Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is a week before the events in Arkham’s basement when Rachel first dreams of Jonathan Crane.

She wakes up with her body hot and her heart racing. She’s grossed out by herself, and curses under her breath, before taking a shower.

(It’s only 3 am, but Rachel feels unclean and guilty. The water is so hot it almost burns her.)

The dream had been a pretty classic wet dream—and she can’t for the life of her wrap her mind around him being the subject of it. She hates it; she hates him, and that evening Rachel opens a bottle of wine to help her fall asleep.

(When she drifts away, she thinks about how Bruce would scold her for her behaviour, and she snorts bitterly.)

.

The dreams don’t go away, and Rachel finds herself getting less and less sleep. She’s glad she doesn’t run into Crane a lot. It’s embarrassing, really, and she’s not even that attracted to him. Also, she has such burning resentment for him she feels like slapping his stupid smug face every time she sees him.

Her anger fuels her on her way to Arkham though, and she can’t think about that. It’s Bruce’s birthday and she isn’t there at his party.

Later, when she is lying on a desk in the basement, Crane—the Scarecrow—bent over her, high on fear toxin, a small part of her brain tells her it’s probably karma.

She hates the way his eyes bore into her, and she hates the blind panic she feels. Rachel is sure she’s going to die.

.

She doesn’t die.

She doesn’t feel very alive either, though.

Rachel doesn’t have a lot of time to think about how empty she feels; she has a city to save. And when she’s done giving Gordon the antidote, a little boy to protect.

Crane shows up again, of course he does. He always seems to be around when Rachel is at her lowest. The way he’s chasing them on his horse excites a small part of herself, and she feels so gross at this she could puke.

She tases him, instead, and the wail with which he disappears satisfies the same part of her that spoke to her earlier.

There’s still no time to rest however; the narrows are still tearing themselves apart. And when Bruce saves her from Victor Zsazs, and the little boy is safe, Rachel is left behind as always.

.

A week later Rachel is sitting in her living room, emptying another glass of wine. She thinks back to her mum, and the alcohol addiction she had to fight with all her life, and finally pushes the glass away. She has to call her mum sometime soon. Visit her, maybe. She misses her.

She leans back on her sofa and stretches her arms. Her whole body is sore; since that night in the narrows she has had no time to relax. How could she? The city is still in shambles, and worst of all, Crane is still out there, free. It worries her to no end, and she doesn’t know why. She doesn’t think the man takes much interest in her.

(And when a small part of her brain thinks that she wishes he did, Rachel decides it’s time for bed.)

.

She lays awake for hours on end. It’s horrible, really. Her thoughts keep racing and wandering, keeping her awake. She keeps thinking about bad things and horrible thoughts, and she hates herself for it.

Her stomach twists and turns in guilt and shame, though she doesn’t quite know why exactly.

She can’t stop thinking about Crane either. For some reason, their meeting in court crosses her mind, when Crane had testified to bring Zsazs into his asylum. Well, not his asylum, not anymore.

She thinks about his forced smile, and the patronizing way he had talked down at her.

(Up at her, really. Even though she always tends to feel small in his presence, she’s still taller than him. It gives her the necessary feelings of power to not falter completely when talking to him. She’s always had a talent for making herself seem stronger than she actually is.)

She thinks about the way they had both underhandedly insulted each other, fought with each other, rivalled each other.

She hadn’t thought about it like that back then, but it excites her, and she almost wishes he was still a doctor at Arkham, so they could still pick on each other like that.

Rachel rolls on her back and takes a few breaths. She can feel the need coursing through her veins, and the wetness between her legs, and she’s close to puking because of it.

Sure, she’s had quite a few wet dreams about Crane in the past weeks, and sure she had woken up wet from almost all of them (and she hated herself enough already for that), but she really doesn’t need to stoop that low.

She thinks she’s never going to be able to look anyone in the eye if she does, but still she slips her hand underneath her pants, underneath her underwear.

It’s horrible, really.

Chapter Text

She stands in the rain and feels utterly and completely empty, so small and alone in a world so big and scary. The downpour is heavy, and it pushes her shoulders and head down. Her legs feel weak, and she feels like she is going to collapse under the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Her dress is simple and black, and Rachel doesn’t think it suits her. She has never liked black, but she doesn’t particularly like the grey of the gravestone in front of her either. The ground is grassy and muddy, and a steady stream of water flows around her black high heels.

The funeral has been over for a few hours now, but Rachel doesn’t feel like going home. Her apartment had always felt empty, but now it would be unbearable.

Her mother has died, and she doesn’t know what to do now.

.

In the end, she gets kicked out of the graveyard (and gently reminded that she is going to catch a cold at this rate).

Now at last at home, she mechanically takes a shower and sits down on the couch afterwards. She’s dressed only in thin pajamas, but it’s not like she feels the cold either way.

She feels numb and empty. Also a little guilty. Shouldn’t she feel more sad, now that her mother has died? Shouldn’t she mourn, and cry?

Rachel turns on the TV and tunes out all other thoughts. Her phone rings a few times, and she thinks that it is most likely Bruce, or her new boss Dent, but she ignores it.

After a while, there is a knock on her door, and Rachel is inclined to ignore it, too, but it knocks again. And again. And again.

“Yes! My god.”

She is pissed, now, but she thinks this is better than the emptiness she felt before. Getting ready to chew out whoever is on the other side of the door, she swings it open. When she recognizes who stands there, though, she is almost sure this is another one of her dreams.

Crane uses her moment of stunned silence to squeeze himself through the door and close it behind him. When she can move again, Rachel spins around, and her anger returns. She doesn’t even think about how dangerous this situation is, about how she should probably feel scared, not angry.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses, and he looks at her nonchalantly.

Crane leans onto the wall, tapping his fingers on it. It’s irritating.

“I saw you standing in the rain for a few hours.”

That doesn’t answer the question, but Rachel doesn’t even notice that. The anger still holds her body hostage.

“You followed me?”

A small grin spreads on Crane’s face now, and the amusement dancing in his eyes makes Rachel explode. She had been holding her emotions in check for a very long time now, but she just can’t do it anymore. Especially concerning him.

Blind rage coursing through her body, Rachel swings her arm in an attempt to slap him, but Crane grabs her arm and shoves her into the wall roughly. Her knuckles knock against it painfully, and Crane’s face is now closer to her than it has ever been.

(This is the second time she’s ever touched him, she thinks. The first time had been in the elevator ride to Arkham’s basement.)

The knock against the wall has subsequently knocked some sense back into her, and finally, panic spreads in her body. Rachel kicks out, and she thinks she’s hit his shin as she hears him groan in pain.

Triumph and adrenaline mix in her brain and she tries to free herself from his grasp. She manages to rip one arm free, but her confidence is knocked out of her when a rough hand grabs her jaw and knocks her head into the wall.

Rachel’s world spins, but the knock hadn’t been hard enough for her to pass out. It hurts like hell though, and she’s sure she’s going to have a heavy headache later.

(If a later does even exist for her. This is probably going to be Crane’s third, and finally successful attempt at killing her.)

“God, you’re irritating,” Crane hisses, and he sounds almost as pissed as she feels.

This is her waking call, though, and Rachel begins to struggle again. Crane’s fingernails dig into her cheeks, and she tries to bite him to no avail. He knocks her head into the wall again, and finally, Rachel stops.

This is it, she thinks. At least she tried to fight back.

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut. Crane hums, a satisfied sound, and his hand slowly lets go of her jaw and slides down to her throat. His fingers are cold as ice, and he runs his nails over her skin lightly.

Fear is rising in her again, and she swallows heavily before Crane’s hand closes around her throat. He squeezes, and Rachel swallows again. Light nausea washes over her. The lack of oxygen fills her with panic, but she can’t move. When Crane’s other hand strokes through her hair, then grabs it and pulls, Rachel understands what’s going on.

He’s probably going to kill her, and she is both scared and excited. The panic courses through her veins and fills her with adrenaline and need. She’s filled with shame now, too. This is probably the worst way to die.

Crane pulls on her hair again and Rachel lets out a strangled moan. Before she can even realize what kind of sound had just left her, he drops her like a hot potato and takes a step back. Rachel’s legs wobble weakly, and she sinks to the ground. What in the world is happening?

“Huh.”

He kneels down in front of her and grabs her chin, yanking it up to make her face him.

“You like this.”

It’s not a question.

“Fuck off.”

He grins at that, and it’s so smug and triumphant that rage rises in Rachel’s body again. The adrenaline gives her just enough strength to aim for another hit on his face, and this time, she catches him off guard.

She hits him so hard the echo is audible in her whole apartment. There’s some resistance against her nails, and when he turns his face back to look at her, she sees why; red streaks decorate his cheek, together with a handprint. She has scratched him.

There’s something dark glinting in Crane’s eyes, and Rachel thinks that maybe she has made a mistake. She swings again, now too committed to stop fighting again, but Crane expects the hit this time and catches her wrist again.

Quickly, she uses her other hand to grab his hair and yank hard, and another groan leaves Crane’s mouth.

(The sound makes something tremble deep inside of her, but she’s already too far gone to notice.)

He shoves her, and she slips down to the floor, her elbow grinding against the wall painfully. The skin on it feels raw, and she’s almost sure she’s bleeding. In no time, he is on top of her, and blind panic fills Rachel once again.

She starts kicking and flailing and scratching, and Crane lets out a noise that sounds almost like a growl. After a short struggle, he manages to pin her arms and legs down, and even though she tries, she isn’t able to free herself.

She stops struggling after a while, and silence washes over her apartment. They are both breathing heavily, and for some reason, Rachel thinks it’s just as if they just got done having sex.

(She considers screaming, but she knows that no one will probably help her, even if someone should hear her. Also, and this fills her with another wave of shame and need, she notices she doesn’t necessarily want to get out of this anymore.)

“What now? Are you going to kill me?” she spits out, and Crane above her grins.

She can’t help but notice how pretty he looks, dishevelled and beaten.

“I was going to, but I think I changed my mind.”

Rachel frowns at that, and when Crane bends down and kisses her, she lets it happen.

(It’s not a kiss, really. It’s more teeth than lips, and Rachel bites into his tongue when he tries to push it into her mouth. He laughs at that.)

“I think you’re quite interesting. Makes me want to study you.”

Not a very sexy thing to say, Rachel thinks, but she’ll make do. She manages to free one leg, kicks him over, and rolls on top of him. Then she bites him, hard.

Chapter Text

Rachel tries desperately to forget, but life isn’t that nice to her. Sometimes she wonders what she has ever done to deserve this.

It’s been months by now, and when she wakes up screaming next to Harvey, the image of Crane pushing her into the ground still fresh in her mind, she knows she can’t take this any more.

She tries therapy, of course she does. Harvey is kind and understanding, a supportive shoulder she can lean on. Rachel is sure she’s ungrateful, because he is not nearly enough. She hates it, hates herself; she wishes she could be the girlfriend Harvey deserves.

(Her therapist tells her it’s probably some form of Stockholm Syndrome that still has her that caught up in the thought of Crane, but this doesn’t help Rachel’s conscience at all.)

She struggles, and she knows Harvey wishes she would talk to him about her problems, but she just can’t. She could never tell him what she thinks about on the daily, what she fantasizes about, what she dreams. She can’t do that to him.

For a while, Rachel considers telling Bruce, and then she realizes that she really has no other friends. It’s stupid, really, of course she can’t tell Bruce. She was the one who distanced herself from him; it would be horrible to get back into his life just to unload her problems on him.

Life plays out as it does, though, and she ends up back in Bruce’s life. Against her will, but still. And when Bruce and Harvey start some sort of masculinity contest, and when Harvey decides to help the Batman in any way he can, and when Rachel starts to hallucinate the figure of Crane outside wherever she goes (she knows it’s an hallucination. Crane is in Arkham, at least for now.) Rachel finally breaks.

She isn’t proud of it, but she books it. Just runs away, flees from Gotham City and doesn’t turn back.

Of course she doesn’t want to leave permanently, she could never do that. Her pride wouldn’t let her, she still wants to save the city. But she’s also not stupid, she knows she can’t do that as she is right now. She can’t do anything right now.

So she decides to take a break, to just disappear from both Harvey's and Bruce’s life. She knows they will be mad at her, of course they will. But she knows it’s better for the both of them if she isn’t in their life. She’s a horrible person, at least right now.

No one should have to be around her, and she knows Harvey and Bruce would never leave her of their own accord. So she has to do it.

.

She knows she’s made a mistake when she watches the news one day. For some reason, it reminds her of the time she had learned that her mother died.

Harvey Dent was dead and the Joker was on the run.

This time, Rachel cries. She breaks down crying, really, right in front of her TV. Rationally, she knows that isn’t true, but her heart drowns in guilt.

It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault.

She never should’ve left.

And so, Rachel Dawes returns. She has a purpose, this time, a clear direction. It’s horrible, and it throws out the last of her moral compass.

(The groundwork had been laid on the day she and Crane had slept together, she thinks. That was the first step. No, that’s wrong. It was earlier than that; the darkness had been growing for a long time now. Perhaps it was the night in Arkham’s basement that unearthed it, perhaps it has always been there. Rachel doesn’t care either way, not anymore.)

She’s going to kill him. She’s going to kill the Joker. She knows it probably won’t help her, but her brain tells her it’s what she has to do to break free. To turn everything right.

(Nothing will ever be right again.)

When she leaves the airport, someone is waiting for her in front of it. The man steps out of his car, and Rachel laughs hysterically at the sight of him.

It’s Crane, of course it is. Of course he’s here. He’s always there when she’s at her lowest, and all that.

Crane smiles at her, and he looks like he knows he has won. Rachel doesn’t care about that enough to get mad. He extends his hand and offers her his help. Without hesitation, she takes it.

She’s already completely rotten, after all.