The Spider Web (All 24 Chapters Up!!)

[latikono]

This is copied from my Deviant Art submission (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/21674602/). I plan to have the next chapter up real soon, so, stay tuned . . .

Fan Fiction.net: www.fanfiction.net/u/876225/

+--------+

(Chapter One: "In Which the Good are Smitten."

So . . . This is my Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow (from Batman, the Batman Begins version a course) fan fiction. I shall keep the plot synopsis to myself though, as to not spoil anything. Don't worry, there'll be more of Crane in future chapters (though I'd honestly hope that reading about Dahlia is just as interesting . . . I wanted to really develop her for a reason ya know). I'm going to switch back and forth between Dahlia and Crane, so the next chapter will be mainly told on our dear professor's side.

Starring Cillian Murphy as Crane and Winona Ryder as Dahlia, and featuring Brittany Daniel as Natalie. ^^

Hope you enjoy. And please go easy on me - This is my first fan fiction piece, ever.)



"The witch returns!"

One of the clique's athletic buffs lifted his palms in defense and mocked Dahlia with a grin. The others joined in and leaned back, pretending to be afraid as laughter errupted among them. She just kept her head down, clutched her books tightly to her chest, and continued in her swift pace to her first class. The group called after her, "Please don't cast a spell on me!" And, "We should burn her!" This kind of thing wasn't new. It was well into her first semester at Gotham University, and so far, every day she had to deal with the harassment and teasing from her peers. Though Dahlia was used to it, that never meant the pain went away.

With frustration, she barged into one of the girl's restrooms and placed her things down on the counter, then simply stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her arched eyebrows creased upwards, a sad and lame moan echoing out through her shut, plain lips. One tightly balled fist ran firmly over her cheek, brushing her hair from her face as she surpressed tears.

There were hardly any like her, with her blanched skin and black hair. And Dahlia always dressed in black. They all called her a goth, or a witch or vampire. At the same time, they would also call her a nerd or a geek because she was one of the smartest girl in her classes, and she wore glasses to read. They would call her anything and everything, whatever hurt her and boosted their own self esteem.

"Oh, you're here." Dahlia quickly turned to see a girl emerge from one of the bathroom stalls, adjusting a leapord-furred purse on her bare shoulder. This was Natalie O'Neil, one of the so-called populars of the campus. She dressed trashy, she acted conceited and superior, and she was just another bully to Dahlia. While she remained silent and stared at the upper classman with hidden distaste, Natalie continued on as she went to wash her hands. "If you're going to slit your wrists, do it over the sink so you don't make a gross mess." Turning off the sink, she then went to grab a paper towel to dry her hands. As she tossed it in the garbage, she turned and did a short and sarcastic bow with a smirk laid on her glossy lips, "Hope you have fun with your magic spells and voo-doo dolls." Dahlia watched the door for several minutes before finally picking up her books and heading out with haste.

The first of her classes passed quickly, and with relatively no one bothering her. In Psychology, Professor Crane was lecturing as usual, and as usual, Dahlia was listening attentively. This was the one class she somewhat enjoyed for a change, and never did she sleep or not pay attention. Natalie however sat right next to her, and she was one who just loved attention. Smirking to herself, she leaned over and snatched Dahlia's thick glasses right off her face. She whispered while holding them away from her body with two fingers like one would hold a twitching spider, "These are the ugliest things I've ever seen. Are you a bum who can't afford nicer frames or something?" Immediately, that last comment struck a nerve in Dahlia. Slowly turning her head to glare into Natalie's pale hazel eyes, she snatched her glasses back and replied with a hushed, sibilant voice,
"Not all of us are as rich as <i>you</i>, Natalie."
"Well, you should be." She replied with a stuck-up grin. Dahlia replied bluntly, her voice slightly escalating in volume with her anger,
"I'm sure the horny old men down at the cat walk pay you guys pretty well." Natalie's jaw dropped, and her cheeks flushed pink.

"Miss Rhodes."

Dahlia's head snapped towards the front of the room and she stared in fright like a deer caught in headlights. Crane was staring right back at her with his unblinking, intense blue eyes. For a moment he was silent, then adjusted his glasses with two fingers and said in a calm voice, "Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?" For what seemed like hours, she just kept staring, her mouth trying to form words, but no sound emerging from her throat. Timidly, she just lowered and shook her head, her eyes following the wood grain of the desk. Crane threw a warning glance to Natalie before continuing with his lesson. "As I was saying . . ."

~**~**~**~**~**~

"Miss Rhodes."

Dahlia cringed and paused on her way out of the classroom, the other students having already left. She expected yet another scolding or warning, but recieved none as she awaited the next words. Finally she slowly turned to face her professor, still tense and nervous. Crane waited until Dahlia was facing her until he spoke, his hands clasped comfortably in front of his lap. "I assume you've studied and are prepared for tomorrow's exam."
". . . Oh!" Dahlia's shyness around her instructor suddenly vanished as she remembered the exam. She had totally forgotten about it. Her hand jerked up to the collar of her turtle neck and nervously pulled at it. "I . . . I forgot."
"Then it would be wise to do some studying while the university's library is open." He warned her. "Your grades have been steadily declining."
"Yes sir, I-I know . . ." Dahlia lowered her head once again. Though he sounded aloof about it, she felt like she was disappointing both herself and Crane. "I'll go and study right now. Thank you for reminding me." Nodding quickly, she turned and scurried out the door. For a moment, Crane stood watching her darkly clad figure hurry down the hall. He then shut the door, sat at his desk, and began to shuffle through various papers.

~**~**~**~**~**~

". . . The notion of the reflex arc was developed in studies of spinal preparations in which protopathic stimuli or muscle tensions are the chief sources of excitation. Under these simple conditions something like a point for point correspondence between receptor cells and muscle groups could be demonstrated, as in the case of the scratch reflex . . ."
"Dear . . . Dear!"
"Huh?" Dahlia's eyes shot up out of the book to see the face of the school's librarian staring down at her. She smiled warmly and said,
"The library's closing, Dear. Got everything you need, I hope."
Not quite. The hours Dahlia spent in the school library were a waste, as she was easily sidetracked from her notes with psychology books unrelated to the material on the exam. Fascinating nonetheless, but of no use to her in class.

The sky was dark as the night had come over Gotham - Dahlia had stayed far longer than she had planned. She carried her books in one hand and held her warm coat shut with the other, walking through the parking lot to head home. Something rattled in the darkness. Startled, she glanced over her shoulder towards the buildings, but saw nothing. Then she turned her head and glanced over her left shoulder, carefully watching the shadows. Her eyes trailed up where she noticed that it was the night of a new moon.

"You witch."

And even more wary, Dahlia glanced back forward to see two boys emerge from a pickup truck, both heading for her quickly. She backed away, eyes wide, and managed to let out a trembling, "W-What do you-" Her words were interrupted as she bumped into something behind her, and immediately after, large arms hooked under hers and lifted her to the tips of her toes. Dahlia's books fell to the damp ground with a thud, and her notes soon fluttered down in hot pursuit. The terrified shriek she let halfway out was stifled as a girl then came forward and slapped a line of duct tape over her mouth.

None other than Natalie. For several minutes, she and Dahlia locked eyes, hers full of anger, and her hostage's full of fear. Then Natalie brought her hand across her cheek, hard, several times before she finally calmed herself and ranted, "You don't dare think of saying that kind of thing to me ever again, you hear, you little witch? If you ever think you can be better than me, or think that you can get away with something, stop and think again." Her hand came up and grasped Dahlia's neck firmly and very threateningly. "So long as you go to this school, I own you and you are my dog to step on all I want. You'll never be as good as you want to be. Got it?"

And with a wave of her decorated hand, the strong boy who had been holding Dahlia suddenly shoved her forward and into the car nearby. Then the four got into the pickup and drove off, leaving Dahlia weeping furiously on her knees, leaning against the car and weakly stripping the tape from her mouth.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Dahlia's home was on the third floor of a run-down apartment building in The Narrows. She trudged up the stairs, still in tears, and entered quietly, hoping not to draw any attention from her father or step mother, Linda. But the alchoholic had kept a close watch on the door, and immediately sauntered up. "Dahlia!" She raised her hands up in the air and furrowed her eyebrows. "Where the hell have you been all night? I needed you here to help clean the kitchen, impossible girl!"
Giving her a death glare, Dahlia replied coldly, "I had my own problems to deal with . . . And since when do you clean?"
Linda ignored her. She had been for the year that she and Dahlia's father, Lou, had been together. "I left you with the dishes and mopping the floor. If you ask me, I went to easy on you . . . Hey!"

Dahlia slammed the door to her small bedroom shut and locked it. Like her clothes, everything in her room was black. The sheets on her bed, her night stand, the vanity mirror and bookcase . . . Even the walls were painted black, and the back of her door. She went right for a drawer in the vanity and took out a tube of cooling gel, applying some to her bruised neck and sore muscles. Every so often, she'd drive her cheek to her shoulder to wipe away the tears.

Like a great mind reader, Cat suddenly hopped in through the window from the fire escape, purring in her swift entrance. Dahlia turned and greeted her, sniffling sadly as she went and sat down on her bed and scooped up the adventurer. "Sorry Cat, you're going to have to get yourself something to eat tonight. I don't want to go out there." Cat was, of course, a cat. Perfectly black with brilliant blue eyes, so blue and often unblinking that she reminded her of her psychology professor, and one who came and went as she pleased. But when Dahlia needed her, Cat was there to listen - A best friend.

While cradling the feline carefully in her arms, Dahlia leaned back against her fluffy pillow and ran her pale hands over Cat's soft fur.

"I don't know what I did to deserve a beating in the parking lot, Cat, but they never fail to remind me of just how miserable I am. Is non-conformity so frowned upon in this day and age? Today I told Natalie off for the first time, and I got repayed after school by her and her group smacking me around. Jerks. At least time they let me walk away though." The stinging pain in her cheek had yet to subside. Lifting her hand from Cat's neck for a moment, she instead ran them over her skin to feel its numb puffing. It would go away eventually.

"But . . . I'm not going to let them scare me anymore . . ." A pause, and then Dahlia scoffed. "I say that every day . . . It doesn't matter anymore. The past is passed. Tomorrow I have some important things to do. If I can at least get through this semester, then I won't see Natalie or her boyfriend and his friends anymore." Cat only meowed and rubbed her cheek against Dahlia's chin.

[latikono]

(Chapter Two: "In Which a Tortured Past Reappears."

The next part of my Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow (from Batman) fan fic, this time told mainly from Crane's side. A tad bit short for my taste, but the next events tie in too well together to seperate. Hopefully I can get some more ideas for the chapters afterwards though, since right now I haven't even planned anything. Ah well. I'll get something down eventually.

Starring Cillian Murphy as Crane and Winona Ryder as Dahlia. ^^

Hope you enjoy.

EDIT: Added more to Crane's alone time at home to make it sound and flow better.)



"Hi, Dahlia!" Natalie called with as obnoxious a voice as possible, raising her arm into the air and only flapping her hand up and down in a wave. She was surrounded by her group of friends, three of which were immediately recognizable as the bullies from the previous night. "How ya doin'? What's wrong? You look like you got a nasty rough housing or something!" She cackled. Dahlia did her best to ignore her, and habitually found a few minutes of solitude in a nearby girl's restroom.

"Miss O'Neil."
"Oh, hello Professor Crane." Somewhat startled, Natalie quickly pivoted in her seat on the bench to face Crane, and went right into 'suck-up mode'. She smiled warmly and sat up straight. Her friends did likewise. "How are you?"
As Crane walked by, he ignored her comment and said without a smile, looking straight ahead to where he was going, "I hope you are prepared for your exam today."
Though certainly not appreciative of his cold tone, she only continued smiling before replying, "Um . . . Yes, sir. See you in class." And once he was a safe distance away, she muttered aloud, "What a creep. He's lucky he's got a pretty face."
Her athletic boyfriend added, "What reason does he have to care all of a sudden?"
"Because he's like the vampire girl." Natalie replied. And while smirking, she continued, "A freak."

~**~**~**~**~**~

In these general characteristics, memes are similar to genes and to other replicators, such as computer viruses or crystals. The genetic metaphor for cultural transmission is limited, however. Genes can only be transmitted from . . . from . . .

Reclining comfortably in a large chair in his living room, Jonathan Crane trailed away from the text of the book. Thought his eyes followed the letters, that had by now transformed into bizarre symbols, his mind strayed elsewhere. It was difficult to concentrate on anything at the moment. He placed the book down on the coffee table and then headed for the bathroom. Carefully lying his glasses on the counter, then then turned on the sink and splashed some water over his tired face. It still wouldn't stop buzzing around in his mind . . .

Something about Dahlia had really captured his attention, and for some reason, all he could think about was her. The previous night, he had witnessed her physical encounter with the other students from the high window of his classroom. Something about it entranced him, made him feel almost sympathetic for Dahlia . . . Crane turned the knob and shut up the water, and for several moments leaned over the sink, propped up on both outstretched arms, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The water droplets dripping from his bangs, nose, eyelashes, and chin shined like gems in the light.

. . . He knew what. The bullying, the name calling - It was like some nightmarish rerun of the abuse he himself recieved during his childhood and adolesence, experiences he hadn't recalled for quite some time now, before last night. Every day, it was a shove and a trip, constant teasing, and threats and beatings on a regular basis. Never a moment's peace. And never would he forget the title they all gave him - The Scarecrow. For his gangly, long arms and legs, for his lankiness and geekiness. Crane's experiences were just as bad if not worse than what Dahlia seemed to go through.

He had to know more. He had to study her. Perhaps if he were to open up to her about his own past, she would come to warm up to him, give him her trust, and thus leave him with little trouble in doing his testing on her like a labrat. Perfect. Miss Rhodes could very well prove to be the perfect specimen for experimentation.

Grabbing a towel, he dried his face before heading back out into the living room. Crane picked up his book and placed it carefully back on the bookshelf.

~**~**~**~**~**~

While he waited for the students to finish their exams, Crane jotted down several observations and notes of what he already knew of Dahlia. She was quiet, strange and definately somewhat disturbed, a recluse and one who never spoke to anyone unless first spoken to . . . She seemed far more passive than he was in his abuse, refusing to lift a finger to defend herself or even attempt to do so. And any few defensive moves she made were purely verbal, even when she was beaten or roughed up. Dahlia must have been wary of whatever consequences would befall her. Either that or . . .

The bell sounded, quickly drowned out by the sounds of shuffling papers, scooting chairs, and noisy chatter. Crane stood and addressed them all with a firm, "Class!" He lifted his hand to signal silence while positioning himself near the door to not let anyone by until he was through with what he had to say. Once they were quiet, he continued, "If you have not completed your exam, the library will be open after school, and you can finish there. Minus some points, I will accept it later today. For those of you who are finished, place them on my desk, and have a pleasant weekend." Their voices errupting once again, the entire class squished their way out the door and lef the classroom with silence.

Crane went to adjust the pile of exams, but noticed that Dahlia was still seated, her head down on the desk. "Miss Rhodes, class has ended." He called to her. But she didn't stir. Waiting a moment, he then headed up the steps and noticed that she was asleep - Poor thing must have been troubled by the night before. He headed closer and gave her shoulder a light shake. Immediately her head pulled up, eyes wide, full of surprise and redness - She had done a lot of crying. Feigning ignorance, he repeated, "Class has ended, Miss Rhodes."
She took in a few hasty breaths before nodding and replying in a small and raspy voice, "Y-Yes, sorry." As Crane sauntered back towards his desk, Dahlia quickly gathered her things together and picked up her exam. On her way to the door, she laid it neatly atop the rest and then placed her hand over her sore cheek. But . . . she felt the professor's eyes watching her, staring at her. Slowly she came to a halt, and turned to face him with a questioning look, her hand slowly sliding down her neck and falling limply at her side. His expressionless face did not falter as he spoke.
". . . Where did you get those bruises?"

The sudden relaxation in Dahlia's face caused her jaw to slightly drop, pulling her lips open. Crane could plainly see she was uncomfortable on the topic, but did not move or say anything else. He only awaited some sort of answer, perhaps something he could play off of to earn some amount of trust.

But she didn't speak either. For a long time the two stood there, until Dahlia finally submitted to her anxiety and simply turned and hurried out the door. The corners of his lips curved upwards in a small smile. At least she was clued in to the concern he portrayed.

Upon returning home that night, Crane went right to his bookshelf and skimmed over the titles until he found just what he was looking for. Next time he had a moment alone with her, he would draw her in. But first, he had to really penetrate the barrier Dahlia had subconsciously put up. He had to be personal, play the compassionate teacher, get her trust . . .

He sat in his chair and opened up the book, Understanding Depression.

[seonedevinian]

wow, that's awesome. Dahlia reminds me of myself, in school. i'm way more mouthy now, which may not be better. good writing!! i do like Professor Crane, too. really, really good stuff!
i can't wait to read more.

oh, i'm going to exalt you. EXALT!

[latikono]

*squeals* Yay!! ^^ Thank you, thank you very much!! Now I'm all giddy like a school girl. ^^

*writing up chapter three*

[seonedevinian]

well, thankyou for sharing!

[§ilvercell]

it's really good!

[latikono]

Thank you! ^^

[latikono]

( Chapter Title: "In Which Cat Goes Missing."

Yup. Cat's gone missing. Where is she? Who knows. Short bit leading up to some important plot events. The next chapter will probably be full of some moments fan girls may especially enjoy as well.

Starring Cillian Murphy as Crane and Winona Ryder as Dahlia. ^^ Featuring James Woods as Lou.

Hope you enjoy.

EDIT: *cries* I just happened to stumble upon some GREAT info on Crane's home life and a few other things regarding his business life as well, so I editted the writing to make it more accurate. ^^ I'm so happy . . .)



The weekends were like paradise to Dahlia - They meant no school, no work, and best of all, no bullying. No trips, no slips, no pokes, no names, no threats, and no games of Monkey in the Middle. For the most part, she was a normal human being for two days.

Lou was home for a change, and warmly greeted her as she emerged from her bedroom in the morning. However, he was preparing coffee and was already suited in his police uniform - He'd be off to work yet again. "Hey there, Darling."
"Morning, Daddy." Dahlia's practically non-existant smile suddenly emerged as she stepped forward and embraced her father tightly. He did the same.
"Boy, it feels like I never see you anymore!" Placing his mug of coffee down, Lou's hand playfully tousled her frizzy hair. "What you been up to?"
Playfully slapping his hand away, she replied happily, "This and that. I fixed my camera so I got a few good shots the other day."
"Oh really? Well that's good." One of Dahlia's bedroom walls was completely covered in photographs of people and animals that she took, most of which were strangers on the street. Years of harassment got her believing that she was a monstrosity to society, so she greatly admired beauty in others.
"Hey Daddy, have you seen Cat lately? I haven't seen her since the other night."
"No, sorry Darling. She'll probably show up. You going to head out today?"
"Mm hm. Oh, and Daddy . . . I was thinking of going to Killinger's today to get a new veil, but I'm a bit short on cash . . ." She glanced about the ceiling of the room and pouted.
"Ha ha. Alright, but this is all I have for now." Lou took out a small fold of money and slapped it in Dahlia's hand. "No porno, and no strip clubs." He joked.
"Thanks, Daddy!" Once again she hugged her father and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Hope you have a good day at work." And out the door she scurried with camera in hand, before Linda could try and weasel her out of her cash.

Though she set out for the department store outside the Narrows, Dahlia was side tracked by the many strangers on Gotham's streets. It was no doubt a very corrupt city, with few good and even fewer who would do something about the crime. But somehow, people still fascinated her. That was probably why she enjoyed psychology class so much - She could learn to get inside others' heads, learn how they behave and why, among many other things. Simple emotions like happiness or sadness were so complex when examined closely.

A young woman tugging her son along by the sleeve hurried to get across the street, and the moment was captured on Dahlia's roll of film. A few minutes later, a smiling old man came around the corner walking his dog, and he too was photographed.

Dahlia continued to wander the streets aimlessly until her feet finally began to grow sore under her heavy shoes. She spotted a coffee shop just nearby and decided to head over for a drink and a short rest. However, she came to an abrupt halt just at the door when she spotted a familiar figure at the window - Crane. He hadn't noticed her, and was sitting quietly by himself at a table reading a newspaper. She took advantage to hide around the corner. Why am I hiding? Why was she? He had been kind to her just the day before, most apparently showing concern if not curiosity at least for her bruised cheek and neck. He was one of the only teachers within the past nine years who had shown even remote interest in Dahlia, and she felt that she was repaying him by avoiding him like the bullies.

. . . But her feet didn't budge. Instead, they turned her right around and back down the street she came from. She only sighed to herself and headed straight to Killinger's Department Store.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Dahlia returned home by the time night had fallen. However, she was soon reconsidering leaving again once noticing that her father was once again not home, and Linda was there, drinking herself silly. Sighing, she only asked, "Have you seen Cat?" Linda craned her head over her shoulder and murmured,
"Nope . . . S'your cat, you take care of him."
"Her." She corrected with a slight scoff. The goth girl grabbed an umbrella from the coat rack before heading back out, seeing that the anticipated rain had finally begun to fall. She left just as soon as she had gotten then.
"Hey, hey!!" Linda called to the door though Dahlia was already gone. "Where's your father? He's been gone all night without a word!"

~**~**~**~**~**~

Grabbing the umbrella was a complete waste of time. No more than three minutes out of the building, Dahlia was recognized by one of the boys who had aided in confronting her the other night. It was the usual encounter - Name calling, some shoving here and there . . . Though this time, for added intimidation, he had snatched away her umbrella and smacked her in the shoulder with it, chasing her several feet down the street with it like a stray dog. No doubt it was degrading, especially in the rain, and on what was supposed to be a good weekend. Rubbing the new bruise that would now form on her shoulder, Dahlia continued down the street, determined still to find Cat.

After an hour or so of searching the streets and alleys, Dahlia then went on to knock on every door she passed. The first one she came across was probably the most polite of the many strangers she met that night.
"Excuse me, have you seen a small black cat around here with a red collar and big blue eyes?" Dahlia took out a photograph from her pocket and held it out for the woman to see.
"Get lost, little tramp." And the door was slammed in her face. For a moment Dahlia stood there staring at the door, then just kicked the frame and moved on. The rest of the residents on that particular street were the same. Then she came upon one of the nicer and more expensive apartment buildings in the area. Several times during school days she noticed Cat milling about the area, so surely there must have been a chance that someone saw her.

Other than being under a roof and out of the rain, the people greeted Dahlia all the same. Each new door she headed to, her questions and words became more and more pitiful and desperate. "Please, please sir . . . I'm looking for my cat . . ." Slam, right in her face. Knock knock knock on the next door. "Ma'am, please, you have to help me. I'm looking . . ." A blunt comment before another slam. Gripping her dripping wet sleeves in any hope to preserve her body's warmth, Dahlia just continued on, determined to make it to all of the doors. Someone had to have even a little bit of compassion, right? . . . Wrong. Every single person turned her away.

She almost lost hope as she approached a neo-gothic home tucked away on a small side street nearby the apartment building - Lights shone through the front windows. As she approached, the rain almost seemed to come down even harder. She stood before the door and knocked, lowered her head sadly, and once she heard the door open, she began immediately before they could turn her away, "Please, please don't shut the door . . . I'm looking for . . ."

"Miss Rhodes?"

Dahlia's black eyes opened wide. Slowly her eyes trailed up the man's figure until she was staring into their curious eyes with shock. She felt her jaw drop and lips begin to tremble.

"Professor Crane?!"

[seonedevinian]

cool stuff. is there more?

[§ilvercell]

i wonder what's going to happen.

[latikono]

I've already got the next four chapters planned out, but not written. So, ya, there'll be more. ^^ I'll probably post up the next chapter later today/tonight.

[latikono]

( Chapter Title: "In Which the Fly is Lured In."

The research I found on Crane's home life was a great help here. ^^ I included most of what I learned in this chapter. I took a whack at what sort of style would be flowing around his pad though - I thought he was a sort of classic and contemporary kinda guy. So, yup, Dahlia and Crane have their first real conversation. Next chapter will provide more plot development.

Starring Cillian Murphy as Crane and Winona Ryder as Dahlia. ^^

Hope you enjoy.)


He was quite surprised, his raised eyebrows and widened eyes mimicking Dahlia's. "Miss Rhodes, what are you doing around here at this hour?" Already Crane's mind ruled out the possibility of the late teen suspecting him of something, or even knowing beforehand that this was his abode - Her quick ramblings had revealed that with ease, and Dahlia was one who was quite easy to read. But his curiosity had taken a strong hold on him . . . and this was also a very opportune time to study and examine her, and get to know her, to earn her trust.

Dahlia's lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally however she did manage a somewhat raspy, "I . . . I was . . ." Crane looked down to the photograph she apparently had forgotten that she was holding out. He took it from her fingers and examined it for a moment before glancing back to meet her eyes and cutting her off,
"Looking for your pet cat?"
Cheeks flushing red, Dahlia quickly nodded several times and replied, "Yes. I haven't seen her since the other night."
Crane took another glance to the picture before hanging it back. "I'm sorry, Miss Rhodes. I haven't seen any black cats around here."
Her face sank as she took the picture carefully with both hands. ". . . Thank you anyway, Professor. Sorry for disturbing you."
He laid a charming smile across his full lips, replying before she could fully turn to leave, "Oh, don't be silly, Miss Rhodes." Sidestepping to the side of the oppen doorway, he gestured a hand inside his home. "Would you like to come in for a while? The rain is coming down awfully hard, and you must be freezing cold."
It took her a few moments of thought and a couple more glances to her teacher's friendly expression before Dahlia finally accepted. "Thank you. I won't be long, though. I don't want to be a bother."
<i>Perfect. Suddenly the pieces are all coming together.</i>
"Oh, no bother, Miss Rhodes. No bother at all." Once she entered, he looked around outside to make sure no one was watching, then closed the door.

Crane certainly had a fine home. Clean and well kept, and classic and contemporary with vintage pieces. Straight lines and warm colors galor - It looked like a page out of a home and garden magazine. Most noticably, bookcases lined several of the walls, and were stuffed full of hundreds of books. Dahlia wasn't used to seeing another person's home, especially one that looked so much nicer than her own. Her entranced eyes slowly scrolled over the perimeter as she politely stayed in the tiled entryway to avoid getting water on the carpet. "You have a beautiful house." She called to Crane, who had gone off to retrieve her a towel. A flapping sound suddenly caught her attention, and glancing towards one of the windows on the adjacent wall, she spotted a tall wooden perch with a large, black bird on it, staring towards her with its wings spread. When it loudly cawed, she drew back in surprise.

"Thank you." Crane returned a moment later with a towel and handed it to her. Seeing that she noticed his pet, he added, "Don't let Sheryl scare you. She's quite harmless." Dahlia pressed the towel to her face first, then ran it over her hair several times as she gazed upon the bird.
"It's okay, I'm not scared. I like birds." For a few seconds she lightly laughed to herself before saying aloud, "A crow, named Sheryl . . ."
He too let out a soft chuckle. "I couldn't think of another name that was more fitting." Extending out his hands, he politely said, "Here, let me take that jacket so you can dry off." She nodded and slipped it off, then placed it in his hands.
"Thank you." He went to hang it on the nearby coat rack. "I never figured you to be the type to have a pet, Professor."
"Yes, well, I have a soft spot for birds." Crane lifted his arm up and out, bent at the elbow and signalled to the bird. She responded by cawing once again before flying to his outstretched arm and then hiking up to his shoulder. "Yes, Sheryl is a tame one." He stroked her chest affectionately. If there was one living thing in the world that he did care for, it would be Sheryl.
"But isn't it illegal to keep one as a pet?" Dahlia questioned out of curiosity.
"Only if you don't have a federal permit, which I do possess."

Dahlia eventually couldn't resist her natural like of animals as she reached out and stroked Sheryl's chest. Like a child at a petting zoo, she smiled as the crow cawed once again. Crane too smiled, quite mischeivously. He shifted closer to Dahlia and bent his knee so that his tall shoulder met her significantly shorter one, and the bird too shifted over to perch there. She let out a girlish giggle as she continued to run her hand over her ebony feathers.

Gesturing towards one of the sofas in the living room, Crane said, "Take a seat, please. Would you like something to drink, perhaps some tea?" Dahlia hesitantly nodded before heading towards the sofa. Before sitting however, she neatly folded the towel over several times before laying it down over the cushion, to avoid getting it wet when she sat.

No drugging will be needed quite yet . . . It may not be ready. I still need to test it, but not on her . . .

Crane was pondering as he had gone to fetch a cup of tea for both himself and Dahlia. For some time, he had been developing what he felt would be his greatest accomplishment yet - A poison, a toxin, that would bring out the worst of a particular individual's nightmares. It was far different than his other experiments - It was far more dangerous. But the professor wasn't sure if it was even temporary or permenant. Dahlia seemed to make such a perfect subject with her life so unnervingly similar to his own childhood, and her innocence still in tact . . . He didn't want to ruin her until he was sure that his toxin would be perfected from it.

He returned several moments later with two cups in hand, setting one down on the coffee table in front of Dahlia before he took his own seat on the opposite sofa. Crane sat in silence, sipping his tea as he observed her behavior and interactions with Sheryl, as she sipped her own tea now and then and avoided eye contact with him. Though he was quite comfortable, she seemed to be more and more uneasy. Finally though, she did shatter the silence, which he had no expected from one as shy as she was.
"Professor Crane . . . I'm sorry about the other day."
Crane arched a brow. "Oh? For what?"
"When you asked about my bruises and I just ran away . . . I'm really sorry. I just . . . didn't know what to say." Even the crow's company on her shoulder didn't keep her smiling. Once again her face sank.
"No no. It wasn't my place to ask." Reverse psychology a complete success in three, two, one . . .

". . . No, it's okay. I actually wanted to say that . . . Well, you must know the bullying I get around campus."
Crane placed his cup on the coffee table before sitting up straight once again and crossing one leg over the other. His hands clasped together in his lap and a false look of slight confusion swept over his features. "Everyone suffers some sort of verbal abuse at least once in their life. But, don't tell me you were beaten . . ."
". . . I wouldn't call it a beating, really . . . But, the other night, this one girl who picks on me a lot, her and her boyfriend and his friends . . ." Dahlia's words trailed off. Something kept her from continuing on. Impatient with the silence, Crane gently urged her on,
"They . . . ?"
She suddenly glanced up to finally meet his eyes, and quickly spoke in a different tone of voice. "I'm sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I don't need to get you involved in my personal business. I'll take care of it myself."

Crane didn't have enough patience to ease off quite yet. He lowered his head slightly and looked her head on, somewhat ignoring her words. "Was it Miss Natalie O'Neil?" Silence. "She seems to have had a grudge on you ever since you arrived at this university, isn't that so?"

Sheryl cawed and flapped her wings as Dahlia suddenly stood up. "N-No . . . No, I . . . I have to go. It's getting late."

Dahlia became more and more easy to read. Crane no longer needed her to stay around, so stood as well, leaning forward slightly and apologetically. "Yes, it is getting late. I'm sorry to have kept you." He escorted her to the door, at the same time taking his bird from her shoulder and sending her back to her perch. Like a gentleman however, he took a spare umbrella from the hall closet and handed it to Dahlia along with her jacket. "I don't need this old thing anyomore. Avoid catching a cold, as I expect to see you in class tomorrow."
It was still raining outside, but seemed to be slowing finally. Dahlia gratiously took the umbrella and added a soft "Thank you" as she opened it and headed back out onto the street. She turned and waved back, calling, "See you in class, Professor Crane."
He waved back and threw out another smile before going back inside and closing the door once again. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. He glanced to Sheryl and smiled.

"She may be harder to get to than I once thought. But soon enough, Sheryl, soon enough the toxin will be ready for testing, and Miss Rhodes will be the first lucky person to taste it."

[seonedevinian]

awesome! and Sheryl crow...that's cute. i love it!

[latikono]

(Chapter Five - In Which the Fly is Caught

Yes yes, major plot turner. After this, (I'd hope) things get quite interesting. Kinda short again, ya, but it gets the job done, I think . . . Hopefully.

Starring Winona Ryder as Dahlia and Cillian Murphy as Crane. ^^

Hope you enjoy.)




Cat was still missing. So was Dahlia's father. Nothing new to her - Her father often overworked himself and sometimes stayed holed up in his office down at the police station for days. Linda overreacted only because she dreaded being alone in the apartment with Dahlia, as the girl did to her. That was no secret.

It was Sunday, and just one more day until school. Dahlia decided to take her last hours of freedom outside on the streets to take more photographs and do some light shopping. Her first stop was a newstand on the street corner where she picked up that day's issue and several magazines for her father. The front page of the paper had a large, blurry photograph of the Batman and the title "BATMAN FOILS BANK ROBBERY" printed on it. Every chance he got, it seemed, her father would tell her about the Batman, and about how much of a nuisance and a vigilante he was. He taught her that the law should never be taken into her own hands. But who was she too care? He didn't interfere with her life or make it more miserable than it was.

But she'd have to save her mental ramblings of the bat for another day. Dahlia came around the corner too swiftly and bumped into someone straight on, nearly toppling over backwards. However, the stranger had reached forward quickly and grabbed her upper arm to keep her from falling. Somewhat stunned from the run-in, she didn't even manage an apology before the oh-so familiar voice spoke up.

"Interesting how frequent our chance encounters are, Miss Rhodes." Who else but Crane? He still held on to Dahlia, making sure she had regained her balance. She meanwhile was still staring down at the ground in disbelief, following his figure up to meet his curious eyes. Her cheeks immediately blushed red, both embarassment of the run-in, and remembering her behavior the previous night.
"Y . . . Ya . . ." But she didn't have to begin the awkward conversation this time, and had no time to once again apologize to her professor. He cradled a small black cat in his free arm to his side, the creature luckily avoiding getting injured in the bump. Dahlia's eyes widened. Her lips stretched to a large smile.
"I take it that this fellow is indeed yours, Miss Rhodes?" Crane carefully handed over Cat and Dahlia gratefully accepted. She hugged and held Cat close to her face, rubbing her cheek to his soft fur lovingly. However, she did notice that an area over her back had speckles of blood, and as she parted the fur to get a better look, she saw several small cuts in her feline's skin. As he noticed that Dahlia noticed, Crane spoke up again, "Looks like she might have been exploring some rough neighborhoods. If you'd like, we can take her to my house to clean up her wounds."

Dahlia paused before looking back up to Crane and replied, thinking only of Cat, ". . . Okay. Thank you."

~**~**~**~**~**~

". . . I apologize about last night, Professor Crane."

"Oh? For what?"

Once again Dahlia was seated on the sofa, Cat purring in her lap as she wiped the wounds clean with a warm and damp cloth. Crane sat next to her, seemingly hovering over her, she felt. But still, she ignored it and replied, "For leaving so suddenly. I . . . I was just . . ."
Crane interrupted her as he lifted his hand in defense, "No no, I understand. It was not my place." Another moment of silence followed before Crane went on in what seemed to be just out loud thinking. "I suppose my curiosity got the better of me. After all, I, too, had suffered harassment and abuse in my adolescence . . ." As Dahlia looked up to gaze at him with her mouth slightly agape, Crane went on as his blue eyes travelled across the room, "It's difficult to make friends under such circumstances, I know. What to them seems like a bit of good fun instills much, much more than that into the victim." He lightly sighed.

". . . You were bullied, Professor . . . ?" Dahlia almost couldn't believe it. Her own psychology teacher of all people shared her pain. That must have been why he seemed so interested in her brawl the other day. He understood her and knew what she was going through, and he must have sympathized with her . . . Finally, there was someone that could relate with her. Not just another person out to make her feel bad about herself.
"Oh, yes. Amazing how cruel mere children can be, thinking their names and games are harmless . . ." Suddenly Crane glanced ot Dahlia, who was still intently watching him. "Teenagers too, for that matter." Clearing his throat, he gave his charming smile and said somewhat bashfully, "Now, no need to bring up such meaningless things . . ."
"N-No, it's not meaningless." Dahlia sat up, her eyes having never left Crane's as she spoke sincere words. "You know what I go through, then. The kids who beat me up . . . The name calling every day . . . And I have no friends." She almost felt like crying. Quite unexpectedly, Crane rested his hand on her shoulder and cut her off before she could go on,

"No, Miss Rhodes. You have at least one friend."

The corners of her lips slowly spread into a genuine smile.

~**~**~**~**~**~

That night, with Cat safely nearby and lying on her bed, Dahlia brushed her hair in preparation for sleep. Her smile had lasted hours and was still planted on her face with no hopes of dying down. She even hummed a merry tune as she placed her brush down and flung herself onto her bed, Cat jumping slightly in surprise.

"Cat, he said he was my friend. That means that there's someone other than my father who actually cares about my feelings, who I can actually go to for friendly conversation or something. Someone I can trust, and someone who understands the bullying I get."

Only her head lifted up off the sheets as she peered over to the photographs covering her wall. Right smack in the center of the large collage was one of Crane that he allowed her to take as she left his home.

"I wonder how old he is. I'd say into his late twenties. He's not very old at all . . . And he's really handsome. It's hard to believe that he was bullied for his appearance when he was younger." Dahlia glanced back to Cat, her smile stretching as she blushed. She cautiously lowered her voice as she continued. "I think I'm getting a crush, and on my own psychlogy professor. You think he likes me back?" Cat's bored eyes stared at Dahlia for several moments before glancing away.

"Hmph." She rolled over onto her stomach. "Ya, I shouldn't flatter myself, I know." A dreamy sigh escaped her lips.

"But at least now I have someone that I don't have to fear."

[§ilvercell]

lets hope he doesn't go through with it.