Something In Common Part 14/?
Title: Something In Common
Part: 14/?
Author: JSherlock
Fandom: Batman Begins
Pairing: Bruce Wayne / Jonathan Crane
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to DC and Time Warner/AOL
Summary - Bane is questioned, and Both Bruce and Jonathan get closer to the truth.
The roar of the waterfall echoed as a dull roar in the deep recesses of the bat cave. Bane leaned against the bars of the cell, listening quietly. It reminded him of prison. He remembered the constant sound of the air purifiers of the mines nearby. That was long ago. He was clear of the drugs that had landed him a stint there and he’d put that behind him - until the narrows had blown sky high. He swore he’d never touch the stuff again but he needed money to send to his family back home - and it was lucrative.
He stiffened as footsteps came closer. He stood up and turned around, waiting.
“So, you are the Batman,” he said, nodding in greeting.
“Bane,” Batman replied.
“Antonio Diego, please. So.” He debated on what was the most pressing question he had. “What am I doing here?” Use of facilities could wait.
Batman stood still, cast in shadow, but he had the eerie feeling that the other man knew exactly where he was. He moved silently a few steps over. Diego didn’t track the movement. He would not under estimate him. He’d learned that lesson.
“This isn’t your regular MO, so I can only assume you’ve turned into a sick fuck, or you want information from me, personally,” Diego said, as if he’d been having a normal conversation.
“I need information.”
Diego nodded. “I need my freedom.”
“I don’t bargain.”
“Then perhaps after I visit a toilet, we can discuss the situation rationally, like civilized human beings.” He tried not to squirm. “I ate something that didn’t agree with me.”
Bruce paused, then unlocked the door and took a grip on Bane’s arm, twisting it behind his back. He waited after locking his prisoner in the bathroom.
He’s smarter than he acts. He blinked, Alfred’s words echoing in his mind. “One day, you’ll find that you have more in common with them than the upstanding citizens of this city.” He shook his head and unlocked the door as Diego knocked politely.
“Fancy shitter you got there.”
Bruce weighed the man up. “Cut the crap - you’re obviously smarter than you let on.” He frog-marched Diego to the cell, where a table with food and water had been laid out.
Diego noticed it was all bite-sized finger food. There was no chair. He lifted the plastic cup of water in salute to Batman as the lock clicked. “All right. I’ll play it your way.”
“Eat. Drink.”
“Be merry?” Diego half-smirked, and helped himself to some sausage rolls.
“What do you know about the scarecrow?” He winced at the eagerness in his voice.
“Nothing. I was just recently hired.” He ate a few bites. “Your bete noir - the one who got away.”
“Yes.”
“So - you’re admitting that. Excellent.”
“You must have heard rumors! You’re not right off the boat.”
Diego paused. “Excuse me?”
“That was rude of me. I have been looking for him for a year, yet it seems that everybody I’ve caught has said he’s been out in the narrows for the past 9 years. I have evidence that proves he has been in a high level-psychiatric ward in Arkham for some of that period of time, and testimony by the most upstanding citizens of this city that he was working for Bruce Wayne himself.” He didn’t want to reveal so much, but it was necessary - he wanted that information.
“Really?” Diego was floored. “I’ve...never heard of that...” He paused. “Old Rusty got really drunk, once. Right when I arrived. I’m pretty burly, so I got roped into helping the barman get him out...he raved that the scarecrow wasn’t really an old fixture - he’d been living the high life with some rich man he’d finagled into keeping him in the real world.” He looked up at the dark shadow. “I didn’t think Dr. Crane went in for that - but he certainly rejects most of the advances from Miss Ivy.”
“Miss Ivy? The redhead?”
“Now, Batman, I’ve given you something. Let’s say, a chair? Or a bed if you’re going to keep me here?”
“You won’t be here long enough.”
Diego glanced at the food furtively.
“The drink. Spiked with my own concoction.”
“A truth serum?”
“Yes.”
“Hm. Very sneaky of you.” He debated whether or not to fight it. “What will you do to me once I spill?”
“You will wake up in the custody of Gotham Police.”
“Ah.” He weighed half a roast beef sandwich in his hand. “Old Rusty went down in a hail of bullets from Gotham’s finest last week.”
“I see. Ivy?”
“She and Dr. Crane go back, I think. They are certainly familiar with each other.” He looked up at Batman. “She absolutely is besotted with him - but he barely looks twice at her. He...” he licked his lips.
Batman pushed a pitcher of water against the bars with his boot. “A side effect - dry mouth.”
After taking a swig from the jug, Diego continued, “Dr. Crane seems...lost. Lost in his surroundings and lost in his mind. I’ve only met him once, you see. But Ivy keeps him on a tight leash, so to speak. I was the new driver tonight. Just hired. It’s a bad business, drugs, but I need the money. My family back home, you see.”
Batman made a curt nod. “Dr. Crane?”
“Sort of fades in and out of his internal world. I think he gassed himself one too many times, if you ask me. Not totally there.” Diego shrugged as if to say ‘crazy is as crazy does’. “And Ivy - well, she’s just all over him, like I said before. She even controls his food, she kept giving him drinks from a bottle of water that she kept in her purse. I wouldn’t have gone with them, but they offered the most money.” Diego continued to eat, wondering if
Batman had gotten catering - it was good.
Bruce took in a slow breath as an idea came to him. Controlled his drink? Bruce focussed on the plastic cup on the table in front of Diego. He’s being drugged. He stamped down on the slow burn that suddenly raged deep in his gut. That bitch is going down.
“So...that’s all I know. You going to knock me out now?”
Batman turned on heel and stalked away. The knockout-drugs in the pitcher would take effect in an hour.
He needed to look for yearbooks. Maybe Ivy had gone to school with him. He smiled grimly. At least he knew more than the police who had given Jonathan's disappearance as a cold case. And they certainly didn’t have any idea who the red headed woman with the stolen car might be.
Alfred turned to greet him as he approched the computer banks. “How is our guest?”
“Fine. We need to pull up every year book from every school Jonathan attended. Since preschool. And cross reference the name Ivy.”
“Oh?” Alfred turned and pulled up Jonathan’s file, and opened it. He looked through it. “Hmmm. Looks like he went to college out of state, but has lived here all his life.”
“I can take it from here, Alfred.” Bruce nudged Alfred’s shoulder, trying to politely get him out of the chair.
“I’m sure you can. But you will go overboard. As you always do. I am staying right here, to keep you from falling over the edge.” He didn’t voice his concern over the fact that Bruce was going so far with this - he privately thought that Bruce was acting like a man trying to score to feed his addiction.
“Thank you, Alfred.” He pulled up a chair and watched Alfred work his magic.
“If you want to be useful, you could run a facial recognition program to try to weed our redhead out from all the pictures I’m going to be bringing up.”
“Right.”
------------------------
“Oh, god, yes.” Jonathan hummed indecently as he wrapped his lips around the broccoli. Ivy ran for the bathroom and he could hear her being sick again over the faint swoosh of the water pipes that went through the thin wall of the kitchen. He debated on spitting the tasteless mass out. She’d boiled it to death. Literally.
The bathroom door slammed and he retched into the sink, washing the mess away with the leftovers from his plate. He grinned to himself.
Serves the bitch right. His gaze lande don her purse. He waited a moment, listening intently. With small, furtive movements, he reached inside it and pulled out her wallet. He snagged a few large bills and replaced the wallet.
Usually she bought whatever he wanted, but today - he was going to be his own master.
His watch beeped. Time for work. “I’m off to work,” he banged on the door as he passed. “Breakfast was divine - I’m craving some asparagus now. See you later!”
With a brisk step, he fairly flew down the newly laid concrete. Slowly, the underground systems were becoming more organized. The work was slow, but was progressing. He took a detour to the morning market, deciding that he would get some fresh food. Now that he had money in his pocket. He arrived at the clinic early, and opened it with a flourish. The nurses lowered their weapons and they saw who it was.
“Good morning, ladies. Gentleman.” They nodded at him silently, used to his random moods. “Give me ten, and then send in my first patient.”
Once inside his office, he took a deep breath, and put his briefcase on the desk. He went for the in box and sifted through it. Same old - someone had a cough another had a fever - there was a baby needing their mmr. No - they’d be referred to the hospital in Gotham. That was good. A knock sounded at his door.
He looked up and smiled at the first patient.
By the time the twentieth had come and gone, he was bored. “I’m having my lunch,” he said, buzzing the front desk.
He looked between Ivy’s packed lunch, and the plastic bag of fruit and vegetables he’d bought at the market on the way. He binned the brown bag and bit into an apple, sucking up the juices with pleasure. Oh, god, this was better than sex.
Not that you’ve been getting any since you left Brian.
He blinked, apple juices dripping off his chin.
What?
No, not Brian. Bruce. Bruce... something.
He got the faintest image of a big smile with large white teeth, hair falling over a half shadowed face, in a car, a strong arm holding him up...
He jumped as his cell phone buzzed. He scrambled for it, knocking over his coffee mug. He froze.
Bruce Wayne taking off his tie to take off his shirt.
The phone buzzed again, dissipating the half-remembered memory.
He flipped it open.
“How’s your lunch, Johnny?”
He looked through Ivy’s bag, leaning over the trash can. “I liked the dill pickle - thank you for that,” he said sincerely.
“You’re welcome.” She sounded sweet and generous, without a trace of reproach.
He took another bite of the apple, muffling the phone under his vest. “How is your lunch, Pamela?”
“Good! I made steak tartare on rye.”
He winced. “That’s good.”
“I also put a yogurt in the bag. You need your calcium.”
"Thank you." He eyes an orange that was sitting on his desk.
"Anyway, Just wanted to check in, see how everything is - all good - nothing serious?”
“No, just regular stuff that crops up in closed-system ventilation. Though, I’ve heard the engineers are almost ready to get more fresh air in, rather than scrubbing what there is.”
“Oh yeah? That’s good. Oh! You’ll be glad to know that Bane was released today. I’m going to go pick him up at the station.”
“Oh? Well, he was good - we should use him again.”
He idly pulled his notepad over ad started doodling as he listened to Ivy launch into a a spiel abut the new route she’d come up with, and that the new distributor was a plant from the police, and that one of their associates, another doctor had iced him with a well-placed shot. Who knew the man was a sniper?
“Pamela. I have to get back to work.” He interrupted. “I’ll see you tonight.” He hung up, and then turned off the phone.
He’d finished the apple and reached for a banana. He wrapped it in a lettuce leaf, and almost choked himself scarfing it.
God, that woman can talk! She never used to be this chatty. Not even in high school. He remembered their ‘dates’ in the greenhouse, when she was starting to create hybrid plants. He could smell the deep, rich loamy scent of the fresh earth - the more acrid stench of the manure that stung his eyes she used, and the smoky after burn of gunpowder.
Gun powder? He distinctly remembered using knives - never guns. Right?
He brushed the thought away, and popped off the handle to his upper desk drawer. He dumped out the key and unlocked the bottom drawer on his right side, intending to hide his bounty of fruit and veg that could take it, and was thinking about where he could stash the rest in the work fridge when he caught sight of the pad of paper.
The food was ignored as he picked up the legal pad and turned it over. A scarecrow was crucified, mask at his feet. Bats pecked out his eyes. He flipped the page.
Remember, Johnny. for god’s sake. Remember the Ark. And English breakfasts. Jam with Dawes. Batman’s looking. HELP! OH HELP ME! glass breaking. drugs. Selling them. Taking them - gassed. One too many times, yes, but not enough to die. She’s dead. Weights and odd shadows on the wall. An interrogation with the round glasses. GET ME OUT OF HERE. The bat Man waits. Don’t eat or drink POISONed food.
He dropped the pad back into the drawer. That was his writing. The walls rushed in as the air around him expanded.
REMEMBER, JOHNNY!
He looked up at someone coughed discretely. An old man waited at the door. “Am I interrupting? Only, it’s my appointment time.”
“No, no.” He piled his food into the drawer and locked it.
“I’m sorry - I was lost in thought.”
“I see. Well, anyway, my missus told me that I better come down, as I’m starting to ramble. She says that I’ve gone senile - but I’m finally just talking! No more going yes, dear...”
Crane nodded, making humming noises as his client prattled ceaselessly, barely pausing to draw breath, and he reviewed his latest drawing. A faceless man singing in a bathtub. He added a room with someone obscured in a mirror folding laundry through the open door of the bathroom.
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Part: 14/?
Author: JSherlock
Fandom: Batman Begins
Pairing: Bruce Wayne / Jonathan Crane
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to DC and Time Warner/AOL
Summary - Bane is questioned, and Both Bruce and Jonathan get closer to the truth.
The roar of the waterfall echoed as a dull roar in the deep recesses of the bat cave. Bane leaned against the bars of the cell, listening quietly. It reminded him of prison. He remembered the constant sound of the air purifiers of the mines nearby. That was long ago. He was clear of the drugs that had landed him a stint there and he’d put that behind him - until the narrows had blown sky high. He swore he’d never touch the stuff again but he needed money to send to his family back home - and it was lucrative.
He stiffened as footsteps came closer. He stood up and turned around, waiting.
“So, you are the Batman,” he said, nodding in greeting.
“Bane,” Batman replied.
“Antonio Diego, please. So.” He debated on what was the most pressing question he had. “What am I doing here?” Use of facilities could wait.
Batman stood still, cast in shadow, but he had the eerie feeling that the other man knew exactly where he was. He moved silently a few steps over. Diego didn’t track the movement. He would not under estimate him. He’d learned that lesson.
“This isn’t your regular MO, so I can only assume you’ve turned into a sick fuck, or you want information from me, personally,” Diego said, as if he’d been having a normal conversation.
“I need information.”
Diego nodded. “I need my freedom.”
“I don’t bargain.”
“Then perhaps after I visit a toilet, we can discuss the situation rationally, like civilized human beings.” He tried not to squirm. “I ate something that didn’t agree with me.”
Bruce paused, then unlocked the door and took a grip on Bane’s arm, twisting it behind his back. He waited after locking his prisoner in the bathroom.
He’s smarter than he acts. He blinked, Alfred’s words echoing in his mind. “One day, you’ll find that you have more in common with them than the upstanding citizens of this city.” He shook his head and unlocked the door as Diego knocked politely.
“Fancy shitter you got there.”
Bruce weighed the man up. “Cut the crap - you’re obviously smarter than you let on.” He frog-marched Diego to the cell, where a table with food and water had been laid out.
Diego noticed it was all bite-sized finger food. There was no chair. He lifted the plastic cup of water in salute to Batman as the lock clicked. “All right. I’ll play it your way.”
“Eat. Drink.”
“Be merry?” Diego half-smirked, and helped himself to some sausage rolls.
“What do you know about the scarecrow?” He winced at the eagerness in his voice.
“Nothing. I was just recently hired.” He ate a few bites. “Your bete noir - the one who got away.”
“Yes.”
“So - you’re admitting that. Excellent.”
“You must have heard rumors! You’re not right off the boat.”
Diego paused. “Excuse me?”
“That was rude of me. I have been looking for him for a year, yet it seems that everybody I’ve caught has said he’s been out in the narrows for the past 9 years. I have evidence that proves he has been in a high level-psychiatric ward in Arkham for some of that period of time, and testimony by the most upstanding citizens of this city that he was working for Bruce Wayne himself.” He didn’t want to reveal so much, but it was necessary - he wanted that information.
“Really?” Diego was floored. “I’ve...never heard of that...” He paused. “Old Rusty got really drunk, once. Right when I arrived. I’m pretty burly, so I got roped into helping the barman get him out...he raved that the scarecrow wasn’t really an old fixture - he’d been living the high life with some rich man he’d finagled into keeping him in the real world.” He looked up at the dark shadow. “I didn’t think Dr. Crane went in for that - but he certainly rejects most of the advances from Miss Ivy.”
“Miss Ivy? The redhead?”
“Now, Batman, I’ve given you something. Let’s say, a chair? Or a bed if you’re going to keep me here?”
“You won’t be here long enough.”
Diego glanced at the food furtively.
“The drink. Spiked with my own concoction.”
“A truth serum?”
“Yes.”
“Hm. Very sneaky of you.” He debated whether or not to fight it. “What will you do to me once I spill?”
“You will wake up in the custody of Gotham Police.”
“Ah.” He weighed half a roast beef sandwich in his hand. “Old Rusty went down in a hail of bullets from Gotham’s finest last week.”
“I see. Ivy?”
“She and Dr. Crane go back, I think. They are certainly familiar with each other.” He looked up at Batman. “She absolutely is besotted with him - but he barely looks twice at her. He...” he licked his lips.
Batman pushed a pitcher of water against the bars with his boot. “A side effect - dry mouth.”
After taking a swig from the jug, Diego continued, “Dr. Crane seems...lost. Lost in his surroundings and lost in his mind. I’ve only met him once, you see. But Ivy keeps him on a tight leash, so to speak. I was the new driver tonight. Just hired. It’s a bad business, drugs, but I need the money. My family back home, you see.”
Batman made a curt nod. “Dr. Crane?”
“Sort of fades in and out of his internal world. I think he gassed himself one too many times, if you ask me. Not totally there.” Diego shrugged as if to say ‘crazy is as crazy does’. “And Ivy - well, she’s just all over him, like I said before. She even controls his food, she kept giving him drinks from a bottle of water that she kept in her purse. I wouldn’t have gone with them, but they offered the most money.” Diego continued to eat, wondering if
Batman had gotten catering - it was good.
Bruce took in a slow breath as an idea came to him. Controlled his drink? Bruce focussed on the plastic cup on the table in front of Diego. He’s being drugged. He stamped down on the slow burn that suddenly raged deep in his gut. That bitch is going down.
“So...that’s all I know. You going to knock me out now?”
Batman turned on heel and stalked away. The knockout-drugs in the pitcher would take effect in an hour.
He needed to look for yearbooks. Maybe Ivy had gone to school with him. He smiled grimly. At least he knew more than the police who had given Jonathan's disappearance as a cold case. And they certainly didn’t have any idea who the red headed woman with the stolen car might be.
Alfred turned to greet him as he approched the computer banks. “How is our guest?”
“Fine. We need to pull up every year book from every school Jonathan attended. Since preschool. And cross reference the name Ivy.”
“Oh?” Alfred turned and pulled up Jonathan’s file, and opened it. He looked through it. “Hmmm. Looks like he went to college out of state, but has lived here all his life.”
“I can take it from here, Alfred.” Bruce nudged Alfred’s shoulder, trying to politely get him out of the chair.
“I’m sure you can. But you will go overboard. As you always do. I am staying right here, to keep you from falling over the edge.” He didn’t voice his concern over the fact that Bruce was going so far with this - he privately thought that Bruce was acting like a man trying to score to feed his addiction.
“Thank you, Alfred.” He pulled up a chair and watched Alfred work his magic.
“If you want to be useful, you could run a facial recognition program to try to weed our redhead out from all the pictures I’m going to be bringing up.”
“Right.”
------------------------
“Oh, god, yes.” Jonathan hummed indecently as he wrapped his lips around the broccoli. Ivy ran for the bathroom and he could hear her being sick again over the faint swoosh of the water pipes that went through the thin wall of the kitchen. He debated on spitting the tasteless mass out. She’d boiled it to death. Literally.
The bathroom door slammed and he retched into the sink, washing the mess away with the leftovers from his plate. He grinned to himself.
Serves the bitch right. His gaze lande don her purse. He waited a moment, listening intently. With small, furtive movements, he reached inside it and pulled out her wallet. He snagged a few large bills and replaced the wallet.
Usually she bought whatever he wanted, but today - he was going to be his own master.
His watch beeped. Time for work. “I’m off to work,” he banged on the door as he passed. “Breakfast was divine - I’m craving some asparagus now. See you later!”
With a brisk step, he fairly flew down the newly laid concrete. Slowly, the underground systems were becoming more organized. The work was slow, but was progressing. He took a detour to the morning market, deciding that he would get some fresh food. Now that he had money in his pocket. He arrived at the clinic early, and opened it with a flourish. The nurses lowered their weapons and they saw who it was.
“Good morning, ladies. Gentleman.” They nodded at him silently, used to his random moods. “Give me ten, and then send in my first patient.”
Once inside his office, he took a deep breath, and put his briefcase on the desk. He went for the in box and sifted through it. Same old - someone had a cough another had a fever - there was a baby needing their mmr. No - they’d be referred to the hospital in Gotham. That was good. A knock sounded at his door.
He looked up and smiled at the first patient.
By the time the twentieth had come and gone, he was bored. “I’m having my lunch,” he said, buzzing the front desk.
He looked between Ivy’s packed lunch, and the plastic bag of fruit and vegetables he’d bought at the market on the way. He binned the brown bag and bit into an apple, sucking up the juices with pleasure. Oh, god, this was better than sex.
Not that you’ve been getting any since you left Brian.
He blinked, apple juices dripping off his chin.
What?
No, not Brian. Bruce. Bruce... something.
He got the faintest image of a big smile with large white teeth, hair falling over a half shadowed face, in a car, a strong arm holding him up...
He jumped as his cell phone buzzed. He scrambled for it, knocking over his coffee mug. He froze.
Bruce Wayne taking off his tie to take off his shirt.
The phone buzzed again, dissipating the half-remembered memory.
He flipped it open.
“How’s your lunch, Johnny?”
He looked through Ivy’s bag, leaning over the trash can. “I liked the dill pickle - thank you for that,” he said sincerely.
“You’re welcome.” She sounded sweet and generous, without a trace of reproach.
He took another bite of the apple, muffling the phone under his vest. “How is your lunch, Pamela?”
“Good! I made steak tartare on rye.”
He winced. “That’s good.”
“I also put a yogurt in the bag. You need your calcium.”
"Thank you." He eyes an orange that was sitting on his desk.
"Anyway, Just wanted to check in, see how everything is - all good - nothing serious?”
“No, just regular stuff that crops up in closed-system ventilation. Though, I’ve heard the engineers are almost ready to get more fresh air in, rather than scrubbing what there is.”
“Oh yeah? That’s good. Oh! You’ll be glad to know that Bane was released today. I’m going to go pick him up at the station.”
“Oh? Well, he was good - we should use him again.”
He idly pulled his notepad over ad started doodling as he listened to Ivy launch into a a spiel abut the new route she’d come up with, and that the new distributor was a plant from the police, and that one of their associates, another doctor had iced him with a well-placed shot. Who knew the man was a sniper?
“Pamela. I have to get back to work.” He interrupted. “I’ll see you tonight.” He hung up, and then turned off the phone.
He’d finished the apple and reached for a banana. He wrapped it in a lettuce leaf, and almost choked himself scarfing it.
God, that woman can talk! She never used to be this chatty. Not even in high school. He remembered their ‘dates’ in the greenhouse, when she was starting to create hybrid plants. He could smell the deep, rich loamy scent of the fresh earth - the more acrid stench of the manure that stung his eyes she used, and the smoky after burn of gunpowder.
Gun powder? He distinctly remembered using knives - never guns. Right?
He brushed the thought away, and popped off the handle to his upper desk drawer. He dumped out the key and unlocked the bottom drawer on his right side, intending to hide his bounty of fruit and veg that could take it, and was thinking about where he could stash the rest in the work fridge when he caught sight of the pad of paper.
The food was ignored as he picked up the legal pad and turned it over. A scarecrow was crucified, mask at his feet. Bats pecked out his eyes. He flipped the page.
Remember, Johnny. for god’s sake. Remember the Ark. And English breakfasts. Jam with Dawes. Batman’s looking. HELP! OH HELP ME! glass breaking. drugs. Selling them. Taking them - gassed. One too many times, yes, but not enough to die. She’s dead. Weights and odd shadows on the wall. An interrogation with the round glasses. GET ME OUT OF HERE. The bat Man waits. Don’t eat or drink POISONed food.
He dropped the pad back into the drawer. That was his writing. The walls rushed in as the air around him expanded.
REMEMBER, JOHNNY!
He looked up at someone coughed discretely. An old man waited at the door. “Am I interrupting? Only, it’s my appointment time.”
“No, no.” He piled his food into the drawer and locked it.
“I’m sorry - I was lost in thought.”
“I see. Well, anyway, my missus told me that I better come down, as I’m starting to ramble. She says that I’ve gone senile - but I’m finally just talking! No more going yes, dear...”
Crane nodded, making humming noises as his client prattled ceaselessly, barely pausing to draw breath, and he reviewed his latest drawing. A faceless man singing in a bathtub. He added a room with someone obscured in a mirror folding laundry through the open door of the bathroom.
1 2 3 4 4.5 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13