Arkham Asylum's recreational room was far more quiet than usual. Most of the patients were watching the news report on the small television at the far end of the room, all the television had spoken of for days was the disappearance of Oa the green lantern homeworld.

Jervis Tetch snorted with laughter. "Well that makes things easier for us, huh?" he grinned at Jonathan Crane. "Alice says the green lanterns are no more!" The blond television presenter was in fact called Louise, but Jonathan didn't have the energy to argue with the Mad Hatter. "The world's ours for the taking! Alice said so."

"Whatever," Jonathan mumbled. "Batman mean anything to you?"

"Twinkle, Twinkle little bat..." the Hatter began to chant in a sing-song voice, his hands waving above his head in a flapping motion that to Jonathan looked nothing like a bat.

Jonathan ground his teeth in annoyance, and laid his head back down on his folded arms. It had been over twenty four hours since he had eaten anything, but despite that he still wasn't hungry, he just didn't feel like eating.

Aaron Cash had been paying an unusual amount of attention to him recently as well, which made Jonathan uncomfortable. He was a private man at the best of times, and having people worry over him grated on his nerves, but this wasn't what was bothering him. Cash had seen him writing the letter... what if they found out... would they track her down, would they make her visit him, use her as some kind of therapy for him?

No he couldn't bear to think of it, he'd rather she never met him at all. It was better this way, she could have a normal life. He wasn't even sure why he had written the letter in the first place? Out of guilt? No he was doing the right thing by her, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Crane?" a deep voice echoed over the recreational room.

Crane looked up to see someone standing in the door of the room. "Dr. Monroe?" Crane had only seen Dr. Monroe a few times, yet it was difficult not to recognise him. The man must have been at least six foot three, and half as wide. He stood several inches over Jonathan, however the smaller man was not intimidated.

"Come with me, Crane. Now."

Jonathan stood reluctantly, he knew what this was going to be about straight away. Slowly he shuffled through the door after the enormous doctor, flanked by two expressionless guards.

"To what do I owe the pleasure Doctor?" Jonathan asked sweetly, allowing a little of his Scarecrow menace to his voice.

"Mr. Cash tells me you won't eat your meals," Monroe looked at him pointedly.

"I'm not hungry," snapped Jonathan. "You can't make me eat."

"Actually we can Jonathan, and I assure you it won't be pleasant for you if we do."

Jonathan paused and stared straight at the Doctor. "But I'm giving Gotham what it wants aren't I... they were all calling for my death last year if you recall."

Monroe sighed. Scarecrow was a clever bastard that was for sure, Monroe personally would have let the freak starve himself to death, but that meant a whole lot of paperwork. Work he could do without. "Onto my next question then Jonathan, follow me."

Jonathan's curiosity got the better of him and he followed the Doctor to the nearest staff office. Monroe gestured to a seat and Jonathan took it cautiously. Normally being led to this room typically meant you were about to be accused of something that would get you locked in solitary for a while, though Jonathan hadn't been caught red handed for a while.

It wasn't until Monroe had closed the door behind the two guards that Jonathan noticed Bruce Wayne standing on the far side of the room. Jonathan grinned wolfishly, although he was hopelessly outnumbered he simply could not resist being a little menacing. "Mr. Wayne, what a splendid surprise... have you come to reconsider your most... unfortunate decision regarding my parole?"

"That depends, Professor Crane," Bruce Wayne began. "Firstly on whether you are going to continue to refuse your meals, and secondly on whether you can do something for me and in return the people of Gotham."

"Fuck Gotham!" Jonathan snarled, gripping the wooden arms of his chair, one of the guards grabbed his shoulders and forced him back into the seat.

"I'll let that one slide, Professor. Once. Now are you going to listen to what I say, like the intelligent individual I know you are, or are you just going to let yourself down and wither away here for the rest of your days?" Wayne looked at him pointedly.

Reluctantly Jonathan relaxed. "Whatever," he sighed.

Wayne did not reply to that, instead he pulled an envelope out from under his his jacket. "Commissioner Gordon is looking for a person," he began. "This person is believed to be operating out of Gotham. The GCPD does not know if this person is male or female, their age, their intelligence, their race in fact they know nothing whatsoever. Countless psychologists have been asked to give a profile, all have failed. Professor Crane, deep down under that evil exterior is in my opinion one of the greatest psychologists that ever lived. I'm asking for your help Professor."

Wayne placed the envelope on the table in front of the villain. Jonathan's eyes darted left to right, he didn't look at the envelope. Surely this was a joke... it must be... some cruel, cruel joke, getting his hopes up... any minute now the joke would be on him... surely. He was shaking he could feel it, bile rose in his throat slightly... fear... no he no longer felt fear... this was anger... how dare they trick him like this... did they think he was stupid... no not this time... he wouldn't fall for it this time... inhuman bullies.

Before the guards could react Jonathan had leapt out of his seat and knocked the table over, sending the papers flying. Wayne dodged to one side avoiding Jonathan's flailing fist. "I'm not a fool!" Jonathan yelled. "It's bad enough wasting my life in here... without you giving me false hope like this? How could you! First you deny my parole, now you taunt me with what I could have been! Fuck you!"

He was being restrained now. Monroe looked at Wayne apologetically, as he prepared a hypodermic needle. "I warned you Mr. Wayne. He's a psychopath. There's no getting through to him, he's too far gone." He jabbed the snarling man in the side of the neck with the needle, and gradually Jonathan's thrashing eased off and he sagged against the guards, defeated. "You can't change him, Bruce. No one can."

The room swum before Jonathan's eyes, and as the sedative took him under and his anger faded he kicked himself mentally. "Oh, Jonathan you fool," he thought.