Hello, everyone. I'm back. Now, some of you have wondered if I am going to finish this story. In short, yes, eventually. One of my all time biggest pet peeves is a story that is never finished. Like you guys, I enjoy a good story, and I hate it when it is abandoned or cuts off right before it ends. And while I may not write in a few weeks or even months, it doesn't mean that I have abandoned it; more like I am having either school, writer's block, or a distraction keeping me from updating.

Believe me, with my ADD, it's often more of a distraction or school than writer's block. As much as I would not have it so, school takes presidence over fanfiction. It's just a fact of life, and I can't juggle both a story and school full-time, so I have to put one or the other on the backburner for a while until I can get back to it. Plus, inspiration is a tricky mistress, and my muse is often as distracted as I am.

But no worries. School is over, vacation has started, and I am relaxed with little WiFi, which makes an excellent combination for finding inspiration and writing.

Also, you might notice a few curse words in the following chapter. Normally, I don't like writing curse words for characters. It just makes them feel kinda crude and unsophisticated, you know. I mean, this is the Rogues Gallery we are talking about, these guys are the supposed to be the coolest bad guys ever, Scarecrow and Riddler especially, so having them say crude words all the time makes them seem more like thugs than supervillains. But, I do know that everyday people do curse a couple of times, so for the sake of realism, I'm trying to incorporate that into the dialogue.

But I've babbled enough. Let's read!

Crane was barely two steps inside his hideout when a thought occurred to him.

"Becky?"

"Yeah?"

The master of fear clenched his fists, unsure if he should bring this up. On one hand, if they addressed the issue immediately, then the sooner they could figure out what was causing her hallucinations. But on the other, they were both exhausted from escaping Arkham again, and perhaps the situation was not so dire as to be enacted immediately. They had gone all this time without anything happening, right? Maybe a few more hours wouldn't be so bad.

"N-Nevermind," he said quickly, turning away. It could wait. I don't need to worry her right now.

Becky sighed in frustration, her hands on her hips. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," he said, trying to dismiss the question. It was foolish of him to have tried to bring it up in the first place.

She pulled his head to look her in the eyes. "No, it's obviously something if it's gotten you this anxious."

"It doesn't matter!" Crane snapped, pushing past her towards his bedroom. "It can wait until morning."

"Look, just talk to me, Jonathan! Whatever is troubling you, we can face it together," she snapped back, her hand gripping his shoulder tightly to keep him from walking away.

Jonathan looked down, before sighing in defeat. He knew from the moment he mentioned it that she would not let this go. Tenacity was one of the many traits he admired about her, although it didn't work out favorably for him some of the time. "You really want to know?" he asked tiredly.

She nodded, lips pursed as she tapped her fingers against her hips as she waited for his reply.

"I…was wanting to ask if you were having any more troubles with that doppelganger of yours you say was running around," he replied, a tinge of irritation in his tone. "Among other things. Look, just forget I said anything."

Becky sighed, knowing that once Jonathan had dug in his heels, he was not to be dissuaded. She couldn't concentrate anyway even if she wanted to talk about it. Her mind felt like a smoothie, mixing and blurring all together until she couldn't tell what she wanted. "Fine. I guess it would be a bad time to think about this while we're both exhausted."

Jonathan smirked, pleased that he was right. "See? Now was that so hard?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said, lightly swatting him on the chest, a small, cute smile reappearing on her lips at his childishness. "Just remember to sleep this time."

Crane laughed. "I'll try. Insomnia might have a bit of a say about that, however."

"Well, then tie it up and douse it with fear gas," she said, letting out a tired giggle as she yawned. "Just get some sleep anyway you can."

Crane chuckled. "I'll do my best," he replied, pulling her close as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Good night, Becky."

She smiled, before angling her head up and pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Good night, Jonathan. I love you. Never forget that."

Jonathan smiled peacefully, feeling himself starting to relax as she pulled away. Those three little words never ceased to amaze him. But as he shut the door, he couldn't help the nagging sense of dread from curling around his heart like a vice. Not only did he have Titan to worry about, but Becky's snappy behavior and her mysterious condition, too.

He would rather eat his own hat than admit it, but he was scared. He couldn't place it, but there was something familiar about her new abilities, something that just didn't seem right. He tried to recall where he might have seen someone with these abilities, but nothing came up. The best he could guess would be a super-powered being of some sort, like the Flash or Superman, but none of the abilities seemed right.

With a huff, he shuffled under the covers and turned off his light. Those matters could wait. Right now, he needed to rest if he was to prepare for his next move. After all, there was still an unfinished heist to plan, and he needed to be at his best to stay ahead of Batman.

Closing his eyes, Crane drifted off to sleep

~~~~~~~~~~~S-C-A-R-E-B-E-A-S-T~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the door was shut, Becky's smile fell from her face as she drifted towards her room, her heart clenching tightly in her chest as her hazel eyes watered. Exhaustion wasn't the only reason she didn't want to broach that subject.

As much as she tried to deny it and force it to the back of her mind, she was afraid. She had been afraid ever since that dreadful Night of Fright. Afraid for her life, seeing her dream of being a good citizen flushing down the toilet and her future so uncertain, for her Jonathan and the life they lived, constantly on watch for enemies in the night, and for her friend, Alice, who was dragged into this mess in the first place because she happened to attracted Hatter's attention.

Crawling into bed, she stared up at the ceiling, watching as the smoke alarm's light blinked steadily on and off. A low rumble sounded in the distance, hinting at the approaching rain.

It isn't just fear, she mused, sliding under the covers as she adjusted her pillows. It's also my damn pride. Why can't I just bring myself to tell Jonathan about this? He's my boyfriend. I should trust him more than I trust anyone. Yet why am I still trying to deal with this alone?

She rolled over onto her back, letting out a deep breath she didn't realize she was holding. It ate at her heart that she couldn't trust him. He protected her from Batman and the other rogues, gave her a place to call home when she could barely pay rent, and had even saved her life even though it had caused him injury. He told her he loved her, showed how much she meant to him by listening to her, offered her comfort when she was feeling down, and keeping her close even though she had slowed him down with her leg.

Yet, someplace deep in her mind, she felt she couldn't trust him. She didn't understand why she still held on to that feeling. She knew what he was. She knew, and she had forgiven him despite that. Yet that feeling, that shadow of paranoia still lingered in her mind, its clawed tendrils digging into her thoughts like a knife through butter, slicing her with doubts.

And those doubts still lingered, multiplying, filling her mind with dread and distrust. No matter what he was, Jonathan Crane was still the Scarecrow. He still delighted in causing fear, still delighted in seeing innocents crying and screaming on the pavement as he watched their reaction with fascination, as if he were watching a nature documentary. The only difference now was that she was off the list.

This was why her heart still ached. It was only their agreement that held this fragile alliance together, and at any time, he could snap and she could end up dead or worse. She had seen how close he was to the brink, that night when they confessed their feeling for one another. She feared what would happen if he lost control again.

Tears fell from her eyes, splattering her freckled cheeks with water. She sniffed, wiping the tears away. It wouldn't do to think about these things right now, she reasoned. She was tired, it had been a long day, and she needed to rest. Curling up, Becky fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams plagued by the possibilities of what came in the past and the worry for what the future could hold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S-C-A-R-E-B-E-A-S-T~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friitawa knocked lightly on the back door to the Iceberg Lounge, shivering slightly in the chilly wind. Despite her coat providing a bit of warmth, it didn't' cover her long legs, leaving them open to the freezing breeze. She hoped Penguin's goons would get here soon. She did not want to be dragging herself back in a block of ice.

To her relief, the bronze slit in the door opened, a pair of eyes peering through the darkness of the alleyway. "Openin' hours aren't 'til ten. Come back later."

"I'm not here for a drink. I'm here to see Penguin. We have…business to discuss" she said, her foot tapping impatiently on the frosty ground.

The man shook his head. "No can do, doll. Penguin ain't acceptin' any invitations right now."

She smirked, her gaze predatory as she eyed the man behind the door. "Just tell him that Linda Friitawa is here to see him. That should get him running"

"Fine, but don't expect him to actually listen," the man huffed, sliding the slot shut as he went to get his boss.

Friitawa's smile deepened. "Oh, he will, if the fat midget knows what's good for him," she muttered, adjusting her bodysuit. She had to look presentable, after all. Her pride would allow for nothing less.

A few minutes later, she could hear some squawking and a few curses before the door opened again, revealing a scowling Penguin, his top hat askew a few inches on his balding head. "Ah, Linda, it's been too long."

"It has, indeed, Oswald," she replied, her lips curled into a bestial smile. "How is business?" she asked, the well-dressed usher taking her coat as he escorted them towards an empty table, pouring a glass of wine for each of them.

"Good. No' that it's any of yer concern, Friitawa," he huffed, taking a puff from his elegant cigarette pipe, his patience wearing thin. He didn't trust that snake-tongued traitor any more than he could lift the foundation of the Lounge. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? We both know why you're here, and it's not just out o' the kindness of your cold, black heart. Ra's wants something from me, and he sent you as his little retriever to bring it back. So, what exactly is your master expecting, and why haven't ya tried to stab 'im in the back like every other one?"

Friitawa laughed, her nails tracing the edge of the cup, letting out a slight ring at a high B octave.

"Oh, Oswald, you know as well as I do that I have no 'master'," she replied, as she sipped at her wine, enjoying the cold taste of vodka on her lips.

Cobblepot let out a squawking laugh. "Is tha' why yer servin' as 'is little pet? The great Linda Friitawa, the mistress of fright, brought so low as havin' to depend on others for help. I though' that you sunk pretty low when I 'ired you, but this takes the cake."

Friitawa's eyes narrowed, her nails digging into the glass so hard that it started to crack. "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you, Penguin. You of all people should know the lows people will stoop to when they're desperate. Yes, while I would rather have that charlatan's head at the end of my knife, certain situations call for me to stay my hand," she replied, watching with amusement as Cobblepot scowled with irritation at his moniker.

Penguin crossed his arms. "If you just came 'ere to insult me, then yer wastin' my time," he growled, getting up from his seat and beginning to waddle away.

"Not quite," Friitawa replied, a coy smile on her face, like an angler fish offering its lure to an unsuspecting shrimp. "I have a…. proposition for you. One that would be quite beneficial to you in the long run."

Cobblepot stopped, turning so that the broken bottle that encased his left eye gleamed in the dim lights of the Lounge. "Alright, I'm listenin'."

Friitawa's eyes gleamed, her sly smile spreading into a grin. Got him. "What if I can tell you that I know a way to get rid of the Joker permanently?"

Cobblepot paused for a bit, then began to laugh. "Ha! As if! I've tried for decades to get rid of tha' gaudy fool! What makes ya think that you can do any better?"

She shrugged as she pulled a bottle filled with yellow-green liquid from her cleavage. "Oh, I don't know. How about access to chemicals that would make even the Scarebeast serum sound tame in comparison?"

Penguin's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot to the brim of his top hat as he snatched the bottle from Friitawa's outreached hand, pulling it closer to his bottled eye. In composition, it resembled the Venom drug, with its homologous mixture and glow, but its color and the density of the liquid resembled something he had not seen in years. "How the 'ell did you get a hold 'o this?" he gasped.

Friitawa crossed her arms, holding a satisfied smirk on her lips. "Does it matter? All you need to know is that these chemicals are the key to making sure that the clown and anyone else you have a bone to pick with are destroyed. And all you have to do is one tiny favor for yours truly."

Cobblepot pondered these conditions. On one hand, if he had access to that chemical, it could give him a crucial edge in driving out Joker and his henchmen for good, as well as making sure that any stragglers or nuisances like Batman were picked off once the game was up. On the other, Friitawa's tiny favors always turn out to be not-so-tiny in the long run, and a huge favor such as this would make it all but impossible to not return it in the future.

"While the chemicals' handy, the Joker's a very tough man to capture. I'll need more than jus' the chemicals to take him down," he said, pocketing the chemicals in his tuxedo.

"But of course," she replied, chuckling. "This isn't the first time I've negotiated with you, Oswald. I know the location of a man that would make a nice little commander for your team. All he would need is a small dose of those chemicals and he would be ready for whatever was thrown at him and still be itching for more."

Cobblepot tapped his umbrella against his chin. "Temptin'. Very temptin'. But no dice. If I wan' brute muscle, I would jus' as well 'ire Bane."

Friitawa sighed, her face settling into a mock frown. "You drive a hard bargain, Oswald. Very well." Raising herself from the chair, she let out a long, shrill whistle.

Immediately, a black-closed assassin jumped down from the rafters in the ceiling. She bowed in greetings to the Penguin. "This is Petra Al Aziz, my bodyguard. I've heard rumors that you have a museum in this frigid icebox you call home, and what better way to display your power and wealth than a genuine Persian assassin employed by Ra's Al Ghul himself," Friitawa said, standing beside the lithe woman. "Plus, if you don't want an exhibit, I've heard she has… other uses for her talents."

The assassin licked her lips, her eyes full of alluring danger.

"So," Friitawa said with a grin, holding out her hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Cobblepot eyed the hand, before grinning himself, and shaking it. "Deal."