Of Shared Brilliance

[tanya1976]

I'm catching up with all the fan fics. Good job, Nublet!

[§ilvercell]

i can't wait to see how the date goes!

[azina]

Ohh, very interesting. I wonder what's going to transpire between Riley and Warren too. More!!

[§hannon]

Keep writing!

[Lili]

Great story--I'm hooked! Please keep writing!

[Niquinga]

This is a great story, I can't wait to find out, how the date goes, and how Riley's meeting with Warren went. Please keep writing.

[nublet]

Ok, this felt good as I was writing it, but then when I went back and re-read it, it didn't seem as good. I dunno.

I want to say Crane's maybe a bit out of character, but then again, we don't know a lot about Crane's character. Heh. Sorry about typos, I wanted to get this out tonight.

Well, whatever. Read. ;D

Part Six

'I wasn't afraid of them.'

'What were you afraid of?'

'Losing you.'

He felt like a teenager getting ready for his first date.

Crane had decided to return home a bit early before heading over to Riley's place. After a shower he stood over the sink, clad only in a pair of crisp white boxers, fiddled with his hair, and examined the bags under his eyes. His lack of sleep ever since Riley arrived in Gotham was beginning to catch up with him.

He sighed, giving up trying to tame his hair and stood back, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He frowned at the man he saw, the protruding hips bones, the inward curve of his stomach, right up to the skinny, freckled shoulders.

'Scarecrow.'

“Shut up.” Crane whispered aloud.

'Where's your little girlfriend, Scarecrow?”

“Shut up.”

'Oh, I forgot. She found herself a real man.”

“Shut up!” Crane screamed, eyes squeezing shut and fist slamming into the mirror. His heard it shatter, felt the blood running down his knuckles and over his forearm, and sank down to floor with his back against the sink. He pulled his knees to his chest, folding his arms and burying his head in them. He opened his eyes and stared at the blood on his arm, and sat there until his breathing returned to normal.

He got up slowly, fighting the wave of dizziness that washed over him and walked to his desk, picked up his cell phone and paced from his desk to the edge of his bed while he scrolled to Riley's number.

“Hello?”

“Riley, it's Jonathan-”

“You're canceling, aren't you?” She didn't sound angry, but the coldness and indifference in her voice made Crane's stomach drop. Or, that could have been from the loss of blood.

“Something's come up at the asylum. I need to go in right away, there's been-”

“Oh cut the crap, Jon. You're as bad a liar now as you were seven years ago.” Now she sounded angry. Crane sighed, lowering his head, and cursed when he saw that blood was dripping onto his comforter.

“Jon? What's wrong? What happened?” Riley asked.

“Nothing,” Crane said quickly, getting up and moving to back to sink. He maneuvered his way around the shards of glass littering the floor and grabbed the tissue box. He grabbed a fistful of tissues and pressed them to his injured hand, “I really just can't make it tonight.”

“Are you ok? You don't sound well.” The concern in her voice was driving him mad.

“I-” He bit his lip, trying to contain the emotion that was building up in his chest. 'No. I'm not ok. I want to see you. I want to know why you left me seven years ago. I want to know why you're back here now. I want to know why the hell you are making me feel this way, I want-”

“I'm coming over there.” Riley said, snapping him out of his trance.

“No!” Crane cried, then was so surprised at himself for yelling that he bit his tongue and cursed into the phone again.

“Yes, I am. You're scaring me, Jon. I need to see if you're alright.” Crane panicked.

“I'll meet you at the park?” It was a compromise. He could tell she wasn't going to let it go, and as long as they were outside where it was dark maybe she wouldn't be able to see the cuts on his knuckles. He could always keep his hands pockets of his coat.

“Alright. Twenty minutes.” Riley said, “By the benches?”

“Ok,” Crane agreed quickly. He slowly lowered the phone and stared at it, running his thumb over the blood strained buttons. He tossed it onto his bed and walked back to sink, turning on the water and running his hands under the faucet.

--

It had taken Crane fifteen minutes to wash up, get dressed, and find a pair of gloves, and five minutes to walk to the park. It was a cold night, so his coat was more than necessary. His trembling could also be blamed on the cold.

Riley was already waiting on the bench by the time he got there. She sat, staring straight ahead, her loose hair wisping around her face in the night breeze. She looked up as Crane approached. She looked distressed, and her expression grew more anxious as she laid eyes upon him.

“God, Jon. You're so pale. What happened?” She stood and walked to him before he got to bench. He opened his mouth to speak, but she put her hands on the sides of his face and he started, bringing one hand up as to pull her away but he found he hadn't the will or the energy. She moved one hand up, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“I-” He stopped, frowning suddenly. He was stuttering much to often lately. “Can we just talk?” Riley stared at him for another moment, studying him, then brought her hands down and nodded. Crane gestured towards the bench and they sat down. Crane took a deep breath.

“I had you talk to Warren Callaghan because I wanted to find out about you.”

“Find out about me? What about me?” Riley frowned.

“I don't know. It was stupid of me. I- He, he reads people well. He knows how to scare them.” Crane tried to explain.

“You were trying to scare me?”

“No, that's not what I mean, I just, it's-”

“You want to know why I looked you up and came to Gotham? You think it's my deep dark secret and some patient at an asylum is going to scare me into telling him?”

“No! I didn't tell him to.”

“You told him something, though.” Riley lashed back, “I can't believe you. I think you've got the whole doctor patient mixed up.”

“Well, I'm redeeming myself. I'm not going to ask him about what you told him. I'm going to ask you, because that's what I should have done in the first place.”

“You're damn right it is. I can't believe you, Jon.” She said again. She threw her arms up, exasperated, then leaned over, burying her face in her hands. Crane was silent, looking at her at a complete loss. He sighed, leaning back and resting his head on the back on the bench.

The cold was numbing.

[§ilvercell]

don't worry,it's great!

[spikie2]

Wow

[seonedevinian]

yeah, it's awesome! it's full of feeling, i want to see where this goes. exaltations!

[Niquinga]

This was great.

[azina]

Oh, very good. What happens next?

[nublet]

Here's the rest of the part of I posted last night. I decided I didn't like how that part ended, so I just continued on with it.


He tried to focus more on the cold than the woman beside him, more than the way her shoulders shook, from the cold or something else, the way her hands were clutching the sleeves of her coat. He looked away, then back at her again, wanting to say something, do something, but he felt frozen.

After what seemed like an eternity, her voice pierced through the silence.

“I missed you.” She brought her head up and looked at him. There were tears welled up in her eyes but they didn't spill out, “I just missed you, Jon.” He stared back at her, so many emotions rising up inside of him at once, but his expression blank. She chuckled bitterly, “I know I owe you more explanation than that, but that's, you know, that's why I'm here.” She turned away from him then, rubbing her hands together to warm them. It was a nervous gesture; she probably expected him to say something, but he didn't know what to say, except...

“I missed you too.” He said quietly, and looked back at her just in time to see her eyes squeeze shut and the tears pour down her cheeks. She hastily wiped them away, sniffling, then smiled at him.

“Come back to my place. I can still warm up the food. We can talk there, I'm freezing.” She laughed, rubbing her arms. Crane nodded, a warm feeling spreading through him as her smile grew even wider. She got up and he followed her.

--

Riley's apartment was warm and comforting, as Crane suspected her office would be when she was done with it. He waited in the living area while she warmed up dinner the kitchen, and soon the apartment smelled of garlic and pasta sauce.

Crane had taken off his coat, but left his gloves on. He knew he'd have to take them off when he ate, and he was trying to figure out a way to keep his right hand with its cut and bruised knuckles successfully hidden from Riley. She'd undoubtedly question him about it, and at the moment Crane couldn't think of an excuse. He was still trying to figure out why it had happened himself, there was no way he could explain it to her.

He could hear her moving around the kitchen, so he sneaked at peak at his injured hand, pulling the glove down just enough to assess the damage. It hadn't fully bruised yet, but the cuts were red and raw, and he wished he taken the extra time to bandage them up properly.

“Dinner's ready!” Riley called from the kitchen, and Crane hurriedly slipped his glove back over his hand just as she walked into the room. She looked at him and rolled her eyes.

“What'd you do to your hand?” Oh, she was good.

“I just got a little stressed.” It wasn't really a lie. He was stressed, but stress usually didn't cause him to hit mirrors. He liked to think of himself as a calm person, and revealing to Riley that sometimes he wasn't always in control was difficult for him, but he was tired of lying. It was exhausting.

“Oh?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him, “I'm sorry if it was because of me.” He didn't know if she was joking or not, and he didn't have time to ask, because she walked to him and was taking his hand in hers. He opened his mouth to protest but she glared at him, and it reminded him of the way she used to glare when he wouldn't allow her to help him when he got pushed around at school. Well, maybe pushed around wasn't the proper term for it, but he had felt so weak and ashamed when he winced as she pressed a ice pack to a black eye or a split lip.

He found himself submitting to the comfortably familiarity of her taking care of him. As much as he told himself he hated it, the feeling of being cared for was unusual for him but not unpleasant.

“It wasn't,” He told her as she gently pulled off his glove.

“Let me get you some ice,” Riley said, rising. Not waiting for a response, she walked back to kitchen, turning back to him just before she entered the room, “I don't blame you. Talking to that Warren character kind of made me want to hit something.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Part of the job.” She shrugged, smiling at him, then disappeared into the kitchen. He wondered briefly if he should follow her, because she had announced that dinner was ready, but she reappeared with the ice quickly, and sat down close to him on the couch. She took his hand again and pressed the pack firmly to his knuckles. They both looked at it for a moment before looking up and catching each other's eyes.

“Just like old times, eh?” Riley asked, a little uncomfortably, her teeth catching her lower lip.

“Don't remind me,” Crane said, even though he had already been reminded much earlier. She sighed, bringing an arm around his back and rubbing it lightly.

“I bet those creeps are still living at home with their mothers.”

Crane tensed, the involuntary reaction to the feel of someone touching him, but then relaxed under her soothing gesture and her comforting words. He was almost sorry she was probably going to break away from him very quickly after his next comment, as the question he really wanted answered rose to his mind.

“And Trevor? How is he these days?” Crane asked, maybe a bit bitterly, but he couldn't help it. To his surprise, the hand on his back stopped moving but did not pull back from him.

“Trevor never hurt you.” She said softly. Crane shrugged.

“I guess not from your point of view.”

“Don't do this, Jonathan.” Riley pleaded, shaking her head, “I don't want to fight with you right now.” Her expression was one of sorrow, pity, and regret, but it did nothing to suppress the anger that building up in Crane.

“That's what I'm here for though, right? So we can talk.” He spat out, but she wouldn't give in. She shook her head again.

“No, I don't- Please Jonathan, let's just have dinner. You've obviously had a bad day, and we don't need to go into this now.” She sounded desperate, and guilty. Crane thought maybe he'd struck a nerve when he mentioned Trevor, but she'd also struck one when she'd brought up the beatings. They couldn't tip-toe around either subject forever, and he was tired of pretending that they could just go back to being friends, or start becoming anything else, before they were addressed.

She was holding onto him tighter now, the hand on his knuckles and the arm wrapped around his back, and he would have lost his resolution if she'd done anything more, so he gently but firmly pushed her away, trying to ignore the hurt expression on her face.

“No, Riley. You can't do this. Let me know when you're ready to talk.” He placed the ice pack in her hand, got up and quickly gathered the discarded glove and his coat. She was silent, and he avoided looking back at her as he walked to the door and left.

[seonedevinian]

wow, that's really good. it's so sad. you make Crane human, it's good to see so many different perspectives here. must read more soon!

[§ilvercell]

i feel sorry for Riley.