When the darkness has taken over your mind and death cannot be your salvation, what is there left to do but seek asylum?

About the story: Set after the seven books with everything as canon dictates except for the Epilogue and the fact that Harry is still the Master of Death despite throwing away the Resurrection Stone and snapping the Elder Wand. Timeline will be posted on my profile page to those wondering when certain chapters take place and will be updated and changed as more details are revealed. The Arkham Asylum here is both the one in Nolan-verse and Arkham Asylum; the asylum in Nolan-verse was destroyed during the events of Batman Begins and I imagine they rebuilt it with heavier security and what not to make it the asylum in the game. This is not a oneshot; I repeat, this is not a oneshot (and it isn't just four chapters too, only four chapters are on the timeline because that's all I have noted down so far). Chapters here are probably longer than the ones I write for my LoK (Taming the Wolfbat) fanfiction as well, considering this is more "free flowing" compared to that one.

Disclaimer: The author does not have ownership over Harry Potter or any of its characters and the same goes for Batman, locations and such; they belong to JK Rowling and to Bob Kane and Bill Finger (I almost wrote Stan Lee here, lol). This fanfiction, however, does belong to her. If she did own the show, Severus Snape and Regulus Black would be alive and Batman... Joker and Harley would have children, I guess? I don't know.

Warning: Violence, sexual themes and other things that would warrant a warning. Rated M more for sexual references and violence; may have depictions of torture and self harm. This chapter implies homosexual intercourse between Crane and Harry but nothing explicit.

Pairings: (Major) Scarecrow x Harry (Minor) Riddler x Harry / Joker x Harley Quinn / Harley Quinn x Poison Ivy

Author's Notes: My muse has been fighting between Harry Potter & Addams Family crossover, Harry Potter & Avengers crossover and Harry Potter & Batman crossover. This won because I'm playing Arkham Asylum and Arkham City… Reviews are appreciated but not necessary; I'm doing this for fun after all! I'm not a big expert on Batman so I wouldn't mind criticism and corrections but I am basing this crossover on the Nolan trilogy and the two Arkham games. Bonus points and cupcakes to those who know the song the story is titled after (as well as the chapters and future ones). It is suggested but not mandatory to listen to the songs 'Hospital Bed Crawl' by the Hush Sound and 'Hello Cruel World' by Aurelio Voltaire before you read.

Without further ado…


Hospital Bed Crawl

Chapter 1: Hello Cruel World

He was flying, hand gripped tightly on his Firebolt as the wind whipped about him and sent the sound of laughter to reach his ears. It was a wonderful feeling, flying, where the sky was truly the limit and it was the only place where he could be truly free. It was made even better when he was flying alongside his best friend, Ronald Weasley, as they took to the skies and made it their domain like kings.

"It's just like old times, eh Harry?" Ron's voice called out to him, making Harry look back at the friend he considered a brother. The boy, wait no, man's – what was he, twenty two? Or something like that – fiery red hair stood out brightly among the blue sky and he could clearly see when the freckled face let out a face of joy and he laughed, shaking his head at Harry. There couldn't be a better day to go out flying, after a hard day's work rounding up dark wizards.

Suddenly, lightning flashed as the skies turned stormy and Ron screamed as if struck. In a panic, Harry rushed over there as soon as he could, even as heavy drops of rain started to pour down on them, slowing him down but he only pushed on faster when he saw the youngest Weasley son start to plummet towards the ground.

Thankfully, it was all over in an instant, ending as quickly as it had begun: with Harry holding on to Ron for dear life. The Potter boy couldn't help but grin, laughing nervously, his voice hoarse; "You okay, Ron? I got you, don't worry." He let out a sigh of relief when he managed to grab a hold of his friend but continued to look down worriedly when the other boy stayed silent. Ah, but it was probably just nerves… after all, he almost became a pancake of sorts. It would probably be good to just snap him out of it; "Ron, come on mate, I got you. Let's just get you up on the Firebolt and, Ron… Ron? Ron!" he started off, trying to call the other out of the trance when the hand gripping his started to tighten painfully around his wrist.

Ron's head snapped upwards, his face pale and clammy as blood trickled down one side of his face. Dead blue eyes stared at him with pure anger and Ron hissed: "Why did you let me die? Why did you let them kill me? Why didn't you save me? Why don't you use the Resurrection Stone Harry? I'LL KILL YOU HARRY!" The last few words were said in an ungodly roar as Ron's other hand found their way up towards Harry's neck. And Harry found them plummeting much like before, with his efforts divided from trying to save the both of them from the ground and trying to save himself from his best friend. It didn't seem like he would make it in time though as the ground was slowly closing in and-

Harry woke up in cold sweat and deep green eyes met cool blue ones that made his heart seize, his body working on auto pilot to save him until a pair of hands pushed him down by the shoulders, gently but firmly. The same pair of hands peeled off the damp cloth from his sweaty skin, the blanket he had managed to get tangled in while asleep. It was only then that his mind processed that the cool blue eyes boring into him were not his, not Ron's. It had all been… "A nightmare – again," it was a statement, not a question that was directed to him. He could only nod dumbly as blue eyes ran a soothing hand down his back and he, unconsciously, leaned towards the other man.

The other man was, of course, more than just a pair of blue eyes and a pair of hands. He… he was a lean and lanky figure in his late twenties who was a bit taller than Harry with a head of messy brown hair of his own. He was Jonathan Crane: Harry's ruin, salvation – his lover, his confidant… and his psychiatrist.

Cool blue eyes continued to stare into his deep green ones, filled with curiosity, hunger, searching until they made way for longing… lust. "Harry, my Harry," Jonathan whispered softly, feeling himself aroused at the display of fear, eyes brimming with the emotion after a nightmare, his Harry had shown him. He couldn't help but bury his face into the crook of the other man's neck, nipping at the exposed skin, adding another one to the many marks of possession that scattered along his body.

It always filled the doctor with want whenever Harry woke up from another of his nightly terrors and the young man would come to him seek comfort and companionship. Jonathan Crane was his only choice, the only choice; after all, who else would offer to comfort a man such as he within the cold walls of this asylum? Definitely not the nurses and doctors who saw him as a danger to society and definitely not the other inmates and patients that was mad themselves. Only Jonathan would do such a thing for him, he was his Harry; his favorite patient and star project to his colleagues and his pet to the other residents of the asylum. Most figured that the doctor just saw so much of himself in the young man, shadows of his youth, a mirror of his present (perhaps in more than just appearances) and perhaps a glimmer of his future which was why he favored him so. It wasn't a secret that Doctor Crane put most of his efforts on the Harry boy, as most would call him, but only a handful knew that what transpired between them was more than just a doctor and patient relationship. Nobody told, of course, none of them particularly cared nor dared – this was his playground after all; he called the shots around here.

And known only to the good doctor himself was the little secret that only Harry, his Harry would be safe from his Fear; after all, his Harry was already experiencing true fear every night with or without his help. And this true fear his Harry showed… well, it truly did drive him mad, filled him with want so much. It didn't matter if they were both spent and tired doing the deed the night before – he would bed him then and there whenever the other awoke, returned from the land of nightmares. It didn't help matters that the other was always willing, welcoming even, his touches, thinking them as reprieve from the darkness that lay in his mind.

Jonathan moved on from Harry's neck to his lips, nipping at the other's bottom lip, pressing their naked bodies in the process which elicited a moan from the younger man. Tongue met tongue when he slipped in his into the other's mouth in that moment. The doctor pulled his head back by his messy raven locks but did not break the kiss, showing his dominance to the younger man which Harry was more than willing to submit to.

This has been their routine for the past two years, starting after two years since that day that Harry was first incarcerated into Arkham, when Jonathan first laid eyes on the young man. He had been a sight to see when he was first admitted, three years ago on this very night, covered in blood from head to toe and striking fear into the hearts of those who caught sight of him. The bloody figure only managed to barely avoid the death sentence – there was no need to plead insanity when it was clear on his face and his apparent youth helped. And, strangely, there were no records of him; he wasn't a citizen or even a visitor, as if he wasn't supposed to exist here. It was curious, troubling even, but the apparent insanity on the young man's expression made the decision for him: to asylum he went and not to jail.

After all, it wasn't every day that you saw young man lead along by five orderlies twice his size like a rabid dog, cuffed and chained by the neck and both arms and legs. It wasn't every day that you heard that they only managed to bring said young man this far when they had sedated him, heavily at that, and yet he still managed to put up quite the fight. It wasn't every day that you find out he was sent here after having killed seventy (although only fifty of those deaths were actually by his hands) other men and women in a blood stained frenzy.

Nobody had dared to stare too long, nobody except Doctor Crane who wasn't focused on the gory appearance before him. No, the doctor had immediately focused on Harry's eyes… the greenest eyes he had ever (and would ever, he told himself) seen; eyes that were filled with not bloodlust or anger but fear, delicious fear. Ironic that the young man, the one that managed to put fear into the hearts of those who had seen him, seemed to fear – well – everything else.

It was that fateful day that Jonathan Crane decided that this dangerous creature, Harry Potter, was to be his.

The doctor smirked as they kissed, remembering how hard it was to gain his Harry's trust. He hadn't trust anyone, wouldn't trust anyone and had always caused trouble for the orderlies and the doctors and the others in the asylum during his more… moodier days. Crane didn't mind, it gave him an excuse to see the troublesome patient, although he could easily make up any excuse seeing as he was the head doctor of the place.

It started off with brief glances whenever the doctor was asked what should be done about the violent one, fearful, deep green eyes meeting curious cool blue before Potter would be sedated heavily. The orderlies didn't have it quite that easy, even with the go ahead to restrain the young man though. He was surprisingly strong and agile for the young man that he seemed to be, his movements fluid and sure as if he had seen battle far worse than this. They were lucky that nobody ended up like the dozens he had slaughtered the day he was incarcerated. He always managed to deal great damage to them before they could take him down and the fear displayed by those who had managed to become their audience was great… still nothing compared to the pure fear that shone in the youth's deep green eyes.

It soon became psychiatric sessions, one on one talks; Harry was viewed as one of the more violent and dangerous inmates thus far (considering characters like the Joker hadn't sprung up yet) – but, he was young (or so they believed) and they saw his youth as a chance of him being… fixed. What better way to fix him than to put him up with the best psychiatrist in the facility? Doctor Crane certainly did not object; if anything he was willing, the only willing one in fact – no other doctor wanted to be kept in a room with him. Harry was stubborn at first, only managing to not harm the doctor because of the straightjacket and the straps that kept him in place. Yet, sometimes, the doctor had a feeling that the man could hurt him, even with all the precautions, if he truly wanted to. The first few one on one talks were hardly that though, seeing as the younger man had blatantly refused to talk. He was like a frightened wild animal, ready to lash out to defend himself. It had been interesting, satisfying, at first just watching him squirm but it eventually grew bland and boring. Seeing as talking wasn't going to get them anywhere, Crane did what no other sane doctor would do – he released the man of his bindings. The man was unfazed, even when the man took this opportunity and immediately lunged for his neck with one hand while holding back the doctor's good arm with the other, suspicious. Green eyes had searched into blue and… there was something, a feeling, as if the man could see more than he should before he was released. Orderlies did not rush in and the doctor did not flee; he merely went back up to his feet, rubbed his bruised arm and straightened himself out. After that, Harry was more cooperative during the following sessions and Crane slowly but surely started to unravel what made the other tick.

It went from psychiatric sessions to just private, nightly visits or, sometimes, early morning ones. Crane didn't know how the man did it, how he escaped solitary confinement undetected night after night (but then again, the security was... well, lacking, as most of the inmates were willingly sent there by Falcone), but he was glad that the man was taking initiative. He was the only one the man was willing to trust after a year inside the walls of the asylum and he would keep it that way if he could. The visits were usually after the man woke from another nightmare – and there were lots of them, not all the same either, he learned later on – and the visits were just that, innocent, little visits.

Crane became his confidant, the doctor whispering soothing words into Harry's ears as he bore his deepest fears and his soul to the man; the man's anguish was his ecstasy. Harry spoke of the mad man that killed his parents, being adopted by a family who abused him and locked him in a cupboard (Crane particularly did not like these stories, remembering the times his grandmother would lock him in the old bird filled cathedral), watching as a fellow student was killed or watching his godfather be murdered by the man's own sister or watching his mentor fall to his death or watching his teacher slowly die in front of his eyes or… or… or, well, let's just say the man seemed to have seen a lot of death for someone so young, not including the fifty that lead to his incarceration in here. There were more, a lot more, that Crane could imagine they would never run out of stories about Harry alone; some of which Harry spoke off after a nightly terror and others which he spoke off when asked: such as the scars that read I must not tell lies on his arm, apparently carved by one of his former teachers.

They were all quite fascinating really but Crane's favorite, like how a child would favor a certain fairy tale, was the one of the Boggart: a creature Harry claims took on a person's worst fear. When asked what his Boggart was, the man claims it was a Dementor: a creature that fed on human happiness. He had shook his head and snorted when he mentions his teacher, one who claims that his Boggart being a Dementor suggested that Harry's fear was fear itself but that did not make sense to him. If a Dementor was a creature that fed on happiness, doesn't that mean that Harry was afraid of being unhappy, of despair? If the Boggart turned into a Boggart, than that might mean that the person's fear was fear itself but Harry claims that is impossible – nobody knew what a Boggart looked like. He was a bit disappointed when Harry told him he has not seen a Boggart in the asylum or in Gotham but promised to tell him if he did. Crane had quietly told himself that, if he ever encountered the creature of fear, he would dissect it… cut into fear itself, in a way.

It had been a few months later that the nightly visits became less than innocent; they played in Crane's bed – one knowing it was for lust, the other thinking it was of love. Harry, the doctor learned, was mature in most, if not all, ways of the world except one: that of carnal knowledge. But when he had pleaded, Crane acquiesces to his whims (he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't thought about such acts with the man) and this makes Harry truly his. Clumsy kisses with teeth and hesitant touches, the man was truly inexperienced, but his… skill improved with time and Crane found that Harry satisfied his wants in more way than one; Crane was not just psychiatrist and confidant anymore, he became Harry's lover.

"D-doctor J," Harry moaned lustfully as his breathing hitches but relaxes himself as Jonathan fills him.

Four years ago, he would have seen himself spending today just like any other normal day. He would have not believed it if someone had told him he would be spending it in bed, another man in his arms. But four years ago, on this very day, something had happened and the way it has changed his day to day life was certainly interesting.

He regrets none of it.