A/N: All right, guys, so I had a scary virus experience this weekend, but the computer's OK, that's the good news. Only thing, though...Getting it was the result of me doing something incredibly stupid by visiting these sites I'd been seeing the past couple months. Never going near them again, guess I'll have to rent movies like a normal person, let's just leave it at that. But, ANYWAY, the end of this story is coming so close, I can almost taste it. Almost as much as college homework. -_- Nah, whatever, I think you guys will find this chapter...interesting.
Chapter 20: Recruiting in the Name of Fear
When Amelia Harland locked her Civic in the parking lot on Monday morning, she curiously glanced around for any sign of a bright red Saturn. None was located in her line of vision. And so, she concluded that Crane no longer had a use for him, now that he knew certain facts about her that he'd keep secret. Hopefully, he would carry her story to his grave.
However, now that her series of Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane interviews had come to an abrupt halt, she found herself at a crossroads. This was probably totally demented (to her at least), but she had a void that needed filled in some way.
Yes…When she woke up on Saturday morning, discovering that he had obligingly left as she'd asked, Amelia felt somehow let down. If there had ever been a more opportune time for him to defy her wishes, that late night into morning would have been it. She could have gone disgustingly sentimental, bordering on saccharine, on him by fixing him a hearty breakfast. As a manageable, passable cook, she could have treated him to that. And they would chat blandly over the Saturday paper with bacon and eggs with cups of coffee (hers with a generous amount of cream, his…who knew?). Like what? Normal, civilized people? That surely was not Crane's way, thus his early morning departure. Perhaps he'd crept back down the fire escape as previously as midnight on that night.
All she knew was that now that he had quietly moved out of her life, she would most likely never see or encounter him again. Unless it was in The Gotham Daily for some atrocious crime he'd committed, if that counted.
The most startling part was that she remained uncertain if she could resign to that fate, now that she'd seen a side to Jonathan that she had never expected. But, again, she didn't know if he'd been manipulating her, using her as a ploy for something he had in mind for later.
But, he kissed me like he meant it. So much fervor…That's never happened with any man, she reflected pensively.
It was undeniably true, almost to the point that it quite unnerved her. She couldn't help it, though, couldn't resist the power of temptation he had exuded over her. They had clicked that night in a way that she'd never sensed with another man, not like this. Last night, as cliché as this inevitability was, she had dreamed about him. It had been sensual, breathtakingly so, and she had ached for more. All she could recall lately was his husky, tender voice and those soft lips that had caused her to respond to him. To actually respond and yield to his desires.
The rational side of Amelia found it bizarre that it seemed as though Jonathan had exhibited longing for something apart from fear. He had acted like he'd wanted her, wanted nothing more than to passionately kiss and caress her.
However, what shook her most to her core was that she'd fantasized about having sex with this man. Sex? Was she insane?
And yet, she couldn't deny it. They equaled each other so perfectly that maybe a mutual attraction existed. After all, one couldn't help magnetism with another if it was truly there, right?
Amelia trembled the slightest bit, not out of nerves but out of this exhilarating high that she got when musing over him. Why would she feel this way? It didn't matter. No, not at all. Jonathan only improved with confusing her, threatening to gas her one minute and kissing her senseless the next, devouring her. He had managed to pierce her soul when, again, no other man could.
"Damn it, Harland, think logically," she muttered to herself during her walk to Intensive Treatment. "Jonathan only did that to avert your attention from his next big plan. It's manipulation. That whole night was manipulation."
Really? What about all that touching, exploring each other's bodies promiscuously but not outright sexually? Oh, she didn't know. In the end, Jonathan had left her with more questions than answers. What had been his motives for her that night?
On second thought, she would be adamant about not making love to or with him. No matter how much she privately yearned for it…It could never happen. First of all, their professions contrasted to the extent that she would seem like an utterly blind fool to remotely consider this. And secondly, he was her patient! It was no better than a student-teacher romance. She should be exceedingly sickened by this notion that a doctor could possibly fall for her patient and vice versa. It was almost like in the process, she would be corrupting his mind further, leading him on with false pretenses. Or were they really that false…?
Luckily, Cate waved to her from her usual parking spot, so Amelia finally had some time for a bit of casual conversation, a refuge from her Jonathan ponderings.
What wasn't so fortuitous was what her close friend and colleague had to say. "Hey, Amelia. I heard about what happened on Friday. Well, I'd heard about it earlier than that, but I forgot to talk to you about it. I bet you're relieved, huh?"
Relieved…Well, Amelia definitely had felt that way at one point, glad to be rid of the man with the sardonic remarks and too penetrating blue eyes. But, that was before he demonstrated his ability to listen well and before he made out (to put it bluntly) with her enough to rock her world.
She feigned a smile. "Yeah, I sure am."
"Why do you think he escaped anyway?" Cate inquired, her interest obviously piqued at this. "Did you do something to him that drove him out? Used some method he disliked?"
"I haven't the foggiest idea." Amelia shrugged. "I'd carried on that Wednesday session as normal. No outbursts from him, nothing that would have pointed to his desire to break out of Arkham. In fact, it was one of our more subdued sessions."
She felt like she revealed too much already. She didn't want to expose what he told her. Not only because of the clause she had to follow with every patient but because she cared about him to a degree. Not in such a full-fledged manner that she…that she felt a certain emotion, no…no, not really. Just that she had no intention of carelessly discussing his childhood with anybody else…She was still impressed with him that he'd accomplished that much.
Cate politely "hmmed" before replying, "I guess he was just biding his time until he could break out. It would have looked too conspicuous if he'd broken out immediately after his arrest, say."
"True…Oh well, I wouldn't know. All I know is I don't have to deal with him any more."
It was strange, though, how he'd fled Arkham without gassing or injecting her with his toxin that came in both forms. Didn't he love an excuse to launch a weaponized version of his trademark invention? Apparently, not with her.
"Yeah, I hear you," Cate mentioned as they walked into Intensive Treatment. "Scarecrow is one of the most intimidating criminals among those rogues. And no, not because of his fear complex. But that he used to be one of us, working on our side. I never understood why he sacrificed his career and pursued trying to make everyone in Gotham afraid of him."
Unconsciously, Amelia murmured ruefully, "'It is better to be feared than loved'."
"Mm, what's that?"
"Never mind, Cate. I agree with your statements. Well, it looks like my scheduled appointment won't be until eleven today."
And the main problem with that was that it wouldn't involve a learned patient who could come up with sharp rebuttals in a debate. It would be someone who had robbed a jewelry store due to the voices in his head demanding him to. And that was actually a shame. No challenge, no wit from someone like that in comparison to Crane.
Why did she keep referring to him as Crane in her mind? After Friday night, after them being so personal, they had gone above and beyond last name basis. Amelia could vividly remember how their bodies had fit against each other like interlocking puzzle pieces, how the heat of his body had cut through the rather thin fabric of her shirt.
Jonathan…Her tempter, her seducer, and her nuisance had a name. Jonathan…
She missed him already.
Thus, Amelia came home that night, somewhat restless and dissatisfied with the work she'd accomplished at Arkham earlier that day. Her session with the schizophrenic thief had gone as well as could be expected. He hadn't been too keen on talking with her, as the voices in his head had advised him earlier that she would serve as a troubling obstacle. Indeed, they allegedly called her a witch. It had taken all her calming words to settle him and assure him that she would turn the deceptive voices into more reasoned, positive ones in his head.
Though the man suffered from this near-polarizing mental illness, he hadn't acted aggressively toward her. No, the poor fellow seemed timid, afraid of both himself and her.
Still, on her drive home, Amelia couldn't resist letting her thoughts stray to Jonathan and how he'd combatted with her. He could counterargue with the best of them, also proving how adeptly his mind worked. These logical, scholarly thoughts would come to the surface a mile a minute. He was incredible, the paradigm of a complex, intriguing patient. All others after him paled in comparison.
Not to mention he kissed well, his body felt good, and his scent reminded her of something cherished she'd known for years, whatever it was. It didn't matter, really, because she sensed a general familiarity with him, as if she'd known him her whole life. Or at least should have.
But, no, he was gone now and probably would stay out of her life. Maybe he was aware too that it would be the most beneficial to them. Carrying on his life of infamy, he would pretend that nothing ever happened with her. Likewise, she would cut all emotional ties she had with him and manage to type her carefully detailed, unbiased report that she would cumulate from all her data. It was better off that they did just that, moving on with their lives and drifting away from each other.
When Amelia later went to bed with one last stroking of Persephone's back, she sighed in the knowledge of how sad this was. Somehow, unexplainably, Jonathan had convinced her that it was acceptable to full-heartedly trust a man again. Why he, of all people, should be the one she couldn't quite figure out.
As she stared up at the ceiling, her eyelids drooping closed, Amelia whispered, "Jonathan," into the room, as if he would appear right then and there.
Idiotically, she wished he would. He had made her feel like such a desirable woman…
At around two o'clock in the morning, she awakened with a chill. No matter how much she squirmed around in her bed, pulling her comforter steadily closer and more tightly to her, she couldn't get very warm. She opened her bleary eyes, only to discover that the bedroom window had been opened, letting in that cool air.
There could only be one reason. Part of her had actually acquiesced to leave that particular window unlocked in the event that he…No, she would much rather chalk it up to her inept forgetfulness, one of her several weaknesses. She wouldn't just leave a window purposely unlocked. That would be ludicrous.
Regardless of whatever motive she had in allowing an intruder easy access, Amelia got up and shut the window. Since she was only in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants, she was actually quite cold afterwards. She rubbed her arms the short time it took for her to traverse that small connecting hallway. And then, seeing a face she recognized so well, hidden enigmatically behind burlap again.
Jonathan lounged on her couch, his fingers lethargically tapping on an arm. And Amelia couldn't exactly ignore his blue eyes that could be solely his as they lit up once they flitted onto her. The cross between a smirk and smile danced across his lips…his lush, velvety lips…
One component was missing, one that would drive her deliriously mad and yet weaken her knees.
"Hello, Amelia. I notice you look more ravishing disheveled and unglamorous than in a spiffy outfit and cosmetics."
Yes, that was it, his voice. His voice held charismatic reign over her with its smooth, beautiful quality. She stood frozen, this time entranced.
That less hostile smirk widened as he remarked dryly, "This is already going considerably better than last time. You haven't screamed at me to get out of your home, the same home I broke into the same, exact way. Are you not the slightest bit angry with me?"
How could Amelia be so filled with ire when she heard the sound of his voice? She suppressed her eager trembling since she still possessed her dignity.
However, she spoke honestly, "No, far from it. I…I can't believe it, though. You…You came back."
Jonathan chuckled. "Of course I did, Amelia. Who else but you would want me around? Hmph, even if I do turn up unannounced and uninvited…"
For someone who loathed Gotham and embittered with the state of his life, he was uncannily gentle in his clever humor. It was so much more amiable than usual that she couldn't stop the smile overtaking her face.
In response, she laughed slightly. "You got me, Jonathan. I guess I did miss you. But, you'll never hear me say that again, so treasure it while it lasts."
Quite relaxed, he settled further into the couch. "What a shame. I thought you would be shedding tears of joy over my return."
"Why did you come back anyway?" Amelia asked curiously. "You broke out of the facility, you're no longer seeing me at work, so therefore there's no reason for…for something like this to happen…"
Her shoulders that she'd held straight back slumped upon this conclusion. Why should she take pleasure in seeing Jonathan again? Aside from the fact that he had slyly invaded her apartment, this wasn't supposed to happen. Their paths diverged, didn't he see that? He could never visit her again or speak with her or even look at her. As long as he kept up the guise of Scarecrow, a man who mercilessly gassed people with his potentially lethal toxin, she could not fathom that idea.
He had to let her go. There was no way around it.
All traces of the vaguely joking, playful smirk vanished, and a frown took precedence on his lips. "Ah, I see this won't be a blissful reunion, after all. Do you disappoint my expectations intentionally?"
Amelia felt her heart sink, conscious of the grim turn their conversation had taken. "I just have this suspicion that you're here on pretense. A motive dragged you back here for some reason."
"Now that you put it that way, it did," Jonathan stated lowly but firmly. "Mind you, I normally don't allow impulses to make my decisions, but an epiphany occurred to me tonight. And I knew I had to go to you. Indeed, you're the exact one I've been searching for. Only you can be a part of my world. Frankly, you know too much about me already not to be involved."
Here she thought that only the Riddler talked in this manner. However, Amelia wondered if her growing hunch could be proven true.
So, she decided to humor him. "What are you implying?"
He told her that he meant for her to be the sole person in his world (apparently, Scarecrow didn't count as a person but an entity), so whatever she would hear next couldn't possibly entail good things.
His gaze appeared to be an eerie combination of cold and heated. "I have been contemplating for you to join me. Join me…as my Mistress of Fear."
What? This comment sent her reeling. How could he proposition her with something like that? For, she had a fairly accurate idea as to what he meant.
Jonathan seemed perfectly solemn when he then stretched out a hand toward her. Clearly grasping at straws, he was willing to offer her a deal, one she could never accept.
"I don't make these offers lightly, Amelia," he murmured, his tone matching his ardent eyes. "Indeed, I have suggested it to one other person. Of course, I should have known she wouldn't take advantage of it. But, she'd been through experiences similar to mine. She ended up testifying against me in court after one of my attempts to ruin Gotham. Brave of her, showing that much audacity…"
Now, Jonathan evidently was starting to talk like the Riddler, and that slightly unnerved her. However, she could solve this one as well.
"You're referring to Rebecca Albright, aren't you?" She stiffened, straightening herself up so that she towered over his sitting form. "That managed to land a spot on the six o'clock news, if I remember correctly."
He glanced out the window as though that memory perched right there, watching him. His eyes wandered as he drifted off toward territory he'd once been familiar with, when he had come upon that girl. Well, that young college co-ed, but did it matter? Readily, he could call to the forefront of his mind her svelte figure and her curly red hair…though nothing compared to dear Dr. Harland's sleek blonde tresses and slim build, of course.
Finally, after a minute, he responded slowly, "Yes…Plucky Becky, they called her, just because she could devastate me in court. Not that I lasted long in Arkham that time, of course, but they keep assuming I'll reform there. Hmph, fools…Regardless, Becky was interesting to me. She was bullied too when she was younger, ignored at college as well. She told me this when I attempted to bond with her. I was so close too, ensnaring her very gradually until I got to a certain point, I'd crossed the line too far to suit her. Then again, fashioning a costume for her was probably not the most intelligent thing I've ever done. Best-laid plans, though…She could have said yes."
Looks like history is about to repeat itself, Amelia thought bitterly.
No way could she resign herself to a fate that entwined with his. If it concerned the too real chance of her getting locked up, never. If it was regarding her having to watch Gotham scream itself apart, never. No. She was nothing like him. When would Jonathan realize that?
Crossing her arms, she sniffed. "She meant a lot to you then?"
Out of all words for her to say, and she had to utter those? She inwardly groaned. No better than a jealous, possessive woman, was she?
With his manner of penetrating people's defenses, he picked up on her connotation as he sat up more. "In hindsight, no, not really. She was valuable to me in the sense it marked the first time someone could remotely understand me. And I mean that she'd been provoked before, the same as I. Our paths happened to diverge after that wretched court case. She gained a semblance of popularity, and I was left alone again with no one to break through to me."
Jonathan's eyes glowed like iridescent lights when on her next. "But, here you were, someone who related to me more. You even had many of the same defenses I had. Becky's intelligence proved to be a little above average at best. As for you…Well, would it be too forward of me to say I find you brilliant?"
Why was he saying all these wonderful words? They comprised such romantic poetry that she couldn't detect elsewhere, even in a Browning poem. Her heart pounded tenaciously in her chest, with no regard to her thoughts that insisted to flee. Why did she allow him in the apartment anyway? She needed to shoo him away and pronto.
Instead, Amelia crossed her arms more tightly. "Funny. I thought you hated my methods, what with the way you nit-picked them practically the whole time you were there."
"Do you know how naïve you can be sometimes, Amelia?" And in inquiring this, he spoke this quite fondly. "I would never have confessed to my deepest desires, my innermost wishes, let alone such a trifle as that around you. Your methods were on my level. A mind such as yours is a gem in itself. It happens to be a bonus when it is behind such beauty."
Idly, with his lean fingers, Jonathan traced the curve of her jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She trembled again like she had earlier that day, when she had wondered what making love to him would feel like.
Grasping his hand before he dropped it, Amelia held it there, close to her face. Then, their fingers intertwined.
"Join me," he whispered hypnotically, drawing her in inadvertently (or perhaps it was purposefully) with his touch and his silky voice. "I could use someone like you. You, my Mistress of Fear…"
Sure, he'd proven that he had a hidden talent for alluringly seductive persuasion, but this was too much. Sensing the wrongness of this, Amelia took half a step back from him but was reluctant to shirk away entirely from his fingers.
"I can't, Jonathan. You know that as much as I do. I—"
"No." His whisper turned harsher, raspier. "We are equals meant to embark on this voyage together, one filled with horror. You know that deep down, don't you?"
In spite of the change in voice, she was startled to find that his blue eyes, normally not that emotional, outright pleaded with her to agree with him. How miserable was this? So forsaken and alone for so long that he now turned to her to provide what he sought out. As much as she longed for him, ached in her heart and soul to be with him, Amelia knew this wasn't the way. He would have her carry out his bidding, whatever it took to intimidate all of Gotham. Adamantly, she refused to do that. Her career lagged for no man.
"Jonathan." Her voice shook nonetheless. "Please. You can't ask this of me. I have my career. I have my friends and family. To join you would be to give all of them up. And that's too much of a gamble."
His eyes bled pain once she told him this, as if this was the final blow that convinced him she meant it. She would not be alongside him for his plans, his ruthless deeds. As much as she hated to cause him anguish, she didn't aim for her life heading downhill. That was what would happen if she involved herself with one of the more threatening Arkham criminals.
Amelia struggled to hold back tears while Jonathan let his hand hang limp.
"Then, you leave me no other choice," he told her, his syringe glove hovering over her neck.
"Ha, I knew you had it in you!" Scarecrow rooted for him. "Go ahead, Jon, old buddy. Give it to her!"
And he injected her using one of his needles.
Just before Amelia lost consciousness, she saw the luminous eyes begging her again, this time to accept his unspoken apology. One he probably would never say…
A/N: Hopefully, those of you who like Becky Albright won't be too offended by what I had Jonathan offer Amelia. But, hmm...Looks like I lied. Looks like after this, there will be for sure one more chapter and an epilogue. Originally, this was just going to be one chapter, but now it looks like it'll be a two-parter! Exciting! What an intense chapter this was. And I love ending things on cliffhangers, just saying.
Oh, one more thing, inspiration for this chapter happened to be "Join Me in Death" by HIM. I don't know. I just decided listening to it would provide the extra kick of inspiration I needed. But, instead of "join me in death", it's more like "join me in fear" in this case...