Nolanverse. This means Scarecrow Cillian Murphy and The Joker Heath Ledger. Both very handsome, one sadly missed.

This fic came to me whilst I was listening to "Dead Boy's Poem" by Nightwish. I don't know, Nightwish music is inspiring, not to fics like this, however.

Please read and review! I make make a sequel to this.

And just so you know, Ukunifa Paabaa is Greenlandic for "The First Meeting".


Doctor Crane was led to the recreational room, as usual, at three in the afternoon. It was part of the daily routine of Arkham Asylum, and he already knew from working there. Doctor Crane figured it would just be another normal day involving avoiding that incredibly obese inmate, Brian Doughlas, who constantly called him a "weak pussy" and threatened to beat him up; intimidating the more twitchy, paranoid inmates; and generally feeling mightier than others because of his intelligence.

Yet, the moment he entered the room, led by two guards, Doctor Crane knew that it would be different. He could sense it in the air. The inmates were silent, and seemed on guard. Something was going to happen today. A riot? Doctor Crane took his place at a table littered with old, dusty board games and observed everyone in the room. No, it wasn't a riot that was keeping them on the edge of their seats. It was something big.

Then, Doctor Crane heard it. The sound of the security doors being opened down the corridor, and then footsteps. At least four people, if not more. But what could they be doing here? Was Arkham being subject to a surprise inspection again? There was a raise in voices in the corridor. The first voice was obviously a guards, it was deep, hoarse and sounded tired out from too many night shifts. The second had a slight Texas accent to it, and sounded as though under great stress.

Then, the third. It was high pitched, and constantly raising in tone, as if in a sing-song accent. The voice was saying something, and then it laughed. Doctor Crane felt the blood drain from his entire body. He started to shiver. He knew that laugh, who didn't? It was him. The one of the news station. The one responsible for the mass, panic-ridden emigration. The one who blew up the hospital, and reduced Gotham Police station to a shattered mess with a mere cell phone. The Joker.

"What is he doing here?" Doctor Crane whispered under his breath. The inmate sat opposite him at the table lifted his head, his lip bleeding from being bitten so hard.

"They say he's the Devil himself." The inmate whispered to Doctor Crane.

Doctor Crane felt a sudden need to go to the bathroom, but managed to control himself before creating a humiliating situation. His pulse rose dramatically as the voices drew closer, the sound of handcuffs clinking violently. Doctor Crane looked through the large, barred windows that allowed the inmates to see straight through the corridor which led past the recreational room. Then he held his breath.

The door buzzed, showing the security card had cleared, and then it was opened swiftly. Two guards entered, holding Tasers and guns. Then, he entered. Doctor Crane felt himself shrink to less than an inch. His eyes widened, pupils growing to the size of pennies.

This wasn't him. No, the clown on the TV had sweaty, running make-up, which had grown dirty with not showering. The clown had greasy, dirty hair which was tinged the colour green. The same clown also wore the most unusual suit Doctor Crane had ever seen.

This man that stood grinning in the doorway wasn't the clown. No, it simply couldn't be. This man had dark blonde hair, which hung limply around his head, which was longish in length and thin from lack of care. The man had a fair skin tone, and was quite tall. At least five foot nine inches, maybe taller, it was hard to tell in the orange jumpsuit. Then Doctor Crane saw the scars. The hideous, raw, pink scars that ran jaggedly up his cheeks before ending in a deep groove. Doctor Crane felt a shiver go up his spine.

The Joker was released from his handcuffs that bound him to the guards; he stood still for a moment, as if to study his surroundings. Then, he moved stiffly and with a slight limp towards a nearby table. He sat down quietly, smiling as the few inmates sat at the table moved swiftly to a new table. The Joker sat with a hunched posture, but with a calm nature that dignified him.

Doctor Crane couldn't take his eyes off the Joker. His brow furrowed, as Doctor Crane studied his movements, trying to get as much knowledge about the Joker as possible. He noticed that the clown had several facial tics, around the eyes mainly. He also noticed the frequent licking of the lips. Now, that was interesting. In fact, Doctor Crane was so busy thinking of reasons for the lip licking that he didn't notice that the Joker was no longer sat at the table.

By the time he looked up, it was too late. The Joker was stood opposite him at the edge of the table. The inmate opposite him looked up to see the clown staring at him with such a terrifying expression that the inmate was struck dumb.

"Move." The Joker said softly. His high pitched voice made it hard to believe it was actual him speaking, as it didn't match his expression at all. The inmate simple swallowed, nodded and then ran off into the opposite direction.

Doctor Crane sat silently as the Joker jumped down onto the seat which was once occupied. He locked eyes with the Joker, his mind noting how piercingly green his eyes were.

"You must be the, ah, one who likes to wear that, ah, burlap sack on his head." The Joker stated rather than asked. "I happen to think you look better with the sack on." The Joker smiled at Doctor Crane, his yellow and brown teeth shining under the harsh light.

Doctor Crane was making mental notes the whole time the Joker kept speaking, "You used to be a doctor here if I'm correct, which I am." The Joker suddenly looked up at Doctor Crane's shocked face.

"What was it they, ah, used to call you? The bird? No, the crow?" The Joker kept his gaze on Doctor Crane.

"The Scarecrow." Doctor Crane whispered quietly.

"Ah, yes! The Scare Crow. Hmm, not so scary without your mask however." The Joker spoke, licking his lips. "Want to, ah, enlighten me? As to how your sack came about?" The Joker asked.

Doctor Crane opened his mouth to speak; only no words came out. Instead, a small squeak which sounded like a sob. The Joker looked taken aback for a second before bursting out in a batch of loud, frightening laughter. Doctor Crane couldn't take it anymore. He felt a warm flow of liquid around his legs, which spilled onto the floor. Dear, God. The guards on duty saw this slight incident, and made their way to Doctor Crane, lifting him up and taking him to the showers to get cleaned up.

The Joker did nothing but giggle under his breath as Doctor Crane was held up by his arms to stop him from falling over. Doctor Crane moved his head so as not to break eye contact with the Joker, his mouth now agape as the clown waved goodbye to him.

"I'm glad I have that effect on you, old Scarecrow! Maybe we can talk later, and become the best of friends!" The Joker yelled at the top of his voice, prompting other inmates to notice what had happened to Doctor Crane.

The doors opened and shut and Doctor Crane was led away by the guards. His thoughts continued to race through his mind the whole time. Those scars; those eyes; that laugh. It was all so…interesting. Oh, sure, he had been taken off guard when the Joker first arrived, but now, out of his presence, Doctor Crane felt his personality return to him.

As he was led down the corridor, his orange jumpsuit now damp with sweat around his chest and urine around the pant legs, Doctor Crane felt an insane grin spread over his pale face. The Scarecrow may have just found a new test subject. Things would certainly be a lot more interesting now.