Little Albert

"It must have been difficult," Jonathan had ignored the man when he'd walked across the Arkham rec room towards his solitary corner, even when he sat right beside him and began staring at him intently. But he couldn't continue to ignore him any longer, not now that he had spoken. Jonathan sighed, put down the book he had been reading and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He turned his head towards the infamous scarred man beside him.

"What must have been difficult?" Jonathan sighed his reply wearily, making sure the Joker knew he didn't really want to talk. The Joker just smiled the ghost of a pleasant smile, the pleasantness ruined by the malicious glint in his eyes and the scars marring his features.

"Oh, just being you, living your life," he lent forward and paused for a fraction longer than needed before continuing in a hushed voice "Raising a child at such a young age," Jonathan's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. The Joker's eye's glinted at the reaction he'd gained and continued in his hushed tone "A little college fling, a drunken night and next thing you know," he slammed his fist into his palm "you're stuck with a kid," Jonathan drew a deep breath to try and regain his composure and felt a pain in his chest. He glared at the Joker who's smile had became slightly more smug but otherwise unchanged.

"It wasn't like that," Jonathan then realised that the Joker probably wanted to rile him up and make him shout something stupid so the guards would take him back to his cell or worse isolation. He changed tactic, "How do you know anyway?" he hadn't meant to sound so irritated but the ache in his chest wouldn't go away. The Joker lent slightly closer and continued,

"When I last escaped I thought I'd take the opportunity to... research you. I never thought you'd be so interesting,"

"Is that so," Jonathan stated, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up as the Joker's expression changed to something resembling hunger. Like he was a staving dog staring at a piece of meat that it wanted to rip to...

"So you had a little boy didn't you? You tried to raise him right but you did have a lot of work, so sometimes you'd bring him here," Jonathan gritted his teeth as the Joker continued and the ache in his chest intensified.

"What do you want Joker?" he spoke harshly through his gritted teeth.

"This isn't a great place for a child, especially one as young as him but you were a good Daddy. You made sure he was safe from all the nasty criminals. Though I bet you didn't expect your own colleagues to take an... interest in him,"

"Stop," The ache was so intense, his head hurt and he felt the anger rising, directed at the scarred criminal beside him. He wanted to fear gas him and watch him scream and cry until he was nothing but a dribbling mass of broken flesh with no mind to guide it.

"They took your little boy. Your son. And scared him. Terrified him constantly. For hours on end. Without you knowing," Jonathan clenched his fists as the pain in his heart ripped through him. He glared at the Joker and felt his hands twitching to grab the clown's neck and choke the life out of him, to make him stop talking for good. "They performed their little experiment on your son while they were having an affair. So they came to work to terrify a baby and fuck each other. I wonder if the two were connected," Jonathan snarled and his hands shot up but the Joker grabbed his wrists in a tight grip. Jonathan tried to push forward but he was held fast. He glared at the Joker who smirked and suddenly jerked Jonathan towards him, holding his captured hands against his chest and bringing his face inches from Jonathan's. Jonathan lent back as far as he could, which wasn't far but any distance helped, and retained eye contact. The Joker stared straight into Jonathan's glaring eyes as he spoke, his face a mockery of a serious expression. "They went that little bit further than they should have," Jonathan went limp in the Joker's grip and lost all his anger as his heart felt like it was ripped out and the memories he'd spent years forcing away came back full force. "And your son, what was his name?"

"Albert,"

"Yes, Little Albert, your son,"

"My son,"

"They killed your little Albert didn't they? Scared him to death. So you scared them back,"

"I scared them," He'd used an early model of fear gas on the woman and watched as she ripped her own skin off trying to get rid of the imaginary spiders crawling over every inch of her body. He hadn't needed gas for the man. He knew how to destroy him.

"One of them is still alive, deep in the bowels of Arkham. Lost his wife and kids and then his mind,"

"He should suffer,"

"He should. You know," The Joker lowered his voice "Scarecrow, I think I like you,"

"I hate you."

"We can work on that."

A/N: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed. I like writing origins and Nolanverse Scarecrow doesn't seem to have one, so I took the oppertunity. The Little Albert experiment is a real experiment, a very influencial one in terms of further research into classical conditioning and phobias. Except the real little Albert didn't die, if you're interested it can be looked up easily on Wikipedia.

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