Patient 266

Arkham Asylum sat atop a lonely, secluded hill at the edge of the metropolitan city of Gotham. To any innocent passerby, it would have seemed like a fairly normal facility; with towering marble structures and firmly based columns. But it was anything but normal, and thus the Asylum was quarantined from the world and left to rot on the outskirts of a godforsaken city.

In truth, the Asylum had once been the family estate of the great Amadeus Arkham. Though in his obsession to purge the city of the criminally insane, the doctor had transformed the large grounds into one of the highest ranking in-patient sanatoriums in the world.

In looking at it from the outside, one would have rarely guessed the type of security that was housed within Arkham. For only an 8 foot fence separated the building from the main road, before one could simply walk back the half-mile to Gotham's heart and be in society again. But such simplicity was rare indeed. For inside the stone walls, all easy strides ended.

From the moment someone set foot past the fence, and through one of the several doors leading into the fortress-like building, they were bombarded with scanners, electrical alarms, pass-codes, and countless guards, nurses, and doctors waiting to pry at anyone who crossed their path.

But all of this was merely the top two floors, and spoke nothing of the horrors underneath the ground.

Below, in the basement levels of Arkham, security was upped to the maximum level- with solid metal doors boasting hostile electrical countermeasures, and at least three interchanging guards for every patient.
No natural light shone here. No rehabilitation occurred within the depths of the Asylum, for no one admitted to the lower chambers was ever sane enough to grasp the concept of redemption.

It was these debauched patients that gave Arkham Asylum her infamous reputation: these high-class criminals and mad-men alike that were too dangerous or unique to ever see the light of day again. . . And for Dr. Jonathan Crane it was these patients that made his life worth-while.

The man had always been drawn to the darker side of things, but never so much as when he first began his career at Arkham as the new intern psychiatrist. During his years at college, Crane had always been intrigued by the internal workings of the human brain. But more importantly, he had wondered upon the illusions and symptoms it could create under duress. And thus, his experiments had begun.

At first, it had been on lower forms of life: rats, dogs, birds and other everyday creatures that one could easily dispose of. But with time, this had proved to be a means to an end. And the more Jonathan Crane learned the more curious he became, until finally he took the big step.

People say that you never forget your first, and this much was true for the talented Dr. Crane. Test patient #1 was forever seared in his memory, and he would forever personally describe her as a most detrimental part of his research.

The test subject had been a seemingly homeless woman off the backstreets of Gotham, begging for money that she would most likely have used for drugs or other such devious items. She had approached him at his car window, hands greedily gesturing, and eyes shining in the chilly winter wind she was enduring. The decision had been momentary; Crane hadn't even taken the time to learn her name.

Having handsome features, a soothing voice, and some spare change, he had easily lured the woman into his home and the fun had started. The toxins Crane had used at the time were sloppy- seeing as it was his first attempt on a human subject- and sadly the result had been exhilarating but otherwise uneventful.

Patient #1 had lasted for 30 minutes before her brain gave out, and she was reduced to nothing more than a raving mess. The young doctor had quickly disposed on her in an alleyway, propped in a position that would suggest she died from OD'ing, should anyone care to find her.

And thus, thrilled beyond measure by his new-found power and purpose in life, and disappointed by the lack of mental strength shown, Jonathan Crane began his search for the perfect test subject . . . the certain, special individual who could conquer fear itself.

It was usually after hours that Dr. Crane made his visits to Arkham's basement, and tonight was no exception. Looking smart in his expensive suit and lab coat, the man of thirty-two walked gracefully through the maze that consisted of the asylum's top floors. Doing this without any effort, he found his way to the very familiar elevator that would grant him access to those housed below.

He entered the metal box silently, and eagerly slotted his special key into the designated lock- giving himself the chance to travel underground without alerting security.

It had been a long day for Jonathan Crane, and slowly as the lift crept into the darkness below, the man felt his heartbeat begin to increase. Not from fear as most would have supposed, but from excitement. For it was these nightly visits to the incurablepatients that made his life bearable in the midst of the everyday tedium. For a good many of these retches, had been tucked away here because of his signature and professional opinion.

With soft footfalls the stoic doctor exited the elevator and gave a brief nod to the guard that met him. With a flash of his ID keycard- stating that he was indeed a lead doctor at Arkham, and was to be granted every courtesy- the well-kept man passed into the bowels of the basement, and rounded upon the first cell block.

Each of these cells housed the most insane of criminals, and in passing them, the suave psychiatrist felt more and more at home. It was here amongst those with the most tested of minds that Crane belonged, and it was here that he would stay.

In the silence of the of the blocks, the man lost himself to deep thought- for his feet would assuredly take him where he was most needed. And he had walked the path enough times in the past that he could have found any given cell number in his sleep.

Jonathan usually indulged in the habit of counting and naming the rooms and patients, as he walked these corridors each night- to amuse his restless mind. But tonight such a trivial exercise was uncalled for. For tonight- and every night for the last week- Jonathan Crane had had only one number in mind . . . only one person that currently held his attention at a standstill, and made his thoughts stray when he was in the world above.

Patient 266.

Crane couldn't help the thrilled chill that ran down his spine upon thinking of her. Though he had treated many special cases in his years of working at Arkham, he had never found someone so perfect for his experiments.

Patient 266 had been a complete gamble, for her mental health had been perfectly intact upon entering the asylum, and she had never committed a criminal act. Her admittance to Arkham was completely for research purposes, and Crane couldn't have been happier when she agreed to stay for three whole weeks.

Originally, 266 was going to be placed on one of the upper floors- due to her spotless mental health record, and her personal consent to being there in the first place. But for the best research results, the reputable doctor Crane had insisted she be housed in the basement. Upon his signature for her transferred living quarters the true experimentation had kicked off. And for the last week, the renowned doctor had been monitoring 266's every move.

Jonathan Crane finally felt his feet come to a stop, and lifted his severe blue eyes up to gaze upon the door. Upon seeing he was in the right place, the psychiatrist knocked on the metal door once, to announce his presence, and entered.

The room was small- much like a prison or jail cell- with only a cot, hard chair, and toilet present. The floor was solid cement, and the temperature was a good deal colder here than outside in the cell-block corridor. But Crane ignored all these details, for he had seen the equivalent of this room more times than deemed remembering. But the young woman that currently lounged on the prison-like cot was another story entirely.

His eyes took in her current appearance with a well-trained glance, gauging for any signs that something was wrong, as he slowly positioned the chair to face the cot, and then sat down upon it.

The moment that he was settled comfortably, Crane could see his patient's eyes slide open, and he smiled. Her manner was amusing most times, and from the gleam in her eyes he could tell that she had something pressing on her mind.

266 was a normal looking woman by most standards, with short cropped brown hair, a smaller build, and feminine features. But her eyes- soft set and warm-brown- would have told you a story that said anything but normal. Quite appropriate considering where she was.

Her eyes constantly housed intelligence and unspoken challenges, something that Crane found to be irresistible. Seeing as he had always loved a good mental fight, and more often than not won them at the bat of an eyelash.

266 was different, and he relished in it.

"You're late."

At this the man settled his features into an unreadable mask, but was secretly pleased. So, his newest patient had noticed his absence. . . How intriguing.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Miss Samhain. I was otherwise detained."

"It's Will," 266 chastised, before adding with a sigh, "And I guess it's alright, just this once. Seeing as you probably have more clients than you know what to do with."

Crane internally chuckled, but outwardly kept his poker face as he answered. "That I do."

Will nodded, but otherwise gave no comment. And silence reigned for several long minutes, as the young woman seemed to pull her thoughts together. Crane made no move to interrupt her process, knowing that she would speak her mind when the feelings formed into words, and merely observed the fiery young woman who now was looking at the far wall.

Willow Samhain- patient 266- was truly a unique specimen, in his eyes. He had found her at a local fairground, working as a Scare Model for the upcoming holiday of All Hallows Eve- outfitted from head to toe as Sally from Nightmare before Christmas. This wouldn't have been something to think twice about for Crane, if it had been a regular portrayal of the sweet-natured character. But Willow had taken a completely different interpretation of Sally, and the result had been terrifying.

She had followed people around silently, never offering a scary sound or touch- unlike her coworkers- but in the end she had been the cause of the most fear.

Perhaps it was her eyes, or the way she moved around like a ghost- seeing into the very hearts of the people she followed. But whatever it was, her scare-technique had worked impeccably. Her presence had been undeniably frightful, and upon seeing her in action, Crane had immediately wanted her for a test subject.

It had taken a lot of persuasion to get Willow to agree to his proposal, but after offering her a large sum from the asylums' research funds, the young woman had consented. And the rest was history.

Now, after a week, Jonathan Crane could honestly say Willow was his favorite test subject.

"You upped my dose, didn't you?" Willow asked, finally breaking the silence. "I only returned to my normal, lovely self an couple of hours ago. It was far more potent this time 'round."

Crane's eyes focused on her the second she spoke, and he noted that her eyes were clear of any negative emotion.

"I have frequently increased your intake since you were admitted to Arkham." He replied truthfully, and to his surprise Willow didn't seem upset.

"What did I do under the influence of the higher dose?" She asked, curiously.

It was here that Crane finally let some of his mask slip, and a proud gleam entered his eye.

"Nothing," was the singular response.

"Nothing?"

Crane's lip quirked upward at her surprised expression and tone, for he had been just as shocked by the results.

Since that evening so many years ago, when he had first tried his fear inducing drugs on Patient #1, Jonathan Crane had been waiting for this to happen. Though in the back of his mind, as he tried patient after patient, he had feared that his goal would never be met.

Never before had a test subject- human or otherwise- been able to withstand more than a single dose of the drug without going insane or dying.

But Willow had continued to have regular, concentrated doses of it, and had never so much as screamed when under its influence; though she had had plenty of reason to.

Crane had donned his Scarecrow mask in order to get Willow to open up, but she had only looked at him with curious eyes and whispered nearly silent words of endearment under her breath.

There was no fear in her eyes, only interest and happiness.

Not for one moment under Crane's observations had Willow Samhain been afraid.

"Externally, you showed no sign that you'd ever consumed the drug," the man said finally, respect coloring his tone unintentionally. "You were mostly silent and seemed unperturbed by any of the tests I conducted. A feat no one before you has managed."

The young woman smiled softly, before understanding clouded her face, and she sat up from her cot. Crane watched her silently, as she stared back at him.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Though it was formed as a question, her tone held no doubt.

Crane lifted an eyebrow, and she continued.

"My perceptions from the drug are quite hazy," Willow admitted quietly. "But there was one thing that I saw over and over again. . . Like a companion throughout the experience."

The psychiatrist's undivided attention was on her, as he licked his lips and leaned forward on the chair.

"What did you see, Miss Samhain?"

Will reached out and placed her hand on one of Jonathan's, before meeting his light blue eyes with her own brown ones.

"A Scarecrow," she said contentedly. "I saw a Scarecrow. . . And I know it was you."

Crane didn't deny or agree to the accusation, but found himself cupping his patient's hand with his own. Gently he stroked her fingers, and offered Willow an unspoken affirmation to her inquiry. With his eyes, he told her the truth, and all the dreams she had just fulfilled. With his eyes, he told her his story, and his plans for the future that had just opened up.

"You've conquered it." The words were unbidden, but unquestionably true as they left the man's mouth. Then more to himself he added, "I've finally found you."

And he had.

Finally, after 266 attempts, Jonathan Crane had found his perfect subject in Willow Samhain.

Patient 266 had changed everything.

A/N:This is a commissioned work that I wrote for someone special. ^^ She wanted a story with her OC Will-o-the-wisp and our beloved Dr. Crane. I was all too happy to oblige.

I've loved Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Dr. Crane since I first saw Nolan's Batman Begins, but I never found the right plot line to write a story. Now that I have, I'm on cloud nine, despite it being a different writing style than I usually do. :D I'm so happy right now! Scarecrow is second only to Joker in my mind, so this was an overall wonderful experience!

I also loved the opportunity to write about Arkham Asylum. . . That building and the people housed there are legendary. . . It was wonderful to take a crack at it personally. (I'm tearing up just thinking about it) XD

Anywhooooossss! Hoped you guys liked it! Please let me know if I kept Crane in-character. He gave me a little trouble, and I'd hate to be untrue to such a unique and lovely character. . . ^^;

~Lyn Harkeran