A/N

A weird little idea that popped into my head and wouldn't go away. Bane survives being shot and is thrown into a rebuilt Blackgate along with Jonathan Crane, whose mind has completely snapped. Sharing a prison with a madman doesn't rank high on Bane's list of preferred existences...but it will get worse when a new inmate finds their way to empty cell number Three.

See end for more notes. For now, enjoy!

ONE

It is early morning Wednesday which means it is time for Dr. Cebjan to enter the maximum security ward of Blackgate prison. There are only three cells in this wing and they are buried deep in the basement. All of the men held in this penitentiary are feared, but the two lurking within the bowels are feared and hated above all. He sometimes wonders if they are cared for properly when he isn't there, but then he is probably alone in his concerns.

He has to enter by way of three separate locked doors, and then an elevator which is only accessible by a retinal scan. There are two guards stationed permanently outside the entrance to the wing and though he has seen them every week for six months, they still fastidiously check his credentials before waving him through.

He wonders who to interview first, and makes his decision quickly when he sees only one awake at this hour. The other is probably only feigning sleep, but if he wants to eavesdrop then it is a small amusement Dr. Cebjan can indulge.

Cell #2 – Dr. Jonathan Crane

"Good morning, Jonathan."

The slender man sits politely enough in his cell, though his large blue eyes are constantly roaming the walls of his cage. They never seem to be able to settle on Dr. Cebjan's eyes, always skirting close and then furtively dancing away.

"It's Doctor Crane," he murmurs, distracted, and then pleads, "Why have you taken my jacket?"

When Dr. Cebjan had first been given charge of Jonathan Crane he had asked why they kept him in a straitjacket, especially if they had transferred him from Arkham Asylum to Blackgate. The guards in charge raised their eyebrows in surprise and said bluntly, "Because he's insane."

Crane looks like a rag doll with jumping beans for stuffing, spilling out from a hundred seams. He fidgets, unable to stand still for a moment, often hugging his arms to himself as if missing the phantom confinement.

"You don't need it, Doctor Crane. You aren't in Arkham anymore," Dr. Cebjan patiently explains.

Crane snorts, the high strains of a giggle about to erupt forth and then quickly hushed, dying in his throat. "Are you a doctor? Do you know if I'm sick?"

Dr. Cebjan leans back in the folding chair, crossing his legs. "I understand you have the same certifications as I do, Doctor Crane. Are you sick?"

Crane leans forward suddenly, almost lunging at the bars, and he holds up a finger to his lips in an exaggerated 'shhhh'. "I charge a lot of money per hour to give my opinion." He lets his laugh spill forward fully this time, clutching his sides as he screams his mirth.

"Let me have my jacket back." He finally says, the laughter dying suddenly from his lips.

Dr. Cebjan rises from his chair, unmoved. "I think you'll do better to learn to live without it, Jonathan."

Crane curses him then, his tempers are quick, screaming you cunt, you cunt! And shaking the bars of his cell. Dr. Cebjan ignores him and instead picks up his chair and moves to the other side of the wing. The other has woken up and is staring at him interestedly.

And thankfully he has volumes more composure than Crane does.

Cell #1 – Bane

Bane sits in his cell, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. He is the very measure of calm and collected. He looks up at Dr. Cebjan with eyes that pierce through the dim lighting and unlike Crane, they lock gaze with him instantly and unnervingly.

"I do wonder, Dr. Cebjan, if you have considered that Dr. Crane might do himself a harm in his current state."

Dr. Cebjan calmly folds his legs again, settling into his chair, and looks back curiously. "Are you concerned that he will?"

Bane's laughter rumbles in the vents of his mask, like a clap of thunder. "I don't know if you really are as well-intentioned as a doctor should be and you believe this is for Crane's betterment, but it is of no 'concern' to me. My amusement is merely a pleasant byproduct."

"And does the suffering of others amuse you?"

Bane looks at him disappointed, his tone condescending as he folds his massive arms across his chest. "Doctor, doctor...you can do better than that."

Dr. Cebjan smiles very slightly. "Your confidence in me is appreciated."

Bane shrugs, and waves a brutish hand dismissively in the air. "So why have they assigned a clinical psychiatrist to me? Do the people of Gotham perhaps believe that I am insane?"

Dr. Cebjan merely shrugs again, his face impassive. "I can't say as to what the people of Gotham think. Though the Gotham police are quite rightly concerned about you. I personally think perhaps you are too sane."

"Too sane?" The large man, seated so calmly and lithely in his cage laughs again, his thunder-like mirth reverberating in the dank wing, and even causing Crane to join in with his own shrieks. "Very droll, Doctor Cebjan, very droll. A very Russian sensibility indeed."

Cebjan allows himself a small smirk this time, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not Russian."

"What's your first name?"

"Nikolaj."

Bane tilts his head slightly as he considers Cebjan. It is plain to see the man has a vast, hungry intellect and views every interaction as a puzzle or a threat. He's sure he's a mixture of both to Bane, but if he can amuse the terrorist more than he threatens him, he can perhaps get further in his evaluation.

"Ukrainian," Bane finally says.

Cebjan shakes his head no, still smiling, and stands up folding his chair. As he leaves, he shoots over his shoulder, "I am from Moldavia."

"Indeed!" He hears the mechanized voice boom back. Cebjan has his credentials checked once more by the guards before he leaves, and the heavy metal door slides shut behind him and hisses shut with electronic locks.

Cell #3

This cell is empty.

Crane wails in the night to the microphones and cameras that capture and record their every movement, pleading to the guards behind locked doors to give him back his jacket. He writhes on the floor, twitching and shrieking, vacillating from the high-pitched pleas of a scared, trapped animal, to the guttural growls and threats of whatever darker character lives within him.

Bane is subjected to the other man's rabbit-like cries as he pushes his body from the floor with one hand, rebuilding and honing his strength because the boredom of being still is worse.

"You want to see me hurt myself?" Crane shrieks, clawing at his face with his hands, "I'll show you how much I can bleed!"

Bane shoots back an irritable, "Be done with it already or shut your mouth, damn your cursing. They'll just clip your nails or handcuff you again."

Crane lunges for the bars of his cell, wrapping his spindly limbs around them, trying to push his head through the small gap. It looks as if his blue eyes are going to pop right out of his skull from the pressure. "I don't need my hands. I'll just bite my tongue and swallow it."

One arm holding his entire mass from the floor, Bane calmly looks over to the cell across from his. He holds his entire bulk up like that for well over a minute without so much as trembling. "Do you know how much effort it takes to perform that specific act, Crane? Spare yourself the trouble and just bash your head in against the concrete."

Crane spits at him, though they are too far for the spray to come anywhere near Bane's cell. He curls back up into himself, his hands beating against the walls as he murmurs, "Scarecrow...scarecrow...scarecrow..."

Bane resumes his routine, shaking his head in pity. "It's a cruelty they didn't just shoot you as a mad dog."

Cell #1 – Bane

Bane sits calmly on the floor with his back pushed up against the bars, legs crossed and his arms similarly against his chest, but Dr. Cebjan can see the tremble beginning to rise in his shoulders as he works. Carefully he finds the broken pin lodged at the base of Bane's scalp. Working the skin around the small bump, Cebjan manages to ease out the splinters of metal and picks them. He snaps the broken syringe head off one of the tubes that pumps the venom from the mask to his spinal artery. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he brings out a new syringe head and affixes that to the tube, before replacing it under Bane's skin.

Bane is fighting to not shudder and twitch now, and Cebjan lightly taps his shoulder to let him know he is done. Bane pushes the mask against his face and inhales deeply, his shoulders shivering with relief, before redoing the claps in the front as Cebjan tightens the claps at the nape of his neck.

"Gotham PD wishes to speak to you again. Commissioner Gordon will be coming later this afternoon."

Bane stretches, the cords of muscle rippling in his back as he tries to ease out the flashes of pain that had begun to simmer in his veins. He stands up, his back still turned to Cebjan.

"You will have to set up an extra chair for the Commissioner then. It would not do to be discourteous."

Cebjan nods and leaves him alone.

"You will be serving the death sentence. At the end of this month you will be transferred to death row. You will be executed in the next three days after that."

Bane folds his hands behind his head, unconcerned. "I see you are not wasting any time. Am I that feared?"

Jim Gordon looks extremely uncomfortable, sitting in the plastic fold-up chair and trying to remain professional. Crane begins laughing, again, and the sound unsettles Gordon who flashes a furtive look behind his back as if he is afraid Crane is standing right beside him.

Crane is breathless, as if he cannot control his laughter. "The chair and the needle's too good for you! They should rip off your mask and make you eat it!"

Bane shoots him a sour look. He knows it will never come to that and Crane is only trying to provoke him, but the prospect of such a gruesome death is an unwelcome thought. "If you keep tempting my ire, Crane, we will see just how unbreakable these bars are."

Jim Gordon doesn't know what to do, torn between the argument of a terrorist and a madman. Crane is still hooting, excited now, and bouncing off his walls. He has finally taken to having his arms free and revels in his jacket-less state. Bane, having to hear the other man's shrieking laughter for far too many nights, has finally had enough. "I could just sit on you little man, and crush you!"

Seeing Jim Gordon's discomfort, and perhaps just then realizing his momentary lapse of composure, Bane looks almost apologetic as he addresses Gordon again. "The end of the month could not arrive sooner, Commissioner."

Gordon 'hems' and 'haas' as he fidgets in his chair. "Before you're transferred, I'm here to help you exercise your final rites, should you have any."

Bane arches an eyebrow, enjoying watching the Commissioner squirm. "Am I being given access to a solicitor?"

Gordon looks annoyed. He wants to be anywhere else but here. "Of course not."

"Well, I am not a religious man so I will not require a priest. I suppose that concludes our business here, Commissioner."

Relieved, Gordon stands up, mumbling a goodbye and it looks as if he is fighting every instinct within him not to run down the wing and out the doors. Just as he is about to cross the threshold, Bane calls out to him.

"Though if we are taking merely of wants, well, then I'd love to have the Batman's corpse in attendance so I can dance on it as they electrocute me!"

The mixed laughter in the wing sends icy fingers curling around Gordon's heart and he barely remembers to thank the guards as he leaves. They don't sound like two men incarcerated with one condemned to die. Their laughter makes him feel like everyone outside the prison are the ones who should be despairing.

Cell #2 – Dr. Jonathan Crane

Crane lies in his cell, whimpering, because he is afraid. He is usually afraid and beyond fear at the same time. The scarecrow...where is the scarecrow? He is only Crane at the moment, scrawny, weak and vulnerable. He knows he is nothing without the scarecrow nearby, ready to lash out. They are afraid of the scarecrow, not Crane. Crane is just small and weak.

The empty cell across from him and attached to Bane's is dark and full of shadows. The shadows move and Crane knows, deep down in his gut, that it sees right through him.

"My jacket...my mask..." he weakly pleads to the darkness. "I swear, I am mad. I am crazy...I swear..."

He hears the odd, hiss-like breathing of Bane in the cell across from his. The man's voice rumbles through the darkness, oddly garbled and mechanical from the mask. He sounds weary. "Why do you insist upon your insanity, Crane? Don't madmen try and convince the world of the opposite?"

Crane retreats further into his cell. He's hemmed in by two great threats and he isn't sure which one's worse. He knows Bane is bad...Bane's big and Bane's strong and Bane's a bully. He can toss Crane around like a doll and break him easily, and Crane doesn't want that.

But Bane can only hurt him in this world. And Bane doesn't understand him, not really.

Crane whispers, "The cell is looking at me. No, no, it's looking through me."

Bane sounds as if he is having a conversation with him just to humour him. "And what does it see?"

Crane hugs his knees to his chest, lightly rocking back and forth. When he speaks next it is the closest the little man has ever come to unsettling Bane. It is when he sounds most lucid. "Me, of course. I know you aren't insane, Bane. There are a few moments when I think I can see right through you. I'm not insane. I'm not. But I need my jacket, and I need my mask, because if I'm not insane that means the voices I hear are real. And that's worse."

Crane retreats back into himself again, murmuring 'scarecrow...scarecrow...' his favourite chant, and Bane is too disturbed to try and speak to him again that night.

Cell #3

The cell stares back at Jonathan Crane.

A/N

This idea was inspired by a prompt over at tdkr_kink meme which asked for a prison AU where an undercover cop becomes Bane's cellmate to try and gain an insight into the mercenary's mind. Very cool, I still hope someone writes it, but this fic took that premise and spun far out into a different direction. Another story currently being updated is "The Obscurity of Chaos" which also deals with the Bane as prisoner dynamic, and is quite good, I'd recommend it. While there may be some similarities in premise, this story is still quite different.

I love Bane's origins and storyline in the DC Universe, but this is still set firmly in the Nolan-verse, which is quite different, so the Pit and Talia al Ghul will be mentioned later on. Crane in this story is also different from how he was portrayed in the films, but the idea is that in prison his mind has finally snapped so he's more erratic and hysterical.

This fic hasn't been completed yet, and so the direction it can take is still up in the air, and it's exciting to see where it leads. I love feedback, and I'd love to know what everyone thinks. Stay tuned! More mysteries to come... ;)