The next morning, there was a knock on the door to Professor Crane's office. "Come in," said Crane, not looking up from his book.
Jack opened the door and entered. "Can I help you?" asked Crane, eyeing the strange man suspiciously and noting that he was definitely not a student.
"Yeah, I've come on behalf of Harleen Quinzel," said Jack. "She wrote an essay on criminal motivations which you trashed. Well, I'm her source."
"You're Jack Napier?" asked Crane, raising his eyebrows.
"That's me," agreed Jack. "And what I told her was true. I do commit crimes for fun."
Crane smiled thinly at him, shutting the book. "I find that highly unlikely, Mr. Napier," he said, gesturing for him to take a seat. "I find it much more likely that you are lying to yourself, and to Harley. I know your type."
"Do you?" asked Jack. "And what is my type, professor? I know you're a smart guy, much smarter than me, so of course you know me better than I know myself."
"I do," agreed Crane. "The criminal mind is largely an unexamined, unconscious thing. Indeed, the criminal type doesn't have much of a mind, or they wouldn't be criminals. Such a profession only appeals to people of the lowest intelligence."
"While the highest, like you, have a great profession here," said Jack, sarcastically. "Writing books that nobody wants to read, and dealing with spoiled, ungrateful college kids. Yes, sounds like you're living the dream."
"And your dream is what exactly?" asked Crane. "To keep inflicting pain and misery on people for the rest of your undoubtedly brief life?"
"My victims always end up with a smile on their face," replied Jack, grinning. "No misery there."
Crane said nothing, leaning back in his chair and examining Jack through steepled fingers. "The question is why you are lying to Harley, and to yourself," he continued. "The former is simple – you think she'll be impressed by how fearless and rebellious you are. Women often are impressed by such men, but Harley is not that type. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and she would never be attracted to the most base and vile of humanity."
"No, and I don't want her to be," agreed Jack. "She deserves better than me. Better than you too."
"I am not interested in forming a romantic relationship with my student," retorted Crane. "It's more than my job is worth, for one thing, and for another, I don't want anything to interfere with Harley's career trajectory. She has the potential to be an excellent psychiatrist, which is especially needed in Gotham. She will make a great difference in many people's lives one day, and I am going to help her succeed at that."
"I hope you can," agreed Jack. "She deserves it."
"May I ask what your relationship to her is?" asked Crane.
"I'm just a customer at her diner," Jack replied. "And this is a favor she asked of me. I won't be seeing her again."
"I see," said Crane, continuing to study Jack. "The reason why you would lie to yourself is less simple, but I believe it all boils down to fear. You like to think of yourself as a tough guy, don't you, Mr. Napier? You have no shame in being a bad man because you believe that's an honest and fearless way to live, much more honest and fearless than someone like me, say, who has never left his academic bubble and never experienced all the darkness the world has to offer. You have, and you've committed dark deeds, which you take pride in, because it proves you're not afraid of the dark. You tell yourself you're having fun, that your occupation is all some joke, some game, that crime itself is one big laugh. You think you have bested fear – Harley told me that."
"I have," retorted Jack. "I ain't scared of the rival gangs, or the cops, or the Batman."
"No man can best fear," replied Crane. "It's an innate part of us we can never fully be rid of. You can hide it, you can suppress it, you can claim you don't feel it, but you do, deep down in your subconscious. To be human is to fear, and you don't look particularly inhuman to me."
"You don't know me very well," retorted Jack with a smile.
Crane smiled back. "Such bravado," he said. "I've seen it before in many criminals. But I have ways of making their fears reveal themselves."
He reached for a pot of coffee by his desk. "Where are my manners – would you like a drink?"
"I was up kinda late last night," agreed Jack, nodding. Crane poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to him.
He watched as Jack sipped it, and then said, "Now think very hard. Is there truly nothing you fear?"
"No, I already told you," snapped Jack. "Anything a regular criminal would be afraid of, I ain't. None of the rival gangs have the guts to mess with me, and I'd outsmart them even if they did. The cops always try and take you alive, and I've been to prison before – that don't frighten me. And I was really looking forward to meeting Batman – he seemed like he was a guy like me, different from everyone else, y'know? And my suspicions were confirmed yesterday – he's a real interesting headcase with a lotta talent. Nothing to be afraid of though."
"It's common to fear death," replied Crane. "But you seem to believe you are protected from that fate, even though you live a very dangerous life."
Jack shrugged. "There are fates worse than death. And we all gotta go sometime. I prefer my life, brief as it may be, to a long, slow, lingering death bound by the chains of other people's approval."
"You don't fear people's disapproval, clearly, or you'd never be a criminal," said Crane. "While fear of public shame is very common, it is possible for certain psychopaths to be born without that sense. You don't fear disappointing people?"
"No, I don't," agreed Jack.
Crane said nothing. "I am puzzled by something," he said at last. "Harley told me a customer in her diner, whom she called Mr. J, told her about his friend, Jack Napier, the criminal. She said she didn't hear the account directly from Jack Napier, but from this customer. But you just told me you were a customer in Harley's diner, and yet you've also claimed to be Jack Napier. How is this possible?"
Jack snorted. "Call yourself a genius? Obviously we're the same guy."
"Yes, I had figured that out," agreed Crane. "What I'm wondering is why you would lie to Harley, claiming Jack Napier was your friend, rather than just tell her the truth about yourself."
"Well, I…didn't want her to know," said Jack, slowly. "She…thinks I'm a nice guy, and she…wouldn't if she knew the truth."
"You're afraid of her finding out?" asked Crane. "You're afraid of disappointing her if she learned who you really are?"
Jack didn't know how to respond to that, but he didn't have to, because at that moment, Harley appeared. She stood in the middle of the office, staring at him with fear and betrayal in her blue eyes.
"Harley!" gasped Jack, standing up suddenly.
"Yes, I can see you do fear that," murmured Crane, following Jack's horrified gaze as he stared into the middle of his office, which was completely empty.
"Harley, you said you wouldn't be here…" Jack stammered - the hallucination was completely real to him.
"You're a criminal, and a murderer," interrupted the vision of Harley. She had tears in her eyes, which stared at him in repulsion. "How could you lie to me, Mr. J?"
"Harley, please, I didn't mean to!" exclaimed Jack. "But how could I tell you the truth? How could I live with you hating me? You were the only person who ever saw anything good in me! I couldn't ruin that! Please don't look at me like that…" he began, approaching her, but she shrank away from him, cowering in fear.
"Get away from me!" she shrieked. "I hate you!"
"Please, Harley, don't say that…" he began.
"Help! Help! Criminal! Murderer!" she screamed, her eyes wild with terror and loathing.
"Harley, stop!" he cried, seizing her, but she disappeared at that moment. He stared at the empty space where she had been, and then rounded on Crane, who was calmly taking notes.
"It's a drug of my own invention," he explained. "It makes people hallucinate their greatest fears. I gave you a very mild dose, don't worry – it dilutes so well in the coffee."
"You…you're insane!" gasped Jack. "How could you do this to me…"
"How could I make a criminal feel fear when he makes innocent people feel it every day?" demanded Crane. "Very easily, I assure you. And don't bother reporting me for it – nobody would ever trust the word of someone like you over me. I just wanted to confirm that you do have fears, as I told you. Nobody can overcome that altogether. And since we've now established that you have the capacity for fear, my theory that your criminal lifestyle is inspired by a subconscious fear seems very sound. It's certainly something you're afraid of being discovered by Harley."
Jack put a hand to his head. "I ain't…gonna hallucinate anymore, am I?" he demanded.
"No, it's a very fast-acting drug," replied Crane.
"I ought to murder you for this," growled Jack. "Nobody slips me a mickey and lives."
"Yes, feel free to do that," said Crane, clearly unafraid. "But now that I know your greatest fear is disappointing Harley, I know you won't. I'm her favorite professor here, and if you killed me, she'd be very upset. Fears are wonderful at controlling people, which is why I've always been interested in them."
Jack was about to lash out at Crane, when the door to his office suddenly opened, and Harley entered. "Professor, I just thought I should give you a heads up - I asked Mr. Napier to stop by…" she began, but she froze when she saw Jack.
Jack stared at her, and then at Crane. "I thought you said I wouldn't hallucinate anymore!" he snapped.
"This is no hallucination, Mr. Napier," replied Crane.
"Mr…Napier?" repeated Harley, stunned. Then she laughed. "No, Professor Crane, this is Mr. J," she said, beaming at Jack. "He's a friend of Jack Napier's…"
"I think you should probably tell her the truth, don't you, Mr. Napier?" asked Crane, looking at him.
"Not here," murmured Jack, gazing at Harley, who gazed back in confusion. "Not now. I don't want her to know…"
Harley stared from one to the other of them. "What's going on?" she asked, puzzled.
"Don't…" began Jack, but it was too late.
"This is Mr. Jack Napier, Harley," said Crane. "He misrepresented himself to you earlier when he said he had a friend who goes by that name. Everything he told you about Jack Napier is true of his own life, however. Except for the not feeling fear part – we've established that that's not true. If I had more time with him, I'm sure I could reveal that ridiculous committing crimes for fun claim as the delusion it so obviously is…"
Harley stared at Jack, and he saw her eyes cloud over in confusion. He knew the next look he would see in them would be fear and loathing, and he couldn't bear it.
He fled from the room and the university. As furious as he was for being revealed in this way, it was actually a relief, he reasoned. It wasn't how he had wanted Harley to find out, but since he wasn't going to see her ever again, he supposed it didn't matter. And he was relieved that he had got away before he could see the hatred in her eyes. Even seeing that in his hallucination had almost been too much for him to bear – in reality, it would have destroyed him. And he knew she'd hate him – she had a good head on her shoulders, as Crane had said. No woman like that, no smart, sweet, sensible woman like that could ever do anything else but hate a man like him.