AN: I have a Twitter now, (ff won't let me put the symbol) atScaryScarecrows. Who knows, I might be able to coax Scarecrow into trying it sometime...
SwordStitcher-Thank you. And Eddie knows. It took him a couple of guesses-he's not a girl, is all-but lucky for me Batman broke his jaw not long ago, so he can't go blabbing. Sometimes I think Bats does that on purpose, just to get some peace.
Sketch1997-No, but it does go on your hands, sort of.
Johanna Crane-I felt a little sorry, doing that to Jim, but he won't listen if I tell him to mind his own.
"Sir, if I might suggest…"
"No, Alfred. I can't go to bed right now."
"Master Bruce…"
"She got Jim. I have to find her."
"Good luck."
He shook his head, rubbed his temples, and resumed reviewing the hospital tape. She hadn't had the mask on, she'd just brought it up for a second when she gassed Gordon. Then she'd backed out of the room…collared a nurse and pointed…and given the camera the finger before walking away, out the door.
He rewound the tape and paused it, zoomed in. There was the mask-funny, he thought Crane had had it…never mind, he probably had a few. Or maybe she'd made a new one.
He hated that thing. He'd seen firsthand what it looked like to their victims, and it wasn't pretty.
So the mask was no clue. Neither was the shirt-from the looks of it, it was one of Crane's old ones. She hadn't been anywhere interesting…
He sighed and slumped over the table, his head throbbing. Maybe Alfred was right…just a power nap, fifteen minutes or so.
He turned away and began shuffling towards the cot he kept down here for just such emergencies. Fifteen minutes.
"Crane…"
Alfred lies on the floor, his clothes becoming steadily redder. He tries desperately to break free, but the knots hold and he can't move.
"Crane, please…"
"I seem to recall saying the same thing." The hideous figure bends over Alfred and raises a hammer. "I begged you to let me go, don't you remember?"
CRACK!
Alfred's body jerks as the hammer shatters the ribs. He screams and tries to chair-hop there, but the chair is bolted down.
"Pleaded with you, in fact."
CRACK-SPLINTER!
Crane tosses the hammer aside. It lands with a dull thunk somewhere in the shadows.
"But no, you had to save the innocent. You couldn't even have uncuffed me." He sees Crane pull shattered ribs aside, tossing them away to join the hammer. "Who appointed you judge, jury and executioner?"
"I'm sorry, please…"
Crane suddenly stands up and makes his way over. He's got something in his hands.
"Something tells me Kitty won't believe you." A bitter smirk graces his lips. "Tell her hello for me, won't you?"
He drops something warm and squishy in Batman's lap. When he looks down, he begins to scream again.
Sitting there is Alfred's heart.
He woke, his mouth open in a silent scream, his chest heaving and his boxers practically glued to his body. He'd forgotten-blocked it out, maybe-that Crane had been semi-lucid before he died.
Good god, he'd forgotten. How could he have forgotten that?
He dragged himself out of bed and stripped. He needed a shower.
Ten minutes later, his hair still damp against his neck, he sat down at the computer again. There had to be something. There was always something.
Not when Harley targeted taxi drivers. an insidious voice whispered. He shook his head, opened the video.
It took another three watches to catch it, but catch it he did-her nails. She'd painted letters on her nails: city lights.
City lights. There was only one really good place in Gotham to see everything.
He had to go.
"Hullo, Batman."
He remembered dream-Crane asking him to tell her hello.
"Richardson."
She'd changed since earlier-now she was wearing a loose white dress, which was fluttering in the breeze. He was surprised she'd come up this high.
God, she'd snapped, hadn't she.
He took a few steps closer. He'd forgotten how tiny she was-it was no wonder people let her get right up close to them. What damage could she do, really?
"You attacked Jim Gordon."
"It isn't permanent." She turned to him. She was shivering in the breeze, sometimes combing her hair back behind her ears. "Would it have made you feel like I do?"
She was awfully close to the edge. One wrong step and she'd fall, plummet twenty stories to her death.
"I'm sorry." How many times would he have to say it? "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't have saved him."
She said nothing.
"If that's how you feel, then." She straightened up. "Good-bye, Batman."
She smiled at him, flipped him off, and spread her arms.
Then she stepped backwards, off the ledge.
THE END