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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
- 1
- 2
And there is the next chapter. The only reason why these are coming in so quick is because my friend and I have already roleplayed out into the second part of this story series, so all i have to do is edit it and make flow.

I would appreciate any comments and reviews. Thanks! Enjoy.

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Days later Batman returned to Arkham, because despite the fact that Crane deserved and even needed to hear Batman's words, he still felt guilty. He knew Crane would not handle it well and was still recovering from the toxin. At the very least he could make sure the man was improving. So Batman went to check on him again, first having the courtesy to make sure Joker was asleep. The clown had been moved to solitary for biting an orderly, so he would not be a problem. From the window, Batman looked in and scanned for Crane. He saw the thin man, curled up in fetal position, his fingers gripped in his hair as his hoarse voice whispered incoherent affirmations. It had appeared that Crane had taken Batman's words harshly, although the last toxin incident a few days ago surely did not help with the situation.

Batman entered and stood by Crane's bed, frowning as he saw the untouched food tray from dinner. It was even Crane's favorite: Agnolotti with herbal roasted baguettes. Batman then looked down at Crane, the redhead's breath was barely visible through the rise and fall of his torso. It occurred to him that their last meeting had been the calm before the storm. Crane was not improving, and Batman knew the doctors couldn't help him. Perhaps the only person that could was the man that had set him on this self-destructive path. Batman was already blaming himself for not administering the antitoxin before bringing Crane back here. "Professor Crane."

There was no reaction from the dangerously thin man. Harley stood up from her bed, her cell being across from the professor's. She walked up to the plexiglass wall of her cell and placed her hands on it. "He hasn't spoken since you were here last. Keeps scream in his sleep though. You gonna help him, right?" She looked up at Batman, worry in her blue eyes. Despite her insane obsession with Joker and the need to please him, Harley still had enough humanity in her to not like seeing some of her fellow cellmates suffer. Especially the way Crane was.

The Dark Knight looked back at her and his eyes soften minutely at her genuine worry. "I'm going to try. Can you lie for me, Quinn?" he asked, knowing she would. "The only way I can get him out of here, is if Sharp thinks Professor Crane is helping me with a case. He'll believe you. You've gone with me before."

"Yea, I can do that. Please help him. I liked him better with his rantings."

"I'm beginning to think I did too." Batman leaned down, placing his arms under Crane: one under his shoulders, the other under his knees. He lifted the smaller man, wincing at how easy it wass to do so. The Dark Knight felt Crane let his body limply lean against his chest. Batmna looked back at Harley. "Since you're my contact for this, I'll keep you informed. But no tattling, understand?"

"Righteo, Mister B-man!" She salutes him.

Once out of Arkham, Batman strapped Crane into the passenger seat of the Batmobile, wondering how he was going to make the man eat. Of course he had some cells in the Batcave to keep him in, but he would need to adjust the environmental systems in those cells to keep the damp, dank place from getting to the man's already weak body. He would need to keep it warm there, too. Already making plans, he sends Alfred messages via text from his dashboard computer, informing him of their guest.

As Batman drove, Crane kept drifting in and out of consciousness. A few times his body thrashed weakly as his mouth opened to scream, only for raspy whimpers to escape his rather sore throat. His thrashing caused the neck of his uniform to slip over his left bony shoulder, allowing Batman to see the details of the bone and sinew under his dingy and dirty skin. There were faint dotted scars along his shoulder and neck that seemed to sleep down his arm.

Batman was so positive Crane was out of it, that he and Alfred prep the room, leaving the half raving, half catatonic professor in the car. When everything was ready, Batman returned to his car to inject Crane with a high enough sedative to affect the Scarecrow's highly chemical resistant body, but not necessarily enough to make him asleep, just in case one of his nightmares would begin to plague him too terribly. Batman again picked Crane up in his arms and carried him to the medical table, laying him across it. He then started to begin a process he had not done many times, but he was capable and confidant. The Dark Knight undressed the man for treatment. He almost sighed as he recognized some of the purple marks from their battle a mere four days ago, making him think he might have been too rough with Crane. He was, after all, quite thin even before this whole thing started. He also noted the thin, slightly bloodied bandages on Crane's wrists. They were not their during their last meeting. Batman started to remove them and growled. The professor had clawed at his own skin, possibly to keep some resemblance of reality. Strapped it is, then.

Batman began washing the fragile body and treating the wounds, then dressed him in a warm set of blue cotton pajamas that the Dark Knight noted, with slight amusement, happened to be the same shade as his eyes. It wasn't long before Batman had the IVs and other tubes hooked up and Crane strapped, but comfortable, in his cell that now resembled a hospital room more than a containment chamber. Batman decided to call it a night and kept his surveillance on in that room, and an alarm set to alert him to any change in Crane's condition.

Crane started to slip back into full consciousness after nearly a day and a half. His eyes began to open and his heart rate spikes up for a moment. He looks around at everything unable to see much without his glasses. He attempted to lift his arms, only to find them bound. He started to tug slightly on the restraints, his heart beat increasing more. Crane had been hooked up with the various tubes and monitoring equipment necessary to help him recover.

Crane was clean (as if he had been bathed just recently) and dressed in a much less embarrassing long nightshirt instead of the barely adequate hospital gowns inmates wore in the medical wing. The matching pants were folded at the end of the bed because having those on would have interfered with the catheter, which he could feel it taped to his left thigh to keep any thrashing from dislodging it. The straps that held him stationary were wide and properly padded so he couldn’t hurt himself with them and didn’t grip him too tightly despite being secure, and it did not feel as if he’d been manhandled while unconscious. On top of all that, the pillows were soft and the blanket about him was warm and carefully tucked about his body instead of simply being set over him like nothing more than a barrier to keep him hidden from view. He knew he was not at Arkham anymore. Unlike Arkham, where the patients never got much individual care due to the amount of doctors versus patients, this seemed far more efficient. Batman must have brought him here. It was the only explanation. Crane was in the Batman’s cave.

This annoyed Crane. Annoyed and frightened him. A symbol that had been in Crane's deepest fears was the one responsible for this kind treatment. His mind continues to panic, but he forced himself to calm. The IV at Crane's side, which seemed to be on an automatic drip, began to drip faster. Batman knew he was awake. Moments later, after the calming drugs in the IV began to take effect, Batman entered the room and went immediately to the instruments, checking each one with precision before standing to look at his patient.

Crane avoided looking at him until Batman was done. Only then did Crane look up at the Dark Knight with his pale blue eyes. He was determined to not look weak, even in this state, but no matter what, he could not get his body to stop trembling. "What?" Crane's voice dripped with venom after a few moments of silence.

"You had me worried for a while, Professor Crane." Batman said lightly. He held down one of Crane's arms before undoing the strap holding it and unwinding the bindings around the wrist. Because he saw no real fight put up over this, although he did spot the professor cringe, he began to lift it to examine the scratches more closely.

"How sweet. Batman was actually afraid for my wellbeing." The smaller man's voice was seeping with sarcasm.

"Miss Quinzel was worried too. You know, you would have died if I had left you in Arkham."

At the mention of Harley, there was a moment when Crane's expression softened, but soon quickly hid it. "What do you want from me? A thank you?"

"For the moment? Just behave. You can't afford to waste energy trying to fight." He continues to check on his patient, checking the various injuries he'd found and treated, checking Crane's reflexes and sensory reactions. "You can attack me again when you're feeling well enough." Batman then began running his hand up to the man's thigh to be sure the catheter was still in place, making Crane tense against the touch.

"Don't touch me." Scarecrow glares at the Dark Knight. "Pervert!"

"You ARE getting paranoid." Batman drawled. "Do you yell at all of your doctors this way?" Once he was finished looking Crane over, he frowned at the professor's trembling. Of course Batman would notice it, but he hadn't expected Crane to be this disturbed over simple medical necessities.

"I am not paranoid! Get out!" He pulled on the one restraint while trying to push near 225 pound man of brick muscle.

Relenting immediately, Batman quickly strapped the wrist back down and backed off. His eyes narrow. "You're making this harder on yourself. I want to help you, Professor Crane, but you need to let me."

He went limp, "I... I don't need help," and attempted to try and pull the covers back on, his attack attempt on Batman having pushed it down some.

Batman pulled the blanket back where it should be, leaving his hand on Crane's chest for a moment only to remove it after the redhead's protest ("Did I not tell you to stop touching me!"). "Yes you do need help." he said calmly. For a moment it appeared he would leave, but instead he pulled the bedside chair over so he could stay nearby. "Mind telling me why you refused to eat?" he questioned.

Crane winced slightly. "Food makes me nauseous."

"Why?" he asked, concerned. "Is it a specific type? Is Arkham just not giving you things you like? You aren't taking any medicines that would suppress appetite or make your stomach upset. I don't understand."

He tried to turn his head away from Batman. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" He pulled again on the restraint closest to Batman in an attempt to turn to his side some.

"I like to meddle in other people's business. Tell me. Why won't you eat?"

"I told you. It appears you lack the ability to listen."

"I heard you. But your answer was too vague. You need to help me understand." Batman was hoping that admitting his inability to figure it out would get Crane to answer him. "There's always a reason, Professor. Cause and effect."

"What can I say. Prison food is disgusting." He was avoiding the real answer and Batman could to tell. "Maybe you'd lose your appetite eating that stuff everyday of your life."

"Are you afraid to answer me, Professor?" he challenged lightly. "Do you think you'll lose something by telling me one of your secrets?"

"Tell me one of yours first." He turned back on to his back and looked to Batman, clearing becoming interested. "Tell me something I don't know about and I will tell you why I won't eat."

"I've eaten prison food too." he said with an irritated sigh. "I was incarcerated in Korea for six months. They never told me what for. And I can tell you: Arkham's is much better. At least you can tell what it is."

"Really?" Scarecrow sounded intrigued. "You were in prison?"

"Yes. Now it's your turn."

Crane visibly pouted, and then sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He was silent for a moment before he finally swallowed his pride. "Worms."

Batman frowned, but kept his voice calm. "That's a start. Care to elaborate?"

"Nuh uh uh! I believe it's your turn this time, Batman." Crane lifted a finger, wagging it back and forth like a mother scolding her child.

"I suppose the fact that there were actual worms in my prison food doesn't count?"

"Batman, Batman, Batman. Do you really expect me to tell you something painful, when you refuse to do the same? It's not fair, is it? Come one, Batman. Tell me something painful, so painful you don't *dare* admit, but you know in your heart it's there."

Batman stands. "You want to play this game? Fine. I can keep an IV in you as long as I like and shove a feeding tube down your throat if you continue to be difficult. I may be concerned with keeping you alive, but there's only so far you can push me before I start to push back, Crane." He was looming over the man. "I'm not your psychiatrist."

"Actually, you can't be a psychiatrist. You cannot legally prescribe drugs." He gave Batman that strange grin of his.

Batman lifted a brow and pushed a button on his belt. Crane relaxed against his will when the drip increased.

"Like I said. Legally." His eyes started to droop.

"Neither one of us has ever been precisely concerned with the legal administration of drugs, Professor Crane."

"Still haven't told me what pains you, Batman."

"I don't see how it's fair that I should tell you something painful in exchange for the secret to something you only developed in the past week."

"It's not fair for me to tell you something I don't want to, when you've giving me things that have no real emotional significance. Besides, you can keep me here alive, you can let me die, you beat me senseless, even threaten me with my own toxin, but no matter what you do, I won't tell you what you ask of me unless you truthfully tell me what you fear deep down. And remember, I know if you are being honest with me, Batman."

"I can sense lies too, Crane." Batman drawled. "You're afraid." He then walked out and started upstairs, fuming. He wasn't looking where he is going, and nearly slams into Alfred.

"Things not going the way you hoped, Master Bruce?" The older man carried with him a tray of food, knowing his charge would be down in the Batcave for hours without surfacing. "I brought you dinner. You do realize you should let yourself have even just a bit of surface time."

"I'm having trouble with our 'guest'," Batman grumbled. "He's stubborn and unruly and-" he stopped, grinding his teeth. "Even drugs don't calm him."

"Perhaps because you've brought in an abused animal. And not just any animal, one that can sense fear, making you think, what is it those kids will say? 'Oh fu-"

"Alfred." He interrupted, afraid that the man might actually have an aneurysm if he manages to curse. "I recognize the similar behavior, but Professor Crane isn't an animal. He knows I'm trying to help him."

"Are you quite sure about that, Master Bruce? Place yourself in his shoes. You know, people who help abused animals do not walk directly to the animal. They come sideways never looking in the its eyes."

Batman thought for a moment. "You're telling me that I brought home an already wounded fox and put it in a bear-trap?"

"Precisely, Master Bruce. Now, eat something before I'm forced to put you on an IV." He placed the tray out for Batman, who did eat, reluctantly, but thankful that his old friend always took care of him. "How do I take off the trap?"

"Don't expect him to cooperate at first. Just be there. Talk to him, but do not expect him to reply back. Let him bring his guard down on his terms."

"...He wants to trade secrets." Batman drawled. "If I tell him something painful, he'll tell me why he refuses to eat. And he can tell if I'm lying, Alfred."

"I'm not saying to play his games, sir. Just talk to him. Don't ask him questions you know he won't answer without incentive. And when he does bark at you, don't bark back. Let it go right over you."

"I'm not too proud to admit I'm fighting a personality like mine, Alfred," Batman brooded. "That's the problem. I know how humiliating it is to rely on someone else for safety when all you want is to be so powerful no one can touch you. How do I convince him that I'm safe?"

"By acting like it."

He thought on that a moment, then nodded. Heading back to the room, Batman walked to the foot of the bed and put his hands on the footboard, staring at Crane for a moment.

Crane had opened his eyes and looked right back for a moment. "You know, you really need to learn to knock and actually speak when you want something. That stare can become rather annoying," he finally replied after a few minutes of silence.

"I will treat you with courtesy if you will afford me the same." Batman stated, truthfully and directly. "Stop spitting venom at me every time you open your mouth, and I'll return the favor. You're going to be here a while, so we might as well attempt to be civil."

"That's a laugh. You can't be civil even if you life depended on it, Batman. I bet that's why Robin left."

'Robin went to college, you ass,' Batman thought silently, despite the fact that Batman KNEW Dick could have easily lived at the manor and still gone to school and chose not to, Those words, however, didn't make it to his lips for one reason alone. As Batman looked at Crane, he could see a fox with it's leg caught in a trap, snarling and snapping even while it tried to escape, With this image, he couldn't get mad. Silently, he reached forward and began to unbuckle the straps, setting Crane at least free enough to sit up on his own, despite being bound to the bed by the various wires that contained him. "I may not have had much practice," he admitted slowly, "but I'd like to try. You deserve that much."

There it was. Confusion and fear in Crane's eyes. Batman could tell that this man not only did not expect this reaction at all, but also did not understand his reason for it. Scarecrow lifted his arms, rubbing his wrists gently, his eyes narrowing and never wavering from Batman. "I don't believe you. This is just a ruse to get me to answer your questions. It won't work."

"You proposed a fair trade, didn't you? My painful secret in exchange for yours?" Batman said slowly, taking a seat by the bed. Unthreatening. Voice calm, posture welcoming and non-confrontational. "I agree. If you're still willing to trade, I agree."

Crane gripped the sheets slightly. "This is a ruse. You would not be acting like this if you were not out to trick me." He finally looked away from Batman.

"I don't want to trick you. You proposed a fair trade and I consent to it. You know you'll be able to tell if I lied. So I'll give you my secret first and you tell me yours. If you agree." He didn't move nor raise his voice. It was so unlike him that he felt odd doing it, but somewhere in his head he remembered the way his mother spoke to him when he was sick. When he was very small. How sad. That was exactly what he was doing now, wasn't it?

Crane closed his eyes. "To be honest, I never expected you to consent." The redhead looked back at Batman. Crane's face was stoic, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not hide the fear and confusion he felt right now. He felt so much better when Batman had left, now all Crane wanted was for Batman to just go away. His presence made Scarecrow delve to deep. Painfully deep.

"You have nothing to worry about. What you tell me will not leave this room." he says, not requesting his secret stay here as well. "Do you agree?"

He stared for a moment. "I..." he shook his head. He was discouraged by his own fear of being vulnerable.

"What you tell me," Batman repeated, "will not leave this room."

Crane closed his eyes and gripped the sheets tighter, seeming to have a large battle within himself. "My own toxin." He relaxed, physically showing his surrender. "I think.....I can't eat because.....I see things. In my food......or sometimes I think I smell poison in it. It's started, since the last time you brought me back to Arkham. I hear that awful laughter in my sleep." He looked down from Batman, completely ashamed of the weakness that he tried for so long to to overcome.

"It's understandable." Batman suddenly understood. God, how had he not seen it before? "You were under the toxin for far too long, so it had some side effects that weren't anticipated." He stood and walked over, putting his hands on Crane's shoulders, who winced at the touch, but did not push the larger man away. "It's not your fault."

Crane tried so hard to keep himself calm, but all he wanted to do was scream. He wanted to scream out all his pain. His fears. His shame. "I can't get those voices out of my head. Nothing I've done before works."

Batman's hands squeezed just slightly, then relax before repeating, trying to relax the man through acknowledgement and comfort. He hadn't even shared his secret yet, and Crane had shared his problem willingly. Perhaps there was something to this gentle treatment after all. Batman knew the redhead was in pain and needed help, but wasn't sure how to do so. "What have you tried?" he asked. Perhaps if he knew what Crane had tried he could suggest alternate methods. Crane was more adept at dealing with fear like this.

"Self hypnosis, meditation, but they only get worse. Even affermations." These were all successful treatments to fear. He turned over to curl up, gripping his stringy hair. "I....I'll do anything if you make it all stop." Crane was starting to look uncharacteristically pathetic. Perhaps he was now mentally too tired to hide anymore.

Batman could only think of one thing - the only thing that truly helped him when he was in pain over his parent's death and helped his deal with the emotions. Letting it out. He sat on the bed and pulled Crane up until they were chest to chest. Crane was so tiny compared to Batman, his shoulder span only half of the Dark Knight's. Crane sat there, leaning against Batman, his breath uneven as he was trying to fight his tears. He hadn't pushed the man away or resisted when Batman pulled him close. "Have you tried releasing it?" Batman asked. This would help. He knew it would. "Throw a fit. Scream. Hit something.. Hit ME. Just let it out. Maybe keeping it locked up is what's making your fear fight so hard to trap you."

Crane buried his face in the other's chest, tears streaking down his cheeks. Soon hiccups began to consume his breathing as they turned into sobs. Crane hated this feeling. He felt humiliated and ashamed, but he couldn't stop. No matter how much he wanted to, he could stop the floodgate of emotion that washed over him, overwhelming him to the point of desperate sobs. Batman hadn't thought when he brought Crane from Arkham that he'd be dealing with this. Crane always seemed so in control despite his frantic panic under the influence of his toxin. Seeing that he was actually human... broke a lot of Batman's assumptions about the man. Slowly but surely he wrapped his arms about the smaller form and let him mourn. "I have you." he said, confidently and firmly. "You're safe. Please. Trust me. You're safe."

This action only made the Crane cry more, but this time, for relief. He poured out his fear and pain, and Batman did not laugh. He did not call him names or even beat him. He held him and told him he was safe. He did what Crane wished for years. To be told it was ok and that he was safe. Not even his own father gave him that assurance. Crane soon cried himself into pure exhaustion, falling asleep like a small child in Batman's arms. For once he did feel safe as he let himself fall out of consciousness.

Batman held Crane for a long time, reluctant to let him go, worried that his nightmares would return. He pondered on letting Crane sleep without the straps. Batman had many sleepless nights before and one more wouldn't be a terrible misfortune. He hadn't been called tonight, and that was rare, but perhaps his involvement in the recent gang war's end and the arrest of over 400 thugs had done the trick. So Batman stayed. He sat back on the bed and let Crane sleep on him, guarding him from any the nightmares that might come about.
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Fear Itself