Read and review and tell me what you think! Jonathan is in italics and Scarecrow is in 'Bold.'

Burlap tickled skin as the stitched face moved closer. Its breath was hot and musty in her nose, assaulting her senses. His fingers gripped the strands of hair that had fallen from her loose ponytail, pulling gruffly the thing forced her eyes to meet the place where it's eyes should have been, but instead was filled with glistening pools of blackness, glaring down at her fear filled green orbs. Her breathing hitched when she saw one of its hands reach for a pocket. She remembered this, the initial shock, then terror, utter horror which had encompassed her once the effect began.

Fingers held up a canister of foggy liquid. The thing shook it teasingly. "This is the 2nd session we've had, and you still haven't answered my question...now what do you fear?" the low hum of a voice asked, scratching against her ear drums.

"There are things far better to do than be afraid." She said with false boldness, attempting to mask her terror. The burlap face shook in jovial delight as a dark laugh came forth. "That is where you and I disagree my dear...you see there's nothing better!"

She struggled as she watched the thing crush the canister beneath its fingers, the flurry of content escaping easily, she squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to hold her breath, but she couldn't, and eventually she let in a breath.

And immediately wished she hadn't.

Every nightmare she had ever had, every shadow that lurked in the crevices of her mind suddenly lunged forward into eyesight, pulsing off of the things burlap face tauntingly as it circled toward her; pushing her heart into her ribs.

With all the grace a woman in terror could muster: she screamed. When she was a child her pediatric caretaker had always chastised her for the dark shadows that had begun appearing at an early age beneath her eyes, chastised her for being so childish, so ridiculous, for being so afraid.

He had told her that sleep was nothing to fear; but she had disagreed, in sleep her imagination ran rampant twisting her reality into a macabre wonderland. Sleep ended with her screams.

Her body shook as the thing moved closer to her, bringing the oblivion of sleep with it. A soft finger traced her forehead and she released a yelp.

She didn't like to be touched.

She somehow knew that if the blackness touched her she would be filled with terror ridden dreams, the sleep would toss her about like a rag doll.

So when the blackness flooded her vision and burlap graced her cheek, the thing now rubbing itself against her, she had screeched, flailing her arms in an attempt to rid herself of the horror, failing miserably her head slumped to the side; shoulders drooping and eyes flashing dully before lids encased them in darkness.

"Oh? Going to sleep already? Naughty, naughty..."

Xxxxxxxx

Catherine jolted, a thin sheen of sweat layering over her skin, breathing heavily she looked down at herself. Sheets were intertwined about her limbs like a constricting coffin. Her hands were gripping the pillow like it was Excalibur, and she were preparing to relieve it from the stone.

Her breathing stopped suddenly when she realized with increasing horror that it had happened again; she had fallen asleep.

And with the sleep came the burlap.

"You fell out of your bed." a crisp and analytical voice said from the doorway, causing her to look up, eyes briefly flashing the poster of the periodical elements which adorned one of the walls.

Blue met green for a moment as Jonathan looked at Catherine and Catherine looked at Jonathan. Voice quivering she wrung her hands in worry. "Did I wake you?" the psychologist shrugged as he walked toward her nightstand where the lamp had been knocked out of place. Meticulously examining the lamp he replaced it and turned back to her, eyes filled with curiosity and something that Catherine couldn't name.

"What was your dream about?" he asked voice laced with well conceived excitement. She didn't notice however as she sighed and held her head within her hands, eyes closed as she bit her lip.

"I dreamt about this...thing," she began with disgust, "it sounded angry and happy all at once, it asked me what I was scared of, just like the last time...I can't remember if I told him, although I'm certain he already knows...just wants me to admit it out loud." she shook her head, ruining her already disheveled hair. She briefly registered that Jonathan was writing something down in a black college ruled notebook. Blue eyes didn't look up as he questioned her, "this is the same monster that plagued you the last time you slept?"

She merely nodded. He made a humming sound as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It is in my understanding that this thing is the embodiment of your fear." Jonathan said, closing the notebook. "Maybe you should do what it says."
"What?" Catherine asked slightly taken a back. Jonathan shrugged and turned on his heel, heading for what she assumed was the kitchen, where Coffee would no doubt await her.
"Just an idea...oh and a man will be coming over to discuss business so if you could-" she cut him off (much to his annoyance). "Stay out of sight, understood."

Xxxxx

Jonathan crane watched the girl opposite of him as she poured herself a glass of milk, mixing in chocolate syrup which she had found in the back of the fridge.

That was fun.

She was unconscious before we gained any useful information.

Come on Johnny boy, she looked so deliciously delicate in sleep, however little she gets of it.

Hmmm

What?

I just find it interesting that you did something so intimate during her session. And considering the fact that she didn't mention it also draws forth the conclusion that she's embarrassed.

Scare: what can I say? I'm a ladies killer.

John: literally.

Jonathan focused his attention back at Catherine. He suppressed a smirk in amusement. "It seems as if we are out of chocolate syrup." he said pointing toward the bottle which Catherine was squeezing to the point of cracking the plastic. Vaguely a small piece of chalk in his unconscious thoughts made a small mark. This was the third bottle of syrup she had gone through. She grunted and merely squeezed harder, causing Jonathan to sigh. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair habitually as he pulled the morning paper over to himself. He merely smirked when a wheezing breath was released from the plastic container and a frustrated groan slipped past Catherine's lips as she threw the container into the sink.

Jonathan set the paper down, taking one last sip of his now lukewarm coffee, he stood leaving the table unceremoniously as he went for his bedroom, who lay opposite of Catherine's. Occasionally they would leave their rooms at the same time, Jonathan looking as he always did; well rested and dressed in his usual pressed brown suit, briefcase in hand, glasses in the other as he would leave the door dead set for the kitchen, completely prepared to fuel his coffee addiction.

Catherine would look as she had the night before, same clothes; crumpled. Hair in a chaotic state, lips pulled into an uncomfortable smile; her feet would usually be adorned in socks. The circles under her eyes would've grown as well.

It had always been the circles.

Those were what had drawn Jonathan toward her after his initial dislike.

FLASHBACK

Dr. Jonathan Crane sat leisurely in his office chair, well worn; one hand was massaging the bridge of his nose while the other clutched his glasses in annoyance. He had just gotten out of an extremely pointless session with a woman in her mid forties who had been convinced her husband was a sociopath. Within five minutes her profile was easily grasped; and it was nothing new. Obsessive compulsive, almost as much as Edward Nigma had been, type A personality, paranoia, severe narcissism and possible alcohol abuse. For the rest of the session he had merely let his mind wander to one of his earlier sessions; which were far more entertaining.

Jonathan removed his hand from the bridge of his nose as a solitary knock came from his office door.

"It's open."

In walked the only person Jonathan (barely) tolerated to follow orders from. "What is it?" Jonathan asked with thinly veiled venom. Quincy Sharp let out a strangled sigh, before rather carelessly tossed the psychologist a flash drive that was still warm from the confines of Quincy Sharp's pocket.

"New patient, suggested intensive care, multiple pathological disorders. Her files, personal history and past... Issues are all in that flash drive. You get 30mins before your first appointment with her starts." Jonathan's gaze was hard at the departing figure of Quincy Sharp; his gaze remained hard even when he turned around looking thoughtful before letting a fake smile slip on his face.

"Say crane...you've got a two bedroom apartment, right?"

Xxxxx

She was ordinary looking, plain, hypnotically boring.

Although the dark rings lacing her lower eyelids, framing the large tired green eyes, eyes that seemed to reflect everything: said otherwise.

Jonathan looked back at the computer screen as he scrolled back through her information.

"Catherine hale...before we begin, do you have any questions for me?" he asked, making his voice as inviting as he could while Catherine shifted uncomfortably. She coughed before the circles under her eyes crinkled. "What did you do before this?" Jonathan made a sound like he wasn't extremely happy to answer before he sighed and continued to read the computer screen.

"Until recently I was employed at a university, teaching psychology." he smirked.

"Until recently?" she pressed forward, suddenly curious. Jonathan sighed, "I was fired due to my 'use of test subjects'." he answered slightly sneering. Catherine continued undeterred. "Did you use students?" Jonathan paused before replying simply; "yes."

"Were they consenting to the tests?"

"Doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, this line of work has its own ups and downs... Anything else?"

Catherine frowned, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Is it alright with you that I'll be staying in your home?" Jonathan took his glasses off for a moment before his eyes flashed and he leaned forward.
"No, I find it aggravating that I've been chosen to be made into a babysitter for someone who apparently lacks the rudimentary skills needed to care for themselves. I also am not over excited to be sharing my house with someone I've only met moments ago." he leaned back into his chair as he pushed his glasses back up his nose, his voice returning to its smooth persuasive tone. He smiled falsely; "anything else?"

Catherine nodded slowly suddenly scared as if she'd awakened a sleeping panther.

"Do you have any chocolate syrup at your house?"

END FLASHBACK

She didn't mean to leave her room at the time she did, it was an unfortunate coincidence, an alignment of stars, the stupidity of timing. Whatever the reason she did leave her room, and for whatever reason a man with a goatee and hard yet amused eyes was there in front of her. Almost as if he knew she was there the entire time.