"Gerald called in one day and said he wasn't coming in. That's the last I heard of him," The headmistress of the Gotham High School explained as she led Harvey and Jim into her office. "Let me guess, three weeks ago?" Harvey questioned. "Yeah," The headmistress confirmed. "That's when neighbors said he moved out. Unis searched the place. Nothing," Harvey said as he and Jim sat in the chairs across from her desk. "So, what can you tell us about Crane?" Jim asked. "He was a good teacher. Focused. And a good father. He was very protective of his son, Jonathan. But he could be quiet too. Somber. I think it had to do with his wife. She died six or seven years ago,"
Harvey and Jim looked at each other, the same thought crossing their minds. Perhaps Crane's wife dying was just the tip of the iceberg before he sank into madness. "She died? How?" Jim inquired. "I think it was a car accident," The headmistress recalled. " Did Crane ever talk about fear or phobias?" Harvey asked her. "Why? Is someone targeting phobics?" The headmistress glanced between both men. "Yeah," Jim nodded, a bit surprised where their questioning was going. Did she know something about Crane they didn't? "Does this mean something to you?" Jim asked.
"These victims, were they missing their adrenal glands?" Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "How'd you know that?" Harvey squinted. "This was an academic paper Gerald wrote a few months ago. He asked me to proof it," The headmistress walked to the cabinet by her desk, pulling out a rather large notebook, presenting it to the detectives. "See, Gerald had a theory that fear was an evolutionary flaw in humans. That war, rape, theft, murder, it was all caused by fear. He was obsessed with it," "So Crane killed these people and took their glands to test a theory?" Jim asked, looking back to Harvey. "No. Gerald wasn't trying to prove he was right about fear. He was trying to cure himself of it,"
Just as Harvey had suspected, some twisted form of therapy. But Jim, on the other hand, remained suspicious, and as they returned to the precinct, Ed was able to give a more lengthy and detailed explanation. "Crane's idea of curing fear was to inoculate himself against it," he said, reading through the lengthy booklet. "Like a disease?" Jim inquired. "Exactly. But in order to do so, he needed a condensed source of the hormones that cause fear," Ed replied. "Phobics," Harvey nodded as he picked up one of the beakers containing a strange red liquid. "Crane's been praying on them? Spiking their fear by scaring them and then killing them in order to harvest hormones?"
"Damn," Harvey sighed while Ed nodded in reply to Jim's inquiry. "How much of this stuff does he need?" Jim questioned. "What do you mean?" Ed looked confused. "How many more people is he going to kill?" Harvey clarified. "Oh. Of course. Good question. It depends on how scared he is, I guess. What's he scared of?" Ed asked. "In Scottie's phobia support group, he said he was afraid of failure," Harvey said, sniffing another beaker containing a bright green liquid. Ed carefully took it from his grasp and set it back on the counter, not trusting that Harvey would take a sip from it if given the opportunity.
"Who isn't? It's gotta be something else," Jim commented on Harvey's statement. "Did you hear that we got a new medical examiner? Much better than the old one," Ed smiled. "And she smells nice," He muttered. Jim looked up from Crane's booklet at the mention of his girlfriend. Harvey could only chuckle, joking that Jim had competition already. Jim rolled his eyes as he returned to the book. "Look at this. Crane developed protocols for two inoculations. Himself and somebody else. Subject B," Jim pointed. "Ooh. I wonder who that is!" Ed clapped his hands gleefully, taking the book back from Jim, further intrigued.
If Crane wasn't facing his fears alone, who was subject B? And why were they involved?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please, please let this work... The tiny weight of the USB drive felt like a hundred bricks had fallen on top of Holly with every step she took toward the art classroom. She sat in her seat, still feeling everyone's eyes on her. But rather than want to curl up into a ball of embarrassment and die, she straightened her spine and acted like everything was perfectly fine. "Alright class, again as a reminder, please make sure you arrive at the school by 10:30 am tomorrow so you can get your art displays ready. The judges will be stopping by to ask you a couple of questions around 11:15, so be sure to prepare your responses. And one last thing, remember to have fun!" Mrs. Scherer announced to the class.
As everyone sat at their desk, reading through the interview questions, Holly looked up to Mrs. Scherer's desk, watching as she typed something into her computer. It's now or never, Hols. Without further hesitation, Holly reached into the smallest pocket of her backpack, and with the drive clutched in her fist, she walked over to the desk and set it down. Mrs. Scherer caught Holly out of the corner of her eye and turned away from the monitor. "May I help you, Ms. Gordon?" She whispered. "I found the proof," Holly slid the drive over.
"What is this?" Mrs. Scherer looked confused. "Just watch it. Please," Holly responded. Mrs. Scherer gestured Holly to stand next to her, and Holly eagerly went behind the desk, watching her teacher plugged in the drive and clicked the link. The teacher squinted and leaned closer, trying to see what was going on. "This is from the day Cara and I had lunch with Natasha. As you can see, we were comforting her through a difficult time," Holly pointed out. Mrs. Scherer was silent as she continued to watch the rest of the footage, and with every passing frame, she realized that Holly had been telling the truth the entire time.
As the screen went black, Mrs. Scherer turned in her chair, an apologetic look in her eyes. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Gordon. I shouldn't have been so harsh with the accusations," She apologized. A bit too late, for that but carry on. "And keeping with our agreement, you are allowed back into the art contest," "Thank you, Mrs. Scherer," Holly nodded before returning to her seat, a tiny smile playing on her lips. Right behind her desk, she could hear the familiar voices of Jasmine, Jordan, and Evie gossiping about her. "What did she just do?" Jasmine whispered. "She had some kind of file, I think," Jordan whispered back. "Great, all that work for nothing!" Evie sighed. Holly fought back the temptation to confront them, wanting to chew them out for trying to ruin her reputation.
But as the smile continued to linger, she was already imagining the shock and regret from them when she won that contest. They were going to regret underestimating her.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Cell phone records?" Jim asked as he walked down the stairs, noticing Harvey dropping off a couple of boxes at their desks. "And credit-card statements," Harvey added. "Give me a hand!" "Yeah, sure," Jim nodded. But when he reached the end of the staircase, he stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar face smiling and waving at him. "Give me a minute," Jim turned back to Harvey. "Take your time," Harvey replied. Jim walked down the smaller flight of steps to where Oswald was proudly holding something in his hands.
"It's good to see you, old friend," Oswald smiled. "And I hope the little miss is doing well!" "What are you doing here?" Jim placed his hands on his hips, clearly not in the mood for small talk. "I wanted to invite you to a party I'm hosting!" Oswald answered, handing him a black invitation with Oswald's written in curly silver fonts. "No thanks," Jim declined, handing it back. "I hear you. Too busy, I suppose," Oswald frowned. "Are you on a tricky case? Anything I can help you with? It worked so well the last time,"
Jim shook his head, telling Cobblepot he didn't need his help. "It was a mistake to ask. I don't want you coming here," He warned. Oswald's frown quickly turned into a glare as he limped closer to the detective. "You shouldn't treat me this way, Jim. One day soon, you'll need my help," Oswald vowed. "You'll come to me. And walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light. Good luck with your police work. And please reconsider my invitation. It won't be the same without you," Oswald handed Jim the invitation again before limping out of the precinct. And the second Cobblepot was out of sight, Jim crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the nearby trash. He had given Oswald a chance, and in the end, it only made things worse for Jim. There was no way he was going to get involved with Cobblepot again.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The cold morning air continued to whip and blow the further Bruce walked deeper into the woods. The gravelly trail was blanketed by damp leaves and just a touch of ice from the light winter storm the night before. The young boy could feel a cold ache in his bones, beginning to regret not packing a warmer jacket. But nothing was deterring him from continuing the hike. Not even the fall of snow would stop him until he reached his destination. He walked across the trunk of a fallen tree, the babbling of the small creek just below him.
At the other end of the trunk, Bruce paused and turned around, looking down at the small pile of rocks at his feet. Not only was going on the annual hike his and his father's tradition, but to commemorate every completed walk, they would grab two rocks, carve their initials into them, and carry them the rest of the way up the hill. God, I miss you, dad. Bruce shook his head sadly as he bent down to pick two up before carrying on down the trail. It felt like hours before he finally reached the top of the hill. Even if his father wasn't physically there, he guided Bruce in spirit.
He crouched down to place the rocks in their piles, but the wave of relief he hoped to feel was replaced with anger. Bruce's hands clenched into fists as he threw nearly every rock from his father's pile off the ledge. Sobs escaped his lips as he crumpled onto the ground like a tossed-out piece of paper. But he couldn't give up now; he made it this far. He had to keep going. Composing himself, Bruce picked up his backpack and continued down the hill. But as his anger continued to cloud his mind, Bruce failed to notice a fallen branch. And as he took a step down the hill, he tripped over it, and the young boy went tumbling down to the bottom, the jagged rocks scraping and digging into his back, leaves getting caught in his hair before he finally stopped rolling.
Bruce groaned as he placed a hand on his head, feeling an intense throbbing from the fall. As he tried to stand, he cried out in pain as he fell back down, his other hand immediately going to his right leg, quickly turning purple and red with bruises. It was at that moment Bruce started to regret not having Alfred come along. With no one there to help him get back, he had to come up with a solution on his own. What would his father do?
~~~~~~~~~~
With every passing moment they hadn't apprehended Crane, the more Jim's mind began to spin like crazy. Especially since they did not know who Subject B was. Could it be another phobic? A random civilian? All those thoughts came to a screeching halt when he almost bumped into Lee. "Hey," Jim spoke as he turned around. "Hey, yourself," Lee smiled. "How's your first day going?" Jim asked. While the word they were dating had spread around the precinct, they still had to keep things professional. "Busy. I figured it would be," Lee answered. "Good, good. I've gotta get back, so..."
Before Jim get could back to work, Lee gently pulled him by the tie towards her into a gentle kiss. "Lee, we can't do that here," Jim warned. "Why? You kissed me in the bullpen," Lee recalled. "You weren't working here then," Jim clarified. Lee raised a brow, asking if that really made a difference. "It's not professional," Jim claimed. "Well, I should hope not," Lee smirked before straightening his tie. Jim silently warned her again about being caught by their colleagues, but someone had already seen them. "Oops," Harvey interrupted, watching them closely. "Hey, Bullock," Lee tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she looked back to the older detective.
"Sorry to interrupt," Harvey said, but Lee couldn't care less about him seeing them together. Essen, maybe. But Harvey? He already said his peace, they didn't need a second lecture. "What's up?" Jim asked, turning back to his partner. "Nothing that can't wait on your love life. Just business," Harvey smirked. The two men walked back downstairs, and neither had any updates on the Crane case. And despite Harvey's best efforts, there's only so far a clue could take them. "We must be missing something," Jim spoke as he paced back and forth.
"What about your pal, Penguin?" Harvey inquired. "What about him?" Jim stopped his pacing and looked over at Harvey. "He helped us with Flass. Maybe he'll help us with Crane," Harvey suggested. "No, I'm not going back to him," Jim refused. "It's worth a try," Harvey reasoned. "No, it's not," Jim insisted. "Then we wait for another body to drop because we're not gonna find him here!" Harvey sighed, taking off his glasses. "Yeah, you're right. We're never gonna be able to track Crane. We gotta get ahead of him by finding out what's driving him,"
"We know what's driving him. He's obsessed with fear," Harvey reminded. "Yeah, but why? What's he afraid of? What happened to him that made him this way?" Jim questioned. "His wife was killed in a car crash?" Harvey recalled. With this extra detail, the men walked upstairs over to the computer, and Harvey searched up every detail he could find regarding Crane's wife's death while Jim sat off to the side next to him. "Got it. Karen Crane," Harvey clicked the link and zoomed into the article, reading the smaller bits. "It says here she died in a house fire, not a car accident," Harvey read. "You think the coworker was lying?"
"Three other people said the same thing," Jim stated. "Crane must've lied about it for some reason. What happened in the fire?" Harvey scrolled further down the article, reading that Karen Crane was asleep when the fire broke out. "Her husband, Gerald, and son, Jonathan, 8, were downstairs," "Wait, Crane was in the house when his wife died?" Jim mumbled. "And didn't save her. No wonder he lied," Harvey shook his head. "He's ashamed. His fear is the reason his wife died. That's why he's doing this," Jim realized.