Title: As The Crow Flies
Front Summary: ‹Nolanverse; AU; Pairings Inside› A young woman finds a recently tasered Dr. Crane and takes him in, straitjacket and all, but it seems he doesn't quite remember everything he's done or most of who he is.
Summary: ‹Nolanverse; AU; Pairings In Separate Section› A young woman finds a recently tasered Dr. Crane and takes him in, straitjacket and all, but it seems he doesn't quite remember everything he's done or most of who he is. And what's more, something in the back of his mind keeps whispering that it's dangerous to go outside. Not knowing who you are and keeping yourself holed up with only one person for such a long time can come with some interesting results.
Notes: The "interesting results" phrase in the summary refers to something akin to Stockholm Syndrome. I'm not sure whether to call it that or if there's a better term, but you'll probably know what I mean when you read the fic, I hope.
Jonathan, in this fic, has recently been tasered in the face by Miss Dawes.
I'm taking the liberty of AUness and saying that the tasering split his persona in two, making Scarecrow Jonathan's alter ego.
If you can't stand that for whatever reasons (because we all have our dislikes), this fic is not for you.
If you think Chelsie is a Sue, good for you.
You may complain all you like, but that won't stop me from writing this however I see fit.
You may also flame me, because I can't seriously stop you, but know that it will be a waste of your no doubt valuable time and I'll most likely just laugh at it and/or think you a moron.
Constructive criticism is welcomed, but may not be followed. I do this for fun, not to improve my writing, if I'm totally honest.
Also, I know about the animated show that's supposed to go in between the movies, but I'm not including it in the timeline. It wouldn't be strictly Nolanverse if I did, anyway.
If this kind of idea has been done before, sorry for doing it again. I don't read every fanfiction, so I can't know if I'm doing someone else's idea. Still, that doesn't mean I stole it. More than one person in the world can think of a similar idea.
Lastly, do not expect fast updates. I am by no means quick in my writing, and sometimes I take breaks from certain fandoms. Erratic behavior should be expected.
Disclaimer: Batman is owned by DC Comics and whoever else owns it. I in no way claim it as my own; I'm just borrowing. Any OCs are mine and the plot that isn't from the movies is also mine.
A/N: This is where Author's Notes will go from now on.
As The Crow Flies
Prologue - Into the Fog
Chelsie was intrigued as she peeked out her closed window; there was a fog in the neighborhood that was certainly not a low-flying cloud cluster.
But we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we?
The woman peeking out her third floor apartment window was Chelsie Alice Crow.
Her hair was wavy and often a little untamed, the color brown. It was long, reaching to her mid-back, while her bangs were grown out. Such framed a heart-shaped face which had a small, rounded nose and full, pink lips. Thin and curved eyebrows rested above almond-shaped eyes of blue-grey.
Those eyes were like a storm at sea, colors swirled together.
At five feet and four and a half inches, she was awkwardly caught between being petite and average, but her small body would make you think she was the former. She looked fragile and her skin was extremely pale, making her seem like a porcelain doll in fairly modern attire.
Her outfits all consisted of jeans with bell bottoms and over-sized t-shirts of various blues, blacks, greys and whites. Meanwhile, her shoes were all sneakers.
And now that you know what our leading lady looks like, let's get back to the action, shall we?
Pushing a stray strand of hair from her line of vision, she watched dwellers below walk about in panic. Many buildings were up in flames and some were broken into during the chaos, but none of it seemed to drown out the twenty-five year old's curiosity.
Backing out from under her curtains, she turned back to her uncleaned and small apartment, battling her inner self with the idea of going outside to see what all the fuss was about.
Curiously, she thought she heard the neigh of a horse in the distance, but she shrugged off the notion and went across the room, entering her bathroom.
She looked in the mirror; her hair was a mess, her lips were chapped, her skin was ghostly pale and the eyes that stared back at her dared her to go out into the madness.
Grabbing a brush, she brushed down her hair until it became submissive. She then fiddled in a drawer and pulled out some lip balm, spreading it over her lips and smacking them twice before she capped the cherry lip balm and tossed it back in its place.
She had to at least look more presentable if she was going to go out and about.
Now outside her apartment building, Chelsie sniffed the air, taking in a whiff of the fog. It proved to be a mistake when she was suddenly confronted with all her fears. Snakes, spiders, bats, bugs, rats, mice and all other manner of creatures she found frightening, invaded her sight. Her initial scream, however, died in her throat.
Something in her mind clicked with small glimpses of clarity, whispering logical statements.
'The fog caused this,' her mind managed to grasp. 'It's not real... Not real.'
This reassurance was enough to send her walking through her terrors after she pulled her over-sized white t-shirt's collar up over her nose and mouth to filter the fog as much as possible. She then wandered about, not really sure what was real anymore, until she found a horse and a man tied to it somehow.
Naturally, she decided she should help him since she seemed able to think clearly enough to do so, Chelsie wandering over to him and freeing his foot from where it was caught. She then looked down at the man, some sort of burlap sack on his head, but the maggots coming from it repulsed her.
Was that another hallucination? She touched it to make sure, finding nothing there.
'Hallucination,' her mind confirmed calmly between frantic thoughts that were slowly dissipating.
Regardless of the sight before her, she reached to his neck and found his pulse. He was alive, she found, but the fabric of the sack looked to be singed.
'Wake him up,' whispered her conscience, all frayed thoughts floating away as clarity took over.
She spoke softly as she shook the man before her by the shoulder, "Hey. Wake up. I'm here to help you, so please wake up."
Jonathan felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him carefully, waking him from a nightmare hell full of bats, a bat man spraying him with fog, and some infuriating woman tasering him in the face.
Who that woman was, who the bat man was, and the events themselves registered no memory in his mind, but he knew he hated bats.
Speaking of unregistered memories, he could recall his name and the title of doctor before it, but everything else seemed to be missing entirely. He knew his name but not who he was. Then the thought registered that he was once in the field of psychiatry, but that was all he could recall.
Then, a small voice in the back of his head whispered menacingly, 'Scarecrow... I'm the Scarecrow.'
His eyes blinked open and slowly focused, settling on a woman with brown hair and blue-grey eyes.
"Are you awake yet?" Chelsie asked, removing her hand from his shoulder.
She then noticed he was wearing a rather torn up straitjacket and realized such was never a good sign, but it was now too late to worry over such as that.
"Who are you?" the man suddenly asked, startling her.
"I'm Chelsie Crow," she answered, eyes dancing wildly as she fought the visions before her. "I thought you might need some help... And the street isn't exactly a safe place to be, especially now."
"Do you know who I am?" Jonathan questioned, slowly sitting up.
She blinked, a little bewildered by such a question, but answered his query, "I'm afraid not. I just found you on a horse and in a cut up straitjacket in the middle of the street... Do you know your name?"
That was about the only thing he knew for certain, so he answered confidently, "My name is Jonathan Crane."
"I see," she muttered, moving to stand before him.
Chelsie then held out her hand to help him up off the road.
He took her offered hand, moving to his feet and releasing it once he stood, his hands brushing his clothing of unseen dirt.
"I have an apartment nearby," she said, blinking erratically at the visions. "You can stay with me, if you like."
As he began to reach up and take off the burlap sack, she protested, "I'd leave that on if I were you. The fog out here is causing hallucinations and you seem unaffected, so I can only guess it's because of that mask."
"I see," he replied, looking around the street and seeing burning buildings and broken windows.
Without a word, Chelsie turned around and began her trek back to her apartment complex, certain the man would follow if he wanted somewhere to stay. If not, it made no difference to her.
Jonathan watched her walk off a moment before following behind her; he decided he should accept her offer.
'It's not safe for us to be in public,' the Scarecrow had told him.
Opening the door to her apartment, Chelsie let Jonathan walk inside, coming in after him and closing the door. She then locked it and hooked the chain before turning around to find Jonathan in the middle of the small room, mask now in his hand.
She only recognized that he had the brightest electric blue eyes she'd ever seen and that his hair was a very dark brown before turning and walking into the adjacent, open kitchen on the right.
"You can sit down, if you like," she offered, grabbing a bottle of water from her refrigerator and then moving to a cabinet.
Opening the cabinet door, she pulled out a tray with seven pill boxes - one for every day of the week, each with four sections - and took out the pill box of the day.
Taking her nighttime medication, she turned around to notice Jonathan in the small kitchen with her. He seemed particularly interested in what she was doing.
"I just took my anti-depressant, Wellbutrin, and something for anxiety that I can't pronounce the name of without biting my tongue," explained the woman.
Jonathan then realized his interest must seem peculiar, so he hastily explained, "I remember that I worked in the field of psychiatry."
"Oh," she said, mouth frozen in an 'o' for a few moments before she turned around and went to her pill box, putting it away.
"I take things for clinical depression, social anxiety disorder, bipolar disorder and schizophrenia," she listed to him. "I'm also diabetic, if anyone wants to know."
Turning to face him, she leaned her back against the counter, "I guess you'll be rooming with me until you remember yourself, so here are my house rules: If I'm in my room and the door is shut, knock and wait for the okay to enter. If I don't answer, leave me alone. If I tell you to go away, do as I say. If I ask what you want, state your business in a direct and to-the-point manner."
"To explain, I sometimes can't handle interaction with others and isolate myself in my room, a.k.a. my lair," she told him. "Violating anything I just said could make me go psycho."
"Understood," he replied, storing that information away for future use. "Where will I sleep?"
"You can have the couch," Chelsie said, eyes shifting to it briefly.
After an exchange of pleasant "good-nights," both parties went to bed, Chelsie a bit overwhelmed by her new roomate and Jonathan wondering who he was.