SwordStitcher-He was a fascinating study, but I don't have any more to learn from him. As I thought-a steady exposure results in gradual insanity.
Emma-My dear child, wherever did you get the idea that I was 'nice'? Must be those eyes of yours, Jon. I should get contacts...
APieceOfThePuzzle-I did indeed. I was testing an ingestible form as well as long-term exposure. Both worked...well. Very well, as a matter of fact.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-I was not worried! Jonathan, you can't lie to save your life. I was not worried. If anything, I was worried that you had done something to him. Of course you were, love.
Jonathan Crane leaned over the still-twitching form of Mark Nicholson. His eyes were closed, his lips were moving but making no sound, and his fingernails had been ripped off.
He eyed the bloody streaks on the rug and sighed. He'd actually liked that rug. Maybe he could take it to the dry-cleaner's…
"Fascinating." he said. "I think I can put this down as a success."
"Now what?"
"We throw him out. He's already bled all over my rug."
Nicholson moaned and his fingers tried to close.
"I think I'll be poisoning the candy this Halloween. Reece's. I hate Reece's."
He bent down and patted Nicholson on the head.
"That was very therapeutic." he continued, opening the door for her. "I should do it more often."
He scribbled a little note: Deliver to Lieutenant Gordon, Gotham City Police Department.
"There." He got some duct tape and stuck it to Nicholson's back-ugh, human contact-before leaving the room. "They can deal with him."
Kitty shook her head. He pretended not to notice.
"You know, Kitty," he said, "revenge really is best served up cold."
THE END
AN: So ends our little story. From what I hear, Mr. Nicholson is still confined at Arkham. I haven't seen him, but they do try to keep me away from the regular patients. Something about being a danger…as if. I am a doctor, after all. Should you choose to vacation here in Gotham, do drop in. Have a cup of tea. I'd love to meet you, find out what makes you scream.
-Dr. Crane