Straw Bullets Ch. 2

    Spencer Reid was not a weak person; he didn’t cry at the sight of blood, he didn’t stop chasing a deadly criminal because his lungs were burning, he didn’t stop protecting the victims of those criminals just because it meant getting shot. No, Spencer Reid was not weak at all, but, he was human. Taking a bullet to the leg to protect Dr. Barton had left him at a severe disadvantage when it came to chasing down criminals. He had come a long way after being shot, especially since the injury had been so close to his knee, but his range of motion was still far below what it had been. Here and now, there was nothing that the young doctor could do as he watched another young doctor, though not as young as himself, make his way farther and farther out of his grasp.

    However, this was not the time to wallow in self-pity. No, that was not something Spencer Reid would allow himself to do. He was a member of the FBI, he had been a hostage, he had become addicted to Diliaud by another man’s hands, he had been shot and kicked while he was down, and he had overcome every hurdle in his path. He was not going to let such an asinine thing as a knee injury keep him from bringing Jonathan Crane back to where he belonged at Arkham Asylum.

    Forcing himself to remove all emotional ties of admiration for the fleeing escapee, Reid pulled out his cell phone, speed dialed his unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, and accelerated the car forward quickly enough to close the rear door that Crane had left open as he fled, switched the police lights and sirens on, and pulled an illegal u-turn to follow his suspect. He was not going to let him escape from custody again, not if he could help it.

    On the incline below, Jonathan Crane was running once again. This time was no different than any of the others, he ran to escape being captured. It wasn’t from the Bat or his past this time, but from an admirer of sorts. He had never had a true admirer, not for his fear toxin or any of his other accomplishments, but this one was trying to bring him back to the place he hated most.

    Amadeus Arkham had begun transforming his ancestral home into Arkham Asylum in 1920, and even he hadn’t had a clue of what the place of supposed treatment would become. He didn’t know that he himself would be locked among its walls, scratching enchantments into the stone floor of his cell with his fingernails until he died. He didn’t know what would take place when the inmates temporarily took over the asylum on the first of April some half a century later. He couldn’t have known, because he was insane as the ones he tried to save. Even more insane than them in some ways when you considered what he had done to Mad Dog as punishment for killing his wife and daughter.

    Perhaps that was the moment that sealed the fate of Arkham Asylum, the moment when Arkham himself killed one of his oldest patients by electrocuting him. Perhaps it was the moment when Batman himself was overwhelmed by all of the horrors that Arkham held in its walls, and thus set free the inmates he had left to rot. Or perhaps it had been there before the asylum was even a house, buried in the very earth itself. It may never be known what causes Arkham Asylum to sap away the light of a soul as it does, but Jonathan Crane didn’t want to stay there and watch it do so. Not to him, not to those around him.

    There was fear in everyone, and Jonathan Crane was no exception. He may be the self-proclaimed “Master of Fear”, he could have been Fear itself, but he would still have fear of something. That is why he ran, because he knew, though he would never admit it, that he was terrified of Arkham. It terrified him more than Batman, more than his great-grandmother when she was angry, more than crows. He wouldn’t go back, not if he could help it.

    In fact, it looked like he wouldn’t have to go back, like he was going to outrun the lone FBI agent chasing him. Looks can be deceiving, though. If he hadn’t been so focused on not falling down the incline and concussing himself on the thousands of rocks around him, he would have noticed the second and third SUVs that had joined the first one. He would have seen the man he would later learn was called Derek Morgan racing down the opposite side of the incline; stun gun raised and ready to be used. As it was, he was too focused to notice, and it wasn’t until he heard the man shouting for him to raise his hands, one still bleeding heavily from being ripped out of the handcuff, that he finally realized he would have to go back to Arkham yet again. Fate was too cruel to allow anything else to happen.

    Reid’s knee throbbed from the chill of Gotham’s air as he stood outside of the Gotham City Police Department. He wasn’t one for smoking, but right now he felt like anything that could relieve the stress of getting Jonathan Crane back to Arkham would be acceptable. As Morgan had hauled the screaming and kicking man back up to the road, not bothering to handcuff the man as it was obvious it wouldn’t do any good, Crane had screamed that he would kill himself the second he was put back in his cell if they made him go back to Arkham.

    If that had been all the man had said, he would have gone back to Arkham. After all, it was equipped to handle threats of suicide and had several suicidal or manically depressed patients in its wards. However, this was Jonathan Crane, and he was smarter than that. He not only threatened to kill himself, he had threatened to release stores of toxin that he had rigged during his last escape. Reid knew that there were no hidden toxin stores, but that wasn’t enough to convince the GCPD.

    Crane had managed to pollute the entire supply of Gotham’s water with toxin before; there was nothing that led the police to believe that he hadn’t managed to rig a few air ventilation units with it, as well. Except for the fact that he had only been out for two days the last time he had escaped. Reid wasn’t an expert on creating fear toxin, but he was fairly accomplished at chemistry in general, and he knew that a compound as complex as the fear toxin was took more than two days to make.

    Yet another sigh fell from his pale lips as he ran a hand through his already messy brown locks. He felt useless. Hotch didn’t think it was safe for him to be in interrogation with Morgan and Prentiss incase Crane took advantage of his injury, and the GCPD seemed to think that he was just a kid who didn’t know anything about anything when it came to crime fighting. Hotch had come to his defense the instant he noticed the treatment of his youngest agent, but Reid knew that it wouldn’t change the opinions of such a biased and corrupt police force.

     The soft click of the door being pushed open snapped him out of his thoughts as Commissioner Jim Gordon stepped outside with an extra mug of coffee in his hands. Reid’s eyes must have lit up, because when the Commissioner looked up a soft chuckle rose from his chest and he pushed the extra mug into the young profiler’s chilled hands.

    “I figured you could use a little pick-me-up after being banished from interrogation. You take extra sugar, right?”

    A smile found it’s way onto Reid’s face as he took a sip of the hot liquid and found it to be the perfect mixture of coffee, a dash of cream, and between seven and nine spoonfuls of sugar. The liquid burned a pleasant path down his throat all the way to his stomach and he leaned back against the brick wall contently.

    “Thank you,” he said softly, curious as to how the Commissioner had known how he took his coffee.

    Gordon nodded in acknowledgement and took a sip of his own coffee, content to just share the companionable silence with the young doctor for the moment. It lasted for a few minutes, but they both knew that there was more to the gesture than just being friendly, even if that was a large amount of it.

    Clearing his throat softly, Gordon took another sip of coffee to gather his thoughts and then lifted his gaze to meet the lively caramel eyes that were fixed on him.

    “You really believe that Crane is lying to stay out of Arkham,” he questioned softly.

    Reid stayed silent for a moment before nodding. “Yes,” he answered in a steady tone. “I think the city is in no danger of being attacked by the Scarecrow. However,” he stood up to his full height, wanting the Commissioner to know that he was fully certain in his next statement, “I don’t think that returning Dr. Crane to Arkham Asylum will help him heal anymore than beating him would.”

    Thoughts raced around in Reid’s brain as he formed his next sentences carefully. He wanted what was best for the escaped asylum patient, but he had to consider how his request would look to everyone else. He had to present it in a way that would make it look like it was the only option if Jonathan Crane was to ever recover. He knew that if the man were to remove his shirt there would be considerable bruising; his small stature and nervous nature were enough to have him be the victim of countless inmates at Arkham. If anyone would know about being bullied for being smart and seemingly unable to defend him or herself; it was Reid. The fact that Crane was being attack would aid him, but it wouldn’t be enough to convince Gordon by itself. Then it hit him. Not wanting to seem too excited, Reid forced himself to take a sip of coffee before he continued.

    “I think that Dr. Jonathan Crane should be released from Arkham Asylum and put on parole.” When the Commissioner moved to speak, Reid held up a hand to silence him, he needed to finish before he lost his momentum. “Dr. Crane is a brilliant man, and it is clear that he is to terrified of Arkham to receive any help there. I don’t blame him for being terrified, he is small and vulnerable and surrounded by dangerous criminals like the Joker and the Killer Croc, he doesn’t stand a chance against one of them.

    “He also doesn’t stand a chance of having a role model to show him what he should act like.” Reid’s mind raced as he brought forth everything he could remember reading about the young doctor from his Arkham files. His fingers began to twitch, both with excitement and nervousness, as he put the events of Crane’s past into a form that would aid him the most. “Crane has never had the opportunity to truly grow into a “civil” human being. An extremely abusive great-grandmother who would’ve allowed his grandmother to kill him if she hadn’t wanted her own personal slave raised him. His mother didn’t care about him; she never even hugged her own child. His father was never in the picture. His only friend in the world was the one he made up; the Scarecrow.

    Scarecrow wants to protect Jonathan from being hurt like he was when he was with his Great-Grandmother, but he doesn’t know that Jonathan isn’t in danger anymore. As long as Jonathan’s alter ego believe that there is no one in the world that will show Jonathan kindness or treat him like a human being, he will continue to lash out at the people who surround him.”

    Reid looked up at Commissioner Gordon to judge his reaction to his statements so far. Gordon’s face was calm, showing no traces of refusing the young agent’s statement, but it didn’t show any traces of supporting it either. The young genius took another gulp of coffee and prepared to speak his request out loud.

    “Jonathan Crane doesn’t need to be thrown into an Asylum to be driven completely over the edge Commissioner Gordon. He needs to be in an environment where he can live a normal life and learn that there is still kindness in the world. He needs someone to help him relearn how to act and think. Not only about the world and humanity as a whole, but about himself too.”

    Taking a deep breath Reid set the cup of coffee on the wall to his right and locked eyes with Commissioner Gordon. “Commissioner Gordon, I would like to request the release of Dr. Jonathan Crane under the circumstances of an ankle bracelet being worn by the doctor, recommended medications being prescribed daily under watch to make sure they are ingested, and strict limitations on his access to anything that could be used to create a biological weapon similar to that of the Fear Toxin he created.”

    For a few moments there was silence, neither man spoke, neither moved, Reid didn’t even breathe. Then Gordon bent his head slightly to push his glasses up with his right hand before bringing his gaze up to meet with Reid’s once more.

    “It’s not my choice to make, Dr. Reid,” he said with a pointed gaze to the rooftop of the Police Department. “It’s up to him.”

    Outlined against the night sky stood Batman, cape billowing out dramatically behind him, face hidden behind the darkness of his cowl as he moved to step off the edge of the building. He remained in freefall for merely seconds before his cape went rigid and he glided down to land on the side walk a mere twenty feet from the pair. His dark, dangerous eyes locked onto Reid and he felt himself resisting the urge to curl into himself under the intensity of the gaze.

    Neither Gordon nor Reid spoke as the Bat approached them. Reid hadn’t been aware of the man’s presence, but he got the idea that was the way Batman wanted it. Drawing from his reserves of excess courage, Reid forced himself to stand tall and meet the man’s eyes.

    “Dr. Reid, your idea sounds nice. It may even be successful if it were to be tried, but you forgot one thing.” The man stopped a mere foot from Reid and locked eyes with the man. “Who would want to baby-sit a well known criminal who tried to wipe out the Narrows without even a second thought?”

    Surprising even himself with his words and the audacity to contradict anything the Bat said, Reid spoke a single world.

    “Me.”