[ And if he dies? That won't kill them either. Or maybe it will. The deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne was certainly the end of the 8 year old boy they left behind. Dick's death took whatever sense of justice Bruce had left with him.
[ It's a roundabout way to call him a hypocrite. Bruce could see it. Probably because Crane wanted him to. Why he wouldn't come out and say that is a curious thing.
He sits, quiet for a moment. Then he looks up at Jonathan, expression somewhere between unreadable and scrutiny. ]
[That inscrutable stare meets an unemotional gaze. Crane has endured life enough to accept that whatever he should be feeling he cannot. He stares for an equally uncomfortable time until he inhales. His shoulders relax as he controls himself, collects himself.]
Hardly. Otherwise Bruce Wayne would not be grumbling in that chair. Somebody else would be filling the void.
[His voice is quiet and observant with the perfect pitch of professionalism. But something inside him thinks a man who enjoys a quiet and stable life deserves to have it snatched away. Somebody else is filling the void, one might say.]
[ Bruce sits there in silence, watching Crane. He relaxes, it's almost like Bruce can see it in the way his shoulders shift. Meaning he'd been tense, no matter how brief. There was no one else to fill the void. Not for him or for Crane.
They'd keep this dance up for as long as they could, wouldn't they? ]
You're right. It has to be me.
[ He punched a man, fractured his jaw. Smashed another's teeth in. Headbutted one who tried to pin him down. It has to be him. No one else could carry that burden. His hands ache. ]
[Crane holds a tense silence as he considers that misleading question. One designed to receive his guidance - but also to extract information. But he hardly considers whatever information he might reveal as threatening to his position.
He writes inside his notebook before resting his hands upon his lap, speaking during the transition from one action to another.]
I would advise him to direct his energy towards those who deserve it.
[His targeting of society has not been without reason, after all.]
[ Someone who deserved it. Bruce could think of someone who deserved all of his energy. Of course, they were in Gotham. There wasn't a shortage of people who deserved Batman's attention. Scarecrow is just the one on his radar currently. ]
Maybe I'll tell him that. It's a professional opinion, after all.
[Eyebrows could raise. Hands could come together. His pen could be writing in his notepad. Crane remains upright in his armchair, his face unmoved and his voice devoid of emotion.]
Of course. [His tone is factual and polite.] Just remember his response will be the result of your input.
[Is decision a better word? He cannot quite agree. Progression in life is a series of events; all of which inform those later down the line.]
[Crane rests his hands, together upon the table. He starts closing his eyes, showing no emotion for the individual in question. The sole spark of life is the soft and thoughtful tone in his voice.]
Do you think so? Society believes poor impulse control originates in negative childhood development; humans rush to condemn one another for improper parenting. [Right?] Institutions argue reckless behaviour originates in a familial propensity for pathology.
[His voice lacks inflection. Most of his peers had enjoyed comfortable lives as children. They had been accepted by society and respected as living, breathing beings. He remembers being a shivering wreck and understands why he disagrees with the concensus of his profession.]
Social learning, inferior cognitive processing and socioeconomic status. They believe each has a role in shaping an individual's propensity for reckless behavior. Nobody considers they choose to act that way. Nor that the cause might be the city we call home.
[ Bruce listens from a state of detached disinterest. It's true poor beginnings very often led to poor endings. But it didn't always have to be like that. Batman's vengeance had always been tempered by his compassion, even when he felt like he had very little to give these days.
But something he still believed? People deserved a second chance. For now, that had not been taken from him. ]
I do think so. People want to do good, even if their beginning wasn't perfect. Some of them just need a second chance.
[Crane begins remembering that night, returning there inside his mind, recollecting what the two of them had been fighting for.]
Perhaps Gotham is the one who needs that second chance.
[His detached and impassive voice, distant from subject, is as cold as the winters that plague their home. Does he truly care to help those who live upon her ground? Does he believe they deserve a second chance? Or can he never answer the question?
Perhaps the latter. All had had a second chance, a third, a fourth...]
[ Gotham needed a lot of things. Rehabilitation, a fresh start. A second chance. Bruce wouldn't be the one to give it to her. But he could make getting there a little less painful. At least for the good folks. ]
It does. It won't be with me though.
[ He doesn't smile at Crane, just stares at him. ]
[Thoughts remain unspoken but hang on the air: not everyone has access to your resources.]
One man who serves as a different symbol depending on your position within this city.
[He cannot imagine everyone living in the filthiest apartments would ever approve of all that wealth in the hands of one man. Whilst he can accept some believe at least he is generous in supporting good causes. Yet still they live in squalor...]
People don't want me as a symbol. I'm a spoiled rich kid who never grew up.
[ Sure he'd been generous with his money, but he'd also been showy and selfish with it too. No matter how much he gave, it'd never match how much he'd pretend to spend.
[His tone is quick and dismissive, eager to take what he thinks of as deprecation and toss it aside.]
But there are others in this city who would kill to possess everything you do. [And do.]</small Sometimes we have no choice about becoming a symbol to people we feel no connection to.
[Crane says nothing. Everybody knows the story about Bruce Wayne losing his parents, randomly at night for no sensible reason.]
That hardly sounds like denial.
[He makes his point but coaches it softly with acknowledgement if not understanding. People who lost their parents. People who never knew their parents. Both can something in common. Like dressing up at night and taking their anger out on others.]
[One time in his life, Crane would have found Bruce's behaviour deeply intimidating. He remembers being a shivering wreck. He remembers pleading for everything to stop. Now he studies and observes. His eyes showing no concern where one would rightfully expect emotion.
All he does is stare. He refuses to lean forward or leave his chair.
One might imagine him holding two electrical wires, connected to the same idea, that haven't quite been connected enough to make a spark.]
It doesn't matter what you want. It is what you are.
[Evasive speech patterns. Words that flatter and praise. His mind continues analysing and making observations. Bruce looks comfortable in his chair but his interchanging movements, his searching stares, suggest discomfort on a spiritual level.
Crane mirrors this posture. His body looks accustomed to sitting in its position, but because of his lean build he cannot stop himself looking stiff and awkward, positioned with all the correctness of a man schooled in manners. Nor are his clothes equally tailored. His sleeves are slightly too short, his head slightly too large.
But obviously he's right. He is proud to be good at what he does. Why else is Bruce Wayne sitting in the client's seat?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Sir, you can lie to other psychiatrists, but you cannot lie to me.]
Or are you going to say they enjoy seeing you come home battered and bruised every night?
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[ And if he dies? That won't kill them either. Or maybe it will. The deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne was certainly the end of the 8 year old boy they left behind. Dick's death took whatever sense of justice Bruce had left with him.
He shrugs. ]
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[Case in point: stop making excuses. There is only one person driving your car, sir. Now, ask yourself why does anyone drive a fast car?]
Perhaps your problem is that you cannot share that you enjoy the thrill of throwing caution to the wind. Reckless. Like your friend.
[So are you, Bruce.]
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He sits, quiet for a moment. Then he looks up at Jonathan, expression somewhere between unreadable and scrutiny. ]
Do you think I'm dead, Dr. Crane?
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Hardly. Otherwise Bruce Wayne would not be grumbling in that chair. Somebody else would be filling the void.
[His voice is quiet and observant with the perfect pitch of professionalism. But something inside him thinks a man who enjoys a quiet and stable life deserves to have it snatched away. Somebody else is filling the void, one might say.]
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They'd keep this dance up for as long as they could, wouldn't they? ]
You're right. It has to be me.
[ He punched a man, fractured his jaw. Smashed another's teeth in. Headbutted one who tried to pin him down. It has to be him. No one else could carry that burden. His hands ache. ]
What would you say to my friend?
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He writes inside his notebook before resting his hands upon his lap, speaking during the transition from one action to another.]
I would advise him to direct his energy towards those who deserve it.
[His targeting of society has not been without reason, after all.]
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Maybe I'll tell him that. It's a professional opinion, after all.
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Of course. [His tone is factual and polite.] Just remember his response will be the result of your input.
[Is decision a better word? He cannot quite agree. Progression in life is a series of events; all of which inform those later down the line.]
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[ Crane is still. Bruce shifts, restless. He puts his ankle on the opposite knee. ]
Maybe he'll decide to change.
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Do you think so? Society believes poor impulse control originates in negative childhood development; humans rush to condemn one another for improper parenting. [Right?] Institutions argue reckless behaviour originates in a familial propensity for pathology.
[His voice lacks inflection. Most of his peers had enjoyed comfortable lives as children. They had been accepted by society and respected as living, breathing beings. He remembers being a shivering wreck and understands why he disagrees with the concensus of his profession.]
Social learning, inferior cognitive processing and socioeconomic status. They believe each has a role in shaping an individual's propensity for reckless behavior. Nobody considers they choose to act that way. Nor that the cause might be the city we call home.
[Gotham does have an effect on people.]
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But something he still believed? People deserved a second chance. For now, that had not been taken from him. ]
I do think so. People want to do good, even if their beginning wasn't perfect. Some of them just need a second chance.
[ Everyone else? Gets punched by the Bat. ]
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Perhaps Gotham is the one who needs that second chance.
[His detached and impassive voice, distant from subject, is as cold as the winters that plague their home. Does he truly care to help those who live upon her ground? Does he believe they deserve a second chance? Or can he never answer the question?
Perhaps the latter. All had had a second chance, a third, a fourth...]
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It does. It won't be with me though.
[ He doesn't smile at Crane, just stares at him. ]
I'm just one man.
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[Thoughts remain unspoken but hang on the air: not everyone has access to your resources.]
One man who serves as a different symbol depending on your position within this city.
[He cannot imagine everyone living in the filthiest apartments would ever approve of all that wealth in the hands of one man. Whilst he can accept some believe at least he is generous in supporting good causes. Yet still they live in squalor...]
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[ Sure he'd been generous with his money, but he'd also been showy and selfish with it too. No matter how much he gave, it'd never match how much he'd pretend to spend.
Or spend on what really mattered. ]
They'd take the Batman over me any day.
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[His tone is quick and dismissive, eager to take what he thinks of as deprecation and toss it aside.]
But there are others in this city who would kill to possess everything you do. [And do.]</small Sometimes we have no choice about becoming a symbol to people we feel no connection to.
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They shouldn't. I lost a great deal to live this life.
[ And maybe he'd give it all up if it meant he could have it all back again. Thomas, Martha. Dick. ]
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That hardly sounds like denial.
[He makes his point but coaches it softly with acknowledgement if not understanding. People who lost their parents. People who never knew their parents. Both can something in common. Like dressing up at night and taking their anger out on others.]
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I don't want to be a symbol of anything to anyone.
[ Just what are you implying, Crane? ]
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All he does is stare. He refuses to lean forward or leave his chair.
One might imagine him holding two electrical wires, connected to the same idea, that haven't quite been connected enough to make a spark.]
It doesn't matter what you want. It is what you are.
[You cannot lie your way out of that, Bruce.]
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He sits back after a moment and schools his face back into something unreadable. ]
Maybe it doesn't. Doesn't mean I have to accept it.
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One might accuse Bruce of emotional ghosting. But he would charge him with seeking an answer to an unspoken question.]
Like whatever you believe matters.
[He is quiet yet observant.]
People consider themselves important to the life of this city. Everyone will treat you as what you are, regardless of your opinion.
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You're right. I can't stop people from thinking what they want about me. Even if I'm not what they think I am.
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Crane mirrors this posture. His body looks accustomed to sitting in its position, but because of his lean build he cannot stop himself looking stiff and awkward, positioned with all the correctness of a man schooled in manners. Nor are his clothes equally tailored. His sleeves are slightly too short, his head slightly too large.
But obviously he's right. He is proud to be good at what he does. Why else is Bruce Wayne sitting in the client's seat?]
And what do you think you are?
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