A/N: Back once again with another chapter. Again, as Gar's mainly inside a prison this arc, there isn't going to be a lot of action. Prison life is VERY boring, very tedious, and very repetitive and Gar's is no exception. He can only interact with people, not with fighting (or he'll be put back into solitary) so he's trying to make the best of his self-imposed time in Arkham. However, he may have stumbled onto something (you'll know it when you read it) that I hope to explore in the last half of this arc. By the way, I hope you enjoy the interactions with this chapter. It's fun to have Gar meet people he either doesn't know or hasn't met it years.

99 Years in the Arkham Pen...

Startling Garfield Logan from sleep, as well as the other inmates of Arkham Asylum, is the sound of a very loud, very ominous siren emanating from outside. Across from his cell, Gar looks to Edward Nygma for some sign of recognition but finds none such from the villain. Even more puzzling is the fact that all the glass doors open on their own, no guards to escort them nor reason revealing itself as to the cause. In this moment, all of the inmates (with the curious exception of Gar) respond to this in kind: They run for freedom.

Poking his head out of the cell, Gar can see people of all sorts escaping down the hallway, cheering for freedom and cursing the establishment that formerly held them inside. Harley Quinn runs by, blowing a kiss at Gar, and wishing him luck on the outside.
"What the fuck is going on?"

After several more minutes, the inmates escaping out of the door at the end of the hall, Gar himself leaves his cell and continues for the exit. Cautiously, making sure this isn't a trip, the siren outside still in his ears, the idea that a mass jail break begins to echo inside his mind.

As there's no way to see outside through windows, he can only assume that something big must be going down if the sound of gunfire is heard through the old, stone walls.
"Shit, it is a prison break…"

…

As he passes through the door leading to the next cellblock, Gar's stunned to realize he hasn't entered his intended destination but rather he's greeted by the sight of the scene outside. As prison guards fire indiscriminately at the escaping felons, their work is overshadowed by the vicious streams of lightning, torrential rains, and black thunderclouds above. What the spot lights do no illuminate, the vast stretches of lightning reveal the scene of chaos and carnage before him.
"My God… they're killing all of them!" Realizing he himself is out in the open, he turns back to the doorway, back towards his cell if he can…

…

But as he passes through the door once again, he finds himself not in his old cellblock but inside Hangar 18, the remains of corpses and skeletons about the room like the trash of a dump yard's warehouse. No sign of Ripper, just the rusted, decaying, blood-spattered remains of the victims he himself laid to waste.

Although Ripper isn't to be found, the reality starts to come together in his mind thanks to the curious sound of bird cawing in the thunderstorm above.

"Scarecrow…"

The hangar collapsing around him, only the thunderstorm remains though a giant now rises from the horizon. Eyes piercing with yellow light, his gloved needle-based hand gleaming with fear-based toxins, the visage of Jonathan Crane reveals itself to the former vagrant.

With a sickening cackle, the master of fear announces himself to his former adversary. "My my, I see you've grown up since my last little trip into your mind, Garfield Logan."

"What's the deal, Scarecrow? Better yet, why are you in my head?" Realizing it's only the insane ex-professor, Gar finds himself more annoyed than fearful indeed.

Face looming close to Gar's body as though a billboard to a child, the hooded figure replies "Why I'm in the same building as you, little dog. I must admit I'm unable to visit you in person, the asylum staff has made it clear my physical body is not to leave their walls ever again."

"But your mental powers allow you to leave, don't they? It's how you've been able to effect my dreams… and everyone else's, even from this far." Arms folding behind his back, steeling his courage, Gar has to admit "Pretty clever for someone who prides himself on creating fear. But unfortunately, you're not that scary."
"Oh… and why do you suggest that?" Shrinking his body down to Gar's height, the twig-thin dead hangman approaches, needles scraping along the ground. "You don't like what I have to show you?"

"I've seen it before." Looking around at the thunderstorm, Gar remarks "And I've seen this even before I met you."

"Your experience with the White Rabbit drug, yes?" A small chuckle at the memory, Scarecrow remarks "I've seen the memory in your head, it was quite vivid, wasn't it?"

"Scarier than you. After all, my mind created that nightmare… and your mind can create terrors far worse than anyone else could make."

"Spoken quite well, little dog." Focusing a moment, the figure of Jonathan Crane changes from a thin hangman to a dark Puritan, his hair dangling from a corporeal face. "If you'll permit me, I enjoy this form better as of late."

"It's still not scary." To prove it, Gar sits down on the ground in meditative style as he had with the Riddler. "It seems I'm at your whim, Crane, so why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

Not beating around the bush this time, the ex-doctor inquires "I want to know why you're still here? Why do you choose to remain in this God forsaken cesspool when you could be out getting revenge on those who poisoned you?"

Tapping his head, Gar replies bluntly "You've read my mind, right? Why do I need to tell you?"

"Your mind holds memories, not reasons. It's the difference between looking at a picture and watching a movie."
"I'll tell you if you do me a favor."

Intrigued, Scarecrow also sits down as Gar does, his white legs like pale skin poking out from the bottom of his coat. "A favor? Oh, do tell me, Watchman…"

Sitting in the therapy room, awaiting his usual doctor, he's surprised by the sight of a different man entering, a clipboard in his hand but clearly not the usual psychiatrist.

"Who are you?"

Sitting in the chair before Gar's couch, this ginger-haired man in his mid 30's seems more gruff than casually interested. "Your normal doctor called in sick. He's been having night terrors as of late…"

"Thank you, Scarecrow." The young man's thoughts mentally go out to Scarecrow but there's business at hand to tend to. "That's a shame. So, who are you?"

Lifting the clipboard to obscure his face, the man answers in a voice that catches Gar off his guard. "That's the question, isn't it?"

Eyes widening, he leans forward in his couch to ask "Q? Is that really you?"

Lowering the clipboard, he winks for a moment before reminding in a more authoritative voice "If you wish to call me that, go ahead. We'll conduct this interview under close scrutiny, do you understand?"

"That was the cue from Question that we were under supervision from behind the two-way mirrors. He somehow managed to sneak into Arkham or, more likely, he was able to manipulate his way into my therapy session through some nefarious means. Still, I hadn't seen that crackpot since 2007 and I was seriously starting to wonder if he abandoned me to this fate.

There wasn't much to be said outside of a few bullshit questions we used to rehearse back in the Hub. Various questions designed to keep witnesses content while the real meaning of our conversation was held in code. I knew when he was asking if I was surviving ok, if I needed outside help to get me free, and a few other things I care not to mention. It was strange talking in "code-speak" as I used to call it, can you blame me? It's like buying a bag of cocaine from a dealer but using the same ordering system you'd use at a McDonald's. One wrong word and the whole conversation (and your life) is fucked up…

When I got back to my cell, however, I found a few parcels had been delivered, courtesy of my friend on the outside. One involved a picture of a sour-looking "Nightwing", the caption reading "Titans alluded by the Triple Threat once again"… Triple Threat, as he told me, was the new name of the old "Fatal Four" since Dr. Light had gone "missing". Never thought that bitch Madame Rouge would return, especially with Gotham and Central City help… still, it made for a fun reminder of what I didn't have to put up with back at home. The other inmates, especially those that happened to have fought Robin in the past, found just as much joy in that picture as I did.
The second item in the parcel was a letter from Raven. Apparently Blackgate wasn't too quick with informing her that my address had been changed so the date was still a few months prior but, hey, it was better than nothing. I got to see Robin… ahem.. "Nightwing" look like a bitch AND I got word from my favorite girl back home, I was in heaven.

Finally, the third thing required some authorization, or so the paperwork said. The only reason I was getting this, they said, was due to my "model inmate" reputation amongst the Arkham staff. I'm sure they didn't refer to my time in the therapy sessions but my time NOT attacking the other inmates. Shit, rambling here. Anyway, the last parcel was a silver, Egyptian Ankh with a thin, silver necklace. According to the note Raven wrote with it, "a strange, hippie woman with skittles urged her to buy it" and to "send it to the Watchman in Gotham."
… How did she know, you ask? I didn't realize it at first just why she gave it to Raven until I remembered a request I made with a certain pale-skinned woman during my three minutes of death. Even three-thousand miles away, Death still made sure I got my symbol of my time with her… Well, they say Death moves in mysterious ways, huh?

Something has been bothering me though since I arrived in Arkham, something that I haven't figured out but I'm sure no one here will let me know about. It seems that every few weeks or so, someone from our block or the one down from us escapes… Not for long, just about one night's worth, and then comes back to the Asylum. Not just back here either, I mean WILLINGLY back here… I'm not crazy about this place but I've never known so many people who WILLINGLY leave and then come BACK, after only one night! It almost seems like a schedule… might be to keep the Batman sharp or maybe it's something deeper… I'll need to investigate this one from the inside, at least for my own curiousity.

One of the days in the day room, Gar finds himself studying part of the Arabic language when his resident friend appears across the table from him. "What'cha readin', anyway? You've been at it for days, Gar-baby?"

Looking up at Harley, Gar answers "Studying languages. Still trying to get a grasp of Middle Eastern words right."

Confusion on her face, she asks "How do you know what you're readin' if you can't read the symbols?"
Eyes back to the book, he reminds her "If I could learn how to speak in animal tongues, I can master Arabic."

"Well, bookworm, class is over for today. I got someone who's been waitin' weeks to meet ya."

Before he can retort, she shuts the book on him, inches from crushing one of his fingers. Glaring at her a bit, he gives up at the wide grin on her face. Sighing, he asks "Ok, who is it?"

"Get up and come find out. I'm not some middle-bitch you know."

…

On the other side of the day room, Harley delivers Gar to the woman who waved at him on the way in. Plopping down on the couch, Quinn gestures him to follow suit. "Gar-baby, I give ya "Red", a.k.a. Poison Ivy."

Gar's face only rises a bit in confusion as if trying to figure out just who this elfin figure is before him. Sure the woman is a dead knockout given that slender, full-bodied figure of her's, even if the skin's green, but who she is doesn't pop into his mind. "Sorry but… who are you?"

That great face of her's turns venomously sour at the retort by this child. "Are you deaf, little man, she told you who I am."

"I'm not deaf, I heard who you are. But who are you again? I haven't heard of you before."

'You ain't heard of Red before?" Harley asks, surprised that this former "hero" hasn't even heard of…

"Either you've been living under a rock all these years or you're a total idiot." She informs Gar, taking a hand to her chest. "I'm Mother Nature herself, come to Gotham to remove man's evil corruption of the planet and it's ecosystem."

Straight-faced, dipping back into that same mindset that pissed of Nygma, Gar points out simply "So you're a wildlife nut, then? One of those people who strap dynamite to their bodies and blow up oncoming bulldozers with?"

Harley's look of further confusion is left silent by Ivy's anger-ridden salvo "I'm NOT a "wildlife" nut, you little shit, I'm Mother Nature HERSELF!"

"And I'm Death in a man's form. If you were Mother Nature, wouldn't you have torn down this building by now? Why stay in a cage when you're supposed to be running free in a garden of Eden?" At first the two women are about to reply but stop as the reply, blunt as it is, hits a very honest note. "I'm not a botanist like my parents were but I'm animal enough to know that you can't cage nature, you only avert your eyes from it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ivy dares but the anger in her tone is noticeably fading away with each moment.

Raising an eyebrow, Gar suggests "You can cover the Earth with concrete, pave it, drive over it, and pollute the shit out of it… but nature's still there. You can't escape from it. Sooner or later, it will come back and reclaim what it lost."

Surprised, mainly on Ivy's part as Harley seems a bit confused, the poisonous woman offers to the man before her "That's a pretty good idea there, Gar."

"Well that was assuming you were Mother Nature, which I still doubt you are. Otherwise you would've been free by now and I'd be busy collecting souls for the next world."

Back by his book on languages, Gar's cheek is noticeably redder than before, despite the green coloration. To his side, a bored looking Harley Quinn remarks "Shouldn't have pissed her off, Gar-baby."

"Still don't think she's Mother Nature."

"Yeah, well, I also think my dear Mr. J is the greatest man this planet's ever seen. But if you ask that bastard Batman, he'd tell you otherwise."

"Still didn't deserve the slap though." "Opinions are like assholes, Harley, everyone has one. Then again you tried introducing the Animal Kingdom to the Plant Kingdom. Trust me, it doesn't end too well when that happens."

"Why's that?"

"Plants will live forever but they don't seem to think outside the box. Animals only live so long but they tend to have the most fun."

Pausing a moment, trying to think of something, she blurts out "You're making that up, aren't you?"

Flipping a page, he answers "Course, I'm not a genius you know."

"Yeah, well animal boy, I think she likes you. Not like that I mean but I think you caught her off-guard with the "nature reclaiming the world" bit. But just so you know, don't think that gives you any special treatment…"

"Well, if I'm not going to pick up Arabic, might as well learn German." "Don't worry about that, I got enough on my hands with you, Harley. I don't think I could handle both of you, not before dinner."

A smack to the back of his head, Gar mutters under his breath as the Joker's sidekick wanders off across the room, muttering about dirty-minded animals and so forth.

A/N2: Gar might've left an impression with Ivy but still not enough to save him from a bitchslap to the face. Don't worry, she'll be back... There's nothing ball-busters like than being around another one so they can try and one-up as it were. Still, this chapter a few nice cameos, huh? Seeing Scarecrow again, for me, was fun (I think he's in solitary but I've never shown him in person in my series yet) and Q's sneaking in was something I thought would throw you off. As usual, I'm fully expecting everyone to bomb me with "How did he get in?" and "Where's Scarecrow?" and stuff like this... If you're going to ask, remember that asking only takes away from the fun of FINDING OUT WHEN I WRITE IT!

Rhetorical: Gar gets his Ankh from Death (courtesy of my lucky charm, skittles) and possibly has a friend to help him get out of those annoying therapy sessions. For a guy who's not endearing himself to the general population, he almost seems to have them working for him, doesn't it?