip of his thumb. "You're so unassuming...and loyal...it's a trait which many will take advantage of."

"You already did," Isabelle whispered before she felt his mouth descend onto hers. His body forced her against the worktop surface, crushing her between it and him as his hands ran up and down her sides and she found her fingers tangled in his hair. She knew it was wrong. She knew every bone in her body told her that this defied logic, but, she needed him. And he needed her.

...

"I need you to behave," Jonathan warned Isabelle as the van pulled to a halt and she rolled her eyes as he kissed her cheek, leaving her sat in the back of the van as he looked around. The noise of dogs was heard around the car park as Jonathan heard Chechen call him a freak for his drugs. He chuckled once, moving out from the van in grace as he looked at the leader of the opposite gang. His thugs stood close to him as the man who had been induced by the drug was pushed forward, quivering and shaking as he went.

"My drugs work fine," Jonathan shouted out as Isabelle moved to rest on her knees, peering out from the van. She saw Jonathan stood there, wearing the mask which had horrified her every night she slept. She felt her stomach clench just looking at him.

"Your drugs," Chechen snapped back, "are completely useless."

"If you don't want my business then fine," Jonathan snapped; his voice cold and dominating. "You can go somewhere else. I don't know where, mind you, seeing as how there is no one left."

"And you think I'll let you get away with allowing this monstrosity?" the leader of the gang snapped at Jonathan as he rolled his eyes from under his mask. "We have what it takes to destroy you, Dr Crane."

"I would love to see you try," Jonathan responded before a loud noise echoed around the car park and he looked around, noting a tall black figure as Chechen looked slightly giddy and Jonathan sighed. He knew it wasn't him.

"Batman!" Chechen shouted out.

"That's not him!" Jonathan yelled as the Bat began to fire with a gun. He rushed forward as his thugs took over, shooting back at the imposter before another gunshot was heard. Brilliant, that was all they needed, imposter Batmen. He felt one move close to him and he quickly turned, using his toxin from the end of his sleeve as the man fell back.

He chuckled to himself, wondering how easy it really was before a smashing sound was heard. Isabelle remained tucked to the back of the van, her breathing deep as she wondered what the hell was happening.

"That's him," Jonathan responded and pushed forward one of his men to make a start on his attack. The noise of gunshots moved through the vast space before Jonathan jumped into the back of the van, shutting the door and removing the mask as he rushed forward.

"We've got to go, sweetie," he laughed, climbing into the driver's seat, dragging Isabelle through the small gap in between the seats and making her sit down in the passenger one.

Jonathan started the car up, quickly driving it down the parking lot as Isabelle fell forwards, remembering that seatbelts were invented for a reason, but, they weren't that good when you were in a rush.

"What the hell is happening?" Isabelle snapped at Jonathan and he looked at her for a second through his mask. She always went pale when he wore it.

"The Batman decided to get in the way," Jonathan complained, looking out the window and seeing no sign of him. "No matter, we're safe. We'll be out of here in a matter of moments."

Isabelle took her turn to quickly look around the windows of the van, her ears pricking up for any sign of sudden movement before she felt the van stop suddenly, a crashing noise heard as Jonathan slumped against the wheel and grumbled under his breath.

"Going somewhere, Doc?" the gravelly voice snapped as he flung the door to the van open and Jonathan's mask was snatched from him. The Batman's eyes found Isabelle's as he nodded at her briefly and she tried to calm her breathing.

"Not now, obviously," Jonathan responded, his voice fraught as Batman grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away. Isabelle moved from the white van, stumbling slightly as she rushed back up the parking lot, wondering what was happening. Her feet went as fast as she could let them before she came back onto the higher level, looking on as Batman tied up her husband along with some men dressed in Bat suits and Jonathan's thugs.

"Why can't we help?" an imposter yelled.

"I don't need help."

"Not my diagnosis!" Jonathan called out, grinning madly as he did so.

"Come," the Batman demanded from Isabelle and Jonathan looked to the side where she stood. Her eyes were fixed on him as the Batman stood by the Tumbler, his hand held out in expectancy as Jonathan's smug look dropped from his face. What was she doing? He shook his head at her, trying to move from the restraints.

What had happened in the kitchen earlier...the way he'd held her...touched her...did it mean nothing? Was she going to leave him?

"Isabelle," Jonathan growled lowly at her. "Let me go. Do you know what they'll do to me in Arkham?" he snapped at her and she winced, feeling hot tears move into her eyes as Batman waited patiently, his jaw set as he watched her with interest.

"Isabelle...I'm your husband..." he reminded her as she moved over to him. The grin spread back onto his face as she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hand moving to his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But you need help."

She kissed him swiftly, feeling the coldness of his cheek and the arch of the cheekbone as Jonathan struggled against the restraints, watching as his wife stood up.

"Isabelle!" he yelled her name and she turned her back to him, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of the jacket which Jonathan had leant her as she took Batman's hand. "Isabelle! Don't do this to me! Isabelle! Please! Please...don't do this...help me...Isabelle..."

Batman pushed Isabelle upwards, helping her into the Tumbler before he looked back at Jonathan and he could have sworn he saw a tear falling down his hard cheek.

...

Two weeks later

"Name," the woman behind the desk demanded from Isabelle as she stood in the clinical hallway, her eyes scanning around it as she pulled her jacket tighter around her, feeling cold at the sudden thought of what she was going to do.

"Isabelle..." she said lowly. "Dubois."

She winced as she said her last name. The woman began typing it into her computer as she thought about what she had gone through to have her name changed back. It seemed knowing someone like Bruce Wayne helped to open doors for you. She'd changed her name back, but, Jonathan hadn't signed the papers which she needed him to sign. He refused to do so and even told his lawyer as much.

"Here you go. If you want to follow Geoff then he will show you to the room," she informed Isabelle, handing her the pass which she clipped into the pocket of her sheer white blouse before following the man through the hallways of the Asylum. It was eerily quiet and she wondered how Jonathan could have worked here before. He opened the door to a room, sliding the lock off and the bolt as he allowed her to enter it, motioning to a seat at a table which she took slowly, looking around the tiled room.

"I'll be back in a moment," he informed her, walking out of the door and closing it. Isabelle sat in silence, feeling her breathing heating up as she thought about the man on the other side of the door. She waited patiently, the sudden noise of locks being opened on the second door made her jump until it was pushed open. And there he was.

Isabelle remained seated, looking at his clean shaven face without his glasses. She didn't dare look at what he was wearing, the grey jumpsuit made her realise how ill he was.

He took a seat opposite her as the man stood in the corner, his hands folded as he looked straight ahead, not bothering to notice what the pair of them were talking about.

Jonathan's eyes found Isabelle's and he looked at her, his face like thunder and his eyes narrowed in her direction.

"If you've come here to plead with me to sign the papers then you've had a wasted trip," he hissed at her and she took a moment to compose herself after hearing him speak.

"I don't need you to sign," she assured him. "It would speed up the process, but, my lawyer tells me that it will be quick anyway...what with your mental health issues..."

Jonathan looked away from her as she said that, feeling a crick in his neck as he ran his hand down his skin.

"So, why are you here?" he asked her.

"I came to see you," she whispered. "I had to see you before I left."

"You could have seen me every day if you freed me from that parking lot," he reminded her and she shook her head, her blonde curls dancing around her face as she did so.

"I couldn't," she whispered. "It wouldn't have been right."

"The whole of Gotham isn't right," he hissed back at her. "Why did you have to come and change the order?"

"Jonathan," Isabelle complained in a sigh. "I...I had to do it...you're ill..."

"I'm really not," Jonathan snapped back at her. "I'm disappointed in you."

"Likewise," she promised him. "We've said all that we have to say, Jonathan. There's nothing more."

"You truly think that?" he mused as she nodded sadly at him. "You think this is over?"

"It is, isn't it?" Isabelle shrugged. "They're not going to let you out of here, Jonathan...ever...and I can't...I can't wait for you..."

"You could," he replied. "You just don't want to."

And that was the part that hurt him. The thought of never getting out of Arkham was something he didn't know if he could cope with. Yes, he may be moved to prison, but, it would still be as bad. His genius mind was trapped. He had nothing. He had no distraction, nothing to do. He only had his memories and he was sure they were going to drive him mad in the end.

"Can you blame me?" Isabelle muttered.

"If you loved me then you'd stay," he said, trying to manipulate her like he had done on many previous occasions, but, it wasn't working. Isabelle winced at hearing that and she shook her head. Jonathan's blue orbs widened in shock as he saw her make the notion and he glared dangerously at her.

"You know that I love you," Isabelle replied. "I just don't want you."

"Do you have any idea what it is like being in here?" Jonathan hissed at her, leaning forward as he continued to glare and she back away slightly, feeling his warm breath on her cheek as she paled again.

"No," she shook her head. "I don't...but...I have to go, Jonathan...my flight leaves in a few hours..."

"Where are you going?"

"Away," she said and Jonathan managed to grin.

"You don't trust me with the information?" he checked and she shrugged.

"It's not important," she assured him, standing up and looking back down at him as his eyes moved to her ring finger.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring," he motioned to her hand with his eyes and she looked down at her bare fingers. "We're not divorced yet."

Isabelle took a deep breath, unable to say anything back to him about that. She'd taken them off the previous day, leaving them in the bottom of her case, unable to throw them out as she continued to stare at them.

"Goodbye, Jonathan," she whispered as the guard opened the door. Jonathan watched her as she walked away, her shoulders quivering and her hand moving to her eyes as something stirred inside of him.

"I do lo..." he trailed off as she turned back to look at him, her eyes full of expectancy and hope. Jesus, she was still hoping he'd say it. "Goodbye, Isabelle."

She stared at him for a second before the guard placed his hand back onto her shoulder and led her from the Asylum as another man dealt with Jonathan who was trying to hold himself together.

...

Isabelle stood in the queue for her flight to California, a ticket in her hand as a stewardess approached her at the boarding gate.

"Miss Dubois?" she checked and Isabelle looked at her with concern. "You're in first class, miss."

"There's some mistake," Isabelle replied, shaking her head and preparing to show her the ticket which she held in her hands as the other woman shook her head back.

"No, miss," she promised her. "Mr Wayne upgraded your ticket. He wished you a safe journey. If you'd like to follow me."

Isabelle did as was asked of her, shaking her head as she thought about Bruce's gesture. Money didn't matter to that man. She boarded the plane, taking a seat next to the window as she looked around at everyone else. They all seemed so smartly dressed as a man moved past her, removing his Prada jacket and storing it overhead. Isabelle placed her bag out the way before sitting down in the seat and taking a deep breath.

"The key is distraction." A voice came from the side of her and she looked across the aisle to where a man sat, his head leant back and tilted towards her as he grinned gently. "You look nervous."

"I hate flying," Isabelle simply replied and he chuckled to himself, sitting back and placing his hands together on his flat stomach.

"Same," he agreed. "But, distraction helps. And also, don't drink alcohol."

"My husband said that," Isabelle muttered, thinking back to Jonathan's words as the man arched a brow at her.

"You're married?" he checked.

"In the process of a divorce," she replied meekly.

"He must have been an idiot," the man snorted, closing his eyes again, "to lose a good looking girl like you."

Isabelle turned to look back out the window where commotion was going on and she smirked once.

No one had ever accused Jonathan of being an idiot.

...

A/N: I deduced after having a go that I could not think of any way to associate Isabelle with the Joker. I couldn't write him that well, either! I didn't want to ruin his character! Hopefully, I haven't ruined Crane's character. But, this is not the end! I have another few chapters left in me and I've begun writing the Dark Knight Rises beginning chapter!

Thank you to Undertaker's Hattress, Sam0728, LivinJgrl123 and mahxie for reviewing the last chapter! Let me know what you think! More later on!