Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or Scarecrow but I do own the original characters.
Richard Rye was a messy eater. The six-year-old boy licked and bit into his two-scooped chocolate fudge ice cream as fast as he could. It was becoming dark in downtown Gotham. The sun disappeared behind the skyscrapers for minutes before reappearing until it was finally laying against the horizon. His mother Amelia wanted to make it home before it would become too late. The city was bustling with ongoing traffic and crowds of people returning home from their work. Gotham City was not the nicest place to be at night. She wished to celebrate her son's birthday over the weekend but Halloween made it nearly impossible. He would be too excited to celebrate the holiday rather than his birth date.
It was no-fault. Amelia only wished to celebrate his special day. She was willing to take the time off to spend it with him, even if it would cost her to work an extra shift the next week and for him to have a sleepover at one of his friend's houses.
Despite the drop of crime in the last nine months, there were still petty thieves and thugs just around the alleys and narrows. Small crime never dies. The last thing Amelia wanted was for them to be in harm's way. Ice cream was the last stop before they headed home. Amelia was in a rush to return to their apartment, leading the boy by his hand as he was finishing the last bit of his cone.
"Mum?" His mother paused for a moment. She bit her bottom lip to keep laughing but could not hide her grin. His face was covered with white and chocolate, dripping from the side of his chin and his tongue trying to lick off the remnants.
Amelia brought him off to the side from the busy sidewalk. She reached for the napkins in her purse and pressed them against his mouth.
"Hold, pat down, then wipe," she instructed. He listened. "Rick, sweetie, didn't I say to be careful not to smear it on your face? You're supposed to eat the treat not wear it."
"I tried but we kept moving."
Amelia did not choose to chastise him. It was tougher on him than herself. They left the ice cream parlor in favor of returning home before dark. She was nearly jogging back home as he was still eating his ice cream.
"Well, I'm just surprised your brain isn't frozen. Ice cream when it has been raining and cold," she pulled him into a hug. "Mummy will have to eat all your Halloween candy with all the sweets you are getting."
Rick looked at her, crying a soft plea, "No!"
"Let's go home. We'll drink hot cider and watch a movie then off to bed.."
He nodded but his brown eyes were past her. Amelia tilted her head as she turned to where he was staring at.
"What is it?"
"I thought I saw someone."
Troubled by the idea of being followed, Amelia immediately took out a small canister and placed it within her pocket to reach. She finished wiping his face off of the remaining ice cream, dabbing it off his shirt, and throwing it into her purse.
"Come on," Amelia whispered, pulling him aside as she walked faster than before. The streets were less busy and the lamppost lights came on. It was beginning to become dark, faster than she anticipated. She was careful not to rip her own son's arm off but kept a pace that had his legs trying to keep up with hers. Her other hand was by her side, prepared to douse a person that showed any signs of aggression. Their home was just a taxi ride and a few blocks down the street.
"It's okay, sweetie," Amelia said. She wanted to keep him calm even if her own heart was racing. "It was possibly just someone that saw your messy face."
"Mum, it looked like a scarecrow."
Her heart dropped.
Amelia could not shake the words from her son. It couldn't be. The reports clarified he was dead. Nearly two years have passed since she heard of any news of escaped detainees off the Arkham Asylum breakout. There was confirmation any of the more dangerous patients were re-captured or gone. He was on the list - GCPD confirmed there were no signs of him. Halloween was right around the corner. It could have been simply a costume enthusiast, walking the streets - following her and her son. Maybe it was a passerby. Perhaps Rick had too much sugar for this evening.
She sighed. Amelia's hand gripping Rick's tighter. They were close to home and she refused to let him go, holding him since they left. He hasn't said anything since then.
Amelia didn't want to end his birthday with him worrying if they were in danger.
"Don't think we are finished with your special day," said Amelia. "There is one more surprise you have."
His head perked up, eyes widened, and a hopeful smile.
"A surprise, eh 'fessor?" Amelia immediately pulled Rick behind her, sheltering him as she faced a man covered by a sack bag with straws sticking out and barely hanging on by glue, and wearing a torn-up dark hoodie. Only the lamppost could help make out his appearance.
The make-shift scarecrow asked, "Mind getting me in on the surprise, Professor Rye?"
Amelia scrunched her nose and shook her head, recognizing the voice.
"Mr. Dawson, unless you wish to be reported for misconduct, I recommend you leave," she said.
"Aw, come on, I'm not doing any harm."
"Following a woman and her son in the evening implies ulterior motives, especially in a ridiculous costume."
"Okay, okay," said Liam Dawson, pulling the bag off his head. "It was a tad creepy, but I just happened to see you and needed to talk."
"If you'd like to talk, we can do that during office hours. Not now."
"Nah I think it should be done now. Look, my grades in your class aren't looking great and my parents are grilling my ass. I'm asking for a little leeway ya' know."
"If you wish to improve, I recommend turning in your homework or perhaps focusing on your studies more so than engaging in-" Amelia could smell the alcohol reeking from him "-outings. It's a school night and if you want to start looking like a model student then act like one. Class is at eight. I am hopeful that you will be there."
Amelia led Rick by her side past the college-age man. Suddenly, she felt her shoulder jolt back. Her hands immediately sheltered Rick, quickly placing herself between her son and her student.
"What's wrong with having fun once in a while? When's the last time you had fun?" Liam Dawson asked. He was a little too close for comfort, his hand still gripping her shoulder. "You know, just tuck the kid in and come out for a bit. No teaching or acting as a student. We-"
"I will refrain you from continuing that statement, Mr. Dawson, and bid you an evening's rest," Amelia said. "And do not think your behavior tonight will go unnoticed."
She pushed his arm off and took Rick to the house. Liam Dawson clicked his tongue, "Damnest dare... told Beck she wasn't easy. Try it… works with the other chicks."
He scoffed, gazing back toward the house. "Bitch."
Dawson pulled his sack over his head. Above him, the lamppost flickered for a few seconds until it became dark. He walked forward until nearly losing balance. Dawson cursed, barely able to make out his surroundings. Then he saw a figure beside him. Whatever it was didn't have the kindest of smell.
"Gross man - did you crawl out of a sewer?" said the young man. He then heard a voice that sent shivers down his spine.
"I see today's youth still have no manners. No care for others beyond yourself."
"What the hell are you going on about?" Dawson could make out the shape to be a man, not much taller than him - and wearing a hood of the sort. He was walking around as if observing him.
"Who are you?" asked Dawson.
"Merely a man concerned for the well-being of an old colleague and her son."
"Look, what you saw with Professor Rye, I just happened to past her and wanted to talk about extending my due date of an assignment."
The man stopped. Dawson could see him gazing toward the house then back to him. "Truly, your ability to lie is pathetic as is your lack of intelligence. Do you take me to be a fool?"
Dawson didn't know if it was alcohol in his system or the nervous feeling tingling behind his mind that led him to drive his next action. His hands were on the other man, holding him by the collar and pushing him back.
"Look man, I am a three-time conference all-star athlete and did four years of wrestling," said Dawson. He felt sweat beating down his hands and head. "Do not screw around with me."
"You believe your raw power makes you strong," the man laughed. "That you are untouchable. No one can stop you."
Dawson's hand rose, prepared to punch him. The lamppost flickered. Finally, it stayed on. Dawson gasped at the sight of the man. His face was beyond recognizable - fabric plastered with stitches hanging by the thread. A mask mangled into his face, he couldn't figure out if there was any skin left. Beneath his jaw, a grafted gas mask lodged into his throat; Dawson realized why his voice sent him shivers.
"S-shi…" He was speechless.
The man laughed again. "And a pitiful appearance of a costume."
"Costume?" The realization struck, "Scarecrow."
"Ah, so you are not entirely loss," said the Scarecrow. His fingers flexed, syringes piercing out like claws tied to the supply of vials across his torso. "I have dealt with students just like yourself for years. Believing they are superior to everyone else. Believing they can get away with everything."
"Look man, I honestly don't know," Dawson said shakily. "It was just a stupid dare and I haven't been doing good in school…"
"Do you believe telling me the truth now will help you? That I will ignore your encounter with Amelia Rye as a reward."
"Please- I just-"
Scarecrow stabbed him with his syringes. The fluid drained into the young man's body. Dawson cried out, releasing the rogue villain. His eyes were bewildered as he saw snakes coming out of the sewage drain. "No- oh God no!"
They slithered and they crept up to him. He could feel his heart pounding, almost as if it would burst out of his chest. The snakes were crawling on him. He stepped back but dropped to his bottom. They were all over him. His worst nightmare came alive. He tried screaming but felt one of the snakes wrap itself around his neck, becoming difficult to breathe.
All along, Scarecrow watched the strong-willed, self-proclaimed athlete fall in a matter of seconds. His breathing became uncontrollable and saw the fear in his eyes. This toxin was stronger than his previous creations. It exceeded his expectations, watching as the student gasped for air. He wrapped his hands around his neck before finally succumbing to death.
Amazed by the results. He would need to hide the body before morning or else risk his plans for being exposed
Scarecrow took his gun and shot the lamppost. Darkness hiding a portion of the evidence. It would give him time before he could call his so-called partner, the Arkham Knight, to handle the rest of the work.
A field test was not in the plan. He was satisfied, but not complete. Crane gazed upon the house he saw them enter. It had been six years since he went in.
Amelia immediately locked the doors. She saw out the window for a few seconds as her student had his back against the house. Sighing in relief at hearing Rick's footsteps running to the living room. There was a click and the sounds of several voices coming on with cheerful, spooky music. The child appeared to be relaxed. She expected to hear question after question from his curiosity getting the better of him.
Rick shifted as his mother sat beside him. His focus was still on the screen.
"Not a word?" Amelia rose a brow, asking, "You usually are a curious cat."
He said, "I'm not a cat."
"It's an expression, my love. I am just poking fun."
Rick stayed quiet.
"I promise you that we are quite alright. That man was just one of my students playing a harmless prank and asking for more time for his homework."
Amelia wrapped her arm around him, pulling him closer to her. He leaned against her. She whispered into his ear. "You haven't asked about the surprise, either?"
Rick's eyes were on her, they shimmered. Amelia took his hand and placed them over his eyes.
"No peeking," she told him. Amelia hoped he would obey but saw that his patience was wearing thin. He was doing all he could not to bounce. She stood up, walking beside the bookcase and reaching behind to pull out an orange and green wrapped box. Her smirk grew, noticing one of his eyes peeking through his fingers.
Rick quickly shut them.
Amelia laid the gift in front of him.
"On three, open."
"Three," Rick giggled and opened his eyes. Patience, Amelia shook her head as he reached for the box on the coffee table. Rick turned toward her, waiting for approval. Once his mother nodded her head, he ripped open the wrapping. The present nearly fell out of his hands, Amelia quickly was there to catch it. She helped him rip the tape off the top, opening the contents up. There was a blanket over the top Amelia removed. Inside were oddly shaped glasses and tubes sticking out, weird plastic tools, a plate near the bottom, gloves, and goggles.
"It's a science set," Amelia pointed to each of the equipment. "You said you wanted to create your own science experiments. The professors in the science department were changing their inventory. They said some of this equipment is older but still in good use."
Rick pulled the pair of goggles out, placing them over his eyes. Each time he tried to look over his mother, they would fall to his neck, even when he started to put the straps over his head.
Amelia laughed and tightened the strings. They held for ten seconds longer before falling off his face again.
"Do I get to blow stuff up without them?" Rick asked.
"You will just have to wait a few years to grow into them," His mother shook her head. "I will find you another pair your size tomorrow when I pick you up after work. We can search for one together."
"Okay," Rick picked around the box for a few more minutes until he became bored. "Is that it?"
"Pardon?"
"I mean… is there anything else? Like I can play with tomorrow or take to school."
"School?" Amelia raised a brow. He didn't seem too disappointed by the gift but his joy wasn't overly exciting. She picked out his words, knowing he was dropping hints and hoping for a particular wish.
Amelia decided to play along.
"Doesn't your school have plenty of toys to play with?
"Well, there are. But everyone brings theirs to school with them."
A toy everyone brings, it didn't make too much sense.
"Everyone, including yourself has one?"
"No, I mean yes. I have… I mean mine is old."
He already owns what everyone else has. Amelia listed all of his collection of things from his room. A lot of his stuff was older and hand-me-downs she had as a child or picked up from thrift shops. She had never seen him take any of his toys with him either. Why was he picky about it now? Amelia remembered what he said. If her degrees in early childhood and psychology helped her with anything, it was how her current six-year-old thinks. He wanted to take something to school, maybe not a toy but-
His hands were fidgeting with a loose cloth on the sofa. Amelia took off her glasses and placed them on the table. She remembered her son at the park and staring alongside the path. He watched people strolling, by walking and riding their bikes. The realization hit her.
"Not everyone brings their bikes to school sweetie. Those that do are mostly older kids and you still struggle without your training wheels."
"But I want a new one. I'm getting to be much taller than the one I have."
"Rick, we'll see about getting one maybe sometime around Christmas. Money is a little tight right now, especially if you want a brand new one."
"You said about me getting one in the summer for my birthday. I really want one..." Rick's words drifted off, biting down his bottom lip. He was pouting, wiping away loose tears.
Amelia brushed most of them back with her thumb. "Richard-honey, gifts do not always meet our expectations but they are a blessing. Don't miss the ones you have without being thankful for what you get. Not everyone gets to spend a day about themselves."
Her fingers were stroking his unkempt dark reddish-brown hair. He had sniffles, trying to keep from sobbing. Amelia placed a kiss on top of his head, humming softly as she leaned him against her side.
Rick calmed down after a few minutes. His breathing became regular and began to hum to his mother's voice.
Soon she heard his hums turn into low snores. Amelia pulled back a bit to see her son with his eyes closed and mouth slightly apart. He wasn't responsive to Amelia sliding her hand underneath him, carefully picking him up on two sides of his body and walking him toward his bedroom.
"We will do hot cider and a movie on Friday," Amelia whispered. Rick was still fast asleep as she managed to push the door open and place him on his bed. One of his shoes appeared to have fallen off somewhere from when he entered the house to his bed. She took the other one off, letting it fall to the ground.
Amelia managed to take off his jacket next and opted to leave him in tonight's clothes. They were a simple t-shirt and cozy pants despite being reasonably dirty from playing today. She had to do laundry tomorrow anyways. His sheets and blankets covered his body as she pushed him to the center of the bed. A soft kiss to the forehead and whisper good night. Rick stirred for a few seconds before turning to the other side. Amelia stayed with him for a minute or two longer. When he made little noise and movement, she left the room.
After tucking her child into bed, Amelia entered the bathroom. She ran the faucet with warm water, splashing herself in the face and taking a deep breath. There were nights she enjoyed the peace, able to attend to her work or relax with a book or writing. Other nights like tonight made her feel anxious and the hairs on her back stand up. Amelia realized the unsettling feeling of her son mentioning a scarecrow watching made her even more nervous. Her son didn't know the truth about his father and she wasn't sure if she could ever tell him. He had mostly stayed away from their lives. They agreed it would be better for both of them. She could never approve of the choices he made because of his persona. Though she understood how he came to be and the motive behind his desire.
It was the longing of fear he so desperately craved, possibly loved. More so than either her or Rick. There was a sharp pain in her heart as Amelia loved and care for him despite her better judgment or that he would never reciprocate. There was a time, spent in bliss from when they taught together in the university. Two mistakes were made by both of them that led to an inconvenient meeting.
Amelia regrets herself for bringing the past to her mind. She rubbed more water in her face to wake up from her delusions. Amelia knew she wasn't going to bed anytime soon and much-needed grading for anxious, tired college students.
That's how she ended up in the kitchen and front of the coffee machine. It was far too late for coffee, but she couldn't shake off the nervousness. The routine was common enough for her. More familiar to her than anything else and would help break away the feeling from earlier.
By the time the coffee was finished, Amelia had prepped the papers on the dinner table and was settling by a light. That was supposed to be the plan until she felt a sudden chill enter the room and saw her breath.
Amelia shivered and made her way to the thermostat. Confusion crossed her face upon gazing at the numbers.
It was seventy-two degrees. The house should have been warmer than usual as the temperature outside became colder. Why was her skin feeling like ice? A soft breeze caused the hairs on her skin to stand and she saw an opened window in the living room. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she shut it. It was beginning to rain outside. Droplets falling upon the clear glass.
The chill didn't go away.
Her voice was dry, unable to speak a word. Amelia wondered if this was what Rick was feeling when he saw the scarecrow watching him. A mirror reflection over her shoulder revealed the man behind the sofa, standing between her and Rick's bedroom. He wouldn't dare do anything to him she hoped. Doubt crept through her mind, remembering glancing at a caption on a newspaper she read one morning of his attacks. It was a school.
"I thought you were dead," Amelia found the courage to speak, her eyes never leaving the window.
"Did you?" His voice was different, but could hear the remnants of the man he once was."My dear, do not believe what is told over the news."
The quietness broke the second she heard him walking. Amelia immediately turned, facing the doctor. Her eyes widened, covering her mouth. She didn't know if she should or could turn away from him. His voice was not the only part of him that changed.
Crane knew she would be at a loss for words. He was barely recognizable since Batman angered Killer Croc who escaped into the water, dragging him along and tearing most of his face off. The beast was soon gone in favor of devouring the bat, but leaving him to suffer the pain and die alone. If it were all true then he would not be standing in this place of refuge.
"My God, Jonathan, what happened?" Her voice was timid, but concerned. Amelia saw through him more than others did.
Crane grimaced. "The hero everyone so desperately admires. The Dark Knight himself gave me up to be fed to that damn crocodile."
Only the moon and the kitchen light shined through. His hood mostly shielded his face, but she could see what appeared to be a mask mended into his face and the strings holding his mouth together.
"Everyone believed you were dead. Why didn't you appear sooner?"
Crane was standing at the window, his face gazing at his own reflection more or less. "Yes… it happened that way but to my advantage. No one could step in my way as long as they figured me gone. Arkham City was a mess and a revelation."
He was deep in his monologue.
Amelia's emotions clouded most of her mind. Feelings mostly for her son who she prayed was still asleep as his father stood in their home, barely looking human. Her phone was on the table. It would be a quick shot for her to grab it and a risk. There was no doubt he had his toxin on him. The chemicals that made her skin crawl and body tingle. Only once did she feel the effects, a small dosage from a sudden accident. Never had he shown a disappointed expression of the results even as the toxin worked.
"I knew-" he continued, her thoughts broken. "-the clown would not make it past that night and Batman would lose a part of himself. Only I would need that to carry on further."
"What do you mean?" Crane didn't respond. He turned, walking past her into the hallway. Amelia, at first confused, realized. Her heart began to rush, following him quickly as he opened the door to Rick's room. She was between grabbing the phone or pulling him away from the child.
"Jonathan," Amelia cried, holding her breath. Rick was facing them, asleep and softly snoring.
Crane stared down at him. "How curious. No nightmares. No restlessness. He sleeps as if he doesn't need to be worried about the monsters that are outside," he added. "or inside his home."
If he were a monster, Amelia didn't want to make out what she could be. Falling in love with him. Then she saw his fingers twitch, the claws in his right hand slowly drawn out, and the orange toxin bubble. Amelia shifted forward, prepared to put herself between them. Crane raised his hand, placing a lone finger upon his torn-up mouth. She wanted to reach and hold her baby. He must have known this and had to be playing with her.
She was still, watching him kneel beside the bed. The claws of his right hand retracted as he reached with his other hand, laying it on Rick's head.
"A mother's love-driven to protect," Crane said. Amelia was shocked by the tone of his voice. He nearly sounded sincere.
His fingers never pushed down hard as he stroked the child's dark hair. He wasn't rough or showed signs of threatening. Amelia felt relieved. It was the first time in years since he touched their son and for what could be the first father response he had given. Never did she imagine him doing this, leaving to wonder why he would care.
"Leave Gotham. By tonight." His words didn't come out threatening, but were still demanding. Amelia was taken aback by his sudden harshness.
"I cannot up and leave, Jonathan. I have work, Rick has school. You truly expect us to leave everything here while you have been gone."
"No… but you will before Saturday, or live in an eternal nightmare. On All Hallow's Eve night, my new toxin will engulf Gotham and by morning will spread across the eastern coast."
Crane narrowed his eyes. "This is your first warning."
"And everyone else?"
"I will tell them, in time. But no one can stop me. Not the cops. Not even Batman."
Amelia clenched her jaw. She was never close to the vigilante or thought highly of him. It was Jonathan's affairs.
"Why are you telling me all of this?"
Crane stopped stroking Rick's head. "You will not go to the police. You will not even tell him of this visit. You are ashamed of loving me and blinded by that affection. Too good in your own heart, but you would rather stay quiet than tell the truth."
"Before you left, we swore we would never interfere in each other's lives. I could not follow you on this path and we agreed Rick would not either. My own cowardice, doctor, is natural. But do not be mistaken that if you do anything to him, I will not hesitate to remove you out of this house."
"Your courage is admirable, my dear, but not even you can stop me."
"No, but your fear makes you predictable."
He didn't say a word, she continued.
"You may not love Rick but there is a part of him that you see in yourself. Something somewhere your fear toxin doesn't let you see is that you are afraid of Rick becoming like you. You are still captive in your past, Jonathan, unable to let go."
"Are you finished with your diagnosis?"
"Never, it would put me out of a job."
Crane rose, returning to the other room. He saw the box and immediately recognized the equipment from his years as a professor. One of the flasks was picked up, closely examining it and remembering the nights spent endlessly working to perfect the method of his toxin.
"My past allowed me to understand the basics of human nature," said Crane. "Fear is absolute, unwavering. It controls the means of our lives. I did not come here to lecture or be lectured, our days have long since passed. I warned you what is coming out of respect for our past relationship."
Which part? Amelia tightened her lips, cursing herself for even thinking along the lines. Ex-colleagues, she told herself. They were barely friends and he wouldn't see them as such. She initiated most of the conversations, the late evening coffee breaks of grading papers, and discussing the concept of their next lecture. Amelia didn't realize how curious she was of the professor or how close they became.
"I wasn't ashamed of loving you," said Amelia. "And you hated me for it."
Crane placed the container down. "Hate is a horrible word to describe. Irritable is a rather appropriate term." He leaned forward, becoming unnecessarily close. Amelia closed her eyes as she was unable to look at him.
"Jonathan, don't," Amelia whispered. Crane laid his fingers under her chin and pulled her head up. She lightly gasped, seeing his face close up. He was barely recognizable except for the pale blue eyes. They were hazy and she wondered how much he could see.
A yawn broke them out of their trance.
"Mummy," Rick called out, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. "I heard… something."
His voice trailed off. Amelia had pulled herself away from Crane, brushing herself to look decent.
"Yes, dear," she said, her focus on her son.
Rick was looking at the strange man. He then stepped back, gripping the couch, uncertain to look away or keep his eyes fixed on him.
Crane turned to face the child. He chuckled to himself, fully knowing it was his appearance that the young boy saw earlier. The same reaction every child showed. It was the same fear he had for his great-grandmother when his parents forced him to visit or the bullies that taunted him in his youth.
He kneeled down.
"Are you afraid?"
Rick tightened his grip to the cushion, taking his eyes off of the man and toward his mother. She didn't know what she could say, giving a curt nod. He studied him, from the top to the bottom and then back to his face.
"... a scarecrow," said Rick.
Crane barely heard his voice.
"I am," the Scarecrow answered. "Do I not scare you? Or do you wish to crawl back into your bed and hide?"
"Is that a mask?"
"That depends. Would you like to see my face?"
Rick shook his head.
"Of course, you wouldn't want to have any nightmares when you fall back asleep."
Amelia placed her hand on her son's shoulders. He flinched, still tense as his mother comforted him. "It's fine, my love. Mr. Scarecrow and I were simply talking. I apologize if we woke you. You can return to bed now."
Rick took a glance at him before pulling his mother and whispering in her ear. She gently laughed as Crane could see a slight plea in Rick's eyes.
"Another time perhaps," Amelia told him and kissed his forehead. "To bed with you."
Rick pouted. "I'm not tired."
"Richard-"
"Perhaps a story would interest the boy," Crane intervened. He picked up a book from the table and handed it to Amelia. Her brows furrowed, unfamiliar by the leather cover and not seeing it before in her collection. She knew with this type of book she wouldn't just leave it where it could be damaged. He handed it to her and she saw the letters from the spine.
Collectible Works of Edgar Allan Poe, 1881.
Possibly as rare as any other book from her bookshelf or the library at the university. Amelia was amazed by its beauty. Its cover was slightly worn out, but the condition inside was breathtaking. The illustrations and printing were as clean and pristine as they could be from over one hundred years ago.
"My god… Jonathan," Amelia spoke. "This…"
"I trust you to take care of it..." Crane said, turning to the young boy who was just as captivated by the book. "... Richard."
"Love, why don't you take the book into your room. I'll be in there shortly."
Rick held on to it. "It's heavy," he said.
"It's an antique. Precious and very few around. Be extremely gentle with it."
He wrapped his arms around the book and pulled it against his chest. The boy gazed over to Crane. Rick was still uncertain of the weird masked man. He was scary but not as mean as the other scarecrow on the street.
At first glance, the boy thought it was him who had broken into the house until he saw underneath the hood. Rick had believed it to be another costume until he heard the man speak. His voice was deep, coarse-like that made him scarier. But this man must have been hurt before. There were scars and patches, and he looked like he couldn't close his mouth. No lips he realized. Maybe that's why he couldn't figure out his emotions. The man couldn't smile or frown. A metal brace secured to his leg, preventing him from limping. His mother looked worried but didn't rush to protect him. She must trust the scarecrow.
Rick gave a curt nod and said, "thank you for the book." He was gone, rushing to his bedroom with a small grin on his face that almost went unnoticeable.
"You didn't have to give him anything," said Amelia.
"It is his birthday, is it not?" Crane retorted. "What child wouldn't want a present on a day they think solely of themselves?"
"I didn't think you knew."
"Then you misjudge me, my dear."
Perhaps she did. It wasn't out of spite, only wondering if he ever cared for them. Did he think about them? This was the only night in six years they were together. She didn't know what that would entail in the future or what Halloween would bring. It must be worse than what he had come up with before. And she didn't want Rick to be a part of any of it.
Amelia turned off the light to the kitchen. She would take care of the coffee and work another time.
"I have family near London I can ask for us to stay with."
Crane hummed in approval. He moved to the door, opening it. The locks were unlatched, he didn't force his way in.
"You mustn't truly believe I came through the window." She must have shown she was confused as he answered her.
The rain had turned into a drizzle. Gotham's weather felt more wet and grim than it ever would when the sun was out. These next few days would be evident. Crane stepped down as Amelia held the door.
"Have a pleasant evening, professor," he spoke.
Amelia nodded. "To you as well, doctor."
She watched him for a few moments, disappearing into the darkness. Shutting the door, Amelia released a long exhale. Her sobs were quiet as she leaned against the wooden frame for support. The tears that escaped were brushed aside until she finally composed herself and went to her son's room.
He was still awake, sitting cross-legged flipping through the book, more engaged in the illustrations than the words themselves. Amelia sat next to him on the edge and caressed his cheek.
"There are weird pictures in here, mum," Rick said.
"Edgar Allan Poe wrote a lot about melancholy."
"What's melon… melonoky?"
"Sadness, sometimes beyond reason."
His brown eyes gazed up at her. "Why would anyone write about that?"
Amelia told him, "Because they don't want to feel alone anymore."
This was originally supposed to be posted on Halloween but life happens. So why not post it on Dr. Crane's birthday. May update it in the future, at least until I complete essays and try not to fail school.