When He Knocked [Jonathan] [Flashback]

[Jeremiah Arkham]

Jeremiah glanced up at the clock from the paper he was looking over. Then he looked back down at the paper a moment and then the file he’d been taking on. He’d need to end the tour here ideally if he wanted all his questions answered. But maybe they’d all be answered before then. He wouldn’t be surprised if that happened.

He picked up his office phone and set the pen down to dial the number to the office secretary.

“Julia,” he said with a smile, “I’m expecting a Dr. Jonathan Crane for an interview and tour in about half an hour. Will you let me know when he arrives? I want to come out and greet him personally.” He nodded even if there was no one to see the gesture and his grin grew. “Yes, thank you, I appreciate that.”

He set the phone back on the hook and returned to reading over the file. Jonathan’s file. His resume, several of Jeremiah’s favorite research papers of Jonathan’s, even the article the Gotham Times had written about the incident that ended up with the once psychology professor fired from his teaching position at Gotham State. It was their loss and Jeremiah maintained that opinion, even as he’d spoken to the head of the department at the university. That was a blemish on his record, of course, but the only one. Everyone else he’d spoken to had described Jonathan Crane as a quiet, albeit awkward man, but one of intelligence as well as passion. He’d graduated early and was in the top of his classes throughout all his schooling. To simply let him stagnate after an accident—though yes, he understood the severity and decision—would be a waste of talent. What the ex-professor needed wasn’t a classroom, it was a place to research and lend his mind to actual psychological work (not counseling students twenty-four seven). He deserved a second chance.

Jeremiah had, admittedly, spoken to colleagues and ex-professors of Jonathan, before reaching out to him with a job offer. He had been an avid fan of his theories and he’d followed him with interest even before now, but even he had to do deeper research and pick at the minds of connections before he made a decision like offering a job as a psychiatrist at Arkham. Yet, through all his research he’d come to one opinion: Jonathan Crane had a waste of mind at Gotham State University. He should have always been here at Arkham Asylum, but that was hindsight. If Jonathan hadn’t gotten his start at Gotham State and attempted to publish his theories, Jeremiah wouldn’t have found him.

He’d other thoughts on his mind as well when Jonathan graduated too. He’d been renovating and rebuilding Arkham Asylum and Jeremiah could see why until now, Gotham State had wanted to keep Dr. Crane.

Well, all the better for him now.

His eyes once more trailed to the notes and questions he’d made. By the time his phone rang, he’d practically memorized them. And then it was time.

Jonathan Crane had arrived.

He stood up and stretched the limbs he’d cramped in his posture and rubbed the pressure from his neck. Then he pulled his lab-coat over his crisp, white shirt and navy, polka-dot silk tie. His pants were charcoal gray.

He left his office and within minutes, he was walking out into reception and offering a smile to the man he’d been waiting with excitement to meet.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he said as he held out his hand. “I’m Jeremiah Arkham, Director and Administrator and the person who spoke to you on the phone. Welcome to Arkham Asylum.”

[Jonathan Crane]

After recent events, he was surprised to have gotten the opportunity. Despite how innocent the entire spectacle had been, it had been made into a circus by Gothams media. Luckily, with the right protection it wasn’t difficult to make his case in court and get things quickly settled. Money always spoke far more volumes to those afraid of losing their power. It was still unusual that he had gotten an offer so quickly after the incident.

He’d done his best that morning to dress for the occasion. The suit he wore was more expensive than other pairs in his closet. Clothes were always a lower priority to him than most things. A few months working in the field and seeing how expensive research was, changed his way of living. Some things were just more important. His research meant everything to him and he didn’t want to take another position unless he was allowed to continue his studies. Getting a job at another University was going to be problematic, but perhaps with clinical work he could get more opportunities.

The doctor arrived on time for his interview, waiting in the front room while the receptionist did their job. A few moments later he turned to meet his potential employer, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham. Not what he was expecting, despite the thorough online search he’d done. His history was not a private one, the parts that he wanted the world to know he imagined. Much like his own circumstance he could only conclude that the parts others needed to know were public. Everything else wouldn’t matter if they knew or not. He looked forward to getting closer to those secrets. Secrets were always held and revealed with the same anxiety.

Dr. Crane shook his hand firmly when it was offered to him. “Doctor Jerimiah Arkham. Your reputation precedes you. Thank you for the opportunity.” Genuine formalities. Not exactly what he wanted to say, but it was the truth. “I was pleasantly surprised to receive an offer in light of events, especially from the clinical field.” He admitted and cast his gaze around the room for just a moment. It had been a while since he’d been in physical practice, not that he was out of touch but his research had been his true passion.

“I am familiar with your work.” He added, but left the context for it neutral. There may have been a few nights that he’d poured over reading the several publications that he’d released. Not enough for him to be perfectly honest, but their studies didn’t have to be completely the same for him to want to do more with them. There were several trials that he felt could go much deeper….but the same could be said about his own. That is why this opportunity was important.

[Jeremiah Arkham]

What kind of impression did he make, Jeremiah had often wondered. His work, the articles that were about him, and even that little blurb he’d had to write about the asylum on its webpage; what kind of impression did it leave? When people met him he’d love to ask who they thought they were meeting: an elderly man past his prime whose potential had dried up to the sticky, clinging consistency of a raisin? A man who thought way too highly of himself and his achievements? Or did they expect to meet him as he was now? Just who had Jonathan expected to meet?

Jeremiah had seen Dr. Crane through the lens of his research papers. There he’d seen a man deeply passionate about existential therapy, aligning the search for meaning out of fear and not just a single fear, but decisions made of a variety of them. What sort of picture of Jonathan Crane did that make? A bright young mind, but a mind that hid a secret. Why focus theories on fears? It wasn’t that such a primal force wasn’t interesting to study--it was fascinating to see the ways Jonathan had artistically explained it and applied it--but what a psychologist studied, there was always a reason behind it. Jeremiah wanted to know that reason.

Just as Jonathan wanted to know the secrets Jeremiah hid, Jeremiah wanted to know Jonathan’s. It was the beginning of a friendly, strategic chess game.

Jonathan also had an impression in the papers. It had been quickly quieted as all things involved with universities and money were, yet those brief articles had wanted to prey on sensationalism. They wanted to paint an irresponsible mad man. That wasn’t who stood before him now.

The man who stood before him was a bright mind, a mind who, in his opinion had been threatened to curdle like spoiled milk under the hand of Gotham State. Jeremiah saw potential as he shook Jonathan’s hand.

“My reputation,” he chuckled, “is nothing more than the opinions of others painted in either a positive or negative light. I believe we make our own reputations through the value of drives, though opinion is an unfortunate truth in this field isn’t it? Like mine, for instance.” He gestured for Jonathan to follow him as he pulled open the door that led back out towards the asylum grounds. “I like to get to know my prospective employees while I show them around the hospital. I hope you don’t mind such an unusual interview.”

He held the door open for Jonathan. “Why shouldn’t I approach you about a clinical position? I’ve read your work as well. Who do you think holds research grants through Gotham State? Through various institutions in and outside Gotham? Allow me to brag a small amount: me; Arkham Asylum. We conduct research just as much as any university and on a much larger scale. I also think your theories would do well to be put to practice. You’re worth so much more than counseling students. Why not apply your research to helping those that come here?” He spoke as he walked down a neatly shrubbed lane away from the facility building.

“The truth is, Jonathan, I approached you because Gotham State was wasting your talents. I think you could come here and not only improve your own research, but add onto others’, if you so choose.” He smiled and then chuckled a little at himself. “And here I am trying to sell you to take a job here, rather than interviewing you. Forgive me, I just have a good feeling about you. I find you quite interesting.”

He stopped and looked out over the expanse of the island a moment before he returned his gaze to Jonathan. “So, let’s get a boring question out of the way. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I’ve done my research on you as well, but it’s always more interesting to hear from you, not the mouths of others or some words on a page.”

[Jonathan Crane]

Their hands met and he shook it firmly before returning his hand to rest at his side. Dr. Arkham's reputation was something that he didn’t need to defend. The opinions of others mattered little to him. This interview meant a lot for him, as possibly the last chance to salvage his career. As unfair as that was. The world wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t here to save him from everything that happened. Some things just couldn’t be saved, but instead they could be seen for what they really were. That was what he wanted to see from Dr. Arkham. He wanted to see who he really was behind the veil he tried to hide under.

He moved with him when guided, allowing him to show him a tour of the building. An interesting interview indeed, not that he minded a look around the facility. He’d always wanted to lurk within the halls and see what practices were done. He didn’t answer at first but nodded, letting him speak. The doctor was listening. Listening to him sell himself and the place that he worked within. There was still much he had to learn about it and he was willing to learn whatever he could from the man.

Ah, the grants from here, of course. He’d look at his work, that much could have been suspected if he was interested in his application. Still, the prospect of clinical work was not exactly what he was used to. It did surprise him to hear that Dr. Arkham knew so much about his research, not just so that he had read it but wanted it applied and further studied at this facility. He glanced his direction as they walked. “Clinical work is something I could adjust to. I suppose.” He remarked alongside him as the man was trying to now sell the position to him.

It felt good to be recognized for his talents. Gotham State had indeed shunned him for them. He was creating something so much bigger than what they were capable of understanding. It was right in front of their eyes and yet impossible for them to see. When they settled on the outlook of the island he took the view in and seriously considered what he could do as a practitioner again. His theories could go beyond the paper and into a studied practice.

His gaze settled on the doctor now, turning to him to face him properly. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel horrible to be around someone. He admired him for noticing his work, knowing his theories and wanting to expand upon them. He admired him for the work he’d done here already. But to introduce himself? As a potential employee or as who he was?

“Well, I’m dedicated to my research as you know. I’ve been looking for work since my recent legal hang ups.” I am Doctor Jonathan Crane, and I shot a young man at Gotham State. He wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. “I’ve been looking for a place where I am able to expand my research into something more practical. I don’t think it’s a secret to you that I’m well acquainted with James Gordon.” Acquainted with the man that had found whoever was left when he emerged from the dark. The adopted son, who now had rarely returned his calls. A message sat on his phone from earlier of him wishing him well on the interview. “Clinical practice may not be my current work, but I do look forward to the possibilities that it could open up to me.”


It would be a change, but a welcomed one. A very faint smile was offered to him. Perhaps if he didn’t understand. He was willing to. "With those possibilities opened. I'd be happy to show you my work in action."

[Jeremiah Arkham]

The world was like a poker dealer: it knew the true stakes and it handed out the cards. People were merely players, each as miniscule as the next; specks of dust in an endless universe and they had everything to lose and were at the most disadvantage. They played their poker game with an unsympathetic dealer, in complete darkness, and they would never know the hand dealt until it came time to witness the results. It really gave a sense to what it meant to “pay the devil his dues” and while privilege offered many advantages, even the highest king could be brought low by a poor hand. The stakes of life were and and yes, completely unfair. Jeremiah, himself had watched many stumble and consequently crumble, but he had witnessed just as many grasp their terrible hands and bluff or battle their way to success. Which Jonathan Crane would do had yet to be seen, but some people should and could be afforded a bonus in the pot and Jeremiah was only offering that. He couldn’t save everyone; he didn’t want to save everyone but he could save some and so he’d put in that effort. It wasn’t a choice he bragged about, but he did enjoy it. Enjoyed it for the fact that he could help those who were thrown away strike back against those who’d discarded them. That Arkham Asylum flourished for it? A delightful side benefit.

Even taking chances on people who’d been dragged through the mud was a gamble, but Jeremiah was prepared for the gamble. Jonathan’s public reputation may have been dicey, but his professional one had promise.

Jeremiah wanted to see Jonathan’s promise. He wanted to see him and while he knew he’d be under the same scrutiny, he was unaware of how deep the scrutiny would go. Did anyone really know themselves beneath their masks, though? Did Jeremiah?

He tipped his head to the side and regarded Jonathan with an open smile that reached his eyes. It spoke of slight amusement, but also consideration. “If you find yourself wanting to focus mostly on your research,” he said, “that can certainly be arranged.” He nodded, “Definitely. I admit, I was the one who made assumptions. I thought clinical work could also help you. You could test the waters and perhaps taking on patients could offer more insight, inspiration maybe?” He perhaps should have asked the doctor, but his mind had gotten away from itself. It had a habit of that when presented with intrigue. He rubbed the back of his neck. "We can discuss that and I’ll admit, I should have asked what sort of work you wanted to focus on. You can choose your patient load. If anyone could understand the necessity that their research takes, it would be me.”

Yes, he understood Jonathan’s dedication. He wanted to nurture it. He stopped before one of the detention buildings. These were in place for those deemed guilty of crimes, but unable to be housed in the general prison population because of excessive violent tendencies (to themselves or others). “I oversee much of the research done here, but I’m also the head of administration. My passion was research and treatment, but even I have a smaller patient load because I have other duties. It’s a sacrifice I have to make.” He looked up at the building and then back to Jonathan. “I’m aware of who you’re acquainted with, but his name has nothing to do with your being asked here. You gained that of your own merits. I’m sure he’s proud of you for them as well.”

His relation to James Gordon was one of the first things he could find about Dr. Crane. It was public knowledge and it reminded Jeremiah of his own son. He was around the doctor’s age which may have lent to his interest in him, but much like Jonathan he too held a message on his phone. Nathaniel checking in from his current position at a field office in Colorado. Unlike Jonathan, though, Jeremiah was planning on returning the call from his son.

“I’d be happy to see your work in practice,” he grinned and then nodded towards the building. “Would you like to see what makes Arkham Asylum different from an outpatient clinic?” Jonathan wasn’t the only one who craved understanding. Everyone did.