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Jonathan Crane knew too much, but if he had everything to lose, it was a risk worth taking for his family if not for himself.
The first thing he did was hand in his resignation, cutting himself off from funds Wayne poured in, but it wasn't a loss. He had enough for retirement now, just wanted to relax and live as a psychiatric consultant when needed. Men his age had regrets afterward, but he was exhausted to the bone. There was plenty to do with the rest of his life regardless, and he had no remorse for the good and bad.
His patients would miss him most of all, aside from the staff under him at Arkham, which he would not miss in the slightest. He was glad that failure of an institution was destroyed to the ground after the explosion by "unnamed terrorists" no one would be able to pinpoint, except the great Batman and his brood. The names of the dead were as listed:
Harvey Dent, also known as Two-Face.
Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter. That one made Jonathan grieve a little, because they had, once upon a time, been the greatest of friends, and all that was left was Nygma. Kristine had one "cool uncle" left in her life and no doubt that, despite the man he'd become, she dearly missed the one who introduced her to tea parties at a young age just after Harleen was taken.
Most importantly, the one all of Gotham was celebrating: the Joker. That was worth popping out the old whiskey Joan always saved for them both, for special occasions, because out of a guilty pleasure they shared, they knew Joker was a lost cause from the beginning and was NOT a tortured soul that needed healing, but the same couldn't be said for some of the others who had been capable if only they were given the right treatments. Blame that on Gotham's broken healthcare system.
Some were once on the right side of the law, but it was unrealistic to have the black-and-white view. It was the viewpoint of children.
Which was exactly why the Red Hood resonated with Gotham much better than Batman had done in years.
~o~
"How are you doing today, Mr. Dent?"
He was referring to Bruce Dent, son of Harvey Dent and his ex-fiancée who was still with him in heart and spirit after all these years. He and his mother had returned after moving back to Gotham, but it had shattered any hopes the young man would have of gaining a relationship with his sperm donor. Sometimes love wasn't enough, though Jonathan applauded Grace Lamont's strength. Reminded him too much of his daughter, although Jason Todd had much better chances than the former District Attorney.
"Shit, Doc," was the blunt answer as the young man lay across the lounge for patient visitors. They were at the Harleen Crane Center, in honor of his late wife and one of the few good clinics untouched by corruption; now it would have to be supported by someone else rather than Wayne's funds. It existed in the first place since Harley's murder in one of Joker's schemes, because the monster put it all on the live feed, which garnered extreme sympathy from many who suffered that fate and others living after. "You heard about the Hood?"
"No one has stopped sharing on the platforms or broadcasting it," Jonathan answered with a grumble. And here be another patient directly or indirectly affected.
The blond young man with his father's dark eyes turned his face in his psychiatrist's direction. "Yeah, I have friends from Crime Alley who are scared for their futures now. They know someone Red Hood helped, had also helped on their parts - Hood's part of them and me, too. Mom and I had to just settle in the Alley when there were no other options, and I'm trying to help get us out of there, but you know what it's like to sorta be marked because of who your father is? Well, now my father is gone ever since Hood's disappearance right after Batshit killed him."
"What?" Jonathan barked out a sarcastic laugh. "You think he's dead, do you?" Several of his patients believed that and by the looks of those injuries which doctors and health experts testified on television, it could very much be so, and that did stain the Batman's reputation when there was no clear answer as to why the Red Hood fired a BLANK in Oswald Cobblepot's eye, rendering him with memory loss and unlikely to resume his old tricks.
Bruce shrugged. "Wouldn't be surprised, but if that's true, then Batman is now the most hated hero. Dad talked to me on the phone last time from Arkham and said so himself, called the Bat just as low as he and the others were, and that he'd lost respect." The mist washed over those eyes. "And now Dad's gone. He was supposed to get better so he could have a life with Mom and me...but he had all those chances, everyone said..." He stopped talking and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry, which was an extremely toxic way of handling grief. Harvey Dent was a good man at heart, but the corrupt healthcare system and the cesspool called Arkham Asylum, along with the broken legal system, were to blame. And he'd paid for it with his life, which could be considered a mercy kill on his part. Once Jason returned and his greatest enemies were removed, he could help Bruce Dent and his mother.
"I hate Batman. He's an abuser. There's the word he is considered one of the Robins, but if that's true, then why the hell does he have the black sheep mark?" young Dent demanded. "A father never should do that to their children, and if he's not held accountable for his actions - which no one else seems to do other than talking shit - then Gotham should burn to hell, Doc. Red Hood looks like a saint compared to him." He didn't need to list everything else that was common knowledge.
Little did the young man know that he was going to get his wish, and so would the rest of Gotham.
"I'm gonna miss Dad even though I barely knew him. He tried but lost the war, and I never blamed him." A glint pushed through the waterworks. "Glad the Joker and the other worst of the Rogues are gone, though. It's worth celebrating; did you know the next parade is being planned? People can't get enough. Batman is delusional to think the people are uprising and that another worse than the Clown Prince of Crime is going to show up."
~o~
He couldn't thank Talia al Ghul enough for this. Call this karmic retribution on the behalves of his family and the entire city who didn't lose a friend and loved one by the clown and several of the Rogues Jonathan Crane came close to being a part of before his daughter's birth.
When you wake up, everything you built will be nothing but sand and delusional dreams.
He was excited to return to his roots, if only just this once and with far more control than Batman ever had over his golden rule. Introduce the new and improved concentrated dose of his old formula he ingeniously kept hidden for a time such as this ONLY if someone he loved was endangered. It helped him long ago when he was young and alone, so now...
~o~
"Miss al Ghul, thank you for your time today."
The woman before him in this small café wasn't difficult to spot as soon as he'd entered. Judging by the steam in the white cup before her as she seemingly perused through the newspaper - they lived in the digital age now, and Pamela would be outraged at the continuous damage to the environment - she'd ordered herself a cup of coffee but had no idea what he would prefer, not that he was offended. Lowering the papers to the surface of the booth against the window, he would have been a fool to be taken aback by the low-profile yet elegant, semi-transparent ivory blouse and designer denim reminiscent of the depths of the ocean, finished with polished midnight flats. Raven hair was sleekly tied behind her nape, showing off earrings of diamonds and lapis lazuli in drops. "How is my son?" Talia asked, elegantly folding the paper in half and then once more before putting it down on the table. "I have had Damian pulled away as soon as I received the atrocious news." Her eyes narrowed into snake slits.
Jonathan looked up at the waitress who came towards them and offered him a coffee, which he accepted as strong black. Part of him wished he had something stronger, but not at this time of day. "Yes, he's with Richard Grayson in Bludhaven as we speak," he agreed in a lower voice. "My daughter joined them. It's for the best they stay away from this madness, correct?"
He didn't need to say it if he already knew that, and she affirmed. "This attack is a deliberate assault against the League. I have my people ready to do everything from the shadows against both Bruce Wayne and Batman. The children don't need to be involved in this."
"As a parent, I concur," Jonathan answered with a smile. "It's worth giving up my life's work, but it doesn't mean I won't continue to help when someone needs it. Frankly...I'll be doing this for everyone in Gotham who didn't ask for this. The unfortunate souls in Crime Alley are left without a protector, and it won't take long before enemies of the Red Hood descend if they haven't already." They had to take the rest of this part of the conversation elsewhere, so he could only say this much amidst these people.
Talia hummed and glared past his shoulder at nothing and no one in particular. "The Red Hood will return," she promised, "or a new name. But right now, Jason needs to help himself. Someone wise proclaimed that you cannot help others unless you put yourself first." Which was precisely what he tried telling a stubborn Jason Todd in the past; all those Bats were the same.
That was going to change. He vowed that as both a psychologist and a father.
~o~
"Awake now, Mr. Wayne, I see."
No Batman suit.
No gadgets and weapons.
No means of protection.
Just the man, strapped down to an operating table with the best of bondage to offer that he couldn't get out of in his state. Try as he might, he was trapped.
"Crane," Wayne growled as he looked at the doctor from where he lay, still attempting the pathetic glare in his position. "What are you playing at? Back to your old tricks because of him? He broke our agreement on his own -"
"Silence." Jonathan kept his back to his once-oppressor, refusing to give the satisfaction and only glancing from the corner of his eye. "You're in no position to act as the bully overcompensating with his fists and privilege. In case you haven't noticed, you've lost the respect of the Gotham people and the board of directors now that they know you continue to support a child abuser - to their eyes at least." His fingers itched to reach for the gag to silence the almighty tongue, but he had to wait. "I'm willing to go on a limb and bet that Jason never told you the full story about his resurrection, which I had to learn from young Damian's mother and the boy himself of all people. It just goes to show who is the better parent compared to you." The Wayne heir's nostrils flared like an angry bull's.
"He had to return to this world knowing he was unavenged, and the rest is history. You chose his murderer over him, whilst I would have done the opposite in a heartbeat for my child if we were in that position. Now, why didn't I kill that monster after he took away my wife and the mother of my child?" Jonathan pretended to ponder this, tapping his chin before raising that finger as though an idea popped up. "Ah, yes, you threatened to expose my past and take my child so you could rear her yourself. You didn't say the latter part, but I had suspicions. Gotham's foster system is horrendous, alright, and I couldn't let both options happen to Kristine. So I kept my damned mouth shut on everything along with going along with your childish decision. You blackmailed me and my family long enough, but it ends now.
"And now onto the other matter: Jason is safe away from you, with Kristine and Richard, and Damian is present. At least he's young enough to not be fully indoctrinated into your extremist ways, to change in the future. And unlike yourself, his mother is willing to help and allowed to, whereas you prevented her prior."
"Stop talking about me as if I have no heart, Jonathan," Bruce spat.
The doctor laughed, picking up the gag. "Between the two of us, both masters of fear, who chooses the work-life over his family? Who put up the memorial 'A Good Soldier' on his son's suit case after his death - or rather, the one you claimed to view as a son, simply because he was the boldest of the lot and had the guts to steal the tires of your vehicle to put food into his stomach? Who beat his eldest into submission to infiltrate an organization that knew every caped identity? And who kept his youngest locked up in the mansion in his earliest days out of distrust of his abilities, fantasizing about converting him in such a short amount of time? Who gives petty crooks the worst treatment compared to the likes of the Joker, or perhaps Two-Face?" Jonathan sneered. "Who replaces one boy after another without thought or regard? They consider it one shiny model after another - Richard and Jason have told me out of miscommunication."
By this time, Bruce Wayne was silenced because he would never again use masterful manipulation tactics. After Jonathan Crane was finished speaking, it was onto "therapy".
He leaned back against the table where his creations were, blocking them from view for the time being.
"Recall not too long ago, the last time you brought my wife's murderer, Miss Gordon's paralyzer, your 'son's' killer back to his hotel?"
And he knew because Joan had griped to him after all was said and done.
~o~
"Another night," Joan spat to him in his office, near closing time and shifts ending. He couldn't wait to get home and sleep it off. Might be because of his old age, but much of the time, he felt younger than he was. Might as well be catching up to me bit by bit.
"Let me take a guess: he dropped the clown off at the front entrance with blatant disregard for the paperwork and security protocols," Jonathan stated.
She brusquely nodded. "For years, we've put up with this, Jonathan. The extent of background checks for anyone to work here up to the fact Batman gets to waltz in here like he owns the place. Perhaps it's time to face the facts that critics have been saying ever since his appearance: he may not be responsible for Mr. Nygma's brainwork, Mr. Dent's split personality, or even Waylon's animalistic tendencies, but the fact they obsess over him is the problem. But you know what he said to my face? Said WE were at fault for not having the best resources to actually cure them!"
"Here, Joan, you and I could both use it before we go home," he grumbled, reaching for his secret stash he responsibly saved for them and any of the staff members he respected and who did the same to him. He gave her a third of the glass and himself equal. "Perhaps I'm being biased, but you're right. It's exhausting, and I'd love nothing more than to have them transported elsewhere so they can stay locked up and have access to the proper methods. I have better things to worry about."
Joan downed her glass in a go, without spilling a drop. "Me, too, but what worries me, too, is the fact he beats them into submission the way he does. Not only showing violence is the only way, but that it validates their existence as much as it does to him."
~o~
"'Violence is the only way', eh? I beg to differ. It speaks volumes of how much help you truly need, Batman. You've forfeited any rights to object to long-overdue therapy."
Jonathan picked up the needle while still glowering at the man who growled behind his gag and thrashed futilely against his bonds. He was careful to not accidentally prick himself with his own toxin. "Really, haven't you figured it out? You're going nowhere. There's no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be." He walked forward then, withdrawing the syringe from behind his back and holding the glinting green-yellow before the other man's eyes, which narrowed knowingly.
Ah, you recall, but what am I thinking? Of course, you do. Just like old times, but different. And for an entirely different purpose.
"You won't be leaving this room until we are finished, Mr. Wayne." He grinned as he brought the needle closer and closer. "Welcome to my nightmare."
Before the other could blink, Scarecrow plunged the needle directly into the exposed vein in the neck.
He never did recreational drugs in his life, but he supposed this was what it felt like to be in the rush. Jonathan pulled out the needle and smirked, sighing hoarsely like he used to during the times with Harley, and right after she told him she'd conceived.
Unconditional love and passion truly are like serotonin.
"You like it, Mr. Wayne?" he taunted the man after he came down from his shot. Batman grunted and thrashed in his bonds, still to no avail. "No need to know all the details, but it's the original added with a twist thanks to a rare plant found only in Nanda Parbat - to break down your defenses, so to speak. Courtesy of the old love of your life...or should I say, one of two great loves of your life? The ones you were eager to let go of because this lost cause of a city is your true love. Your true love, but you never treated her right just as she did the same to all of us. Then again, we tend to hurt the people we love most." Just as you've done to the boys who needed a father after having their worlds ripped from them - the first two, at least.
"True, you let go of one lover all because her father made the deal with the Joker that got your boy killed while she had nothing to do with it; the other left you at the altar. Only two strongest, most passionate love affairs ending like star-crossed love stories." Jonathan shook his head. "I fail to understand why a centuries-old city could still be loved when you never truly lived within its limits, only on the outskirts, while the rest of us have given and given and never got anything back from her. She hurt every single one of us, but you had it much easier in comparison. As have I, but I wonder why Gotham never took anything further beyond the only love of my life."
Bruce just glowered at him.
"Tell me, then, without biting back and dodging...who are you really trying to save in this city that you'd sacrifice your own little boy soldiers for it?" Jonathan sneered, leaning over him and keeping his chest away from Bruce's shoulder by half a foot.
He removed the gag only for the response. "Do I have a choice?"
The doctor chuckled. "Of course, you would ask that when you already know."
"...every other child out there. So that they never go through what I had to. Except...I can't save everyone."
"Precisely. Your entire life was dedicated to this one goal - yours and yours alone - that had always been impossible to obtain. In either case, the way you went about it never should have happened. Oh, for the enemies you faced and whipped into submission, giving the worst to the petty crooks who work for them, would go differently but still bring misery. They would perhaps have faced their comeuppances at least once or twice if not multiple times compared to now. If you never became Batman, if you'd gone about saving this city in a different route, things would have been shinier. Your actions in inspiring them to put on costumes legitimized their existences, which in a way, makes them your equals while everyone else - including your Robins - are inferior fodder. How are you any better than the Rogues?"
~o~
Abuse was a difficult cycle to escape from. Difficult, but not impossible.
If there were any chances of starting over, with extreme outside help at best, it would have to work at a distance. Otherwise...
Otherwise, there's no hope. It's always best to cut the ties altogether.
Jason was having dinner with him, Kristine, and Pamela that Friday evening. It was a fine vegetarian lasagna dish made by his oldest botanist friend who was also his daughter's godmother. That was when Jason dropped the bomb on all of them right after his infiltration of Black Mask's empire, culminating in acquiring two new teammates after the disbandment of the previous Outlaws, in which Roy Harper was elsewhere these days.
"Bruce let me back into the fold after I proved myself."
And here it was again. "Jason," Jonathan started only to be interrupted.
"I know what you're going to say, Doc, but this is a chance for us to really start patching it up. You'll never believe what he said when we sat atop the Batmobile for burgers just like back when we first met: the world has enough heroes; it could use a few outlaws." There was that shine in his eyes, like the boy he used to be and that Kristine said was still in him back when they first learned he was alive, resurrected overseas by Damian's mother and grandfather.
"...promise us something then, Jason?" Pamela asked, reading his mind, and taking a sip from her sweet wine. "Good things don't last, so be wary if something explodes under his eye again. I'm afraid he won't forgive you if you make a mistake whether you meant it or not, or whether or not it was the right call." The old argument was back, deflating the young man, but he knew exactly what she was saying.
Jonathan sighed and looked at his daughter, seeing the worry in her eyes as she reached for Jason's hand, then leaned up to peck him chastely on the cheek facing her. Knowing from experience, this newest "patch-up" didn't bode well. Think of it as the latest calm in the vicious cycle before the next blowout match.
Jason Todd had been through everything no child or young adult should ever go through. The old psychologist regretted calling him a hoodlum in the beginning, and the fact he was a father didn't excuse it. He should have taken him in himself, adopted him, and then perhaps he and Kristine would have been whisked from Gotham when the chance was there. And then he never would have been adopted by that rich manchild and died before his time...lived to see his killer still roaming, then being chosen by the man who dared to call himself a father...
~o~
"This is..." Batman growled, pupils dilating as the toxin broke down another barrier within his brain.
"Yes?" Jonathan purred, knowing a good part was coming.
"...this is MY city!" the Wayne heir shouted, animalistic. "No one should cause havoc within my city and get away with it!"
He could push the button now that they were here. "Including Red Hood - Jason?"
Bruce hissed at the mention of that name. "That monster wasn't my son. Jason never would have killed if he'd lived, if he'd listened to my orders to never engage Joker alone. He deserved to be in Arkham when he ran amok and crossed the line one too many times; he should have gotten help when he had the chance. He always shoved it away. If he couldn't follow my rules, then he wasn't part of the family. He knew that. With his actions shooting Oswald Cobblepot -"
"With a damned blank," Jonathan snapped, drawing back, ready to do what he'd been dying to do all night. "Or did your puny brain become overcome with perceived betrayal without considering facts?" He scoffed. "The World's Greatest Detective title deserves to go to someone more worthy. As the young say, 'out with the old and in with the new'. You're no king; there is no such thing as royalty in America compared to the rest of the world. Cobblepot will make a recovery, but it's unlikely he will ever resort to his old ways again." He paused to take a breath.
"I read letters from his old man who was killed in prison. Penguin was his last employer, not Harvey Dent as previously believed. But you never dug deeper, did you?" Wayne's eyes widened in sheer horror, the weight crashing down onto him. "Jason had just learned the truth, coming to grips that his family was destroyed by the bird monster, and what did YOU do? You ripped off the cult symbol from his chest - yes, cult, because that's what it all comes down to, and family never hurts each other - almost killed him with all the trailing pools of blood to prove it, only for Arsenal and Nightwing to rescue him. You disgust me and all of Gotham who has seen you for the monster you are. You've become the darkness you weaponized against your enemies. True, you have some good qualities, but they change nothing. Now, as for the major question...is Gotham really YOUR city? No, no more than it is my family's, the Rogues', or Jason's. You're not the only one who wants to save it, either, but you declared yourself a god-king without realizing it." He recovered his captive's mouth.
"Should your one choice be all there is? No other options? The fact Commissioner Gordon and his police force are reduced to your lackeys rather than doing the jobs they were supposed to? Certainly, they counted on you when you entered the picture, but after the mob was beaten? It seems that Jim might just be less intellectual compared to you; that's considered babysitting duty by some. You might consider him a friend, but when was the last time you had a friendly conversation unrelated to cases, or during them, maybe after?" Jonathan paused and waited, and when no sound came, that was his answer. "Thought so. I myself ever saw you only when it came to your generous donations and when it concerned the children. Anyway, that's been covered, and besides the point. The great Caped Crusader naïvely sees only beating into submission and discarding the ones who are no longer useful to his holy mission. You wouldn't accept another's suggestion if it bit you on the cape. Everything is all about you, in your deluded head.
"What do you have to say for yourself now?" Jonathan took off the gag again for the answer.
"I don't have to defend myself, Crane."
Jonathan smirked. "Not even to save your skin? My gracious, the jackpot."
"What about you? Stooping low to this, putting your daughter and your work on the line?"
A bony hand came and struck the other man's jawbone, emitting a crack that only rippled the flesh. "Dare you use my child again! And as for my work, I expected you to care only about that, as it's all you've put your mind and effort into, failing your family and the people living here. Your charities, the continuously rotting Park Row, and other places left to rot in your parents' name - let me recount what your ever loyal-butler heard from my mouth when I personally informed him along with Richard that young Damian would be taken in no time."
~o~
"Consider this the termination of our so-called friendship, Pennyworth."
He chose this booth in the restaurant for a reason. He let the Wayne family butler pay for everything with his wages - or his master's card - because it was worth wasting the other's dime. "He's done nothing but sacrifice innocent lambs for his crusade whilst drinking the wine of paradise, but now the sands of time have run their course. I will do one thing now."
"Dr. Crane...do you realize what will happen when you do what you are implying?"
"Gotham no longer needs him. You know that, or are you just equally as deluded as he is? Not that I am surprised in the slightest. He just thinks that everything is all about him. Would YOU have had the balls of steel to guide him towards a path where his amazing intellect, his unstoppable drive, and his fabulous riches were dedicated to truly becoming the greatest philanthropist the world has ever known? Yes, he does occasional goodwill, but then Park Row would have been restored to its former glory by now. He has never changed this city for the better. No extra aid for public schools and the best universities, expectant families and singles who want a child, no improvements on the educational system, and don't get me started on foster care. And rather than all-time high crime, those rates would be nil. I'm exhausted repeating these age-old arguments, but let's just say Jason has better chances outside the hood compared to Wayne. Your boy chose to just play dress up and punch inferiors, and you yourself are complicit, Pennyworth."
There was a momentary sputter. "J-Jonathan -"
"Save it! You've made enough excuses to last a lifetime," Jonathan snapped, knuckles turning white. "As of now, Jason is MY son, and after he's healed, he becomes my family one way or another."
Alfred lowered his gaze to the table, the lunch in front of him barely touched. "...you're right. I was blinded by love and loyalty. You're capable of setting everything aside for family, whereas I never could get Master Bruce to see that," he said quietly before his face darkened. "I confess to you that I intend to tell him when I see him again. He's hurt everyone he's loved most: his sons, your daughter, and all of Gotham. For a time, he made all the difference that his parents, rest them, could be proud of. He became too far gone in the abyss to return. This city is my home, and if I were to choose between it going up in flames and my charge living a long, happy, and healthy life -"
"- it would be the latter," Jonathan finished with a curt nod.
"Without a hesitation or moment's regret, but there's nothing but regrets that outweigh the good. Just swear that Master Jason will be well-cared for, and he can choose to cut me out altogether if it makes him happy."
Unspoken: it will break my heart, but it's the right thing to do. That was selfless love, but cost one heart in the long-term run.
~o~
Wayne turned his face the other way, the sweat on his flesh seen even from that angle. "Why -" he rasped, panting heavily. "Why are you...doing this?"
"Oh, still the blind buffoon, I see." Jonathan clucked his tongue and shook his head. "No doubt he'd told you he loathed this choice you made every night, waiting at the mausoleum called a manor to reset your bones, stitch you up, and call Leslie for the worst, all the while having difficulty thinking coherently. How close you are to dying every night that it's a miracle you're still breathing. You still stand while your sons are a different story. Do you care how Alfred felt?!" he demanded, referring to the mourning of Jason, getting no answer except a whimper that was forced out of the other man. Good...the effect is taking.
"Alfred...he...he HATES the Batman," Bruce finally gasped out after several long seconds that felt like minutes.
Jonathan shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. "He put up with much in his time as much as I have, so how could you do this to everyone? No wonder you're alone in your final moments."
Bruce's eyes widened in mortification once more.
"But I couldn't let you go without seeing everything you were meant to. What you've known all along but refused to admit. The truth always hurts. How can one man make such a difference, I recall you asking me once long ago." The doctor chuckled, putting the empty syringe back on the table behind him. "I still think you're in even more denial than I thought. All the men in history from the most loved to the most hated - just think of the enormity of their actions.
"The point of YOUR insane quest: you wanted to change Gotham. You of all people should know exactly how much one person can change things. Isn't it strange that one man's life touches so many others around him, let's say...just like Jason's? But sometimes when he isn't around? Well..." Jonathan smirked, leaning over and peering over the rim of his glasses.
"...sometimes, it's for the best."
Say it.
Say the words you know are true.
Bruce Wayne forced himself to look into his oppressor's eyes and threw his head back, roaring to the ceiling like the monster he was, close enough to a scream.
"Gotham's now the way it is because of me! It's all my fault! It's all my fault...it's my fault...it'sallmyfault!"
He wheezed and inhaled harshly through his nostrils, heartbeat audible to Jonathan Crane's ears. He uttered something that the redhead almost didn't catch. "I'm sorry?" Jonathan asked sweetly, leaning close to put his ear but keeping at an acceptable distance; he didn't want to chance to have his lobe and shell bitten off out of retaliation.
"I...should never have become the Batman."
And success.
"No, you shouldn't have," Jonathan agreed, circling the strapped hostage out of habit. "It resulted in manipulating young boys to fight your war for you, beating your resurrected 'son' to near death only recently, neglecting the son you never knew of much of his life thus far, and of course, sending your eldest undercover against his will. You never wanted peace or closure, only bringing pain to others just so they knew what it felt like. Misery is a company, they say. How's this for a fitting end to a man-boy who brought it on himself?" His lips stretched ear to ear in the form of the Cheshire Cat.
Dwelling on that character made him grieve the dear friend he'd lost to Batman's crusade.
"I did say you were leaving this room when we were finished, but I didn't say alive."
~o~
"Oh, G-God!"
There was no God in existence, as far as he was concerned, but it was only befitting to say it when he couldn't find better words, and when there were none for what he saw. No words for the casts, the bruises in blue, black, purple, and red, and the blood that was wiped away and drying.
Roy Harper was a mess, sitting beside Jason's inert, semi-comatose form, and Kristine was on the other side, holding his untouched hand, kissing his brow now and then, shedding tears of her own. Jonathan was in the doorway with Richard and Damian behind him, the boy holding onto the elder who was more of a father to him than his sperm donor ever was.
"He was supposed to be better than this," Richard said bitterly. "I could forgive him for what he did to me, but not when it comes to people I love."
"What if that is me someday?" Damian whispered, face half hidden in his brother's side.
Jonathan's lungs burnt out from all the sighs he released on just this one night, from seeing everything on the news feed, his daughter's hysterical cries, and now seeing the broken body before him. None of this was supposed to be normal, no matter life being dangerous. This wasn't what he wanted for his own family, and he taught Kristine well. She wasn't part of THAT life, but what if...?
No, he wasn't going to let that monster walking around in Bruce Wayne's body get away with this. Never again. He knew just what he had to do even if he had to sell his soul.
~o~
Since Arkham was being rebuilt with much better funding and metas allowed to guard with everything they had - this was no longer going to be Batman's city where he dictated who was and wasn't allowed - it was befitting that Bruce Wayne would end up permanently locked up, the damage to his brain system too extensive. That's what he gets for selling his soul in vain, figuratively speaking.
Jonathan made sure to erase traces of the toxin, but it wouldn't be enough to repair what was done.
He'd sworn Wayne wouldn't leave his hold alive, but he didn't mean actual death as it would be too easy for him. For a dead man walking in a figurative sense, he'd be immortalized as the "Billionaire Who Broke", whilst to the public and the masked community, he was the "Bat Who Beat the Hood", or something along those lines.
Now the former Scarecrow who returned for one night was finished. He did this one deed for his family that Bruce Wayne never would when it came to the Joker, so who was worse than the other?
What does it matter? Time to get home to the children now.