Here lies dearest Ren, who was far too into evil men

It was an unremarkable day. The one where one goes through their daily routine while oblivious to the world turning around them. Not even the colors of the setting sun on a mostly cloudless evening caught Jonathan Crane’s eye as he worked in his office. The Arkham Asylum psychologist went through seemingly endless paperwork as he sat at his desk. This was how he liked it. Always something to review and something to note away for later. His sharp, obsessive mind was constantly taking in information while never satiating his need for knowledge. 

He was so deep into his work that Crane hardly took notice when a bird landed on the sill of the open window. The shuffle of its wings was enough to break his otherwise steel concentration. He looked toward the bird, which he quickly recognized as a common raven, even with its head buried under its left wing. The animal was so focused on the underside of its wing that when it did finally look up it croaked in clear surprise. 

Crane raised an eyebrow at the creature, but otherwise didn’t move. His ice blue eyes, always analyzing, immediately took note of the unique white beak on the otherwise unremarkable bird. Not a word was spoken. Man and beast simply acknowledged eachother in a quiet moment in an otherwise loud and chaotic place. Then, just as quickly as the raven had appeared on his window sill, it opened its dark wings and flew out into the twilight. Its form quickly vanished into the darkening sky.

Crane kept his eyes on the empty window sill for a moment longer. The strange guest had disrupted his train of thought and now he found himself a bit lost. Releasing a deep breath, the scientist leaned back in his chair and ran his slender fingers through his hair. It was common for him to work late into the night and not go home for days. It was at this moment when his flow was broken that he realized just how tired he was. Not only that, he suddenly recognized how hungry he was. How long had it been since he’d eaten? He couldn’t remember. 

“Mmmmmh.” Crane hummed before closing the current file he’d been working on and stood up. “Damn bird.”

—

The very next evening, well rested and nourished, Crane was once again deep into his work. Sharp eyes read through patient files and possible diagnosis danced through his obsessive mind. He searched for the most deranged and the most unpredictable of inmates and with a stroke of his pen he would claim them as his patient. No one would fight him for the privilege of working with the most dangerous minds that Arkham had to offer. And no one would question him when those minds finally broke for good. Inwardly, he grinned at the thought. Outwardly, his expression was as relaxed and slightly bored as always. The gentle flutter of wings didn’t draw his immediate attention, but the clang of metal did. Crane’s gaze snapped from the papers on his desk to the open window. His eyes quickly zeroed in on the white beak. It was the same raven that had visited the day before, perched on the window sill. Before he could ponder the birds’ return, his eyes landed on the piece of jewelry in its talons. It was a necklace of gold that shone in the light of the low sun. Surprised, curious, and full of questions, Crane pushed away from his desk and slowly rose from his seat. His long, thin form towering as he cautiously approached the wild raven. He calmly raised a boney hand as he drew close. His slender fingers almost reached the bird before she fluttered away. His shoulders sagged in disappointment before he could scold himself for being so foolish. But then he noticed the raven had left the jewelry behind. He picked it up, exploring it with his hands for a moment. It was an expensive little item. No doubt the bird had probably snatched it off someone.

Turning his gaze out the window, Crane spotted the raven not too far away. Perched on the dead branch of a nearby tree, it watched him. The man softened his voice, trying to coax it to him. His diluted southern accent helped him seem more friendly when he allowed it to come out. 

“Come ‘ere, little one. It’s alright.”

The raven halfway unfurled its dark wings, and for a moment it seemed that it would accept his invitation. It took a couple false starts, but seemed unable to work up the courage. Finally, it seemed to decide now wasn't the right time, and took off, dissolving quickly into the night. 

Crane’s shoulders dropped in disappointment and he suddenly realized he’d been holding in his breath. He quickly scolded himself for caring so much about the attention of an animal. Still, as foolish as his scientific mind tried to make him feel, he couldn’t help but clutch the jewelry tighter. The bird had been playing with it and he’d startled it away from its expensive toy. That was the only logical explanation. Even if he suspected it was something more.

—

The next evening, Crane waited. The paperwork littered his desk as usual, but his back was straight as he sat back in his chair. The colors of the setting sun reflected on the lens of his glasses as he kept an eye on the open window sill. He would be ready when the feathered guest arrived. He refused to believe that the previous day had been a fluke. There was something about this dark bird and it had his full attention. 

His heart beat faster in his chest as the raven fluttered to his window sill once more and perched awkwardly. In its talons it held a rather expensive watch. Crane didn’t stand up. He didn’t approach the feathered guest. He didn’t force it. Instead, he invited the animal to choose.

“There ya are. There’s a good bird.” He tapped the desk lightly with his finger tip. “Come ‘ere. You’re here for a reason.”

The raven once more gave several false starts with its wings, working up the courage to approach the seated man. Finally, it accepted the risk and flitted to his desk. The gust of its wings caused papers to go flying, but Crane didn’t scold the bird. He barely moved as the wild animal landed on his desk and clacked its white beak. Now that it was close, he could see that its eyes were as yellow as the setting sun. Golden eyes meeting his ice blue ones. 

Releasing the watch from its talons, the raven nudged it closer to him with its beak. Crane accepted the gift, making sure not to move too quickly. He picked it up, examining it and pondering for a moment if the bird was indeed dive bombing people for their valuables. The idea was amusing, but birds don’t know the value of things. It was simply shiny. But still he couldn’t figure out why. 

“Thank ya kindly. But why are ya given’ it t'me?”

The raven didn’t answer of course. It simply perched on his desk, tilting its head as if studying and questioning him back. But it didn’t flee, even when it saw him raise a boney hand and cautiously reach toward it. The bird took a step forward to close the distance, nuzzling its beak against the long fingers. It heard the man audibly release a breath he’d clearly been holding in. But it didn’t flee. It allowed the man to reach further and stroke through its soft, dark feathers. The touch was gentle and soothing, and it made the raven move even closer to him.

Crane’s eyes widened in wonder as the wild raven accepted his touch. He couldn’t help but feel flattered as it moved closer to him. The trust was so foreign to him, and his mind still couldn’t really grasp it. It didn’t feel earned.

“Why.” He asked again. His hand was now exploring from the neck feathers down to the wings. He thought back to that day. It had only been two nights before. He’d spotted the raven before it had noticed him. It had been distracted by…

Curious, he brought his hand under the left wing. The softness of the feathers wasn’t there. Instead he felt roughness. The raven croaked and immediately pulled away from his touch. Faintly, he picked up the sound of clanging metal and his eyes went to the source of the sound. Dangling from the bird’s right leg was a small, metal chain. The very end of which appeared broken. His eyes narrowed and he felt something start to build in his chest. Something familiar.

“Let me see, girl.” Crane coaxed. The raven stared up at him with her golden eyes and clacked her beak. He had never hurt her, and so she allowed him to gently grip her left wing and extend it out. Beneath he saw a series of scars, and scabs. Skin bare with wounds new and old. Crane’s eyes narrowed as the emotional build in his chest became like ice.

“Who did this to you?”

The raven didn’t answer. She never could. But Crane knew now what she could not tell him. Someone had tortured her. Someone had caused untold suffering to this creature while she was chained and helpless. His suspicions were correct about the jewelry being intentional: it was a gift. He hadn’t shooed her away when she’d landed on his window sill and tried to soothe her wounds. He had unknowingly given the bird a safe place, possibly the first one in her life. 

He released the wing, allowing her to fold it back into place, hiding her scars from the world. The icy, painful build in his chest was familiar. It was rage and fear combined. It was what he’d felt when he was trapped. When he was helpless. But he had never found a safe place. 

The world outside was dark now. The last light of day snuffed out. But the raven hadn’t left yet. Crane tilted his head as he stroked her soft feathers once more.

“What do ya think, girl? Are ya gonna return to the abyss of night? Or perhaps you’ll never have to again?”

The raven didn’t even look out the window. She kept her golden gaze on him, enjoying his touch and voice. There was nothing for her out there. Here, in this dimly lit office full of books and paper with the lanky Doctor Crane for company, she belonged.