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Fear Itself	By : hjpotter07 Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2369 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a colaberative story and Niether AwfulLawful, nor myself, own rights to Batman and the DC verse. We are only writing this for our pleasure. We are not getting any material profit in this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Profiling Contest
- 2-A Wounded Fox in a Bear-Trap
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- 2
This story is a collaborative piece based on an RP by AwfulLawful and myself. My obsession with Professor Crane is unparalleled and is a source of never-ending amusement to AwfulLawful, who has a similar obsession with Edward Nygma. Both of us agree that the unusual number of redheads in the rogues gallery is fantastic and indicates that redheads in general are nuts. And we know redheads who agree with this theory.

***

Twelve hours must have been hell since the Dark Knight had dropped off the Scarecrow in full thrall of his toxin, hysterical and shrieking like a terrified child. Twelve hours was longer than even the professor himself would leave his victims dosed because of the damage it may cause. Even if he only did it to preserve his test subjects sanity, Scarecrow himself was kinder than this. Warden Sharp was in trouble when Batman got hold of him, because when Batman swung around at the end of his shift to check on Arkham one last time, Scarecrow was still screaming: wildly and without much of a voice to do it anymore. Crane should have been given the antidote the moment he arrived. It would have made him sleep for a day or so and lessened the stress on his body and mind, which is what he needed. This kind of stunt could only make him worse if his mind was further damaged. With no other choice open to him, Batman snuck into Crane’s room through the window by unscrewing the bars from the outside and slipping in quietly. He could hear the professor's screaming echoing in the stone room, but Batman couldn’t see the man. He was in here. Batman knew it. And Crane had likely already seen him.

"No....no. NO! STAY AWAY! Please go away!" Batman heard from under neat-freak's untouched bed. Crane was pressed with his back up against the stone opposite of Batman, his knees pulled up to his chest as he laid on his side, his fingers gripping his stringy red hair. Due to the length of being drugged, the toxin pushed the skinny man to new limits. His sunken in face was streaked with his own salty tears, the bags under his pale blue eyes were darker as his face lost nearly all it's color when he saw the one thing he feared the most.

"Easy, Crane. I'm here to help." Batman said, taking the injection with the antidote out of his belt, and kneeling beside the bed. Batman approached front of Crane's bed and reached in quickly to grab a thin arm as soon as he got close enough to keep the professor from darting away. Crane was strong for his size, but that didn't amount to much faced with orderlies and caped heroes twice his mass. But he was really fucking fast when he wanted to be, so Batman knew better than to give him time to dodge. Crane struggled for a moment in the Dark Knight's grasp, but soon just gave in, whimpering like a small child. Batman had waited for the smaller man to cease his struggles before pulling him from under the bed and knelt beside him. Batman moved the injection to Crane's chest close to his heart, where it would go through his body faster and dispel the toxin more efficiently. It always took about five minutes for it to knock out Crane since he'd been exposed to it so often, so Batman knew better than to leave him alone until it kicked in. Carefully, he lifted the redhead, seeing the professor cringe as he did so, and set him on the bed, considering strapping him in and holding him down if he tried to escape Batman's grasp, but Crane did not struggle against him. He just kept his fingers gripped in his hair and tried to will the hallucinations away. The hallucinations continued unimpeded until he fell asleep.

Batman made it a point to harass the medical staff and the warden for a while over what they called a 'slip' in their system that caused Crane to go untreated. Bruce Wayne ordered an evaluation of Arkham's organization using a few recent escapes as a convenient excuse. The investigation was just enough to have things reorganised to improve the medical care and earn a severe reprimand for Sharp. One that threatened to be worse if Crane suffered any lasting effects from his trauma. And so, few days later, Batman payed the man another visit when he was dropping off another inmate, looking through the window to see how Crane was doing.

Crane was sitting on his rocking chair as usual, his one knee pulled up against his chest as the other rocked himself back and forth, staring at the opposite wall. Before Batman could say anything, Crane gave a ghostly smirk, the kind that didn't meet his eyes. "Come to see damage? Fear what you might find out?"

"You seem to be doing well enough." he stated.

"Satisfied, Batman?" Crane stood from his chair with such elegant grace that the chair didn't rock once he's left it. He looked a bit thinner than a few days ago.

Narrowing his eyes, Batman entered the room, jumping from the window meant to be too tall for the inmates to reach and letting his cape billow as he fell, then settle around him. He scanned the redhead without coming near him. It was quite possible the man had injured himself while he thrashed and the loss of weight worried Batman. He hadn't gotten a chance to look into the examination records since Crane had woken, so the only way to really tell if the man was alright was to check himself. At least enough to be sure he wasn't seriously damaged. From what Batman could see that was not covered by the asylum uniform, he saw that Crane had some bruises and scratch marks around his arms and scratches along his neck. Batman then looked for the food tray. There was always one in the room because they didn't pick them up until they traded for the new, so unless Crane wasn't being fed again it should be there. It was, but barely touched.

"Lost your appetite, Proffessor?"

"You are afraid of me dying here, aren't you? Afraid of what others will think. Afraid of the guilt?" Crane drown out softly.

"You brought this on yourself. You know that. I won't let you hurt people for your sick experiments." Batman said ominously. "No one should have to suffer through the experience of that toxin you made."

Crane almost looked hurt. Almost. Of course this was only a rouse. "I only wish to fully understand and to show people the extent of what mass panic can induce." He grinned. "A person's fears are their greatest defining trait. It influences behavior, preferences and even their personality. But that doesn't explain why you work so hard to even keep me alive."

"Why wouldn't I?" Batman asked. Didn't anyone understand? He was haunted by death. Even his enemies had a right to live. He only wished they would behave. The sort of life to be had in this place couldn't possibly be enjoyable. So why did they keep doing things to earn time here? They were wasting their lives.

"That is a good question. Tell me, Batman. Why do you try so hard to not only insure I stay alive and healthy, but everyone else. Well I can understand the poor, true insane or naive patients you have here, like Dr. Quinzel and Mr. Nygma. But those like Joker? Are you afraid of what will happen should you let us die? Are you afraid of how you'll feel, Batman?

"It isn't for me to decide if someone should live or die." he said firmly. "And I will not let it happen if I can stop it. I do not fear death itself, Proffessor. I recognize it as a reality of nature. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Interesting." Crane then sighed. "But you still seem to avoid my questions."

"Answer mine and I'll answer yours."

"Intriguing." Crane lifted his finger to his chin, he was analyzing Batman without looking at him, staring at the ceiling in his irritating catlike way. "What was you question?"

"Why are you more interested in fear than comfort?"

"Because fear is what drives us to do what we do."

"Not always. It depends on the individual." Batman replied, to give him something to think about. "Now yours."

Crane looked joyful. This couldn't be good. "I have been doing quite of bit of thinking on your case. Obviously there is a man behind that mask of yours. I was wondering, who died? In that man's past, the man you try so depserately to hide behind that mask. It had to be some one close. A loved one. Probably young when it happened. Before adolescence, I would presume. That gives the mind time to ingrain that image. So Batman, whose death created you?"

"That's a loaded question. I could give you a simple answer, but you'd misinterpret it. The death didn't create me. What caused it did. Violence created me, Crane. Chaos created me. I won't deny someone important died. Someone very important died, and it tore me apart. You're right about my age as well. I was young, and the memory will stay with me until my end. But you keep seeing everything as acts of fear, so your analysis is incomplete. You haven't factored in other emotions, the ones that require deep thinking instead of split-second reactions."

"Oh wait. I see it of course!" Crane ignored Batman as he continued on with his analysis, pacing back and forth. "A caretaker died. But perhaps it wasn't your parents. That of course would be too obvious, but then again, even the obvious conslusion can be correct. For all I know you're just another of the thousands of orphans Gotham produces every year. Yes," Crane stopped pacing to look at Batman, his head tilted sideways as he gave the Dark Knight his signature grin. "An orphan. That does make perfect sense."

Batman's eyes narrowed. Pushy little bastard. "Is the fact that you're eating less a sign that you're starting to vie for more attention. Or are you simply developing suicidal tendencies?"

He laughed. Of course it always sounded completely maniacal, but there was something new to it. Something hallow. "Oh Batman, how do you even know what my eating habits are when I even GET food? Besides, from that look you just gave me, I'd say I'm on the right track. And that you are an orphan. I'd also have to say that not only you lost that particular loved one, but you witnessed horrific event as well. Oh! And possibly did, if not still do, believe that it was your fault."

"Every child thinks those things. They grow out of it." he said, refusing to be perturbed by this, or at least show he was.

Crane started to pace again. "So, your mother or father or uncle, is most likely murdered in front of you at a very young age, too young to witness such an horiffic act. This act creates the Batman. Makes him want to save our poor beloved Gotham City. But as the side of 'Justice' evolves, as does crime. Tell me, Batman. How many inmates here have the sole purpose of destroying you? How many were around before you evolved into the Dark Knight of Gotham? You created us, Batman. Whether you like it or not, the facts remain that despite your intentions, you made us." Crane smirked again, knowing his words were pushing buttons. "Why, look at poor Havey Dent. Where do you think he would be if it were not for you?"

This was rediculous. Why was he still having this conversation if he knew Crane was dead-on and getting closer to making him hit him just to shut him up? But he would hold his temper. He would be calm. He was the Batman, the dark knight of gotham and the defender of the weak, and he would NOT, not matter how much he wanted to, pound Crane into oblivion for... well, being right.

“That’s a fun bit of logic coming from you." Batman glowered, lording his height over the shorter man. "Let me try. You became fascinated with fear as a child because you were ignored at home and shunned at school. You were the child who was a little too short and a little too thin who got passed over for sports, tormented by the stronger boys and ignored by girls. But fear was the only thing you could control. It gave you a sense of power. So you learned how to use it to your advantage to gain what you thought was respect, when in reality it didn’t change the fact that you were still the angry, desperate, scared, CREEPY little boy that nobody wanted to play with.” He said, stepping closer and looming, his voice getting slightly more mocking with each word until he was almost growling them. “Am I getting warm?”

Crane stopped pacing. He knew Batman could see some fear start to loom in his eyes as flashes from his past start to haunt him. Crane worked for years ridding himself of all his fears until that damned bat gave him something to be afraid of again. The professor started to shake the cold feeling over his body, a feeling that made him shiver. After a moment of him striving for composure, Crane finally put that creepy grin back on. "Toche, Batman. But you forgot, childern were not my only tormentors," he mocked.

"Of course. But that's where it started. Since we are discussing origins I assumed you wouldn't mind a parry to your intillectual swordplay."

Crane said nothing, but inside he was screaming at Batman, outraged that he dared to analyze him. The stress of his internal cries caused the room to spin. Quickly he put his hand on the glass window to the hallway as he started to walk off the dizzy spell, dragging his hand along the glass to hide his weakness before he managed to his rocking chair.

"Once again, you fall victim to your own medicine." Batman said flatly. "Since you got a good rant in on me, shall I continue yours? Do you want to hear about the feeling of inferiority that causes you to lash out at others before they can get to you? Or what about the fact that you trained to rid yourself of phobias because you can't take a hit as well as you give them? Because you know you're just as afraid as everyone else."

That had hit him. Crane's body started to tremble as his body was pumping the already produced adrenaline, causing his head to spin more. "Stop it.....stop it. STOP IT! SHUT UP!" He struggled to keep standing. "I have an inferiority complex? I'm not the one running around dressed like a bat, beating others into a bloody pulp! I just want to understand other people's fears!"

"You want to understand other people's fears because you don't want to examine your own. You're so afraid of looking inside yourself and finding absolutely nothing that you're trying to prove someone else is empty first."

Their voices were starting to grab the other inmates's attention. "Shut up. Your wrong, Batman!" Crane glared up at him, the last shout causing his hands to slip and he fell to the concrete floor, wincing as he twists his wrist trying to catch himself and gaining a bruise on his boney ass.

"How sad." Batman growled, heading for the window. "You're barking like a frightened dog, trying to keep a stranger away. I suppose you've always been a stranger to the truth, though, haven't you?" Once in the window, he looked back. "Try to stay in here this time. For someone who thinks I enjoy 'beating others to a bloody pulp' you seem to think being on the wrong end of my fists is an unusually desirable situation to be in."

"Aww look at the Master of Fear himself cowering like a little baby!" Joker laughed hysterically from his cell at the other end of the hall.

"Shut up, Clown!" Crane retorted. He knew he was losing control, and he had to be calm. He was the master of fear. He finally gained his composure in a matter of seconds and looked up at Batman as he started to stand, though it was obvious he was very physically weak. "Your comebacks, Batman, show me I have definitely struck a nerve in you."

"Likewise. I've faced my own fears and come out on top, Crane. Have you?" he said, just before leaving.

That last remark made Crane attempt to throw his chair across the room, but in his weakened state, he only managed to knock it over. He fell back down before crawling to his bed. He glanced his dinner, but cringed at the site of it and closed his eyes, trying to sleep through Joker's laughter and his nightmares.
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Fear Itself