Thank to QueenCaroline and coco for the reviews. To answer your question coco, yes Jonathon will be lucid (not all the time but for large chunks of it.) This is the first chapter in which there is a reasonable period of lucidity. If it's not clear why let me know.

And (sorry about the lateness, I was in a rush when I did the last update) thanks to neo savvy, K.W. (I'm glad you like it. I've also been on both sides a bit there so maybe that helps. Do you have any fics up?),GuTTerArT (on your advice – if anyone wants to beta read this let me know.), RavensWood, MyFavoriteOutfitIsAStraightjacket and Nightarcher210 for reviewing chapter 2.

Here's the next part.

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Bruce didn't sleep well that night and put it down to not being in his own bed.

Returning to his room he fully expected to be attacked by the Scarecrow. As a result, it came of something of a surprise to find him sleeping. He must have been having a nightmare for he twisted and flinched, eyes moving rapidly beneath their closed lids. Approaching the bed Batman shook him awake, more forcefully than he had intended. Lagoon-blue eyes shot open as weak limbs tensed. "Get up. It's time for breakfast." He watched Crane edge to side of the bed and stand shakily.

He led him downstairs and back to the bat-cave. In the laboratory Alfred had left a breakfast tray. After being directed to the chair Jonathon picked up a slice of toast, took a few anxious bites and replaced it back on the tray. He drank about half of a glass of orange juice, then set that down too.

"Aren't you going to eat anymore?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Fine." Picking up the handcuffs he chained Crane's right arm to the chair. "Get to work then," he said as he left the room.

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Several hours later, just before heading out into the night, Batman returned to the lab. He found that the Scarecrow had smashed a test-tube and with the broken glass repeatedly sliced into his legs and tied arm. Though there was a fair amount of blood, it was evident the cuts were not deep enough to be imediately life treathening.

A sharp slap threw Crane's head to the side. "Why would you do that?" Angry, shouted and confused.

"It hurts."

"Of course it hurts! You fucking slashed yourself!"

"It hurts inside."

"Shut up!" Another slap. "I already told you not to injure yourself!" A punch. Then a second. And suddenly they were on the ground and Jonathon wasn't cuffed to the chair anymore but his hands were held together. The boxers were twisted around his ankels. Bruises formed. He struggled uselessly.

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After only a couple of hours in the Narrows Bruce returned to the cave. Jonathon was sitting against the wall. Though he was shaking violently, his expression was blank.

"Are you cold?" The guilt was clear in his voice.

"It's the medications wearing off." He seemed quite calm. "The incompedents now running Arkham don't know to administer them without causing dependancy."

A pause. "What did they have you on?"

"It kept changing. And some of the little pills look so alike... I wasn't always sure. There were sedatives and anti-psychotics. Sometimes paralitics."

He wanted to ask where the bruises had come from, to hear they were a side-effect of the drugs. But the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Because no amount of blood thinners could break bones.

"Look on the table," Crane directed.

Doing as he was told Bruce found a picture drawn in red ink. The doctor must have done it hours ago. It was a picture of a molecule, complex and strangely beautiful. "What is this?"

"What you wanted. The cure."

"Half the scientists in the city are working flat out on this and haven't been able to come up with anything. You expect me to believe you've done it in twelve hours?"

"Yes."

There was a silence.

"You weren't the first one," Jonathon said very quietly. "I wanted you to know that."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Bat-Man made me remember some things I'd rather forget."

He didn't want to understand. He didn't want to but he did. "Who was it? When?"

"When I was still studying for my degree," he replied in an emotionless voice. "I was bringing some books back to the library one night when I ran into some older students." He laughed. "Well, they were all older actually. Did you know that I graduated high school at fourteen with a full scholarship to the University of Gotham?"

"No, I didn't know that. What happened with the other students?"

"They were drunk. They shoved me against a wall, then did much the same as you've done."

Bruce didn't say anything for a long moment. Then eventually, "I didn't mean to, either time. I am sorry."

"Why?"

That question threw him. "Because it was wrong. Nothing you've done could ever change the fact that it was wrong."

Jonathon raised his head, finnally looking at him. "No one's ever been sorry before."