It's finally here. After a long and eventful couple of weeks, I have finally finished another chapter. Things have been on a pretty good high note for me. First off, my boyfriend (I'm a girl BTW) of five years got to visit for Spring Break. The next week, my Grandmother visited and treated me to some fine dining at my favorite restaurants, and in approximately 6 hours is my birthday. So I've been on quite a high lately.

The only thing that could possibly put a damper on that was the receiver for my family's tv and ethernet going out, but eh, what can you do? Also, on a side note, I finally, after nearly 15 years, tied a ponytail all by myself, so I am super stoked. I know that doesn't seem like much, but when you're an Aspie with motor control issues, its a pretty big deal.

But anyway, that's not what you guys came here for, is it? You came here to see Scarecrow and Becky, didn't you? Well, I promise you, they are here, as well as a few people we have not heard from in a while.

Also, there is a bit of nausea fuel here, so if you are squicked out easily, I suggest you skip the first part. I would not like you to throw up please, for all of our sakes.

But anyway, onward to story

Jonathan looked down at the bones near his feet, contemplating those words. This was the woman who had abused him, who had made him work and toil and offered him no comfort, no compassion, and no happiness whatsoever throughout nearly half his life. The one who had locked him in the atrium of that run-down chapel and tortured him with crows over and over every time he did something wrong.

Yet, this was also the one who had raised him, who had provided him with food and shelter and cared enough about him to not abandon him outside to die when he was just an infant. He knew that a lot of her mistreatment was due to Alzheimer's, and that some days she honestly couldn't remember what she had been doing just a few minutes ago.

But that did nothing to excuse her actions to him. She had no excuse. Even if Alzheimer's and dementia was to blame for her fiercer cruel and unusual punishments, that didn't excuse the hatred he felt from her in her saner and rational days. He glared down at the bones, before kicking the skull aside. "You got what you deserve, Granny," he growled, beginning to walk away from the broken scarecrow.

As he walked away, he could hear crows cawing from a distance. Turning around, he saw the crows start to peck at the old bones. Giving a small, half-smirk, he started to continue along his way.

"And do you think you are any different?"

Jonathan stiffened as a cold, bony hand touched his shoulder. Shaking with dread, he turned his head to see the aged, wrinkly skin of his Great-Grandma Keene, the flesh slopping off her bones and hanging limply, like a carcass, its wrinkled mass twisting around the bones like a cord.

Turning to face her, Crane couldn't help but gag and tried not to throw up in his mouth as he beheld the twisted, animated remains of his Granny, all that remained of her to be called flesh was twisted across her bones and tendons like some sort of macabre shawl. Her skull lacked eyes of any sort, but still managed to pierce through his soul just the same. In her hands, she held the twisted cross of the former scarecrow's foundation, leaning hunched over as she pulled herself towards him, her breath reeking of the grave and earth from which she came.

"Do you think you are any different from me, Johnny?" she repeated, her voice as creaky and nasty as the rotting, brittle skin adorning her bones.

"Y-Yes," he squeaked out, trying to back away, but her cold, rotting fingers gripped onto him like talons, the cawing of the crows getting closer and closer.

Granny cocked her head to the side. "Really? Would you mind telling her that?" she asked, her bony fingers pointing towards a gravestone. "Or them?" she repeated as another gravestone appeared out beside it, then another and another until the whole field was filled with gravestones, surrounding him on all sides.

Crane gasped, starting to shake his head and repeat a shocked "No" over and over again as he recognized each name on the gravestones, all of them his victims over his entire career, from his first kill, Sherry Squires and her boyfriend Bo, to the patients he had worked on and had administered drugs to in the Asylum when he was just an intern, to the students and professors he had murdered on his first days of becoming a Rogue to the thousands of others since, each and every one of them pointing their fingers at him, accusing him, screaming for his blood.

Turning away from the ghastly scene, he found Granny chiseling on another one, set apart from the rest. For some reason, he didn't recognize this one.

"Which one is that?" he asked hesitantly, looking with fear out at the lone gravestone.

Granny looked back at him, a disturbing, unnatural grin on her nonexistent lips.

"Why, don't you know? This is the girl that got away," she whispered to him, letting out a shrill cackle as she revealed the name BECKY ALBRIGHT carved into the stone.

"NO! No! Please! Not her! Not her! Anyone but her!" he wailed, tears streaming down his eyes as he collapsed before the gravestone, his hands pounding against the earth as he looked upon the grave marker before him, the face of the woman he loved, the woman that was his heart and soul, carved into the tombstone, her face scrunched in the same horrified expression he had seen when he had confronted her on the crashed subway station 6 years ago.

All the while, Granny let out a mirthless laugh. "Are you beginning to understand now, Johnny-boy? Are you beginning to understand the monster you truly are?"

She continued to cackle as tears streamed down his cheeks, all the while someone called his name.

He curled up into a ball, pleading for this nightmare to be over.

All the while Granny continued to call his name.

"Jonathan! Jonathan, please wake up! Please!" Becky yelled, shaking him roughly.

With a stiffened gasp, Crane opened his eyes, finding himself out on the grounds of Arkham East, his arms grasping onto a gravestone of the late Amadeus Arkham.

"B-Becky?" he whispered, hesitantly, almost disbelieving his eyes as he opened them to her freckled face.

"Shh. It's okay, Jon. I'm here," she soothed, already recognizing the effects of fear toxin, and from what she could tell, it was a pretty severe reaction. Pulling him close, she gently whispered in his ear, "I'm not going away. I'm right here."

At her soothing voice, he wrapped his arms around her, steadily pulling himself back to reality as his mind confirmed that the woman he adored was not going to disappear. "Becky, what happened? Why am I outside?"

"No idea. I just found you out here. But from what you were mumbling and the way you were clutching that tombstone, it must have been pretty nasty."

"You got that right," Crane huffed, slowly getting up from his crouched position on the ground. "But we need to get out of here. It's almost sunrise and the next shift will be coming in at any minute."

"What about Hush?" she asked. She doubted Hush could keep up the disguise forever, and with the strange things going on in Arkham, she didn't want him ending up in the obituaries.

"Hush can take care of himself," Crane said quickly, taking her hand as he started towards the gates. "Besides, with him inside, he'll be able to get the rest of the trophies placed without arousing suspicion."

She shrugged, not willing to argue against that logic, especially when she wanted to get out of Arkham just as much as he did. With a cautious glance behind her, she ran alongside the Scarecrow as the two dashed towards the exit, dodging the sentries placed along the way as they inched through the bars of the old gate in Arkham North and out to freedom.

Friitawa examined herself in the mirror, making sure that she had removed any blemish on her face with her makeup. It was one of her few weaknesses, her vanity, but she couldn't resist looking perfect before an audience. It was one of the few things she still had left to control, and she would fight to her last breath to preserve it.

Crane had known that from the start, of course. A brilliant psychologist like him could tell it in the way she carried herself and her obsession with the tiniest details, whether they be in beauty or science. That was why she had come to love him. To identify a person's vices and weaknesses by a single glance was a mark of a genius, and she craved genius, especially among the craven, idiotic masses of sheep that infested this city. It was a shame she had to kill him now. She would have loved to have him by her side as they terrorized the world together as they slowly drained the people of this planet of any hope and joy they had left. After all, it was only fitting for two parasites that thrived off the fears of others.

She shook her head, untying her hair from her usual bun, letting the whitish-gold strands run down to her shoulders. It didn't matter. He would recognize her superiority soon enough. All she had to do was follow along with Ra's plan for a little while, and then when he was weak, she would strike.

Already, plans were being made to usurp him from his beloved throne. She had gained the alliance of Hugo Strange, and with his hypnotism, soon that fool Warden Sharp wouldn't be far behind. After all, the mind-control chemicals that she had stolen from the Hatter's Prototype teas would be very useful in the hands of a skilled hypnotist like Strange. Sure, it meant letting go of a precious amount of her fear toxin, but that was just part of the exchange.

She padded a bit of blush on her face, smoothing out the presence of her pale, albino skin. The serum had started to wear off, which was disappointing. She had expected the serum she had imbued last night would at least keep her condition stable for a few more days, not just for 24 hours. Unless the dosage of the serum was lowered, in which case she had to give Talia credit for being smarter than her blank face suggested.

No matter, she thought, shrugging on her signature red coat over her black bodysuit. I'll deal with Talia soon enough. But first, she needed to meet an old friend.

Hugo Strange grinned as he observed the video recordings of the camera in the Morgue, watching intently as Becky ducked and dodged around Zsasz's knives at nearly inhuman speed. She is quite powerful, he thought, admiring her agility as she landed a kick to the madman's back, causing him to stumble forward a little before regaining his balance and attacking her again with his knives.

He was especially interested when Crane entered the scene, revealing that the two were, in fact, partners. Strange smiled as he confirmed his theory. The two of them were working together, and from the subtle movements of their bodies, with Crane leaning almost protectively over Becky, their relationship seemed much more than business.

This is an interesting development, thought Strange, his hand absently stroking his beard in thought. I wouldn't have thought Crane capable of developing such a relationship, much less with someone that is his junior in both age and intellect. He had read extensively on Crane's file and had reviewed his recordings, both during his internship at Arkham and during his stay as a criminal. Nowhere did it even hint that he was capable of such display of protectiveness and concern about another's well-being. All that mattered to him was his research, and that almost always factored into keeping anyone around.

Yet this woman was different. But why? His attention turned back to the video tape as he saw them holding each other close. Friitawa mentioned that the Scarecrow had cast her aside in favor of that girl, but that still didn't explain his motive. If he wanted to spite Friitawa for what she had done in the past, he had already accomplished his mission. Why keep the girl around? She had served her purpose, and yet, he still tolerated her presence, protected her from the other rogues, and kept her close enough to let in on his plans.

Did he love her?

With a snort, Strange dismissed that thought. That creature couldn't comprehend love, much less express it. None of them could. That's why he wanted them exterminated, along with the rest of their degenerate Rogue society. Once they were removed like the dangerous and deadly parasites they were, then Gotham would be purified for the rest of its citizens, away from the menace of those degenerates. After all, evolution of humanity couldn't progress without removing the ones inhibiting its growth.

With a flick of the remote, he turned off the TV, withdrawing the VHS tape from its slot and carefully storing it in an unmarked case. He could review the rest of the tapes later. Right now, he had to get back to his little side-project.

The morning sun was just slightly above the horizon as the two criminals made their way across the bridge linking Arkham to the Narrows. Thankfully, the morning shift hadn't started yet, so they didn't have to watch out for anyone.

"Jonathan," Becky huffed, trudging tiredly across the concrete bridge, using the curb railing to keep herself steady as she struggled to stay standing, her eyes feeling like the dried out, itchy surface of sandpaper. "Remind me when I see Eddie again to punch him in the face?"

The man left out a tired laugh. "Don't worry, I won't let you forget. I'll probably join in, too," Crane replied, his longs legs dragging slowly behind him.

"Again, why couldn't we have taken the car?" she asked, her head bobbing as she fought sleep.

"It would be too easy for the guards to trap us there," he replied, his head drooping, the hat on his head slanting precariously as it started to shift. "And anyway, Hush has the keys, so it's not like we could make a getaway in it."

"Right," Becky yawned, angling herself towards Jonathan's side as she slumped against him, already half-asleep.

Crane was bit startled as her head came crashing down against his side, but relaxed and smiled as he noticed her half-lidded eyes struggling to keep themselves open. "Hey, it's only a little farther to the lair. You can make it a little farther, can't you?" he whispered gently, his tone soft as he pulled her head up, only for it to come crashing down again.

She mumbled a muffled "I don't know" into his jacket, struggling to keep her eyes open and her legs moving as they continued onward. She shivered a little as the cold Gotham wind blew into the cut on her gown, angling herself more into the warmth of Jonathan's jacket.

The master of fear blushed as he felt her shift, her front starting to face his side as he struggled to keep her moving. With the way that her gown was cut, he could see just the beginning of her small cleavage poking out through the slice. He tried to keep his eyes forward, but every so often, he couldn't help but glance back.

A car horn honking shook him out of his daze, and he looked up in time to see the black Nissan Bluebird come to a stop nearby, the windows rolling down to reveal the grinning face of Hush. "Hey, strangers, need a lift?"

Crane flashed a tired smile, playing along. "Why, certainly, my good man. Do you have enough room for my lady friend?"

Hush laughed, inviting them inside as he took off into the Narrows.

"So, did you get all those trophies set for Riddler?" he asked, glancing in the mirror at Becky, her head slumped against the window, the seat belt providing a semi-hammock.

"No," Crane huffed, taking off his hat and mask and placing them in his lap. "And frankly, Edward can go screw himself with those trophies for all I care."

Hush let out a snort. "Would serve that little troll right, too." He noticed Crane looking over his shoulder, checking on his partner. "Hey, she's fine back there. No need to keep looking over your shoulder every few seconds."

"I know," Crane sighed, noting the way her curly hair swirled around her face. "But I can't help but think that something strange is going on."

"Stranger than normal?"

Crane chuckled. "Much stranger, Thomas. Things aren't making sense. First, I've noticed that she seems more on edge than normal."

Hush raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that just from being in Arkham?"

"I wasn't finished. Then, when we broke out of Arkham, I could have sworn she had been shot as we made our escape. But when I go to examine her, not only did she have no bullet wounds, but the scars she had previously are all gone. Not to mention that she believes that there is a doppelganger of her running around in her costume and haunting her dreams at night."

"Hmm," he mused, glancing briefly away from the wheel to the woman in the back. "Do you think it has something to do with Fright's Night?"

Crane sighed. "Fright's Night" was what they referred to the night of the Scarebeast attack a week ago. It was still a sore subject with the man, especially since he was aware of everything that happened that to him that night, but could do nothing to stop it. Not to mention that everything lately came back to that night. "I believe so. But I have no way of knowing for certain until I can run a few tests back at the lab." He turned to face the front, his arms crossed and a small, pursed scowl on his lips. "For all I know, this could be just coincidence. But if I'm right…"

"Then she could be dealing with the side effects of an unstable solution."

"Exactly," Crane replied, his thoughtful expression turning worried. "She could either have to depend on me to keep her stable and functioning or we could risk having another potential Scarebeast on our hands. Either one is not something we can handle right now."

He was just about to speak up when he spotted the warehouse hideout. "Well, whatever happens, I'm sure you guys will survive somehow. You always do."

Crane chuckled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Thomas," he said, unbuckling as the car pulled to a stop at the empty lot in the back. "But I prefer to have proof of that before I commit to it any further."

The younger man just chuckled, shaking his head as he waved goodbye to the couple before backing out and driving away.

"Now then," Becky yawned, stretching her arms up into the air. "What was it you and Hush were talking about? It seemed really important."

Jonathan shook his head with a wry smile. "It doesn't matter right now," he replied, his hand around her shoulders as he guided her towards the warehouse. "We can discuss that tomorrow. Right now, we both need some rest."

She paused at the door. "Jon?"

"Yes?"

She smiled up at him, her freckles creating a rosy pattern on her cheeks. "Thanks. You and Hush didn't have to come with me."

His arms slid around her as he pulled her close to him, feeling comforted with her in his embrace as he slid his palm over her cheek. "Well, if I recall correctly, almost two months age a little mouse came to me and decided she would only be my henchgirl if I fulfilled her conditions, one of which was to protect her."

Becky gave him a teasing grin, her hazel eyes dancing with mirth. "Oh, come on. It's more than that and you know it."

Craned laughed, giving her a quick peck on the lips as he held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine, fine. I guess it could also be that I've developed a soft spot for my precious plucky girl."

She giggled, patting him on the head. "That's better." She opened the door, already two steps inside before she turned around to find Jonathan still there, a blissful smile on his face as he stared at her. "You just going to stand there gawking?" she teased.

He blinked a few times, before blushing and pulling his straw hat downwards. "Right. Sorry," he muttered quickly, before shutting the door behind him.