Early on a Tuesday morning, The Scarecrow was making sure the shipments that came in was properly checked, mostly the illegal guns and drugs that were smuggled into the city. Some of it was alcohol that The Penguin liked to drink, other than that, most of the merchandise was food products and expensive furniture.

The Penguin may be clever, but the trail was still open and more gangsters from the Narrows arrived at one of the warehouses at the docks. Several of the workers were shot, others were cut open with long knives.

The Scarecrow hid, watching them carefully, he checked the fear gas and the tubes that clung to his fingers where they'd release with a simple button. His left hand clutched the scythe that would properly help him dispatch the men and woman that decided to interrupt business.

His first reaction was to cut them all to pieces and let them twitch on the ground. His next would be to call The Mad Hatter and get him to grab some of his personnel to assist the damage of The Penguin's employees.

Except he wasn't able to when he didn't realize someone had come up behind him, and slammed a metal bat against the back of his head. He gasped, falling forward as pain spasmed through his entire body, and his eyes began to blur.

"Hey, look what we have, The Scarecrow," one of the men said with a laugh.

His mask was taken from his head, and his brown hair fluffed out in his face before he shook his head and slowly looked up, glaring at the men and woman walking toward him.

"Who would have known we'd have our hands on The Scarecrow," a different man spoke, a grin on his lips, a woman stood beside him smiling alongside everyone else.

Jonathan Crane's eyes burned with contempt, but it was too late, even if he wanted to get up, the same man who slammed the bat against his head, kicked him in the side of his face. A gasp was stuck in his throat, and the world spun.

He didn't know how long it went on for, but the pain wouldn't stop, and his clothes were ripped from his body, torn away, blood oozed from his nose and split lip, copper tasted on his tongue from his throat, and his sight came in-and-out.

He couldn't think of anything else, but flashes of his father and his mother appeared in his head, the laughter and growling of the scarecrow crawling its way toward him, enveloping him in a hold that left him screaming.

He recalled the time when he met The Mad Hatter in Arkham after they captured him when he decided to continue his father's legacy. Everyone needed to know that he was the master of fear.

Jervis Tetch, a smile on his lips, and insanity in his eyes, the words of songs leaving his lips, and the anger harsh and spitting.

He heard someone yelling when the silence came, he was breathing slowly through his nose that had dried blood clogging his nostril, he could still taste the copper in his mouth, and his lip was dry and cut open.

"Mr. Crane!" He couldn't raise his head, or move his arms, but he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "Are you okay?"

"What happened?" The Penguin asked, his voice calm, but there was an underlying rage that was directed at Jonathan.

"Mr. Crane, are you okay?"

He felt something prod his chest. "Hey, what happened?"

"Give him space, Penguin." A hand touched Jonathan's chin and as his head was lifted, it was The Mad Hatter who was knelt in front of him, a look of concern on his face, his eyes tender, and his lips turned down in a frown. "They beat him up pretty good."

"He'll get over it," The Penguin said, shaking his head, a hand on his cane as he looked around the warehouse, he waved at a few of his men standing in the background, "get this place cleaned up."

Jonathan trembled, he blinked a few times and he could feel his eyes watering.

The Mad Hatter noticed and his frown deepened. He took out a pocket knife and cut the duct tape that bound Jonathan to a metal pole. Then he wiped away the tears from Jonathan's face.

"Don't want any of them seeing the Master of Fear crying, now do we?"

The Penguin wobbled back toward them, holding Jonathan's mask that had been taken from him. He dropped it in his lap, and The Mad Hatter took it and placed it over Jonathan's head.

"There," he said, a quirk of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips, "now that you're more like yourself, can you recall anything that happened?"

"I don't," The Scarecrow's voice was quiet and hoarse, he figured he was screaming when they beat him, but he didn't know how long, "know who they were. I don't know why they were here."

The Mad Hatter nodded slowly, he stood and walked over to The Penguin who narrowed a glare at The Scarecrow.

"He must know something."

"They didn't wear anything to indicate who they were," The Scarecrow said, he gripped the side of the metal pole and tried to rise from the floor. The Mad Hatter walked over to him and helped him to his feet. "They wore no face paint, just black clothes, no hoods, no masks, just metal bats."

"Just men?" The Penguin asked.

The Scarecrow shook his head. "Women too."

The Penguin nodded, "We'll find out who they were. From your wounds, you should get cleaned up, and checked for a head injury." With that, he walked over to his men standing by a series of opened crates.

"I'll clean you up," The Mad Hatter offered, tilting his head to the side, and they both walked through the warehouse toward the entrance. There were more of Penguin's affiliates crowding the area, and for a moment, it made The Scarecrow shudder. He couldn't be on the Penguin's bad side because he managed to screw up a shipment, he wouldn't know what to do if that happened.

He was efficient, he knew that, and he knew the consequences as well. He wasn't absurd, he'd have to make this right somehow.

The Mad Hatter lead him toward a car where a man opened the door for them. They got into the back seat, and as they settled, and the car began to move. The Mad Hatter turned to him right away, and took off The Scarecrow's mask.

A sudden gasp left his lips, he went still as Jervis Tetch touched his jaw softly with his gloved hand and turned his head toward him. There was a softness on his face, a warmth in his eyes, yet there was also disinterest that Jonathan could easily distinguish.

"You really messed with the wrong person, Mr. Crane," Jervis said, amusement obvious in his tone.

"Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?" Jonathan wondered, arching a brow.

"This isn't a game," Jervis said, dropping his hand. "Oswald will want retribution, and if he doesn't find the people who has done this, he'll turn his rage onto you."

"That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?"

Jervis straightened, giving Jonathan his mask back. "It's a decent enough warning for you."

"I know what I got myself into when I decided to don this mask," Jonathan said, placing it over his head once more, all his fear and rage coiled within itself in the pit of his stomach, making him calmer on the outside, and letting him think of what he was going to do next.

He was not inept, disappointed maybe, but he'd make this right when he could.

"I'll always be here for you," The Mad Hatter whispered, as if it were a secret that he would tell himself, but Jonathan has heard it many times since they met, and he wasn't sure how he was meant to take it. It was hard enough finding people in this city to trust. "Just let me take care of you and then you can hunt down the people who did this."

Underneath the mask, Jonathan smiled, and he knew The Scarecrow itself was pleased with what he was going to do when he locates the culprits, he'd slowly dissolve them in their own fears, a horror they won't ever live out.

The car came to a stop in front of a building that The Mad Hatter owned. He led him inside through several empty hallways that were narrow and smelled of mildew, they climbed a set of stairs to the second floor and he walked into a room with a wide window. There were chairs and couches sitting on the sides, round tables beside them with plants sitting on top, including a picture of a young woman.

The Mad Hatter pulled out a chair and smiled at The Scarecrow. "Sit. Let's clean the blood off and check out the wound on the back of your head."

It didn't hurt as he thought it would, he didn't feel dizzy, but there were moments when his eyes blurred out. He sat down on the chair and slowly took off the mask, he always felt as if he was going to have an anxiety attack when he revealed his face, but this time, he was calm when he was around The Mad Hatter.

Jervis smiled at him, a sort of longing in his eyes before he turned and went to grab a bottle of antiseptic, cotton and a cloth.

This was dangerous, they were incredibly vulnerable together like this. Except there was no one here, it was just them and the silence that ached. Jonathan looked down at his hands, they were dirty with smeared blood on the fingers. He figured he had touched his face before they duct taped him to the metal pole.

Jervis walked back into the room with a pleased smile on his face. He sat down and moved closer to Jonathan. Tilting his chin up, he started working on wiping away the blood from Jonathan's nose and lip, he seemed to wipe away more along his face and Jonathan wondered if it smeared there as well.

Most of them were cold to each other, like The Penguin, he was betrayed by mostly everyone he came to trust, and now he stares at them with callous in his eyes, and it flexed in his fingers, and the words he speaks. All of it mechanical and with absolute purpose.

There was something about The Mad Hatter that was genuine in what he did. He was as cold and cruel as The Penguin, but like Jerome Valeska, he also liked to play with his food. When he spoke with Jonathan himself, there was something captivating in his eyes, a gaze that made Jonathan confused and aware of his own presence.

His chest tightened at the thought, even how tender Jervis's fingers were being, and his eyes glancing over Jonathan's wounds as the blood was wiped away. He was careful, methodical, and sure.

"Is something wrong?" Jervis asked, he got off his chair and rounded the one Jonathan sat in to check his wound on the back of his head.

"No, nothing," Jonathan said, his fingers wringing at the impossible thoughts running through his head. He stayed still while Jervis checked his wound, his hands soft through his hair that it sent a shiver down Jonathan's back.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Jonathan nodded. "I'm just eager to go after whoever attacked me."

"With this wound? You might have a concussion," Jervis said.

Jonathan got up, and Jervis's brows arched. "I don't care, they attacked me, made The Penguin angry, and if I don't find them and do something about it, it'll be on me."

They stared at one another, and then in a split moment, Jervis grasped his shoulders and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Jonathan's lips. It lingered, enough for Jonathan to understand what was happening, but the question remained, even when Jervis pulled back and smiled.

"Sorry, I wanted to do that for sometime."

"And this is the time you decided to?" Jonathan asked, annoyed, he picked up his mask, "when any hour now, I might die."

"That wasn't my intent," Jervis said, an edge in his voice, "I wanted too since we met in Arkham, but I didn't know, nor trust you."

"And you do now?" Jonathan asked, shaking his head and placing the mask on. "You should consider where you lie between us and the common folk. None of us should trust each other."

He didn't bother listening to Jervis and walked past him. His lips were like an imprint, lingering there, a heat on his cheeks, and an urge to go back and continue it. Except there was rage that rose inside of him, he needed to finish what they started.