Diabolical | T. Drake ✔

[24] Fear And Regret

By the time Crane came back to his senses, it was eerily silent still but that spine-chilling laugh was raging in his conscience. He wanted to shut it out but then he was no longer certain whether shutting it out was a good idea or not.

The silence had very quickly gotten terrifying and he didn't want to face that again.

However, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, he paused in shock at the sight in front of him. Tim was lying unconscious on the floor not far off from him and there was a smudge of red on his forehead that as he looked closer turned out to be dried blood.

"Timothy?" He got alarmed, edging closer to the boy who did not respond. 

Seeing him like that made him worried and he knew whatever had happened, it had been due to him. He cautiously took the boy's wrist, feeling for the pulse that could indicate he was alive.

He caught the faint throbbing but Tim was quite lifeless otherwise, making him panic.

"What did I do? What have I done?" He mumbled fervently, the voices in his head getting far more menacing with every passing second.

"You hurt him. Look at him right now, almost dead... You did this to him."

"Shut up! Shut up! I did not do anything to him, I can't!" He was getting anxious and Scarecrow's voice began to overpower him again but he tried to fight against it.

"Poor boy, he was only trying to help you, and look what that got him into."

He tried to shut out the cackling laughter raging in his head, focusing on the frail unconscious teenager as he tried to ascertain how much he had gotten hurt. He had hit his head and the dried blood meant a considerable time had passed since then, but the fact that he was unconscious meant that he had sustained further damage. 

"Timothy, wake up. Tim..." He shook him cautiously but there was no response from him.

Cursing under his breath, he stood up, intending to bring water for him and see if that would rouse him. As he came to the counter, he saw Tim's bag lying beside it and his phone was peeking out from within. He bent down and took it out, knowing he should call someone for help if Tim didn't gain consciousness.

He also caught sight of Tim's broken spectacles as well as his notebook. Taking both those items, he came back to Tim, splashing the water on his face to rouse him. After two to three splashes, the boy stirred, a painful groan escaping his lips.

Jonathan helped him up, making him sit but his head had dropped off to the side as he passed out again. Worried, he decided to call someone for help and unlocked Tim's phone using his fingerprint. 

As he searched through the contacts, he was surprised to see that Tim had the contacts of Bruce Wayne and other members he had adopted which at first did not make any sense to him. But then he realized that could only be if he had gotten adopted by the billionaire as well. 

It would explain why Tim had enough money to buy all that food for him and how he probably had another more extensive lab somewhere for him to abandon that old lab in the basement.

But he couldn't possibly call Bruce Wayne for help, there had to be someone else. Scouring through the contact list, he finally found a name he could trust. Miguel Hanson, the receptionist at Arkham.

He dialed his number, hoping for him to pick up. After a few rings, the man received the call, "I thought we were clear that you would not be contacting me again."

Jonathan spoke up, "Miguel, it's Crane. I need you to listen to me carefully..."

"Crane? Do I look like a freaking fairy godmother for you maniacs to call at the most godawful times? And why do you have Timothy's phone?"

He paused thinking about what could be safe to tell him, "it's urgent. Timothy got into a situation. He needs to be taken to the hospital."

"What the fuck! You gassed him, did you? Or was it something even worse... He's a child, for fuck's sake, devilish indeed but still a boy. How could you hurt him!"

"No, I did not. If I wasn't a convict on the loose I would have taken him to the hospital myself but he's hurt and I don't know who else to call. He needs help."

Miguel's voice had gone incoherent and it seemed he was pacing in worry, the words pouring out of him in a frantic rush. When at last he got slightly stable, he spoke, "send me the address then get the fuck out of there."

The call disconnected so he sent him the address to Drake Manor, hoping he would show up soon. In the time it would take for Miguel to reach, he was thinking about what he should do about himself.

It was clear that he was unable to control the Scarecrow unlike what he had thought earlier and due to him, Tim had gotten hurt. He should be back in Arkham, he thought, he should be somewhere the Scarecrow won't have the power to use him like that.

His eyes got caught by the notebook again and he flicked it open, coming to the page where Tim was noting down the effects of the drug he had given to Crane. Along with the effects of the toxin, Tim had been taking detailed notes on his condition, documenting everything in that notebook.

He skimmed through the hastily scribbled sentences and realized exactly what had happened to him that had made Scarecrow take control and hurt Tim instead.

But he couldn't change what had already happened and the most he could do was to make sure that Tim reached the hospital safely.

He felt tempted to tear that page off along with the composition of the drug but he didn't, placing the notebook and the spectacles back in Tim's bag. Knowing that Miguel would be on his way, he slung the bag over his shoulder, lifted the frail boy, and climbed out of the basement.

"What did you do?" Miguel was panicking to see Tim like that and with good reason, "is he even alive?"

"Of course he is," he snapped, "look, you take him to the hospital and call his family if there is any. I can't do that."

"Then what are you going to do? Escaping after causing all this havoc? Typical of you, I must say."

"No... I am going back to Arkham," he replied, his voice lowering slightly with regret, "if the authorities haven't yet found out I escaped, it will be better if they don't find out at all."

"And what am I going to tell the Waynes when they find out about him?" Miguel spoke up, taking Tim as well as his bag from Crane and noticing the surprise on his face, he added, "you don't know he got adopted by them, did you? That Bruce Wayne is going to make sure I also get jail time for this. And I can't go to jail, I have kids! Hell, I have a family that depends on me. Unlike you!"

The words cut through him akin to a knife. Crane's head had started to hurt with frustration and he held his throbbing temples, wanting to shut everything out. "Tell them he got mugged or something and you found him like that. Now go, don't waste any more time."

After Miguel had left with Tim, Crane sank down on his knees, guilt and fear engulfing him. He hated that feeling, he hated feeling guilty for something he was responsible for. He hated everything that had to do with regrets and the bitter feeling of knowing that deep down he would always be the one at fault.

And he hated it more that even if he tried to let someone in after all those years of being on his own, it only ended up worse. Just like it had happened with Tim.

He hadn't wanted him to get hurt, he certainly didn't want things to come to that point. But he had been unable to stop the Scarecrow from hurting Tim and he knew his own self had become a danger, especially to those people who he didn't want to get hurt. 

At that rate, Arkham seemed to be the only option. It wouldn't help him or make him any better but it would at least keep him away from others.

Away from Tim, to be more precise.

***