I was able to pull this off! Not sure when the next installment will be, though

All right, sequel time! They're never as good as the first but…

Recap: Scarecrow's half-sister from his Year One comic starts writing to him when she's seven Hilarity ensues. She's eleven and going to Gotham to meet him.

If you're wondering why Karen would ever get within 200 miles of Gotham knowing you-know-who lives there, it will be explained in due time. Enjoy! Love you all!

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, settings, etc. That's why I'm writing fanfiction.

Chapter 1:

Almost There

Gotham City was not an ideal tourist destination for a variety of reasons. The smog was horrible, the museums were underfunded despite the efforts of the Wayne Foundation, and there were a wide assortment of disturbed individuals in silly costumes who enjoyed blowing up the occasional hospital. The latter really took a chunk out of the tourism industry. Most sane people would consider winning a vacation to Gotham on par with receiving a free case of syphilis. Karen Keeny was not one of those people.

"Isn't this exciting?" Karen nudged her eleven-year-old daughter out of sleep. The girl groaned and turned in her seat towards the airplane window and away from her mother. Karen pouted.

"Come on, sweetie. We're an hour from Gotham! You should be more excited. You're the little Shakespeare who won us this!"

The girl yawned and rubbed the crust from her eyes. Looking through the window she tried to see if she could glimpse the city. No luck. Hester-Mae Keeny had won nothing, truth be told, unless one counted having an infamous supervillain for a half-brother as winning anything. Said supervillain was the one who had arranged everything. She had been writing to him ever since she was seven and was convinced that he was the only one who truly knew her or loved her. She would do anything he said. He had done everything for her. She had committed three acts of severe property damage, stalked a girl, had one of her mother's ex-boyfriends thrown in prison where he was later pecked to death by crows (although to be fair, he had tried to molest her and she was damn well going to keep it tried), had been responsible for the nonfatal immolation of another (he had hit her; her mother had terrible judgment with men), and had poisoned at least 27 other individuals all under the doting tutelage of Jonathan Crane. Or, as the people of Gotham knew him, the Scarecrow.

She had never met him face to face. They had corresponded for years through letters and God knew she watched him on the news whenever possible. Still, more than anything, she just wanted to see him. Her mother still thought that she didn't even know he was her brother. Hester-Mae giggled a little at that.

"What's so funny, Baby-Mae?"

Damn. She heard that, "Nothing. And stop calling me that!"

Karen laughed and ruffled her daughter's hair, "Aw, but you are my Baby-Mae!"

Hester-Mae swatted her mother's hand away, "I'm not a baby! I know about sex and stuff."

"Stuff," of course referred to her knowledge of how to perpetrate felonies without being suspected, but her mother didn't need to know that. Karen merely hummed in amusement and continued flipping through her copy of SkyMall. Hester-Mae tried looking for Gotham City through the window again. She could vaguely make out a gray blur on the horizon.

Is that it? Is Jonathan in there? Her heart began to beat faster in excitement. She could feel the edges of her mouth creep slowly up her cheeks in a grin.

I'm almost there! Almost…

Jonathan Crane was not the most sociable of Gotham's Rogues Gallery. Even amongst "his kind" he was an outcast. This suited him perfectly. He had never cared for much company. His chess matches with Tetch and the occasional intellectual conversation with any one of his more cerebral fellow inmates were the most he socialized. Even so, some of the denizens of Arkham could tell that their local phobophile was in a less melancholy mood than usual. Ironically, this made him all the creepier. Harleen Quinzel, the notorious Harley Quinn, had certainly noticed. Somewhere deep under the clown makeup and dumb-blonde personality was a former psychiatrist who noticed when people were acting out of the norm and her curiosity as a scientist demanded she see what was going on. Besides, the Joker was still in solitary and she was bored.

Crane was eating his lunch alone, as usual, and she decided to give him some company, "Hiya Doctor Crane!"

He glanced up at her briefly before returning to his meal, "I assume you have something to ask, child."

It was not a question. He had guessed her plan, "Ah, shucks. You know me too well, Jonny."

"It's Jonathan or Doctor Crane, child. If you're going to speak with me you should take a seat. The guards are staring," he said, gesturing towards the seat across from himself. Harley let out a small squeak of glee before taking her seat.

"So…" she began, twirling her thumbs. Crane raised his brows, "Child, I highly suggest that you stop wasting my time and tell me what it is you want."

"Alright, alright, ya big grump," she placed her hands on the table and leaned towards him. Pointing her finger at him she said, "Spill. You've been less doom-and-gloom lately. You got somethin' big planned, doncha?"

He sighed and took another bite of chicken breast that was likely mostly made from plastic, "Something like that."

Harley squealed loudly, happy that she was right. Crane covered his ears, "You nearly burst my eardrums, you idiot!"

Harley blushed, "Sorry, Doctor. So what's the plan? I promise I won't tell no one! Please please please!"

Crane rolled his eyes, "Forgive me if I do not believe that for a moment."

"Honest! Unless it's got to do with bringing down Batsy for good, I don't tell Puddin' other guys' plans!"

"That doesn't leave many plans untold then, does it?"

Harley pouted, "Well, you know how Puddin' gets when other people try an' swipe his chance at gettin' the Bat. That's what you're doing, ain't it?"

"As a matter of fact, it's not."

"Ooh! Then why doncha tell me? I can help, if you want! Promise! If it don't get in Puddin's way I'm totally cool with whatever!"

Crane sighed and tentatively poked a suspicious green blob with his fork before deciding not to risk consuming it, "You really are not going to let this go, are you?"

Harley shook her head, pig-tails bouncing. Crane briefly contemplated slamming her head into the table and letting the resulting concussion keep her from prying, but that would make his bribing of a guard so much more difficult.

"Fine. But keep in mind, child: if you breathe a word to anyone I have not gotten help from and you ruin my plan, I will use you as a guinea pig for my toxins for the rest of your shrieking days. Do you understand?"

Harley flinched briefly before slowly nodding. Crane reached into his left sleeve and pulled out a small photo, "Wondrously ugly, isn't she?"

Harley took it gingerly. The photo was of a girl somewhere between nine and twelve. It was hard to tell. She was too tall and thin, her sticklike arms and legs jutting out gawkily. Her bent, freckled nose was too large for her face and her lower lip was practically nonexistent. Short dull hair that did not have quite enough red in it for auburn stuck out at awkward angles around her face. Her outfit appeared to have been vomited up by a diseased rainbow; bright, clashing colors trying unsuccessfully to make the depressing looking creature appear semi-cheerful. Harley clucked sympathetically, "Yeesh. This poor thing ain't never winning Miss America," she raised a suspicious eyebrow at Crane, "You decided to join Jervis and be a perv, Doctor?"

Crane sniffed in disgust and took the photo back, "Don't be repulsive. Jervis is hardly a pedophile and you know it. Besides, the child is my half-sister."

"Half-sister? Gimme that!" Harley reached across the table and reclaimed the photo, "Well, whaddaya know? She does kinda look like you. I mean, if you were missing your bottom lip and had freckles and were colorblind, damn—"

Reaching forward and again taking back his photo, Crane said, "That's quite enough from you, Miss Quinzel."

"Ooh, 'Miss Quinzel' now. I really touched a nerve. Sorry, Doctor. She's kinda cute. You know, like pugs are cute. Ugly-cute," Harley's voice trailed off for a moment and she gave a small nervous laugh, "So, what's your plan? She's not like your secret back-up clone or something, is she? She seems way too young to be your sister. Secret love-baby, maybe," she giggled at her rhyme.

Crane scoffed, "She's hardly my daughter, despite the twenty-three year age difference. My brain-dead mother wound up having me when she was sixteen and I was raised by my monster of a great-grandmother because my worthless father couldn't bother to stay for half a second. Mother dearest married some abusive dullard years later and thus was Hester-Mae."

It was Harley's turn to scoff, "What kinda old-timey name is Hester-Mae? That a Georgia thing?"

"That was the name of my other great-grandmother. The one who died before she got to torture me."

"With that face and that name, the kid's gotta be all kinds of screwed up," Harley stretched her arms over her head before looking at the clock, "Ooh, time's running short. Watcha want with the kid, anyhow? You ain't gonna hurt her or nothing to get back at your mom, are ya?"

"Oh, no. Believe it or not, under that plain, depressing façade lies the potential makings of one of us."

Harley's face screwed up in confusion, "Really."

Crane nodded, "She started writing me almost oh, four years ago now. I wrote her at first out of boredom. I soon discovered sweet little Hester-Mae had a slight vicious streak. It is difficult in a small town for the daughter of the local tramp, it seems, and she wanted to strike back at all those who harmed her and mocked her. Any of the other wretches from Arlen would have told her that getting back at them would make her just as bad, but I saw her potential and I wanted to make it flourish, not suppress it. She's quite the stealthy little thing and even in the beginning had relatively little qualms about getting her revenge no matter what it took. Any qualms she did have I was easily able to pacify. She has never been caught. In four years I turned a shy doormat into my apprentice in fear," he smirked, "I have to say I'm impressed with myself."

"No kidding," she looked at the photo on the table, "So you're, what, going to train her to be mini-Scarecrow?"

"More or less. She's performed beyond my expectations. I actually wanted her to fail at first. I thought I could scare off a potential annoyance by suggesting that she try to ruin her enemy's home with a species of beetle not known for much large-scale damage. I did not think that a seven-year-old would even attempt it or if she did that she would fail, but she succeeded. Everything I have told her to do she has done. I cannot tell you how many people she has poisoned at such a young age. I have created something entirely loyal to me that will never betray me. I've made something that loves me more than anything else in the world and who will obey me utterly."

Harley hummed softly, "And I suppose after your failures with Becky what's-her-face and Linda something-or-other you want to make sure this one doesn't get away from you."

Crane growled, "I miscalculated. I should have checked Friitawa more thoroughly. I should have known that a law student like Albright with her past behind her wouldn't turn with a conversation."

"And you think you can do better with Suzie Sunshine?"

Crane smiled, "I know I will succeed. I've practically raised her. I am her brother by blood, I have raised her as a father, and I will give birth to her true self. She is mine utterly. She is practically one of us already, with all that I have coached her to do. She just needs to move up to a larger scale. I will teach her that. She will never betray me. Her worst fear is losing me. I have made that her fear. All this I have done with letters. Can you imagine what I will be able to do with her once I have my hands on her?"

Harley frowned, "You sure this is good for the kid? You're scaring me, Doc."

"That's precisely the idea. She is mine; I will decide what is best for her. Did you not hear when I said what a doormat she was before? One of our mother's ex-boyfriends was a child molester. Can you imagine what could have happened if I had not brought her out of her shell and taught her to never let anyone look down on her? It would have been years before our imbecile of a mother found out. I plan to make her great. She has the potential to be similar to me. I do not mean just by blood relation. The others of my family were such small things. My great-grandmother's world revolved around making my childhood-self miserable, my grandmother was a thoughtless socialite, my mother clings desperately to any man who claims to love her. Insignificant creatures. My sister is the only one like myself. I have made myself into the God of Fear. I can make her into a goddess. Phobos and Adrestia…"

The clock buzzed for one o'clock. Lunch was over. Harley and Crane both got up from their seats to get ready to leave. Harley was disturbed by some of the things Crane had said but kept her mouth shut. It's his sister. He can do what he wants with her. She seems to be fine with it. The uneasy feeling in her stomach stayed until she saw the Joker being led through the halls by a small army of guards. He winked at her and she nearly forgot all about the Scarecrow and his awkward sister.

So, what do you think? These chapters might take a while to show up. I've got a lot of stuff coming up and I'm trying to get in as much for my mini-not-quite-alternate universe as possible. 'Til next time!