Chapter 21

I Will Let You Down

If Angie had had time to react, she would have done anything to save Jane. She would have clawed Jonnie's eyes out, she would have thrown him down the stairs. As it was, she barely had time to blink in the darkness before Jane was torn away; it was only a few feet, but it felt like miles and miles. Jane must have felt the same way. Her scream sailed out of her mouth in a red, keening ribbon of terror.

The silence shattered, Angie charged forward, trying to at least keep pace with the rapidly disappearing pair. Noise didn't matter, now. The most dangerous of monsters already had them.

"Angel," Scarecrow said sternly, halting his retreat. "Stop! The last thing we need is another overreaction."

"Let her go," Angie demanded. She was impressed by the strength in her voice; in reality, she was feeling more hopeless all the time.

"Why? So you can lead her right to the man who raped you?"

She could see now how easily the doctor changed his tune; now that Jane's 'immersion' was complete, she was a useful piece of clay again. Angie wondered what new shapes he would try to mold her into. "I thought that was what you wanted, Jonnie. He hasn't seen her yet. Don't you want her therapy to continue?"

The Scarecrow thought that amusing, at least; rumbling laughter came through the voice filter on his mask. "I'm her therapist. Actually, I'm yours too." The voice tried to soften at the last minute, but the mask made it impossible. Crane reached up to remove it. Human again, he went on. "I'll help you get past this night. You've been through worse, Angel. Once we're out of here, I'll do everything I can to bring you peace again. I promise."

A promise from Crane was a dubious gift, but the fact that he was offering it at all got bells ringing in Angie's head. Jane had gone strangely still, and Angie now noticed that the girl's eyes were locked on her own. Angie gave her a nod, no matter what it might mean to her, what she might be thinking. Time was running out.

"You promise-" Angie started in that playful way she had; she was cut short by an explosion of fists and legs from Jane.

All the girl's training seemed to be manifesting at once; now that the mask was off, Angie could see the shock on Crane's face as he took hit after hit from the teenager he'd just been restraining. Angie had never seen anything like it, and the sounds coming out of her…Jane was like a young woman possessed. She hit Crane with a left jab, and followed before he could even think of recovering with a devastating kick to the jaw. He grunted, but managed to stay upright; Angie was almost glad. She didn't know what Jane would do if she got him on the ground, and watching a man get beaten to death – whether he deserved some kind of punishment or not – was not something she was eager to experience. Jane was capable, at least physically. Mentally, she was currently out of her freaking mind. Finally, Crane took one smash too many, and went down on one knee; all the times Angie had dreamed of this, she'd never thought it would be in subjugation. Jane circled him mercilessly and took his throat in a chokehold.

"Jane," Angie managed; it was not a plea for peace, just an exclamation of shock. She laughed a brittle laugh. Sensing approval, Jane tightened her hold on Crane's neck; now he was the one struggling to get free. Angie liked the way it looked on him.

The sound of a heavy bottle hitting the carpet startled them all. Angie turned to find Daniel behind her, flabbergasted and drunk, his whiskey teetering dangerously close to overturning. Cigarette smoke curled around his head as he exhaled, the glowing red point between his fingers as forgotten as the tipping bottle at his feet. Reflexively, Angie bent to pick it up. She'd never liked the smell of alcohol, especially after that long-forgotten night; another sensory memory of Daniel on top of her, breathing liquor into her face, was the last thing she needed. As soon as she made the move, she realized how little sense keeping things clean made in her current situation.

In this, Daniel saw an opportunity. As Angie stooped, he brought his knee up; when it connected with her face, Angie saw stars. Not long after, the pain flooded in as the blood poured out. She barely noticed the hand in her hair, drunk and clammy and tangling.

"Get that one," she heard him say, presumably to Crane. She wasn't really surprised to hear that despite all the alcohol in his blood, he sounded completely sober. "Heard her screaming all the way downstairs. Who the hell are you, anyway?"

Through a red haze, she saw Jane release Jonnie and move tentatively back to the wall. She looked less wild now than she had all night. Got it out of her system, I guess, Angie thought. It was telling that Daniel put his trust in a strange man wearing a straightjacket at the same time that he pulled the hair of an unarmed young woman. She wondered how Crane felt about that; with the pain of her split lip or black eye or whatever he'd done – it all seemed to hurt equally – she couldn't see the doctor's face clearly.

"Daniel Cameron, I presume?" Crane said.

Daniel snorted. "No, that's me," he said facetiously. He may not have sounded like the classic drunk, but the liquor sure made a difference in his attitude. "Who are you?"

Crane moved toward him, seeming to forget about his favourite patient as she hung back behind him. His hand strayed under the straightjacket; Angie could tell when he took something from a pocket underneath, but she doubted if the drunken Daniel realized it. Now she smelled the whiskey and tobacco on him. And he's a cancer doctor, baby! She felt like she was drowning in it, and fought to keep the contents of her stomach down.

"I'm Angel's doctor," he said, sounding completely rational. Pity for Daniel he didn't notice those long, flapping sleeves and those heavy metal buckles. "Jonathan Crane. You, however, can call me Scarecrow."

With a glance to Angel's eyes, he stepped forward and seemed to gesture vaguely to Daniel's face. Angie moved without thinking; she'd seen what that fine mist had done to Jane, and had heard the rumors in Arkham of Jonnie getting a taste of his own medicine. Neither of them had escaped with sanity intact. She lurched forward recklessly, adding the pain of losing a handful of hair to her growing list of concerns. The powder was already having an effect on Daniel; as she hit the floor, knocking the whiskey bottle on its side, she heard him scream.

"Angel," Crane barked. He'd backpedaled as soon as he'd fired his toxin, to avoid inhaling another lungful of madness; God knew where he'd hidden another can of that stuff from the cops in Arkham. Liquor gurgled out over Angie's hand, waking her from her fugue. She hadn't realized just how big that bottle really was. For some reason, the thought of him drinking himself to death while two young girls lay restrained upstairs made her unexpectedly, unimaginably angry.

She hoisted herself to her feet. Daniel hadn't moved yet, hadn't started the spasms and clawing and throat-rupturing screams. With a howl of rage for everything between them, Angie flew at him. Her nails raked his face; his hands flew up, one gurgling cry lost in his throat. His cigarette dangled, then brushed against her arm, burning her skin and falling to the ground. She barely felt it.

"Yes, Angel," she heard from somewhere behind her, but she wasn't really there anymore. She was in bed, paralyzed but still feeling everything this sociopathic coward was doing to her; to get the sick feeling out, she lashed out at him again. Now he screamed; in his state, he was powerless against her. She curled her fingers into vicious claws and dug them into his throat. Ripping and tugging and digging deeper, until blood oozed out over her nails and the look in his eyes changed from fear to terror and then to something different, something more primal, Angie kept going. Only that sound behind her brought her back; not the approval of the madman, the other sound. The whimpering of the young girl.

With a crack, she was back in the present. Daniel Cameron stood in front of her, too far under the influence of Dr. Crane's voodoo fear powder to try to stop the bleeding in his neck. Behind her stood the Scarecrow, without his mask, halfway between a man and a monster; Crane, Jonathan Crane. That man she'd thought she loved, just like this man before her. Further back, cowering against the wall, the best friend she'd ever had; Jane, poor Jane. Angie lifted her hands to her eyes, straining to see the blood in the dark. She was coated; Daniel was trying to scream, but somehow Angie had taken that from him. He collapsed to the floor.

Following him with her stunned gaze, Angie saw a faint glow radiating from the carpet. Just a small fire started by his cigarette, another dirty habit held by a dirty man. She moved to stamp it out; somehow his falling form had missed it. Before she could get that far, there was a whoosh and a startling wave of heat bathed her legs. The whiskey! That inner voice was definitely gleeful now; cackling like a madwoman, really. The tiny flames in the old carpet had reached the accelerating alcohol, and now there was yet another problem too big for her to solve.

Fingers caught her sleeve and pulled her back; he might have said her name, but she was too shocked by it all to notice. The fire was immense, so suddenly; Angie wondered if she'd blacked out for a minute while the flames grew. Then, in what might be irony, she did black out; the image of Daniel's not-quite-lifeless form bathed in fire while he still twitched overcame her senses, along with the choking black smoke and the smell of burning polyester shag.

I always knew it would go this way

Because, Angel baby,

Everything burns in the end.

A/N: Just another thanks to those still keeping up! It's coming really fast now, so, y'know...don't blink. We have new acquaintances to make, so stay tuned. I also enjoy reviews. And if you have the time, please check out my Sin City fic called "The Blood-Red Juice of the Pomegranate". I think it'll be worth your while, even if - like me - you're not a huge fan of Sin City. I am a mystery to myself sometimes. Hope you like what's to come for both Basin City and Gotham!

-nH