disclaimer: I can't even afford a Wii. What the hell makes you think I could own Batman?

a/n: Nothing really much to say. Except its a little... broken. D: Not completely thought out, but it is. So I don't know. Just read. x3 I'm taking ideas that I got from my oneshot, Guillotine, into this. So if you read that, you'll get a better gist at what some things are. :=:

To Joker'sOnlyFear; Well no. It IS all Jonathan talking. This is the Jonathan I've known and loved for like ever. This is how I see him, and like him to be portrayed as. He gets beat up a lot, like a lot a lot, he has to have something to back him up. If he doesn't have physical strength he's going to have a personality that makes it so that isn't much of a problem, and I would like for other people to see that Jonny's not just a little psychopath hyped up on drugs that's purely random, but as the doctor we all know he's been before. And the scar? Well you'll find out soon.

To J-H G; Handcuffs in the front are really easy to get out of -tried it- but having them in the back is painful and not that easy to get out of. Just to... let you know. ^^

OK. NOW enjoy. (:


"These Lips Speak no Lie"

Truth may be stretched, but cannot be broken, and always gets above falsehood, as does oil above water, - Miguel de Cervantes

"So you say you're like Batman, except more for us- the criminals?" the skeptical man asked the makeup wearing man, one dark eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. Light eyes following the movements of the clown, suspicious of what the taller man might be hiding in his hideous purple jacket.

"Now Carl, Carl, Carl, Carl," came the raspy, somewhat comical sounding voice, "When have I ev-ah lied to you?"

There was a snort from someone else in the room, and a dark green glare was swept around the room before refocusing its attention on the now speaking Carl, "All the time boss, all the time."

A frown dripped down on the scarred face, twisted horribly by the lopsided scars that traveled from his lips, one curved sharply, the other rather straight. So now he was a liar, as well as a thief? That wouldn't be good if the others began to doubt him (he needed the labor force for now), so instead he opted for the, "And what is it you seem to want to say, don't worry, I won't get too ma-d."

"Tha Scarecrow fellow is more like Batman than you'll ever be. You? You go for chaos, he- Scarecrow- wants to invoke fear in those he comes across, so he dresses up in masks and things. Batman? He wants to strike fear in the hearts of people like me, and so dresses up as the big black bat. So they're more alike-"

Bang! Thud. And a, "I'll have to meet this ah Scarecrow fellow soon."

-

"I'm going to escape tonight," he informed the guard, smile lazy and eyes half lidded. The blue eyed man didn't seem lucid, nay, couldn't be lucid in the guard's opinion. Not with all the sedatives they had to put Jonathan on when he woke up from a certain vigilante punching him.

It had been expected that he would wake slowly, groggily, and at that time they could check and make sure everything was functioning properly. Batman could pack a punch- hell- the man could probably dent metal if he wanted to. Wasn't good to have that kind of strength connecting with faces. Even if the face technically belonged to a criminal, it still wasn't good.

Crane had been livid, his eyes had been dark with some sort of feral vengeance, and when he saw Batman still lurking in the corner, he had attempted to lunge at the man. It hadn't worked considering he was strapped down, but he got damn near close to getting out of the leather straps. Thankfully they had managed to sedate him.

He still got insults out at Batman, but that was about it. Some of them were a little creative, and even the bat seemed to pale at a few. A few others had seemed like older insults, ones from way way back, when there weren't any cars- but it was probably just from Crane's need to know things.

Jonathan knew things, he did, oh how he knew. He knew a-lot. Most of it just came to him, there was no way to stop it, it just knocked on the imaginary door to his mind and waltzed right in to join the other tidbits of information. Just like he knew he was going to escape tonight.

And that Batman was head towards his cell right now just to make sure he wasn't going to escape.

I'm not afraid of Batman, I'm not afraid.

When Batman's half cowled face leaned just barely away from the bars, gloved hands gripping said bars tightly, Jonathan's smile grew. The caped crusader opened his mouth to growl something at the former doctor, said doctor spoke quicker, in a quiet hushed tone that any passerby couldn't hear, "Hello, Bruce."

There were a few moments of a trembling silence, quivering, anticipating the roar of the bat's guttural voice. A feeling of fear trickled into Jonathan in those few moments, because he hadn't consciously known that Bruce Wayne was Batman, he had just blurted out the words. But the pieces fell together nicely now that he had informed Wayne he knew.

"How do you know?"

It wasn't that bestial sounding voice Batman normally used, it wasn't disguised, and Jonathan found it all the more appealing to know that there really was someone behind the mask the bat wore. Good. It was real, it was real, it wasn't a lie.

"Batman showed up when a dead Bruce Wayne suddenly came back, clearly a connection, but people are too damn stupid to go for the obvious answer," he answered, drawing away from the bars. Even if he could use the man's secret to blackmail him, the bat could still do serious damage to his skull.

And it wouldn't make Jonathan forget it. He didn't forget things that easily.

Batman grunted at that, he couldn't argue.

"I'm going to escape tonight," Jonathan repeated what he had just said to the guard minutes ago. That caused the bat to look up, fury in his dark eyes.

He growled what Jonathan had expected him to, "You're not getting out of here, you won't escape. You're going to get help."

"These lips of mine speak no lies, bat," was the cold reply, the change in tone barely noted, "Arkham doesn't help people. It makes them worse. Turns the truly mad ones to vegetables, and the ones who aren't get twisted by the drugs they pump into their systems. Arkham makes the crazies, just like you do, now."

An explosion cut off Batman's reply, ringing the air, but it wasn't as loud as it could have been. So it wasn't close to Jonathan's cell, as if that made it impossible for him to escape. As soon as the explosion had sounded, Batman and a rush of all the guards in the area headed towards the sound. Leaving the hallway unguarded.

He had to do this quickly, shaking each bar carefully, looking for the loose one. He knew there was one, but he just couldn't put his finger on the right one. This? No, not that one either- maybe- no. This one, that one there. Slender fingers wrapping around the bar, he jerked it out of place and slid out the opening. Then he put the bar back in like nothing had happened.

The idiots didn't even have security cameras in this wing of Arkham, because there were always guards. Always, but not now. Other inmates in the area stared wistfully at the doctor as he got the hell out of there, but they didn't dare beg for help. Didn't dare ask for his help to get out.

They feared him, and in some ways respected him.

But that didn't matter because he was free and they weren't. He was outside, and they were still in their padded cells with their drugs. And he knew exactly where he was going, not why, but where. That was good enough in any case. With a set destination in mind, it made all the other things matter less. Like how pissed Batman was going to be when he learned the recently captured doctor got out again. Oh, the bat was going to be so mad when he finds the cell empty with no visible method of escape shown.

So angry.

-

It hadn't been hard to find Crane again, it really hadn't, the man didn't cover his tracks. He deliberately didn't cover his tracks, and so Batman found him at an old farm, clearly abandoned. A grove of overgrown weeping willows and a few pine trees was settled near a barn. There wasn't any sign Crane was in the house, so he skipped that and headed towards the barn. Instead of looking into the barn, he heard splashes of water from the grove. Heading to investigate that, Batman saw that there was a pond- a rather clean pond- in the center of the grove.

The kind of place you saw in romantic movies during... major scenes? He didn't know, and he didn't care. Leave the worrying about it to the people who actually cared.

The funny thing was that Crane was in the waist-deep water, nude, and Batman was there- staring- and the thin man hadn't even noticed the company yet.

He was standing there, splashing the obviously cold water on his face, trying to scrub something off, and Bruce took the time to note what a sorry state the man's body was in. He was thin, too thin for it to be healthy, and his ribs made heavy contours on his pale skin. Crane's stomach curved in slightly, making the ribs hang over empty space. His arms and legs were bone thin- and what were those marks? His skin was decorated with pale scars, ranging from long, to short, to burns to cuts and even some looked likely to be from lashes. The only one that couldn't be covered easily by clothing was the ringlet around his neck, which was also the only one that seemed bright and fresh. The others old.

"I shall not be bothered by a heathen like you anymore!"

The strange flavor of old English did not sound like an attempt at being sophisticated on the ex-doctor's voice, it sounded like he had spoken that way for a great deal of time. It was there, and it was natural, and that made Batman confused. No one spoke that way anymore- no one he knew- so it was something odd to hear it coming in Crane's voice. His voice hadn't trembled, but there was some sort of underlying fear there. But it wasn't of Batman.

Something else.

He just couldn't see it.

Jonathan could see it, the tall dark form sitting up in the tree branches, mocking him. It had a very skeletal appearence, just like he did, and he intended to be rid of the creature before it was too late. He wouldn't be playing the games of the thing, he wouldn't. If he was going to end up horribly disfigured like this cloak wearing thing said, he was going to do it his way. Not a slow, painful way. He was going to get something out of it. Something in the very least.

The thing jumped down, and waded through the water towards Crane, and a sharp intake of breath from somewhere else alerted the doctor that Batman was watching this. Damn him, but screw it.

The creature reminiscent of a scarecrow- hence he had taken to calling the thing Scarecrow- bowed before Crane. The long pointed hat's tip almost brushing the water, a few bits of straw falling into the water. The face was masked, and the eyes were red. But he could tell there was a grin on the thing's face. Then it spoke in its inhuman tone, musical and frightful at the same time, 'You can't stop It. It can't be stopped 'lest you get help from people you hate. You're becoming one of Us, monsieur.'

"That is a lie," was the slow, chilling reply, and Scarecrow laughed. Then turned, and walked away. It wasn't going to deal with a fool like that, because the doctor should be happy about It. There would be an eternity for the doctor to rethink that, because It was hard to stop once It began. Sometimes the cryptic way of speaking of It was annoying- it would be some much nicer to call It as it really was. However, there had been an unwanted spectator.

"Batman," Jonathan stated, blue eyes watching the bat as he came out of the shadows, "Could you hand me my clothes?"

Startled, the bat complied and tossed the villain his clothes, somehow he had managed to get a turtleneck and jeans- and the malnourished male dressed quickly. Then he held out his hands as if he were trying to imitate a zombie before it clicked. Jonathan was waiting for the cuffs to go around his hands. This time, they were cuffed in the back, a much more cautious way of doing things. Lead to the batmobile, he almost let out a shout of surprise when he was lifted and plopped into the passenger seat.

Head spinning from the sudden drop, the glowing buttons and panels whirred in a tornado fashion. It took fifteen minutes for him to get his head back into the right, and at that point the cuffs were starting to hurt. It was because his feeble weight was making them push into his skin instead of the leather seat. Huffing, Jonathan went to ask Batman if he could at least cuff him so his hands weren't digging into his back when he took a look the scenery.

That wasn't Arkham.


a/n: Where did Bruce take Jonny? WHO KNOWS. I do. Well not really. You should be able to guess easy, it seems to be a thing people who write Jonny fics like to include. Just like how Jonny knows who Batman really is... ya de ya de ya. I know that's pretty cliche. But I need that in there for that to work.

And what will Mistah J do when he finds Scarecrow? And why did he have to kill Carl? He killed Carl! D:

Ok, I'm done. Wrote this before school (and I'm sick while writing it so... mistakes are probably riddled in).

Review, review, review, please please please. I like to know when people read my stuff, and what they think of it.