His Darling Assistant

Part 15: Vengeance

You stared up at the looming doorway of Arkham Asylum feeling more daunted by it than ever. A week had passed since that fateful night and you knew it was about time to resume your post as head psychiatrist, but for some reason as you stood in the shadow of the giant building, it all felt wrong. The very idea of taking Jonathan Crane's old role while he was nowhere to be found irked you to your core. Still, there was no way around it. Especially since you had realized how much you liked working with the inmates.

Without allowing yourself to wait any more, you stepped forward and crossed the threshold into the asylum.

Not much had changed. You didn't know what you expected, really. Aside from the crushing weight of the place, it mostly just felt familiar, like an old friend you had grown out of touch with. Best of all, you didn't feel Dr. Crane's looming presence over your shoulder anymore. The only burden you felt was the sheer amount of work you had ahead of you.

"Morning, Doctor. Good to have you back."

You smiled warmly at the receptionist's greeting and continued on, stepping into the elevator and riding up to your office. You took one deep breath, and then two, reminding yourself that there was no danger here. Only some very unfortunate people who you had the privilege of caring for.

And then there was the matter of Joseph.

You had been delaying the thought of him for far too long. You realized he was controlling you still, through the crippling fear that coursed through you every time he crossed your mind. For all your (and Jonathan's) efforts of freeing yourself from the trauma of your past, Joseph still held power over you, and the very sentiment made you nauseous. You needed closure.

You found yourself standing outside of Joseph's cell, staring at him through the window on the door. He hadn't noticed you yet, preoccupied with whatever hallucination he was staring at, his eyes frantically following it across the tiled floor. You never wanted to see him again, and yet there he was, insane and alone in what was now your asylum.

You couldn't release him to the public after what he'd done to you, especially not now that he was unstable, but you couldn't send him to Blackgate, either, since he legally wasn't even supposed to be at an asylum for the criminally insane; he'd have had to have been arrested for that.

You could just kill him.

The voice in your head wasn't your own, this time. It was deep and gravelly, and it creeped you out.

I'm not gonna fucking kill him.

Why not, replied that strangely familiar voice from the depths of your mind.

I'm not a fucking murderer, that's why.

It's not like he doesn't deserve it, after the abuse he put you through.

It's not my place to judge whether he lives-

If not yours then whose is it?

You shuddered, realizing where you had heard that rasp before. You had had a scratchy burlap sack over your head, your wrists tied behind a post. Scarecrow.

Nobody would know. Nobody besides you and Dr. Crane even knows he's here.

I'm not killing him.

You'd get away with it.

I'm NOT killing him, that's ridiculous.

Well, why not? Don't you want vengeance?

You shook your head, trying to shake Scarecrow out of it. This was absurd. Murder obviously wasn't an option. You'd just have to suck it up and-

Suck it up and treat him? Come on, Doctor. You really want to do that?

God, you needed sleep. Or caffeine.

You decided Joseph Sharpe could afford to rot in his cell for a little longer while you mulled things over.

When you stepped back into your office, you saw the bat pager sitting on your desk. It wasn't like your desk was very organized, especially with the amount of work you had to do, but it stuck out to you like a sore thumb. There it was, figuratively weighing down on your shoulders, literally weighing down a small stack of papers to prevent them from flying out the open window. Batman had told you to contact him if you heard from Jonathan, but would he take care of someone else who had done unspeakable things?

Don't be ridiculous, you told yourself, he's not my own personal bodyguard.

You wished you had someone who could help you, no questions asked. You considered calling your friend, but you knew she would just tell you to call the police, and then they'd know you had your abusive ex boyfriend hostage. You obviously weren't going to kill him, but you wished you had someone who would get rid of him for you, someone who would protect you from men like him– until you realized that was exactly what Jonathan Crane had done, and it terrified you.

But however cruel his actions were, his intentions were to protect you at the end of the day, and you really didn't like the warm and fluttery feeling that thought gave you.

You shook the unwelcome thoughts of Dr. Crane out of your head, and hoped for both of your sakes that he wouldn't be in contact.

+++

Summer Gleeson was very quickly becoming a staple in your house, you realized, as her voice filled the room. She was the one news anchor that drove you the least mad, so you relied on her for her crime-related Gotham updates, and you could never tell if you were relieved or disappointed every time she signed off without a word of Scarecrow.

With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realized it was the latter when Summer mentioned his name and butterflies assaulted your stomach.

You shook off your disconcerting excitement and focused on her words, refusing to humor the part of you that still loved him.

"After nearly a month of radio silence from The Scarecrow, he was found by police two days ago, tied up along with a gang of criminals and a couple of Batman copycats in a hospital parking lot. Sources say he was in the midst of an illegal drug deal, selling his infamous 'fear toxin,' when the real Batman intervened, not showing mercy for his armed cosplayer. The gang is now in custody at GCPD headquarters. The police have yet to comment on this.

"Stay tuned after this next commercial break for an update on the Gotham National Bank situation. This is Summer Gleeson, signing off."

+++

"These villains are getting out of hand."

"I know. It's Batman's fault– If he hadn't-"

"Batman's helping! He's the only one who's actually capturing these supervillain freaks."

"These supervillain freaks wouldn't exist if there wasn't a superhero in the first place."

Dr. Crane listened to the policemen gossip outside of his holding cell, ignoring the ceaseless bickering between the wannabe Batman and one of his clients. He'd been sitting there, hands folded neatly in his lap, his features schooled into a mask void of emotion as to hide his annoyance at his uncivilized cell mates for four hours now. He hated his clients on principle, the very idea of his toxin being used recreationally. But the prices he got were far worth it. He hated the copycat even more. How stupid could you be, really, he thought to himself as his client decked the copycat in the face, everyone knows Batman doesn't use guns.

One of the cops gestured to him, causing him to tune back into their conversation.

"...Scarecrow now, too. How much do ya wanna bet he's gonna get out of jail for insanity?"

"No, there's no way. Look at him, does he look insane to you?"

"Well I hear the lead psychiatrist is his ex. She's probably his get out of jail free card."

Jonathan scoffed lightly to himself. Far from it. I'm likely headed straight for Blackgate.

He felt a pang of regret as he imagined his trial, you standing in the spot he once stood, looking him dead in the eye as you said the dreaded word, sane, over and over again, each time hammering deeper into his skull.

For all he knew, you'd never want to see him again. He didn't entirely blame you.