Fic: Georgian Nights (1/?)
Apparently I lied and am writing Batman Slash.
Title: Georgian Nights
Universe: Heavy Nolan with influences by others
Characters: Dr. Jonathan Crane, Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Crane (Kid from the Narrows)
Pairing: Jonathan/Bruce
Rating: NC-17 (full story)
Warnings: Graphic medical procidure (Eventual: Romance, sex, snark, mentions/descriptions of psycological disorders)
Word Count: 2,179 (as of curent chapter)
Summary: Three years after the events of The Dark Knight and Bruce finds Dr. Jonathan Crane somewhere he least expected...Georgia.
Georgian Nights
Sun beat down on Bruce's neck as he slipped off his sunglasses, staring up at the dilapidated manor house that looked as if one good gust of wind would knock it aside. Men and women surrounded the house, each doing their level best to keep such an event from happening, the sound of drills and hammers competing with the summer insects that were starting to awaken for their nightly chorus.
"Welcome...ya don't look like yer from around here," A middle-aged man called, leaning against the top rung of a scaffolding, looking down at Bruce, chewing around a toothpick, eyes roaming over Bruce's form.
"I'm down from Gotham City...looking for someone," Bruce called with an easy smile, sticking his hands into his pockets as she studied the man. Alarm bells rang in the back of Bruce's head, something in the man's eyes telling him that this man wasn't someone to be messed with. Bruce's eyes drifted to the other man on the scaffold, unconsciously licking his lips as he took in the lithe form dotted with steaks of white paint.
Thin, almost dangerously so considering Bruce could count every rib in the man's chest, outline with the hardened muscles that only came from hard work over time in a gym. Long, paint splattered torso vanishing into pants that were close to falling off slender hips (and awfully close to falling apart, resembling something closer to denim rags stitched together rather then actual jeans).
"Excuse me?" Bruce asked, jerking his eyes back to the older man, realizing that he had kept speaking while Bruce had been...distracted.
A crooked smile curled over the man's lips. "I asked who yer lookin' for, we know everyone in this town...and most of those that aren't."
"Crane, Dr. Jonathan Crane," Bruce said and had the feeling that he had said the wrong thing as the sounds of work faded out around them.
The older man continued to stare at Bruce, chewing on the end of his of his toothpick until it looked as if it splintered in the man's mouth, poking him. "Yeah, doc's in the house," He said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in reference to the large house behind him before spitting out the toothpick he had broken, placing a fresh one between his lips, beginning the chewing process over again.
"Thanks," Bruce said, casting a look around at those staring at him before circling around the house towards the only door that wasn't blocked off.
Tom watched Bruce leave before turning to the man next to him on the scaffold. "How ya wanna play this, Johnny?"
Jonathan sighed, setting down the dilapidated paintbrush he had been holding, glancing at his oldest friend. "Might as well go see what Bruce Wayne wants with a country doctor...take Jeremiah, no need to add to the hassles,"
Tom nodded, heading for the ladder to go collect the teenager while Jonathan slipped into the house via the large picture window next to him, wincing as he got fresh paint on his bed, before heading downstairs to find the errant playboy who was probably roaming about his house.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Wayne?" Jonathan asked, leaning against the doorjamb, a smirk curling over his lips as the billionaire jumped, almost spilling the lemon-aide Susan had forced upon the young man before returning to her duties as day cook for Jonathan.
"Just checking up on a fellow Gothamite...rather strange to find you of all people out here in the Georgian countryside."
"Not really, the Crane family helped found this town," Jonathan pulled the t-shirt that had been shoved through a belt-loop free, moping his face before accepting a glass of Sweet Tea from Susan, draining most of it in a long drink, eying Bruce of the rim, raising an eyebrow as the older man's eyes latched onto his working throat.
"Yes, however last I heard you had been arrested," Bruce said easily, leaning back slightly in his chair.
"Three years ago, and I was found not guilty," He kicked out, forcing Bruce's chair back to all four legs.
"For murder?" Bruce asked, sipping the lemon-aide, looking confused.
"Attempted murder and yes. Diminished capacity and all that...but then, you would know that, wouldn't you?"
"Dr. Crane is not in right now.." Bruce recited and the pair stared at each other, silence stretching out between them before Jonathan took a seat, sighing.
"What, exactly, do you want, Mr. Wayne?"
"Do I specifically need something?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow, noting the tension gathering in Jonathan's shoulders and arms before the younger man forcibly relaxed.
"You always need something," Jonathan hissed, fury racing through his eyes before his head jerked up at the sound of a slamming screen door. "Marjorie?" He asked the brunette teen who had just stumbled into the room, standing.
"Tractor...Marcus...blood..." The girl panted and Jonathan was a blur of motion, all but vaulting the table as he ran into the kitchen, re-appearing a moment later clutching a battered black leather bag and a pair of shoes.
Bruce stood, confused, joining Susan near the teenager only to be latched onto by Jonathan as the man pushed past them, the doctor dragging him out the door.
"Do you have a car?" Jonathan asked, shoving his feet into the overly abused trainers, giving a weird hop to his steps as he tried to run down the porch stairs at the same time.
"Car?" Bruce asked rather blankly, mind struggling to switch from threatening Jonathan to remember where he parked his car...if he had one, at that moment, he couldn't remember.
"Car, vehicle, transportation...I only have the truck and since it runs only on days that end in 'e', it would be advisable to use another vehicle before Marcus bleeds to death,"
"Barn," Bruce said stupidly, finally remembering where he parked the rented SUV, gesturing before yelping as he was dragged off balance by Jonathan.
The pair climbed into the SUV, Jonathan not bothering with a seat belt as he twisted around, searching the back seats of the SUV, finally coming up with a rope and cotton blanket that he started to shred. "Just head towards the fields, there's a lane in the center that we need," he ordered.
Bruce followed the directions, gripping the steering wheel tightly as the SUV bounced over ruts and wheat, eyebrow twitching with each rip of the far too expensive blanket. "What, exactly, are you doing?"
"Ran out of bandages, turn left, and anytime the word 'bloody' is muttered, that generally implies one needs those,"
"I could have you arrested for practicing medicine without a license," Bruce growled, a bit of his alter-ego slipping into the words.
Jonathan rolled his eyes, reaching over and jerking the wheel onto the tracks in the potato field so that the SUV didn't ruin the plants anymore then it already had. "I have a license, idiot," In the distance the pair could see a group gathered around a large harvester, staring at something just out of sight. The SUV slid to a stop a few paces away and Jonathan was out of the vehicle before it stopped rolling, already running.
"In what world? It was revoked when you were arrested for illegal experimentation on humans!" Bruce yelled after him, slightly tangled in the seat belt.
Jonathan didn't answer, kneeling next to the young man whose leg was mangled in the harvester's blades, bone and muscle showing along with a great quantity of blood. "Who tied it off?" Jonathan snapped, fingering the tourniquet wrapped around the injured leg's knee before dismissing it, already examining the wound itself, snapping latex gloves on that he pulled from the bag next to him.
"I did, Doctor Crane, we couldn't stop the...er...bleeding?" answered an older woman who looked rather green as she glanced at the wound before hurriedly turning away, vomiting.
"Thank you, Michelle," Jonathan muttered, glancing up at Bruce as the billionaire knelt in the dirt and blood next to Crane. "Can you help?" he asked softly, turning his attention back towards the injured man who was gasping in a manner somewhere between panicked and calm acceptance.
"Just ask," Bruce said, focusing purely on the task at hand, accepting the gloves Jonathan held out, pulling them on.
"I need you to re-tourniquet his leg, not much higher then the current one. Do not release the other until yours is secure."
Bruce nodded and pulled the rather happy smiley face tourniquet from the medical bag affixing it around the knee and tightening it to the point of killing what was left of the limb, before cutting off the bloody cloth that had been halting blood flow originally.
As Bruce worked, Jonathan pulled a pair of surgical scissors and a scalpel from the bag, laying both on a sterile pad he had placed over Bruce's thigh, using the scalpel to cut way muscle and flesh, revealing the extent of the damage. "I'm sorry, Marcus..." he whispered.
"How bad is it, doc?" Marcus gasped, voice calm, ready for whatever was to come.
"Your going to loose the leg," Jonathan whispered, usually cold blue eyes reaching up, a liquid warmth flooding them as he looked at the man's pained face.
Marcus nodded, swallowing thickly. "Just don't let me die, doc...can't leave Sarah just yet,"
Jonathan nodded, clearing away more flesh and tissue, trying to dismiss the images of delivering Marcus' baby daughter not three months before. "We'll get you home, promise," Jonathan muttered softly, bloody hands searching blindly for the bone saw, only to have it handed to him by Bruce who turned away quickly, taking Marcus' hand in his as he slid a tongue guard in the man's mouth, just in-case Jonathan hit a live nerve before getting Marcus to breath from an ether canister.
Jonathan's world narrowed down to the mangled leg in-front of him, carefully cutting Marcus free of the trapped bone, each movement of the saw sounding louder then a jet's engine in his ear as he started stripping the farmer of pieces of his livelihood.
Halfway through the amputation the paramedics appeared, taking over the monitoring of Marcus' respiration, heart rate and blood pressure, thus freeing Bruce up to simply sit next to the man, still holding Marcus' hand as he watched Jonathan worked.
There was a final snap of bone and Jonathan sat back on his legs, ignoring the screaming pain from his thighs as he, along with the paramedics, got a carry sling under Marcus, cutting away the last bits of skin, muscle and cloth keeping the farmer attached to the harvester before standing, stumbling as blood flow returned to his lower limbs, almost dropping his side of the sling.
Bruce pulled Jonathan away, reaching around the smaller man to grab the handle of the sling, nodding to the paramedics as they carried the un-concious farmer towards the ambulance. Jonathan collapsed back onto the blood soaked earth, cursing as he tried to get feeling back into his legs, pulling the surgical scissors out from under him and frowning at the cut on his calf.
Bruce returned as the ambulance went screaming off into the coming night, reaching out to help Jonathan stand, accepting the trash bag of used medical tools and equipment that Marjorie had gathered for the doctor.
"And I have a license in Georgia," Jonathan said, closing up his medical kit, standing with a popping sound from his back as he bent it out.
"Do I want to know how you acquired it?" Bruce muttered, some of the fire gone from his voice as he looked off to where Marcus had been taken, not really sure if he wanted to continue the conversation after what had happened. If Jonathan hadn't been there...if the make shift tourniquet hadn't held for so long...
"Legally, Mr. Wayne. Not all licensing boards see the same events as failures." Jonathan sighed, rubbing a hand across his sweat soaked, sunburned forehead. "Let's just go back,"
Bruce nodded and tossed the bloody bag in the back of the SUV, before climbing into the driver's side, a million thoughts and emotions clouding his thoughts.
"Papa!"
The yell startled Jonathan and he dropped he medical bag on his foot, spinning from a sniping comment at Bruce's driving only to find his arms full of teenage boy. Jonathan bit back a curse, wrapping his arms around the younger man, praying to a god he didn't believe in that Bruce had stayed on the porch long enough not to hear what Jeremiah had said, but the voice next to him killed that prayer.
"Papa?" Bruce questioned, eying the teenager, who turned his light blue eyes up towards Bruce, smiling.
"It's you!"
Recognition punched Bruce in the stomach, mind flashing back almost four years to a rain soaked fire escape where those same blue eyes looked up at him from under wet bangs as his parents raged in the apartment behind him.
"Dr. Crane, why do you have a boy from the Narrows in your house? One who has been missing for two years."
Title: Georgian Nights
Universe: Heavy Nolan with influences by others
Characters: Dr. Jonathan Crane, Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Crane (Kid from the Narrows)
Pairing: Jonathan/Bruce
Rating: NC-17 (full story)
Warnings: Graphic medical procidure (Eventual: Romance, sex, snark, mentions/descriptions of psycological disorders)
Word Count: 2,179 (as of curent chapter)
Summary: Three years after the events of The Dark Knight and Bruce finds Dr. Jonathan Crane somewhere he least expected...Georgia.
Georgian Nights
Sun beat down on Bruce's neck as he slipped off his sunglasses, staring up at the dilapidated manor house that looked as if one good gust of wind would knock it aside. Men and women surrounded the house, each doing their level best to keep such an event from happening, the sound of drills and hammers competing with the summer insects that were starting to awaken for their nightly chorus.
"Welcome...ya don't look like yer from around here," A middle-aged man called, leaning against the top rung of a scaffolding, looking down at Bruce, chewing around a toothpick, eyes roaming over Bruce's form.
"I'm down from Gotham City...looking for someone," Bruce called with an easy smile, sticking his hands into his pockets as she studied the man. Alarm bells rang in the back of Bruce's head, something in the man's eyes telling him that this man wasn't someone to be messed with. Bruce's eyes drifted to the other man on the scaffold, unconsciously licking his lips as he took in the lithe form dotted with steaks of white paint.
Thin, almost dangerously so considering Bruce could count every rib in the man's chest, outline with the hardened muscles that only came from hard work over time in a gym. Long, paint splattered torso vanishing into pants that were close to falling off slender hips (and awfully close to falling apart, resembling something closer to denim rags stitched together rather then actual jeans).
"Excuse me?" Bruce asked, jerking his eyes back to the older man, realizing that he had kept speaking while Bruce had been...distracted.
A crooked smile curled over the man's lips. "I asked who yer lookin' for, we know everyone in this town...and most of those that aren't."
"Crane, Dr. Jonathan Crane," Bruce said and had the feeling that he had said the wrong thing as the sounds of work faded out around them.
The older man continued to stare at Bruce, chewing on the end of his of his toothpick until it looked as if it splintered in the man's mouth, poking him. "Yeah, doc's in the house," He said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in reference to the large house behind him before spitting out the toothpick he had broken, placing a fresh one between his lips, beginning the chewing process over again.
"Thanks," Bruce said, casting a look around at those staring at him before circling around the house towards the only door that wasn't blocked off.
Tom watched Bruce leave before turning to the man next to him on the scaffold. "How ya wanna play this, Johnny?"
Jonathan sighed, setting down the dilapidated paintbrush he had been holding, glancing at his oldest friend. "Might as well go see what Bruce Wayne wants with a country doctor...take Jeremiah, no need to add to the hassles,"
Tom nodded, heading for the ladder to go collect the teenager while Jonathan slipped into the house via the large picture window next to him, wincing as he got fresh paint on his bed, before heading downstairs to find the errant playboy who was probably roaming about his house.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Wayne?" Jonathan asked, leaning against the doorjamb, a smirk curling over his lips as the billionaire jumped, almost spilling the lemon-aide Susan had forced upon the young man before returning to her duties as day cook for Jonathan.
"Just checking up on a fellow Gothamite...rather strange to find you of all people out here in the Georgian countryside."
"Not really, the Crane family helped found this town," Jonathan pulled the t-shirt that had been shoved through a belt-loop free, moping his face before accepting a glass of Sweet Tea from Susan, draining most of it in a long drink, eying Bruce of the rim, raising an eyebrow as the older man's eyes latched onto his working throat.
"Yes, however last I heard you had been arrested," Bruce said easily, leaning back slightly in his chair.
"Three years ago, and I was found not guilty," He kicked out, forcing Bruce's chair back to all four legs.
"For murder?" Bruce asked, sipping the lemon-aide, looking confused.
"Attempted murder and yes. Diminished capacity and all that...but then, you would know that, wouldn't you?"
"Dr. Crane is not in right now.." Bruce recited and the pair stared at each other, silence stretching out between them before Jonathan took a seat, sighing.
"What, exactly, do you want, Mr. Wayne?"
"Do I specifically need something?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow, noting the tension gathering in Jonathan's shoulders and arms before the younger man forcibly relaxed.
"You always need something," Jonathan hissed, fury racing through his eyes before his head jerked up at the sound of a slamming screen door. "Marjorie?" He asked the brunette teen who had just stumbled into the room, standing.
"Tractor...Marcus...blood..." The girl panted and Jonathan was a blur of motion, all but vaulting the table as he ran into the kitchen, re-appearing a moment later clutching a battered black leather bag and a pair of shoes.
Bruce stood, confused, joining Susan near the teenager only to be latched onto by Jonathan as the man pushed past them, the doctor dragging him out the door.
"Do you have a car?" Jonathan asked, shoving his feet into the overly abused trainers, giving a weird hop to his steps as he tried to run down the porch stairs at the same time.
"Car?" Bruce asked rather blankly, mind struggling to switch from threatening Jonathan to remember where he parked his car...if he had one, at that moment, he couldn't remember.
"Car, vehicle, transportation...I only have the truck and since it runs only on days that end in 'e', it would be advisable to use another vehicle before Marcus bleeds to death,"
"Barn," Bruce said stupidly, finally remembering where he parked the rented SUV, gesturing before yelping as he was dragged off balance by Jonathan.
The pair climbed into the SUV, Jonathan not bothering with a seat belt as he twisted around, searching the back seats of the SUV, finally coming up with a rope and cotton blanket that he started to shred. "Just head towards the fields, there's a lane in the center that we need," he ordered.
Bruce followed the directions, gripping the steering wheel tightly as the SUV bounced over ruts and wheat, eyebrow twitching with each rip of the far too expensive blanket. "What, exactly, are you doing?"
"Ran out of bandages, turn left, and anytime the word 'bloody' is muttered, that generally implies one needs those,"
"I could have you arrested for practicing medicine without a license," Bruce growled, a bit of his alter-ego slipping into the words.
Jonathan rolled his eyes, reaching over and jerking the wheel onto the tracks in the potato field so that the SUV didn't ruin the plants anymore then it already had. "I have a license, idiot," In the distance the pair could see a group gathered around a large harvester, staring at something just out of sight. The SUV slid to a stop a few paces away and Jonathan was out of the vehicle before it stopped rolling, already running.
"In what world? It was revoked when you were arrested for illegal experimentation on humans!" Bruce yelled after him, slightly tangled in the seat belt.
Jonathan didn't answer, kneeling next to the young man whose leg was mangled in the harvester's blades, bone and muscle showing along with a great quantity of blood. "Who tied it off?" Jonathan snapped, fingering the tourniquet wrapped around the injured leg's knee before dismissing it, already examining the wound itself, snapping latex gloves on that he pulled from the bag next to him.
"I did, Doctor Crane, we couldn't stop the...er...bleeding?" answered an older woman who looked rather green as she glanced at the wound before hurriedly turning away, vomiting.
"Thank you, Michelle," Jonathan muttered, glancing up at Bruce as the billionaire knelt in the dirt and blood next to Crane. "Can you help?" he asked softly, turning his attention back towards the injured man who was gasping in a manner somewhere between panicked and calm acceptance.
"Just ask," Bruce said, focusing purely on the task at hand, accepting the gloves Jonathan held out, pulling them on.
"I need you to re-tourniquet his leg, not much higher then the current one. Do not release the other until yours is secure."
Bruce nodded and pulled the rather happy smiley face tourniquet from the medical bag affixing it around the knee and tightening it to the point of killing what was left of the limb, before cutting off the bloody cloth that had been halting blood flow originally.
As Bruce worked, Jonathan pulled a pair of surgical scissors and a scalpel from the bag, laying both on a sterile pad he had placed over Bruce's thigh, using the scalpel to cut way muscle and flesh, revealing the extent of the damage. "I'm sorry, Marcus..." he whispered.
"How bad is it, doc?" Marcus gasped, voice calm, ready for whatever was to come.
"Your going to loose the leg," Jonathan whispered, usually cold blue eyes reaching up, a liquid warmth flooding them as he looked at the man's pained face.
Marcus nodded, swallowing thickly. "Just don't let me die, doc...can't leave Sarah just yet,"
Jonathan nodded, clearing away more flesh and tissue, trying to dismiss the images of delivering Marcus' baby daughter not three months before. "We'll get you home, promise," Jonathan muttered softly, bloody hands searching blindly for the bone saw, only to have it handed to him by Bruce who turned away quickly, taking Marcus' hand in his as he slid a tongue guard in the man's mouth, just in-case Jonathan hit a live nerve before getting Marcus to breath from an ether canister.
Jonathan's world narrowed down to the mangled leg in-front of him, carefully cutting Marcus free of the trapped bone, each movement of the saw sounding louder then a jet's engine in his ear as he started stripping the farmer of pieces of his livelihood.
Halfway through the amputation the paramedics appeared, taking over the monitoring of Marcus' respiration, heart rate and blood pressure, thus freeing Bruce up to simply sit next to the man, still holding Marcus' hand as he watched Jonathan worked.
There was a final snap of bone and Jonathan sat back on his legs, ignoring the screaming pain from his thighs as he, along with the paramedics, got a carry sling under Marcus, cutting away the last bits of skin, muscle and cloth keeping the farmer attached to the harvester before standing, stumbling as blood flow returned to his lower limbs, almost dropping his side of the sling.
Bruce pulled Jonathan away, reaching around the smaller man to grab the handle of the sling, nodding to the paramedics as they carried the un-concious farmer towards the ambulance. Jonathan collapsed back onto the blood soaked earth, cursing as he tried to get feeling back into his legs, pulling the surgical scissors out from under him and frowning at the cut on his calf.
Bruce returned as the ambulance went screaming off into the coming night, reaching out to help Jonathan stand, accepting the trash bag of used medical tools and equipment that Marjorie had gathered for the doctor.
"And I have a license in Georgia," Jonathan said, closing up his medical kit, standing with a popping sound from his back as he bent it out.
"Do I want to know how you acquired it?" Bruce muttered, some of the fire gone from his voice as he looked off to where Marcus had been taken, not really sure if he wanted to continue the conversation after what had happened. If Jonathan hadn't been there...if the make shift tourniquet hadn't held for so long...
"Legally, Mr. Wayne. Not all licensing boards see the same events as failures." Jonathan sighed, rubbing a hand across his sweat soaked, sunburned forehead. "Let's just go back,"
Bruce nodded and tossed the bloody bag in the back of the SUV, before climbing into the driver's side, a million thoughts and emotions clouding his thoughts.
"Papa!"
The yell startled Jonathan and he dropped he medical bag on his foot, spinning from a sniping comment at Bruce's driving only to find his arms full of teenage boy. Jonathan bit back a curse, wrapping his arms around the younger man, praying to a god he didn't believe in that Bruce had stayed on the porch long enough not to hear what Jeremiah had said, but the voice next to him killed that prayer.
"Papa?" Bruce questioned, eying the teenager, who turned his light blue eyes up towards Bruce, smiling.
"It's you!"
Recognition punched Bruce in the stomach, mind flashing back almost four years to a rain soaked fire escape where those same blue eyes looked up at him from under wet bangs as his parents raged in the apartment behind him.
"Dr. Crane, why do you have a boy from the Narrows in your house? One who has been missing for two years."