Miriam

I thought I was prepared for Bane. I thought that he’d come charging in, obvious, and I could knock him out, get Crane away from there and wait for the storm to pass. I wasn’t expecting a silent ghost in the knight, the quiet gleam of silver claws. I wasn’t expecting Catwoman.

They always seem to bring Crane back to his front door. I’m making dinner, spaghetti, when I hear a thump at the front door. I run to it, filled with memories of Crane after Joker got ahold of him, and throw it open. She stands there, small and statuesque. Her lips are dark red, not smudged. I meet her green eyes, pretty but cold. Black tendrils of hair are escaping from her mask. She holds Crane up by the collar with one clawed hand. Blood pours from a gash across her throat.
“Bane will heal, but Scarecrow won’t,” she says quietly. I want to kill her, but Crane’s dying and I don’t want to start a war. “If he comes for me, I’ll kill you both,” she tells me.
I know she means it. For people like us, the Catwoman has no mercy. I nod, kneeling in front of Crane, and she releases him into my arms. There’s blood everywhere, hot and stinking. Catwoman strolls away, hips swinging, casually wiping Crane’s blood from her claws. The spell is broken as he takes a deep, gasping breath and grabs feebly at my waist. “Miri….Miriam…”
“I’ve got you, Crane. I’ve got you.” I’m grabbing my guns already, making sure they’re loaded. This next part will be dangerous and difficult.

There’s a small hospital nearby. I scoped out the area the day Crane hired me, made sure to notice shit like that. It’s only got two doctors, five nurses. They do small scale stuff, an outpost in a warzone like the Narrows. Today, they’ll have to deal with me. I heave Crane over my shoulder and carry him the whole way. Luckily for me, it’s dark and no one’s around. The nurses aren’t prepared for me to burst in brandishing a gun and a dying man. There’s two of them on duty, both elderly and kind looking. I don’t care.
“Where’s the doctor?” I yell, pointing my gun straight at the closest one’s head.
Her eyes are wide and brown. “I….I….”
I turn towards the nurse, barking, “Now. And don’t call the police, or I’ll kill her where she stands.” The woman squeaks and hurries off. I can feel Crane dying against me, his body loose, and I know I’m covered in his blood. I almost feel bad for the woman I’m holding at gunpoint, but she’s not in danger of being shot as long as everyone listens to me.

I hear the sound of people coming soon enough, as a tall, heavy woman with dark skin hurries towards me. Her eyes are sharp and fearless. “What happened?”
“His throat’s been cut. Save him or you all die.”
She stiffens, glares at me. “No need for threats. Bring him in, and….well, I suppose I have to fix him up.” I nod and follow her.
The doctor won’t let me stay as she works on Crane. “You’ll make me nervous,” she says, scowling as she shoos me from the room.
I wait outside with the gun on my lap, keeping a close eye on the nurse sitting with me.
“Would you like some coffee?” she warbles nervously. Her hands are shaking. If I was a better person, I would feel guilty. But Crane is in there, possibly dying, so I can’t let myself feel anything.
“No.” She nods, then I hear sniffling and muffled sobs. I look over and she’s got a fist pressed to her mouth, watching me with terrified, tear filled eyes and I’m not a good person, never have been, but I’m not evil. I don’t get off on torturing old ladies. “I’m not going to kill you for offering coffee. I don’t plan on killing you at all, as long as your doctor does her job right.”
She doesn’t look up, but the sobbing stops.

It takes hours before the doctor comes out, her gloves bloody. I tense, touching my gun, but she doesn’t look afraid. “Well?”
She huffs and glares at me. “What do you think? He’ll live. His voice’ll be scratchy, but he’ll live.”
“Good. He awake?”
“Yes. Groggy, though.”
“Don’t care. I’m going in. Call for help and die.”
“I know.”

Crane looks pale and small on the hospital bed, his throat a mess of stitches. “Crane?” He stirs, eyelids fluttering. I’m so fond of him and so angry at the same time. I sit by his bedside. He looks so small and I’m crying suddenly, for the first time in years. “You stupid, stupid man.” I take his hand. “You’re done with Gotham City, Crane.” I know he can hear me, long fingers tightening on mine. “I’m not gonna patch you up again after you do something crazy and mean. I’m not gonna watch you die. I don’t, I…” I’m choking back tears, eyes focused on his face, the face I’ve gotten used to, seen twisted with anger and softened in sleep, the face I’ve come to love. “We’re getting out of Gotham, you can experiment on rats or something, Crane. We’ll get you on medicine, because this has to stop. You’re human. And this city isn’t. I’m not gonna watch it kill you.”
He holds tight to my hand, cracks one blue eye open. “Alright, Miri. Alright. I’m done.”
He gives me a soft tentative smile, no sign of Scarecrow, and I know that everything’s going to be okay.
That one day I’ll tell Crane I love him, that we’ve changed each other, but now’s not the time, so I lean over to kiss his forehead instead, murmur, “Thank you.”