Not My Diagnosis

Time had moved quickly and all ready seven weeks had gone by with not much incident. A strange relationship indeed. Maybe he realized how heavy it was becoming; probably not, or he didn't care. The clop of hooves seemed loud in the almost still city. The fear toxin incident had just about cleared up. I'm not sure why they thought it would be easy to treat psychotic patients. Everyone thinks they can be a psychologist I suppose. On that note, I didn't know four-point restraint was still legal in Gotham.

It's really too bad that the insufferable woman got the antidote out. I postulate that if Mr. Wayne didn't have outside help he wouldn't be much of an opponent for me. "Maybe I need help of my own," I look down at Nightmare, "from someone who can fit in a standard door." An acknowledging huff, and a couple of men cross in front of me and I stop and watch them. The bad lighting doesn't really put me at much risk for identification, but I put my hat on anyway.

They reach for their sidearms and quickly reconsider, the stark realization of who I was sinking in. They take off running and I can't help but follow at a comfortable trot. The sound of echoing hooves behind them and nothing else but their heavy breath must be eating at their adrenals. We get up close behind them, the end of Nightmare's nose several inches from them. They take a quick alley turn and scamper off like mice; surprisingly clever.

We slow down to a walk again and wander kind of aimlessly. The almost complete, new and improved Wayne château is surprisingly dark; but that will change upon completion. A shining beacon of hope for those who dare walk the vermin infested streets during hunting hour.

An obvious upset in the quiet makes us stop and turn in circles. A warning stamp and then quiet. The sound of human feet touch down behind us and as I start to turn I am pushed forward by the rear buck of Nightmare, two dinner plate sized hooves making contact with what is probably a now an inanimate object. The sound of armor crashes through street-side garbage cans and into the brick facing of a nearby building.

I dismount and wander over to the crumpled pile of Batman at the base of the building. "You would think... with all of the money you have, you could afford a basic education." There was no response and my eyes narrowed. I stepped closer and pushed him with my foot. No response. I sighed and called my horse over, trying to lift the dead weight up onto him. I don't know how he fights in this armor. After several minutes of struggling I exchange an exhausted glance with my partner, walking with him down the street and back to his palace.

I look around for signs of life and try the door. Locked. I attempt a kick at the lock and fail miserably, the shock only hurting my knee. I look to Nightmare and back him up to the door. "Think you can do that again?" He throws his head up and dances on his front hooves. I wrinkle my nose slightly trying to remember the command for kick; a command is usually unnecessary.

I stamp my right foot twice and clap and he looks at me like I'm sure any normal person walking down the street would. I sigh and turn my back to him, making a back kicking motion. He backs up and kicks the door with his right foot, it nearly falling off the hinges as it flies open. At least he understands mimicry. I rub his nose and lead him inside, attempting to close what is left of the doors.

I walk him in further and stop, looking around at the bleak room. I pull the Batman from his slump and he stirs slightly. I lower him down and start trying to unbuckle his armor, removing the chest plate to reveal, even in the dim light, the impact points where the armor compressed into his body. I sighed and looked to Nightmare who was growing increasingly anxious.

I walked him to the doors and let him outside; training can only override instinct for so long. I wander back to the injured party as he begins to come to. I frown and stand over him as he wakes. He groans and tries to sit up, screaming as he does so, hitting the ground again. I just watch him writhe in his stupidity before there are footsteps on the stairs.

The figure is obviously aiming for me with what looks wide enough to be a shotgun. I raise my hands up, assuming I knew who it was. The light flashes on and I wince, trying to adjust to see the person. "Oh. Good heavens. It's just you."

"Not exactly the normal response, but if it keeps you from shooting me..."

"Yes, well... Don't tell anyone, but it's mostly for show." The butler came puttering down the stairs and over to us, frustration growing on his face. "Though... from what I see I think I could manage seeing you as a quail."

"As I would expect, but it wasn't my fault this time. He seemed to think it was a good idea to surprise my horse from behind."

"Ah. Yes... well, this is to be expected then."

"I assume he has a few broken ribs, provided his sternum is still in one piece."

"Ugh. I told him this was dangerous."

"Yes. He should have kept his day job."

"I meant his galavanting around with you." I looked up to him over the edge of my glasses and he nearly glared at me. "I don't know why he insists on keeping you free, but I truly think it's going to kill him, Master Crane."

"He hopes he can rehabilitate me."

"Well, for his sake, I hope he's right." I look down for a moment in thought. It's quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing coming from Mr. Wayne. "What kind of horse did you say you had?"

"Friesian."

"Oh, yes. He seems well trained."

"Very. I couldn't ask for a better horse."

"Heavy too. It looks like he was run over by a carriage."

"Yes. He's good at what he does."

"Or you wouldn't keep him."

"He's still my horse. I would keep him if he provided no function whatsoever."

"I suppose that's how Mr. Wayne feels about you. Some irrational dedication to a seemingly hopeless cause."

I wrinkled my nose for a moment. "It must be his stubborn faith..." I end the thought there, but it is greeted with a curious glance from the butler. "I suggest you find him medical attention soon."

"Right." He walked away and back up the stairs. I walked over to Mr. Wayne and kneeled next to his head, removing the mask slowly. He looked like he was having night terrors; I could feel the pain reflected in his face.

I ran my fingers through his hair and cupped the side of his face. His brow furrowed less as I repeated the action across his scalp. "I don't know what to do, Mr. Wayne. I can't afford to care this much about you. I'm supposed to be trying to kill you." I sighed and ran a hand across his chest, the darkness of the blood enveloping his skin.

I rested a hand on the center of his chest and listened to his breath, making sure he wasn't going into shock. His skin was hot enough and his breath slow enough to not cause alarm; he was also very clearly in a great amount of pain.

I ran my left hand over his forehead again and rested it there, watching his expressions closely. "Mr. Faux is on his way. I suggest you leave in due time, Master Crane." I looked up to the man approaching again and stood up.

"Of course. Do you think he'll be all right?"

"He always seems to be; his stubborn faith, I suppose." He gave me a brief smile and I nodded once before walking out.

Nightmare came trotting over slower than usual. Perhaps he thought I was upset with him; I wasn't. He reacted very appropriately. I just wish his appropriate defense wasn't so catastrophic. I walk with him slowly down the street and listen to the silence. The silence of a city missing its hero.

{{I would call it a filler chapter, but I liked writing it a lot. I hope you enjoy it too. Plot development. It's going somewhere I swear. From now on, because I'm working on three other fics right now, this will be updated once a month or more often. I'm trying to finish another fic and I have two other in progress ones...so. Anyway, I hope that pleases the court, and please, in the meantime, enjoy my other fiction. Also, if you are going to PAX and didn't see my Author's Page, and you want to meet and/or pal around, please email me and let me know.
~Dr. Crane aka Not A Spy aka By Veidt}}