Three Months Later

The Joker was lying on the cot in his cell, playing with some Play-doh his therapist had given him, molding it into the shape of a sailboat. It was supposed to give him something to do with his hands and distract him from his dark thoughts. While it succeeded in entertaining his hands, it in no way distracted him from his thoughts.

Harleen had been reinstated as a psychiatrist a few days ago. He wondered who had signed her sanity certificate. It had only been three months, so either the people of Gotham were far too trusting or they were running low on doctors willing to treat rogues like himself. It was probably both.

For three months solid he had been sitting in this cell, not once had they let him out. While this arrangement irked him, it gave him more than enough time to think and plan. He had to watch himself; if he let his thoughts wander they would inevitably drift to Crane and how he would torture him to death. Crane would die, but for now he needed to focus on Harleen.

There was no way he was going to let her come out of this alive. If Batman thought he could protect her from him, well, it was almost insulting. To think that Batman had any control over him and who he chose to kill! The only reason he was in here now was because he had chosen to stay so he could keep an eye on her. In fact, he had decided tonight was the perfect time to escape and set things right.

He pulled himself off the bed and put one hand on the door of his cell and the other on his abdomen. "Guard, I think my doctor got the dosage wrong on my medicine. My stomach hurts…" he moaned.

"Shut up," came the guard's uncaring reply. He was no fool when it came to the Joker's tricks. Or so he thought.

"I really think something's wrong, the room is spinning," said the Joker as he suddenly vomited all over the floor.

The guard looked in as the Joker collapsed to the floor, seemingly unconscious. He realized that he wasn't faking and immediately rushed in to help. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to keep the Joker alive, but his paycheck depended on the lunatic, so he knew he couldn't just let the man die. He bent over him to check if he was breathing. The instant he touched him the Joker suddenly pounced on him, obviously still alive and well. He pinned the man down and grabbed the Play-doh he had been playing with and shoved it down the man's throat. The guard grunted in pain and horror as he clutched at his throat. A minute or two later, the man's lifeless body crumpled on the floor. The Joker quickly swapped uniforms with him and stole his gun and keys and within a matter of minutes was on his way out.

Before he could leave, however, there was some unfinished business he needed to attend to. He went to find the man who had lately been causing him more problems than Batsy himself.

He snuck around Arkham, easily evading the guards. He was a master at keeping himself hidden when he didn't want to be caught. After a lot of searching, he finally found him down in the laundry room washing his clothes. The Joker quickly took out the guard watching him and grabbed him by the throat.

"Just the man I wanted to see," said the Joker with a merciless smile on his face.

"I've been expecting you. Took longer than I thought it would for you to break out," Scarecrow wheezed.

"Why'd you do it, Crane?" he asked curiously. "Surely you knew that such stupidity would inevitably result in a horrible demise."

"I hadn't planned to infect Harley with my toxin, but I decided it was time to teach you a lesson," coughed Crane. "I didn't want to hurt Harley, I'm actually quite fond of her, but it was the only way I could really get to you. Since my toxins don't work on you, I infected the closest thing to you, instead. I hadn't expected it to make her forget you like it did, that was just a bonus. You really had it coming, you know. Replacing my toxins with your Joker Venom was going too far, even for you."

"On the contrary, I believe what you did was going too far. You and everyone else in Gotham should know by now that I'm very possessive of my things. Harley belonged to me, but because of you she will never be mine again. Not in life, anyway."

"Oh, how sweet. The Joker finally admits his love for his little sidekick."

Without loosening his grip on him, the Joker punched Crane in the nose as hard as he could. He felt the bone break as blood spurted all over his face. Scarecrow whimpered in pain as he struggled for breath.

"I never loved her, you imbecile. I just don't like it when people break my playthings. I break my stuff, no one else. No one hurts Harley except for me. No one touches her or breaks her except for me. If I can't have her in life, then she will be mine in death. But before I kill her, I'm going to kill the one responsible for my current predicament." The Joker pulled out the guard's keys and used one of them to begin digging into Crane's throat. "It's been nice knowing you, Crane old buddy."

"Wait!" cried Scarecrow. "I can cure her, I can cure Harley."

"That's a filthy lie," said Joker, amused by how frightened Crane was. So much for only being afraid of bats. "There is no cure for your wonder-toxin. You'd say anything right now to live."

"No, I'm telling the truth," said Crane, his tone almost pleading. "I developed an antidote before I was arrested. I've managed to keep it hidden from Batman and the doctors. If you promise not to kill me, I'll give it to you."

"And just why should I believe you? How could an idiot like you come up with an antidote when Bats and the rest of Gotham's scientists can't?" he jeered as he continued to carve his throat with the key, drawing blood.

"Batman doesn't know as much as he'd like us to think. Same goes for the rest of Gotham's scientists and doctors. Look, go ahead and kill me if you want, but if you do, you'll have thrown away your only chance at having Harley back."

"Where is this imaginary antidote? Assuming it does exist, how have you kept it hidden for so long?" asked Joker, unable to deny his curiosity.

"First you have to promise that you won't kill me," demanded Crane.

"Now where's the fun in that?" asked Joker with a frown.

"Promise, or you'll be stuck with Harleen forever," threatened Crane.

"Not a problem, I'll just kill her," replied Joker, uncaring.

"Go ahead then, kill us both. Have fun spending the rest of your pathetic excuse of a life alone. Just remember, you could have had her back."

The Joker really didn't care whether she lived or died, and he really wanted to kill Crane, but he was curious about the antidote. "I'll right Crane, you win this round. I promise not to kill you. Cross my heart and hope to die," said the Joker as he released Scarecrow, sounding like a disappointed child. "I'll settle with making you wish you were dead, instead. It's far more than you deserve."

"Fair enough," said Crane as he rubbed his throat and tried to staunch the blood pouring from his nose. "The antidote is in my old hideout, the one you and Harley violated a few months ago. It's hidden in a box underneath the floorboard in the lower level of my lab, next to the first row of potions."

"Just out of curiosity, why would you develop an antidote to your own beloved toxin?" inquired the Joker, his interest piqued.

"When I heard no one had been able to create a cure, I wanted to see if I could. I would have destroyed it, but I kept it just for this occasion."

"Just so you know, if I look in that box and don't find the antidote or the antidote turns out to be a fake, deal's off," the Joker warned dangerously.

"Of course. There is something I should tell you, though. The antidote isn't guaranteed to work. I tested it out on three people. One was cured completely and became immune to the toxin. The other two weren't so lucky. Both were dead by morning."

"So what you're saying is, there's a two in three chance that Harley could die if I give her the antidote?" asked Joker.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I know you don't care, but I felt I should warn you."

Tired of listening to the noise coming out of his mouth, the Joker grabbed Crane and stuffed him into one of the dryers. He laughed as Crane pounded on the door and yelled for him to let him out. Making Crane's life a living hell was going to be fun. This got him to thinking; if you tortured a sane man long enough he became insane, so what happened if you tortured an insane man for long enough? He would find out soon enough but first, the antidote.