One of my favorite animated films of all time is Beauty and the Beast, which "Elizabeth and the Scarecrow" is paralleled to. Behind the making of the film, its executive producer and one of the composers of the marvelous songs, Howard Ashman, was diagnosed with AIDs during production and died half a year before the movie's premiere. His colleagues and associates have a dedication at the end: "To our friend Howard Ashman, who gave a mermaid her voice and a beast his soul - we will be forever grateful". It was also known that he was "so dynamic you didn't realize anything was wrong with him". Truer words had never been spoken for him or anyone else that you can consider close to your heart.

Sylvia DeLaine herself was the "salt of the earth", and we all will miss her as much as her family is right now. :( Marilyn Burns herself - notably her character in Texas Chainsaw 3D - was called in those words by her lawyer in the movie that somehow stuck into my fiber that it sounded like they could be used for anyone like her.

Chapter Nineteen

New and Old Wounds

Iris had been in turmoil for the rest of the night since finding out about her grandmother's death. Alice was the same, except she had spent the remainder of the night crying in Jervis' arms in their bedroom. Iris, on the other hand, was not one to allow heavy tears fall like her sister did. She would keep her face stoned and expressionless, save for a few tears rolling down her flawless cheeks like perfect pearls.

Jonathan himself felt a pang of grief. He hadn't known Sylvia DeLaine for that long, but the whole time he was at her estate, he had felt as if she was his blood relative and not Mariah Crane. She was an enormous presence in his life - from welcoming him as her own grandson and helping him with Iris - and she was so dynamic you didn't realize anything was wrong with her. Until about two months ago when he and Iris visited her because her health was declining. It was then that his doctoral instincts kicked in and he realized she was very ill and unlikely to live longer. Of course, she was in her early to mid-sixties, and it was possible then. But at the same time, he, like Iris, Alice, and Jervis, didn't want Sylvia to leave so soon.

And now she was gone.

The funeral was in two days, which made him wonder - given she'd passed away in her sleep the week before - why her granddaughters weren't notified before. Unless arrangements had to be made first. The letter had said that the body was preserved so that no rotting was possible, and that there was a will scheduled to be read the next day after the funeral. Jonathan shouldn't expect anything in there to be left to him. What would there be for him, anyways?

Right now, Iris needed to be looked after for the night. He'd managed to persuade her to take the next couple days off from Arkham for the funeral and the will. Knowing her, she never took time off unless she absolutely needed to - sick days out of the question. Iris had never been sick a day in her life as far as he knew.

Three months…he couldn't believe this, either. They'd been together the way they were now for three whole months, and he couldn't have been happier. There were no words to explain how complete he was, more happier than he had ever been in his life, and how fabulous their lovemaking techniques were.

But now she looked very ill to the face as she sat against the wall behind him in his Japanese garden shower, halfway nestled among the greenery. He was washing his hair when he turned around to look at her. She wore a plain white t-shirt that reached mid-thigh - something he rarely saw on her, but it was seductive nevertheless - with nothing else under it, and her hair was thrown behind her shoulders so it didn't hide her face from him. Her face had a mix of emotions - loss and sorrow evidently clear…mixed with pleasure. This adamantly shocked him a little as she'd only found out she'd lost her grandmother…and then he saw it. Her legs were parted slightly, and she was making the motions with her right hand; in her left hand resting on her knee was a little blue tube that could only be known as the cooling Intensify Arousal Gel. This no longer shocked him, given the product line named after the book was the second guide to passion and pleasure - and seeing her use the cooling arousal for the female side of the sexes in a hot shower turned him on, too. She made eye contact with him at last as she continued her ministrations, her eyes clearly telling him what she was up to. She was pleasuring herself just to show him that she wanted to get off and take her mind off the whole events of tonight. Her free hand moving from her knee to hold it out to him was inviting him to do the same to her. Iris handing him the reign was an irresistible invitation.

The hot water was beginning to tone down, but Jonathan reached to turn it up a little, knowing the droplets spilling over his naked body in a rainfall - over his back and buttocks, and over his full front and dripping off from the dark "rainforest" around his stiffening length - was his call to her. It worked, and she joined him under the shower, her not bothering to remove her t-shirt, which was beginning to become sheer and showing certain outlines that fueled his fantasies. Her rosy nipples were hardening and showing under the wet fabric, as was the dark triangle at the base of her thighs. She leaned up against him, pressing her whole body against him for more body heat. His shaft was pressing up against her from under her shirt ridding up to around her waist, feeling both her moist heat and the remaining cool, tantalizing tingle from the gel. Jonathan groaned - this stuff worked on him, too, this stuff that satisfied desire you only dared to imagine. This was the fault of all three - Iris, the heat of the shower, and this gel - that he desired to have this time in this room now. Mix that in with the need to make Iris feel better tonight after Sylvia's death.

He held her close to him, running his fingers through her hair and bringing his other hand to cup one side of her rear, then hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around him, as they moved to the wall under the shower and he entered her without any trouble, her cries of pleasure devoid of pain for once. "Don't cry, Iris," he cooed in her ear, nuzzling into her neck afterwards. "I'm going to make you all better just for this night…"

~o~

The funeral was held precisely two days later at the manor - not Sylvia's, though. Given that her estate had no private cemetery and that her late husband was laid to rest in the one owned by Iris, Sylvia DeLaine had left specific instructions to be buried beside her husband, Andrey DeLaine. Not that far a distance from where Iris' parents laid.

The next day, before today, Iris had been allowed the opportunity to look upon the ashen face of her grandmother after preservation. There had been Sylvia, looking as if she was sleeping rather than dead, her silver hair in an elegant braided updo, in a vintage 1990's, very fitted black velvet gown with sheer décolletage and a barely deep V-neck. Iris had brought with her and placed inside the casket a sweet array of pink spray roses and pink carnations tied with pink satin ribbon and accented with ivy - Pamela's help, of course - as a very personal expression of love. It was very out of place for the air of sadness surrounding them, but Iris had been hoping that the bright colors were enough to keep the happiness that once lingered in life going in death.

Now she stood in the family courtyard, gazing down at the casket ready to be lowered into the ground - metal with a silver shaded platinum finish and decorated with rose-gold accessories - and at the beautiful spray of luminous all-white flowers - pure white oriental lilies, gladioli, carnations and stock - with delicate fragrant greenery, an elegantly simple way to give serenity and strength to the bereaved and paying tribute to the deceased Sylvia DeLaine with affection and grace. Iris wrapped her arms around herself, her slim ruched black dress with a sheer neckline and sleeves with crystal embellishment making her feel colder rather than hotter in this summer weather. Her loose hair, however, made her feel the opposite, as it draped both sides of her face and hid her dramatic, vintage black crystal chandelier earrings from view.

She felt an arm wrap around her waist. Looking up, she saw Jonathan standing there in a black mourning suit and tie along with the other male mourners who had come to pay their respects, but black shades hid his beautiful blues from her. "I don't believe in God," he whispered to her, "but I know she's in a better place now."

"I do, too," Iris whispered back. She looked to her left to see Alice in an adorable black satin dress with ribbons for straps, hair elegantly up and accented with rhinestone flowers, Jervis beside her, both clutching a bouquet of white roses, poppies, and oriental lilies and greenery similar to the spray on top of the coffin. Alice's face was the clear emblem of the grieving granddaughter, lips tightly wound as she tried so hard not to unleash a series of baby bawls, while her husband was doing his best to try to console her the whole time the preacher was reciting from the Bible how the end was eternal life, and how love never dies.

And there was Eddie and Joan, accompanied by Andrew Davis and his wife and two children. Joan was in a cute black number with a belt to show off her waist, hair in a simple ponytail, and holding a bouquet of white lilies and assorted orange flowers and greenery. She and Eddie never knew Sylvia, but Iris was grateful that they'd come here to share her grief.

Once the preacher was finished, Iris took a shaky step forward, relieved that her steps didn't falter, as she knelt down to drop her bouquet of blue forget-me-nots and white roses and callas into the ground as Sylvia's casket was lowered to the ground. "Good-bye, Grandma…" she whispered as the casket rested for the earth to close upon it forever.

Once the funeral was over, everyone was filing out, everyone but Iris stayed where she was beside the closing grave, Jonathan still beside her with his arm around her waist. Her heart ached terribly. All she could think of at the moment was that her grandmother was gone from this world. She had been an enormous presence in her life…and now she was gone.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Iris." She looked up and smiled at the sight of her grandmother's lawyer. He was a kindly old man in his early fifties, with whitening hair and a mustache, almost enough to pass off as her late grandfather. She'd only met him a couple times when she was younger, but he was one of the people whom she held the utmost respect for.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Farnsworth," she said, accepting a brief handshake and a friendly kiss on the cheek.

"And to you," he answered. "I came all the way out here from New York just for you and Sylvia." He smiled first at her and then at Jonathan. "She was a good woman. Salt of the earth. Just like her granddaughter here is the rarest blossom out of all the society girls of the world."

"A blessing that she's far more independent than those simpering women of this city," Jonathan answered, holding out his hand for another shake. "Jonathan Crane."

Farnsworth laughed. "Ah, my boy, no need for introductions. I know who you are, but no judgments there. Iris did a fine job picking out her match, much like Sylvia."

"Very much, indeed." Iris looked past Farnsworth's shoulder, and immediately felt her body tense. "And I must say that she looks just like her grandmother did, too."

The man looked somewhat older than Farnsworth by over a decade, his dark hair beginning to be overshadowed with gray. He was large in build, but not in any way like a wrestler or the average muscle man. He was dressed for mourning, his eyes hidden by shades, but Iris could have sworn that she'd seen him someplace…

She looked behind her to see Jonathan had gone completely rigid, his mouth set in a tight line. "Darling?" she asked gently. His body language remained the same, but he turned his head downward to soften his lips into a smile.

"I'll be inside, Iris," he told her, and it was then that she heard the uneasy edge in his voice - actually it was more than that. He sounded like he wanted to be far away from this mysterious man as possible. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and nodded at Farnsworth that he was taking his leave. Iris watched him go with worry in her heart. What was it about this man that made Jonathan so…terrified? She looked back at him.

"Mr. Farnsworth…" she began when she noticed how the lawyer regarded the other man with a look of pure hostility. He knew this person, but also seemed to dislike him with a great amount of passion. "…who is this?"

The man laughed as he reached and took off his shades, and she sucked in a deep breath of horror somehow. "Forgive me, Miss DeLaine," he started with a chuckle.

"Doctor to you," she snapped.

"Doctor." He drawled her title if not in the way a drunkard would. "My apologies. I should have introduced myself. My name is Victor. Dr. Victor Warner."

~o~

Jonathan didn't have time to make it to the kitchen to where the others were waiting for them, instead dashing for the bathroom on the level he was on, threw up the toilet lid, and unleashed the contents from his stomach and into the bowl. When he was through, he flushed it and sat back against the wall behind him, breathing heavily as he took off his sunglasses that were threatening to fall off his nose and gasped for air heavily. The room was getting hotter as he dwelled on the fact that his worst nightmare had come back to haunt him…he remembered everything…every night he'd spent with him…everything that happened on those nights…

…standing naked with his hands bound behind his back as the predator's hands roamed his body, touching places he possibly fantasized about long before that first night…

…bent over the armrest of a couch, still exposed with his hands bound behind him, buttocks in the air, legs spread, as he was sodomized…

…some after school days he spent under a desk, his nude body kneeling as he was forced to take a disgusting object into his mouth to please the most effecting demon in his miserable life…

…standing in the shower, legs spread, hands tied above his head to the curtain rack, as his captor took his "sweet time" in shaving off most, sometimes some - sometimes all - of the hair from the place that was his most private and personal above everything and everywhere else, just to satisfy his own urges…

…spread eagle fashion across a bed, lights out, and a sweaty old man groaning atop of him as he claimed a body that had been brutalized enough in one lifetime…

He moaned in agony as the terrible images swam before his tightly squeezed eyes once more. Memories he'd rather have kept locked away in a cabinet in the far reaches of his mind, never to be unlocked again. Except they had.

He heard footsteps in the doorway and realized he'd forgotten to close the door behind him. "Jon?" He recognized Edward's voice, and opened his eyes, feeling the wetness around the rims. "What's the matter?"

For a moment he contemplated telling him, but feared that he would go off and do something that would wound him back up in Arkham - or perhaps Blackgate for murder - but answered him anyway. "He's back, Eddie," Jonathan gasped. "He's returned. The one you tried to protect me from."

The way Eddie's eyes narrowed when the name didn't have to be spoken said it all but what he feared.

~o~

"Is there something the matter, my dear?"

Iris mentally flinched at the way this man - Jonathan's rapist - questioned her so sweetly. He was even worse in person than the way Jonathan had spoken of him. And why was he even here at her home, after her grandmother's funeral? "Very well, thank you," she answered coldly. "But I'm curious as to why you're here. Did you know my grandmother?"

Warner gave her a smile. "Of course I did. Your grandma and I go way back."

Way back… She tried not to think too much of the fact that Sylvia was involved with this man…this sick son of a bitch who…she couldn't even put that into words. There were no words for what he did to Jonathan. "I wonder how," she said curtly, then turned to Farnsworth. "Jim, I'd like to know when Grandma's will is scheduled tomorrow." She was eager for a change of topic as she was ready to get away from this…this pig who suddenly appeared out of nowhere at her grandmother's funeral.

Farnsworth looked back at her with an apologetic look. "Oh, I'll be bringing it by the house tomorrow at ten o'clock. And, um, if you were wondering, he -" He pointed to Warner with an accusatory finger. "- just arrived with me today. I made it clear that he would not make a pleasant presence among you and your friends."

Warner gave him a look that would have killed a snake. "I had every right to visit the burial of my former fiancée."

At the word - or rather, revelation - Iris felt like she was going to faint. Now her memory clicked as to who he WAS, besides being the man who - Her grandmother…Sylvia…engaged before she married Grandpa Andrey…to this sicko…this creature who desecrated not only Jonathan's body, but also his sanity… "Okay, that's more than I needed to know. Mr. Warner…" she started, the pretense of not knowing his true title enough to put on the show that she didn't know fooling very well.

"Doctor." The look he gave her could very well match the one she gave him earlier over her correction of title.

"Doctor," she repeated, returning the drawl the same way. "I don't know the slightest thing about you, but I don't know the true reason you think you have a right to do that you showed up at my home, on the day of my grandmother's funeral."

He gave her a sickening smile. "Perhaps explanations are best kept for another time. Other than the fact that I hadn't seen Sylvia in years that I never left her from my mind, but I wanted to meet her lovely granddaughter…whom I understand from what I heard is the youngest doctor of psychology with a PhD, graduated from high school at age twelve and entered Gotham State at barely thirteen, graduated at seventeen, and became head of Arkham Asylum at age twenty." He whistled and winked at her. "All impressive at a young, exceptional age. Not in danger of losing anything anytime soon. But I'm wondering how she got everything so quickly…" The suggestion was evident, and it made her blood boil.

Farnsworth played the part in the hero and ending the conversation. "Okay, Victor, that is enough. Remember this is a young lady and Sylvia DeLaine's granddaughter you're talking to."

The older man chuckled. "Of course, and I apologize again, Dr. DeLaine. Or may I call you Iris?" The politeness was a pretense, and she knew it all too well. He was very much like Dr. Long that way, except what he did in his free time was much worse.

"Call me Dr. DeLaine for now, and I'll consider the latter if it bodes well," Iris replied frostily.

"Well, then, I suppose I ought to be on my way. It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. DeLaine. And send my regards to your lover, Jonathan, for me." The emphasis on the word "pleasure" and Jonathan's name made her stomach quench, and a thought crossed her mind:

Is he back for Jonathan? If he is, then I need to protect him.

"Whoa, are you all right?" She hadn't realized she had collapsed until she was helped by Farnsworth. She didn't feel well at all, but she nodded her head anyways, unable to think straight or speak, other than remember what had just happened…but also tried too hard not to think about the hell from Jonathan's past that had returned.

~o~

"He's back." Edward spoke the poisonous words as he paced the sitting area. "That sick son of a bitch is back, and I didn't see it coming."

"None of us did, sweetie." Joan tried to console him, standing from the chair and walking to where he was, trying to put a hand on his shoulder for comfort, but he kept pacing as if she wasn't even there.

"Joan, baby, you don't know much of anything about him." Edward stopped and turned to face her. "You don't know that he used my father's death as leverage against us so he could make his move on my best friend. He had us both, and there was nothing we could do because our futures were on the line." The moment he looked down at Jonathan, his green eyes met Jon's blues. His face was schooled into an expressionless mask, but his eyes were filled with a void of negative emotions that it was so difficult to decided which was the appropriate word.

"What was it really about this man that made him so dangerous?" Alice questioned nervously. All eyes turned her way.

"Sis, you really don't want to know that answer," Iris said. "It's Jonathan's business - mine and Eddie's, no offense," she added apologetically, "but this isn't for the lighthearted."

Alice gave her a defensive look. "Try me." She glanced to Jon. "What is it about this…Dr. Warner?" Eddie hissed - he had so hated that name ever since college - and saw Jon look down to the floor, his face now twisted. Already he was irritated that Iris' half-sister would even ask him that question the way she did.

"Do you really want to know the answer, Mrs. Tetch?" he sneered her name with unbridled acid, like Scarecrow was threatening to resurface again. "I'll tell you what happened. He was my professor back at Gotham State University, and Eddie and I had his class together. Warner was someone I thought I could trust to help me achieve my dream of being a psychiatrist. He was a role model - but I saw, along with Ed, how he always looked at me and tried to make a move on me. But, of course, Edward had to try and be the hero, thought he could get something on Warner to get rid of him - but we both paid for it."

Iris had by then buried her face in her hands. Meanwhile Jervis was biting his lip while trying to hold back tears that were probably threatening to form. Alice was looking at Jonathan with tears of her own falling down her face. "Oh, Jonathan, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to - I had no idea -"

"No, you have no idea what I went through with that…that monster!" Jonathan burst out, his face now red around to the ears, abruptly standing tall and towering. "I was forced to sleep with him; how could you possibly understand what that was like?!"

Silence filled the sitting room with the drama of an upcoming execution. Not even a hitch of breath.

There was the sound of a crash and splashing to follow. Edward whipped his head around to see that Joan had accidentally broken the glass of water she'd held, that Iris had given to her and everyone else even though no one was really thirsty. Concern all but ran through him as he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the handkerchief he'd kept with him everywhere he went and wrapped it around her injury, stitches having to wait for the moment. Joan was a doctor and could handle her own self. As he wrapped her hand up, blood-red staining white, Edward looked up to see Iris' face still in her hands, unable to comprehend the situation - not that he blamed her - and Jervis had all but buried his face in his wife's shoulder to hide his face, and Alice with all but regret on her face and another flood spilling down her face.

"You don't know what it was like to spend so many nights since then as I was taken to his bed so he could take me then and there, make me do things, get in this…positions I could never even dared to imagine, my stomach all but boiling with illness as that disgusting old man had me as his, forced to kneel under his desk so I could…" By then, Jon was pouring out all his emotions, his reddened face shining from open weeping as he let the truth spill through his quivering lips. He trembled, sitting back down on the sofa.

And while all those nights happened, Edward had to just stand by and watch, nothing he could do but go along with it. He couldn't take it anymore. He left Joan where she was and crossed over to where his friend stood. "Jon, please stop." He tried to take him in for an embrace, but was shoved away brusquely.

"NO!" Jon jerked back and leaned against the back of the damask sofa, sobbing. "And then Scarecrow emerged and took over for me. After that last night was over, he took care of Warner for me - and Edward was there, watching it happen. The last I heard from him was he was in delusional mode and in the loony bin, but not Arkham. I thought I'd never see him again…until now."

Iris now removed her face from her hands and moved over to his side, taking him into her arms, her hands rubbing his back, whispering soft words into his ear and placing tender kisses on his face. The sight made Edward's heart melt. He turned from the couple to look up at Joan, seeing her give them the same look he was; she was a doctor, a psychiatrist, and she despised not seeing this sooner. Or even if Jonathan had to trust her with his dark past as he did with Edward, that was his choice to make and she knew it. Then he looked over and met Alice's eyes. Part of him was still angry at her for the way she acted, but it was true. She had no idea what had happened, until now. It would take him awhile to get over this, but now she had her answers - and looked like she regretted it now.

"Well, isn't this a bummer?"

"Harley, Red, what the hell are you two doing here?" Iris jumped up angrily, glaring at the doorway in which the planet vixen and her bubbly harlequin stood, both dressed rather casually despite the fact that they were both wanted at this moment. "You know you two could get me in more trouble than I already am in just by being here."

Pamela held both her hands up in defense. "Honey, calm down. I'm very well aware of that, thank you very much. Harley and I were watching your grandma's funeral when we saw some trouble, popped in as soon as everyone left, and heard Jonathan's story."

Edward supposed he ought to be angry because it was an invasion of privacy, and the same thoughts might as well be written on Jon's face, as well as Iris. She looked at the redhead with a reprimanding look in her eyes. "What brings you both here, then? This man whom I love and this other one -" She nodded at Edward. "- are both in a bad situation as I am, so please help us out so that we can find out what this sicko wants with us."

Harley gave them all a squeal of delight. "Oh, goodie, Red! I'm ready to kick some baddie's ass right now!" There she was again, to lighten up everyone's mood with her childish antics. Edward had always liked her despite her naïveté. Ivy even smiled big at her excitement and gave her a tender pat on the head like a pet.

"Glad you asked, darling. First off, just killing him off just like that is all too easy and too quick. Being so fast, you won't be able to savor the trouble he gets on the way. So the first thing we'll do - and this will take some time - is have some fun with him."

"Something my late puddin' used to do that I managed to teach Red for all she did for me!"

So, Dr. Victor Warner is BACK. :D I had it intended all along but could not spoil. ;) I know some of you are wondering how on earth he could have gotten out of the nuthouse for what the boys did to him, but the main point is that he had been cleared for release. Some things are best left mysterious, makes it tastier.

Now that the monster of their past is back and Iris is along for the ride, and with Harley and Ivy aiding the group, the boys need to finish him off as they should have a long time ago. Stay tuned, read and review!