Within Arkham's Walls: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow x OC Fanfiction

XIV. Associates

Photos of me, ledgers on my finances, social security information, and any and every type of personal, sensitive information was strung about on the desk. "Wha...how?" I didn't even know what to say.

"This is not information I pulled myself, Ianthe. This is information I stole from a database that is in the possession of a high-class crime organization. This kind of organized crime is dangerous because it's members are powerful, rich, and hold some kind of place of power. These are not petty lowlifes like Eric." I winced at the sound of his name. "But," Dr. Crane continued, "they use lesser criminals to do their dirty work."

"Okay...So why am I in this database? Why do these people want me dead?"

"It appears that Thomas Wayne had a mistress of a sorts—Amelia Lockwood. She got pregnant with you and if my sources are correct, your father, Mr. Wayne, paid her off to keep quiet and gave her enough funds to raise you on her own, claiming the expense as business related to his wife as he didn't want anyone to find out. No one else questioned his expenditures. Little did he know that Amelia would take the money, dump you off at an orphanage with only your birth certificate—an alias maternal name and no listed father—your Social Security, and then skip town."

It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked from the room. My heart raced and my mouth went dry. My grave silence and a meek nod is all I could give Jonathan Crane as acknowledgment to continue.

"These...criminals, they want Thomas Wayne's trust fund for their enterprise. And with Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne's only legitimate child MIA, apparently locked up somewhere in Bhutan, you have a shot of gaining this inheritance. The bank advisories have been making a point to go through Thomas Wayne's accounts, and they will most certainly find the information that these so-called "businessmen" have already found—that Thomas Wayne has another child."

"With you out of the way, the bank will have no other respite to deposit the inheritance to other than Wayne Enterprises. People, dangerous people, those who I consider my...associates...have infiltrated this enterprise and have turned it into a hub for crime funding and economic, political, and social domination. They want this money, they believe it belongs to them. And in their eyes, you are an obstacle that needs to be removed so they can get their hands on it."

My head was swimming. I couldn't believe the words that were spewing from Crane's perfect lips, the death sentence I felt that he was laying upon me.

"Ianthe," Jonathan sighed, "Eric and Rhys both worked for this organization. Eric was sent to essentially 'watch over' you. To manage you and keep an eye on what is it you were doing. The relationship was never real. When you two part ways, it was because the enterprise was no longer concerned about you gaining the inheritance because they thought the investigators scanned over it. That was a year and a half ago. All of the notes are here." Crane slide me a stack of papers detailing these reports. I looked over them but I didn't care to read them. I was too focused on trying not to vomit.

"And a few weeks ago, when these people realized they made a mistake and your identity was still being investigated by the proper authorities, they sent Eric to your apartment, assuming you'd let him in. That's when my associates apprehended him. I got a tip from someone in the organization that he would be there, though at the time I didn't know why. When that plan failed, they sent your friend Rhys after you. Based on these documents, Rhys was forced into coercion—he didn't want to do it."

I cut in. "Is Rhys the one who ransacked my apartment?" Jonathan looked perplexed. "Uh, no. Well, I don't know. When did this happen?" So he didn't know.

"Last night. I went back home today and my place was destroyed. There was a knife stabbed into my pillow and 'Wayne Whore' painted on my wall." My tone was flat and lifeless. I felt nothing at this point.

Dr. Crane's eyes widened like saucers. "You cannot stay there anymore. Stay with me."

I took deep breath and skittered my eyes across the dozens of papers. "Okay. But now what? To what end will these people go to have me dead?"

"That I don't know. Let me see what else I can find out. These people are my associates, I'll admit, but...they get suspicious easily."

"What do you even do for these people? Why do you work with them?"

"That's not your concern, Ianthe. Your concern is staying alive." There was metal and ice in his tone.

I watched as Crane sorted and filed all the papers that has been strewn across the desk. His pale, worn fingers organizing the pages and locking them away in a cabinet. "Let's go," he said, his glacial gaze hard fixed on my tired face. "We'll get some food and I'll send someone out to your apartment to fetch you clothes and whatever else you'll need while you stay with me."

"Alright." My heart raced as I followed him out of the asylum and into his car. The loft would be my home now, and Jonathan Crane my sanctuary.