You watched as the burly inmate that was now Joseph Sharpe's roommate was escorted into his new room, leaving you with your ex. You chuckled to yourself, you couldn't help it. The sound caused Joseph's ears to perk, and his eyes to widen, each new sound a potential sign of danger. The fear in his eyes almost scared you. Almost.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed picking at his bleeding cuticles, his eyes darting around the room, wary of every nook and crevice where the bugs might hide. He looked pathetic. The hulking, terrifying man that he once was had made way for this skittish thing in front of you. You had to give it to Dr. Crane, his toxin did wonders.
"Joseph."
He looked up at you. Bags lined his eyes, and his skin had turned a sickly sallow color. You gripped the handle of the knife in your pocket, heart beating fast in anticipation.
I'm really gonna kill him.
"Joseph, do you recognize me?" It was a question you had asked every time you visited him, and he'd always say no, shaking his head in confusion. Something was different this time, though. It could have been the new meds he was on, or maybe the toxin wears off in time, but his eyes widened, and then narrowed slightly.
"It's you," he said, malice dripping from his words. Your grip on your knife tightened as he stood. You took a step back, your blood running cold.
"Joseph-"
He stepped forward, and without giving yourself a moment to think, you struck.
Your dream was surprisingly accurate.
You plunged the blade into the man who had caused you years of trauma, hoping that the pain would live up to at least half of what you'd had to go through. First his throat, then his eye, then his chest, and then over and over and over, blood everywhere. Finally, when any resemblance of a human was gone, you stood over the pile of tissue and blood, breathing heavy. You rolled back your shoulders, a noticeable weight now lifted, and smiled.
Your dream was so accurate, you half-expected Jon to be standing, smiling down at you when you looked up. He wasn't, of course. You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.
You took a deep breath, clearing your head, and stood up. Dr. Crane had no part in this.
It took you a moment to register the blood that coated your front and ran down your arms, warm and sticky. Luckily, since you waited until the workers went home, being covered in blood wouldn't be a problem. You methodically changed, putting the bloody garments and the knife into the plastic bag that held your change of clothes. You rinsed off your hands in the bathroom, pointedly staring at the blood in the sink to avoid the mirror. You didn't know what thoughts you'd have to face if you looked yourself in the eye just then. Leaving the bloody mess for the morning shift, you wheeled the body and bag into the incinerator, watching as it dissolved into ash.
Once it had all been taken care of, you found yourself outside of his cell, once again staring into that window at him. He stared back. He wasn't smiling this time, just looking at you with a knowing gaze, as if he could see past your eyes into your mind. You stared back, all emotion foreign and somewhere far away. Now, both of you were killers. Jonathan looked proud.
His face didn't change, still staring at you over his crooked glasses as you opened the door and stood across from him. He just looked at you, expecting and knowing all at once. The same force that had you fix his glasses the other day took hold of you once more and you stepped forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.
"Thank you," you said, and meant it.
He finally smiled and replied, "Anything for you, Darling."
+++
After fixing yourself a quick dinner, you slumped into your couch and turned on the TV, eagerly awaiting your favorite Saturday evening program, when the screen flashed on, showing Summer Gleeson standing outside of Arkham Asylum. Your thumb paused over the change channel button on the remote when you noticed the words, Breaking News: Scarecrow's Escape from Arkham. Your stomach lurched, and you dropped the remote besides you, staring fixedly at the screen.
"Dr. Jonathan Crane, commonly known as 'Scarecrow,' escaped from Arkham Asylum just four hours ago. He is presumed by the GCPD to be armed with his infamous 'fear toxin,' a hallucinogen of his own making which is known to give his victims visions of their worst fears. This toxin is only dangerous if inhaled, so, people of Gotham, stay vigilant, as the police are pursuing him now."
"Come on," you whispered urgently to your TV, "where is he going?"
"Here is Officer Jim Gordon now," said Summer as her cameraman focused behind her at the frazzled-looking man, "Officer Gordon, where do you think he's headed? Should the people of Gotham be worried?"
"Well, just know that we are right on his tail," said Gordon, "and try to avoid Five Points tonight, we think he's headed there."
"Five Points," you whispered to yourself, "what's in Five Points?"
"Thank you, Officer," replied Summer, camera now focused back on her face as she said, "This is Summer Gleeson with Channel Nine News."
You switched the TV off, thinking wildly of what Dr. Crane's reasoning was. After all, Five Points, Gotham had nothing really interesting besides-
"GCPD Headquarters," you gasped, and rushed out your door, grabbing your coat on the way, dinner left forgotten on your coffee table.
"Come on," you whispered to the train as it sped towards the Gotham City Police Department building. You knew the police supposedly had the situation under control, but you also knew Dr. Crane more than anyone, and you had a sinking feeling that the police following him to their own building was somehow exactly what The Scarecrow was counting on.
You stepped off the train and sped to the GCPD building, ignoring the cop cars that had begun to block the streets. You ran up to Gordon, who you had recognized from the news, and flashed your work card at him.
"I work at Arkham," you said frantically as he turned towards you, "Dr. Crane is my patient. I need to see him, where is he?"
Gordon let out a deep sigh and said, "Doctor, I'm sorry but I can't let you up there. This is a dangerous criminal-"
"Trust me officer, I know that better than anyone, but I think I can help, if you let me. Please, let me try, he won't spray me." You weren't entirely certain of the truth of that last bit, but you hoped it would be true. Gordon looked you up and down, considering.
"Fine. But after five minutes, I'm sending my men in. And if you can, turn on the bat-signal, although he probably already knows Scarecrow is loose."
"Thank you officer, where is he?"
"He's on the roof. Be careful, doctor."
"Always, officer," you said, and you rushed into the building, ignoring the countless police officers who were stationed on the first floor, pushing open the door to the stairwell and rushing up the stairs to the top floor, where you knew the infamous bat-signal was kept. It's funny, you mused to yourself, making your way up the stairs. I've always wanted to see it, just maybe not under these circumstances.
When you pushed the door to the roof open, you saw Jonathan Crane rifling through his briefcase, head covered by that damned burlap mask of his. As he turned around to face you, you noticed the open air duct next to him, and realization dawned on you as you figured out his plan. Taking advantage of his moment of surprise, you sprinted in front of the duct, slamming your bag onto the switch to the bat signal on your way. A stream of light burst into the sky, outlining the silhouette of a bat. Under different circumstances, you thought again to yourself.
"Please don't make me do this," said Scarecrow, pointing his wrist at your face, "I don't want you to be afraid of me, please stay out of my way."
You didn't budge. Instead, you stared him down through the holes in his burlap hood, heart beating madly.
"After what I saw that night at Arkham? I have been afraid of you," you said as you felt a tear fall down your face. There was no use in denying the truth.
"Is it because I've killed people? Because you're no better, Darling."
"Only because you coerced me!"
"It was all for you," his voice cracked, and your heart lurched. As disgusted you were with his actions, you couldn't help but want to prevent his broken heart.
"You told me they were all criminals, Jonathan. Bad people who committed really bad crimes. Not just anyone you decided to use because of small things-"
"Joseph Sharpe didn't do small things to you," he retorted, dangerously quiet, "he deserved what he got."
"He may have, but the man who whistled at me from across the street didn't. It was wrong, but to be experimented like that? To inflict that much terror on him? I can't stand by that, Jonathan."
"They deserve the same fear you have to feel every day, can't you see? They scared you, and I only returned the favor-"
"But I didn't ask you to!" You were yelling now, and you cursed the tears that streamed down your face as you said, "I didn't want any of this! You did this for you and your sick experiments, you only justify them with what they did to me!"
The Scarecrow was silent and deathly still as you wiped your tears and held your ground, blocking him from accessing the air duct.
"Why the police, Jonathan? If you're targeting bad people, why attack law enforcement?"
"They're corrupt, of course. You're the one who brought it to my attention, wondering why I had been able to continue my experiments for so long. They would only care about those patients if they were rich enough to make a generous donation for being saved." You gaped at him.
"That is so backwards," you yelled, "you're attacking them for not arresting you?"
"Please," he breathed, shaking his head, "Please move."
"I can't let you," you told him, steeling yourself, hoping Batman would arrive soon. Hasn't it been five minutes yet? Why hasn't Gordon sent in his men? After witnessing his many experiments, you didn't particularly care to be on the receiving end of the fear toxin.
"Fine then, Doctor," said Scarecrow, and your blood chilled as his eyes hardened under his mask, "so be it. Just know this is against my will."
You noticed his hand was shaking as he released his gas into your face right when you inhaled, breathing it deep into your lungs. You felt your heart rate elevate and pure panic surged through you. You watched as the kindest man you've ever known began to grow taller, and a face appeared from his mask. As the gas cleared, you recognized none other than a taller, stronger Joseph Sharpe towering over you. You felt nothing but terror coursing through your veins as you screamed, cowering against the wall behind you. He stepped closer and his face changed to the man who had stared at you in the bus the other day, never looking away. Panting, you scrambled further as his face changed again to the man who had followed you to work two days ago. His face changed again and again until they all molded together, forming a man with no face at all, who approached you slowly, and dropped something small and heavy into your pocket.
You swallowed, and closed your eyes, not moving a muscle and hoping it would all be over soon as he leaned towards you and whispered, "I'm so sorry, my love."
You screamed again, but this time the man who could have been anyone screamed as well, and you opened your eyes to see him get pulled forcibly back into the dark shadows of the roof. For a moment, there was silence, and then a cloaked figure emerged from the dark. As he approached, you made out the ears on his cowl, and sighed with relief as Batman tied the unconscious man with no face to the bat-signal. You tried to keep your focus, but you found your eyelids to be too heavy, and everything went dark.