Well here we go, this chapter would have been over 4000 words but I decided to split it into two parts, that being said I will post the second part next week on July 1st since it is one of the more odd spots to cut off at. Speaking of chapters I will be posting the first chapter of 'Puzzle Box Hearts', the sequel to 'The Riddle of Love' on June 30th.

Isabel was in a dark room. The windows were high up on the wall but no light was shining through. She couldn't see but she could hear. Outside the room was the gentle tap of rain drops. Isabel stood. She wanted to be outside in the rain. The rain would wash away the darkness. Slowly she moved across the room, feeling the wall for a sign of a door.

"Where do you think you are going?" A voice said in the darkness. Isabel gasped she thought she was alone. "I asked you a question. It's rude not to answer."

"I want to go outside."

"It's raining."

"That's why I want to go."

"Very well." From across the room a door swung open without help spreading a harsh white light across the floor. From beyond the doorframe she could see a hallway and at the end of the hall the door to the outside. Isabel started walking towards the door.

"Wait," the voice called out. "Don't leave. You can watch the rain from here."

"But I want to feel it against my skin." She started to walk again but a hand reached out from the dark and grabbed her shoulder.

"No you can't leave we had a deal."

"Let me go."

"No!" The voice's tone changed suddenly from cool and sweet to angry and cruel. Behind her the door slammed shut cutting off the light. Isabel wrenched her shoulder out of the hand running towards where she had just seen the door. She hit up against it and began pounding on the wood crying for help. The door wouldn't budge and around her dark laughter echoed around the room.

Isabel bolted upright, sweat pouring down her back making her clothes stick to her skin. A dream, a dream, it was only a dream. Isabel lay back down. Outside the last remnants of rain dripped steadily. She couldn't sleep though. Her mind kept returning to the dream. It was a harsh reminder of what Jonathan Crane actually was: a monster. She had nearly forgotten. No, she had forgotten after what had happened just a few hours before hand. While she and Crane had watched the storm outside Isabel had forgotten that he was holding her captive and making her father work like a slave. While they had watched all she had thought of him was how whenever he talked he captivated her attention just as much as any book had ever done. How exciting it was to converse with him. And how good the coolness of his hand had felt against her shoulder.

Isabel felt a slight blush cross her cheeks at the memory just like she had blushed last night. She rolled over and flipped her pillow to the cooler side trying to ignore the pressing question. Was Crane a man or a monster?

"We watched the thunder and lightning last night. I removed a few of the boards from the window so we could see the sky better. The best part though. I put my hand on her shoulder and she did not shy away. It was surprisingly nice, I will admit, and by the end of the storm she was even leaning in to me. Everything is going according to plan. She is such a passive woman, a perfect candidate for Stockholm syndrome." As Jonathan talked he carefully filled a syringe of his fear toxin.

"Did I tell you what I was going to do with her? Such a wonderful experiment. Once I have her in my snare with Stockholm syndrome. I am going to twist her mind, bend her to my will. It should not be too hard after all she is only a woman. The weaker sex is very malleable. Perhaps I will introduce her to you; pets often help in therapy." The woman strapped to the table screamed through her gag at him a look of fear and fury on her face.

"Oh, how silly of me, I nearly forgot. You are afraid of men dominating women. Such a fascinating phobia, I am determined to find the source." Jonathan picked up his mask and slid it on to his face. The scratchy burlap had become a source of comfort the weight of the heavy fabric a reminder of who he truly was. He situated the air filter over his mouth and nose. Jonathan breathed in and Scarecrow breathed out.

"You have had a taste of my gas but let us see how you deal with this." Scarecrow pressed the syringe against the woman's skin and slowly forced the needle in. "A new brand of toxin. Congratulations you are the first to try it!" He pushed the plunger and the contents burst in to her system. Instantly she began to struggle against her bonds as though she could escape from what was coming. She let out another scream and the suddenly fell still. Taking a knife out of his pocket Scarecrow cut the gag from her mouth.

"No, no, daddy please don't!"

"Really? Daddy issues!?" Scarecrow began to laugh. The air filter turned his normal cackle into a deeper, demented sound.

"I promise I won't tell mommy. No! Please no more, it hurts!"

"How cliché." He said disappointed. The subject before him had been so promising he had never met someone that was literally afraid of patriarchy before; afraid of men, sure, but afraid of men dominating women, not at all. Poison Ivy hated it he knew but fearing it was a whole new level that would have been fascinating to study. To find out that the root of her fears was an over exaggerated case of daddy issues…disappointing to say the least. Yes, sexual abuse was traumatic but she'd taken her trauma and applied to all men. She was weak.

With a 'tch' a disgust as the woman continued to cry out against the forcibly recalled sexual abuse Scarecrow pulled off his mask. Walking out of the room he was greeted with a rush of cool air from the basement's hallway. Jonathan passed several cells as he walked to his laboratory and all but two were empty. Usually all of ten were full but with Isabel taking up more of his time he hadn't been able to gather more test subjects. Currently his test subjects, now that the origin of the woman's fear had been discovered, were mediocre. A woman with a case of daddy issues mixed with androphobia, a highly strung college student with atychiphobia, and a transient with the typical ergophobia. It was so blasé.

His interesting experiment now was Isabel. What he had told the female test subject was correct Isabel was perfect for Stockholm syndrome. Not because she was passive and certainly not because she was a woman. Isabel made the perfect candidate for Stockholm syndrome because she was a naturally sympathetic person. She wanted to understand where people were coming from, the thoughts behind their beliefs. This too was ideal for her coming to understand and accept his worldview. If she could see the logic and the reasoning behind his beliefs then she would be more willing to accept it.

Now back in his lab Jonathan picked up the tablet that was connected to the cameras watching Isabel. As usual she was on the couch reading but she wasn't reading a book in her hands was a newspaper article. Jonathan squinted trying to see the headline. How did she get a newspaper? His eyes then landed on the book next to her. It was 'The Unconscious and Fear: a Look at Jungian and Freudian Theories' the book that had opened his eyes to the reality of fear. The book in which he had placed the article about one of his proudest moments: when he had destroyed the lives of his childhood tormentors, Sherry Squires and Bo Griggs. If she had seen that yesterday, that's probably what she wanted to ask him about; and if that was the case, he could use it to his advantage.

The lock of the door clicked and Isabel looked up confused. It was only midday what was Crane doing back so early? Was something wrong?

The door opened and Crane stepped in. He didn't look angry like her father had done something wrong instead a slight smile was playing around his lips.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Crane, is something wrong?"

"No, no, I just finished my work early today and thought we might continue our talk from last night since we were unable to finish it."

"Oh? Alright," Isabel set down the book she was fixing.

"You can finish first." Crane said gesturing to the book.

"Thank you, I don't like stopping part way through." Isabel picked the book back up and began to work on it once again. Crane was watching her work his eyes fixed intensely on her hands.

"You do it differently." He stated unexpectedly.

"What?"

"The way you're repairing the book, it's different than how I learned. Can I see?"

"Of course," Isabel held the book out so he could see better, the position was uncomfortable. Isabel tried to make her stiches but her arms were extended too far out for it to work properly.

"Here," Crane stood and sat down next to her on the couch. "Is this better?"

Isabel straightened her back. He was so close. She could feel the heat from his body. A blush crept over her cheeks. Just like last night. "Yeah," she finally said beginning to sew again. No, this wasn't just like last night, last night she had been distracted by the storm. There was nothing distract her now. With Crane so close she could smell his aftershave. It wasn't overpowering but it made her nostrils tingle pleasantly. God, he was so close.

"Ow." Isabel cried suddenly. She'd been so distracted that she pricked herself with the needle. Looking down at her hand she saw blood welling on her finger tip. Isabel went to bring it up to her mouth but Crane's hands caught her. She looked at him the blush on her cheeks becoming even more pronounced.

"Careful," he chastised. His hand nearly dwarfed hers as he held it in one hand. The other was withdrawing a bandage from his pocket. With the fluidity that only years of covering needle marks could manage Crane efficiently wrapped her finger in the bandage. When he was done his hands lingered. Isabel looked up at Crane and her heart immediately jumped into her throat. Crane was staring at her. It wasn't like his usual calculating stares though. His cool blue eyes had captured her in their gaze. The shutters he kept over them were gone.

Isabel didn't know how long they stayed like that, a few seconds or a few minutes, but eventually she gained enough of her head to pull her hand out of Crane's. "Thank you."

That was all that was need to break Crane's stare. Isabel saw the shutters come back making his eyes cold and calculating once more. For a brief moment Isabel believed she had seen a side of Crane no one else ever had.

"May I try?" He said gesturing towards the book in her non-bandaged hand.

"Sure." Isabel handed him the book. Crane must have picked up on her technique quickly because he quickly finished the stitching. "There."

"You're a fast learner," Isabel said taking the book back and setting it on the floor. "So you wanted to finish out conversation?"

"Yes, I remembered you had a question last night, before the lightning started."

"I did, I was just wondering, well, how dare you steal a library book!?"

"What?" Crane said with a small laugh.

"Inside this book," Isabel got off the couch and retrieved one of the books from the pile by the door. She flipped opened to the cover page, "See, "Property of Combs County Library". You stole a library book. As a librarian I am ashamed that a fellow lover of books would commit such a crime." By this time Crane was laughing with a hand covering his mouth and the other clutching his knee.

"Don't laugh, if someone stole a book from my library I would hunt them down like the Furies with Orestes."

"I didn't steal it," Crane finally said controlling his laughter. "Before I went off to college the library was having a book sale of old unused books and I bought it." This was a lie but Isabel didn't need to know that.

"You bought it?"

"Yes, I was lucky, that was one of my favorite books. It was the one that opened my eyes to controlling nature of fear."

"Oh, sorry then."

"It's fine…I don't believe that's what you really wanted to ask me though, is it?"

Isabel's breathe caught in her throat. She thought her lie had been good enough. "No, you're right." Isabel opened the book to the page with the newspaper clipping. "I was wondering about this."

Crane looked down at the newspaper clipping she was presenting to him, pretending to be surprised. "And what about it?"

"Well, there has to be some reason you kept the clipping, were they your friends or something?"

Crane let out a bark of laughter he hadn't expected that. "My friends, that's a good one. Tell another."

"But if they weren't your friends then why…" Isabel's eyes widened in realization, "you were the masked man."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I thought you were smarter than that. I grew up in the backwaters of Georgia where bad blood and religious fever are thick in the air mixing with the heat making the people quick to anger and hard to calm. I was a thin nerdy boy who fell into the devil's own with my love of science and they were Homecoming King and Queen two years in a row. Why do you think I did it?"

"They were your bullies then?"

Crane gave a small sigh of disappointment. "Not just bullying, tormenting. In a town with only a few TVs I was the after school and summer entertainment."

"But you shot at people, Sherry died. What did they ever do to you to warrant death?"

"To be fair I only shot in the air, nobody but Sherry Squires and Bo Griggs were ever in danger, the rest weren't worth my effort. Sherry and Bo deserved to die." Isabel stared at him with a mix of horror and disgust. Crane sighed and let his head hang. "I don't expect you to understand you have no idea. What I went through with them, if they hadn't died I think I would have."

With his head still down Crane glanced up at Isabel. She was looking at him, no longer with disgust, but with hesitant questioning. He could tell she didn't want to ask but she wanted to know. Perfect.

"I-I want to understand." Isabel finally said.

"So now you want to paw at my mind like all the Arkham psychologists?" Crane turned in his seat so his back was partially to Isabel. He had to play this hand carefully, if he was too hostile Isabel was likely to shut down but he was too forth coming then Isabel would know something was up.

Isabel raised her hand slowly and touched Crane gently on the shoulder. He jumped at the unexpected contact and looked back at her. Isabel's eyes were wide and sympathetic. "I don't want to analyze why you did it, I just want to understand why they deserved to die. Remember quid pro quo."

Ok just to be clear Crane is not belittling sexual abuse, especially child abuse, he was just stating his disappointment that such an odd fear came from an "ordinary" cause. That being said what is the oddest fear that you or a friend has? Mine is that I am afraid of that holographic material you see on kids lunch boxes, you know where the image switches when you move it and it has all those tiny grooves...gah! My fingers are freezing up just thinking about it.