Crane stared up at the ceiling, studying the shadows that occasionally would drift across his ceiling with each late night passing car. Long ago he had looked at the relentlessly ticking alarm clock by his bedside.

3:38 a.m. The numbers glared red in the darkness. It was too late to drug himself with more sleeping pills, forcing himself into a blissful dreamless sleep, but too early to get up and get ready for work. He clutched the smooth, cool cotton sheets and gazed at his apartment's rich surroundings. So different from the sagging cushions of his childhood bed, threadbare sheets and the incessant scratching he would hear at all times of the night – rats looking for food behind the walls.

Now he had all comforts and luxuries, but none of the peace and something more sinister had replaced the scratching of rat's claws, something that would keep him even more sleepless and restless in the mind.

(You know you are so weak, Scarecrow whispered. You should have let her tell you her fear. We were so close, Jonathan. So close to discovering her darkest secret, her innermost terror.)

I didn't want to know, because you would use it, use it against her, Crane thought.

(Ah, another weakness, Jonathan – Love. We don't need, Love. Don't you see, Jonathan? Don't you see I will love you more than any woman ever could? I will care for you when all others have left? I will never leave you, Jonathan. Never!)

Crane stared at the ceiling, the shadow of a grin upon his lips.

Am I mistaken, Scarecrow, or are you jealous? Are you jealous I might love Emily and forget about you? Perhaps I have at last found something the Great Scarecrow is fearful of?

There was a moment of eerie silence in Crane's mind, almost a delightful silence he hadn't known in a long while, then a sarcastic laugh erupted from Scarecrow.

(Afraid of that girl? Fear Incarnate knows no Fear, Jonathan Crane! Fear Incarnate inspires Fear in All, but never tastes Fear itself. No, I do not fear the girl, but perhaps she does fear us, Jonathan. Perhaps she is slipping out of your grasping quicker than you wished!)

Crane was not determined to let Scarecrow play mind games with him. He had been through this before and at times like these Scarecrow reminded him of a manipulative, mentally abusive brother who would do anything to achieve his ends. Crane slid out of bed, slipped on his robe and walked barefooted out of the bedroom into his private library. If he had to he would read himself to sleep and ignore the inane ramblings of madness incarnate that was Scarecrow.

(You ignore me, but you know I speak the truth, Scarecrow continued, unphased. She knows something is wrong with you, a secret you hide. You are not the sweet, innocent little boy she was hoping for, the little lap dog that would follow after her smitten in high school. You are now something more, something greater. She does not see it! Mere mortals cannot see gods when they walk among them. They are blinded! But there is a way to remove the veil from her eyes, Jonathan, and to make her yours, forever!)

Crane was skimming over a particularly thick psychology book, but its words and meaning not sinking in.

(Fear Toxin, Jonathan. She will be yours, body, soul, mind – use the Fear Toxin.)

Crane slammed the book shut vengefully.

"That's it! You are not to speak of Emily ever again and don't you dare ever, ever try to come out when I am near her. Is that understood?"

"Now, Jonathan, is it you who is afraid?"

"I am not afraid of you, Scarecrow! And I can banish you anytime I wish with these!"

Crane pulled out from his robe pocket a pharmaceutical bottle of pills for the treatment of schizophrenia.

"So keep your idle threats for during the therapy session with the thugs who are impressed by them," Crane said. "Because I am not!"

"Oh, Jonathan, Jonathan! Why the animosity? Why the anger? Let's be friends, as we once were. Remember the fun we had together? Such fun!"

Crane suddenly noticed he was hugging himself and at that moment he also came to the realization Scarecrow had been using his mouth and voice to talk back to him for some time. How long had he been having control over him like this? Crane straightened his arms to his sides and kept them straight as if willing strict control of his body.

"No, Scarecrow. You are on probation until you prove otherwise. You shall get your 'enjoyment' at Arkham, but that is simply because I must continue my therapy regimen, but not for your pleasure, understand? Not anymore. And if you prove otherwise, I shall double my medication dose. Then we shall see if Fear Incarnate shall never taste Fear!"


Author's Note: I was debating when I wrote this whether this chapter was necessary and then I decided it offered some insight into the disintegration of the relationship between Scarecrow and Crane with the emergence of Emily on to the scene. I am aware this chapter is very short. The longer chapter will be posted this Saturday.

Blodeudd: Yes, Crane and kids are an irresistible combination for me as you have noticed already. As for the warm and fuzzy, maybe this chapter has answered your question of whether this story might turn dark or not. But let me say the best is still yet to come. And please post a new installment of Dark My Light. I'm going into withdrawal!

Jumana: Hmm, I don't think it's possible for me to write a fluff story, romance maybe, but if this story falls under that category let me just say in advance it will be a highly unconventional one – expect the unexpected. ; )

ACleverName: Thanks so much for the reviews and I'm glad you enjoyed the dialogue. I really loved the scene with Crane and the children, especially Jerry. Originally I had it with Emily breaking up the children, but then I thought, Why wouldn't Crane, he's the one picked on as a child? It would hurt him the most, he would do it.