A.N. It's me again, your lo-vel-lee authorette. Anyways, yes the story continues. Thanks again to reviewers. It's really encouraging to know someone reads my story, although if you didn't I'd probably still write them. I right more for myself than anyone else.

Anywho, just a little warning. This chapter does mention suicide, self-injury, and SDS, more commonly multiple personality disorder. These are serious issues and I do not by any means intend to make light of them. Having struggled with 2/3 of them I can tell you from expirience that if you're struggling with them, you should get help. SDS doesn't usually go away by itself, and thoughts of suicide and self-injury tend to intensify with time. Please don't make light of any mental, emotional, or personality disorders.

Enjoy!

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Christine sat fuming in the back seat between Mike in his car seat and Lucy, who was constantly poking her and asking questions. What the hell was that supposed to mean? she thought angrily. Crane's previous remark could be interpreted many ways, none of which were very pleasant.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lucy asking, "Why is the sky blue?" Christine sighed but decided to piss the child off with an honest answer.

"The sky is not really blue," she said. "It only appears that color because the blue wavelength of sun light is most affected by diffusion through nitrogen and oxygen molecules in the atmosphere, causing the air around the light to appear blue." She smirked triumphant at the child's confused look and then mentally smacked herself. The whole van was silent and staring at her, that is of course except Jonathan, who was driving.

"What I meant to say was," she fumbled, "the sky is blue because God made it that way." The kids all resumed talking and although she couldn't see she was sure Dr. Crane would be grinning at that.

He was, of course. The girl sure knows how to handle kids, he thought. They had been driving for about an hour and the park would be coming up soon. The day was bright and sunny forcing him to squint so he wouldn't miss the very small sign announcing the park's existence and location. Seeing it he turned down the dirt driveway and parked on the grass.

The children's faces were pressed against the windows to stare in wonder at their new paradise. All that they saw was the typical park equipment: a couple slides, a merry-go-round, some teeter-totters, and a jungle gym but it must have seemed marvelous after being locked inside for almost a week. As soon as one of them figured out how to open the doors they poured out and attacked the poor playground.

Christine took Mike out of his car seat and set him on the ground to run after the big kids. Standing she took a moment to stare in wonder at how blissful ignorance really was. They have no idea, she mused. No idea. She decided she couldn't just stand there all day and proceeded to push the merry-go-round for the screaming kids on it.

Jonathan came slowly out of the van, carrying a bag full of his papers. He spread them out on a picnic table in the shade and continued taking notes as though they had never left the Asylum.

Mike: Well developed for a 3-year-old

Good motor skills and coordination

He watched silently as Mike allowed himself to be picked up and swung around by Christine. The child's shrill laughter carried well through the park.

His attention turned from Mike to Greg, the 8-year-old boy with an amazing grasp of the world around him. He was picking up bugs and watching them crawl on his hand. Unlike most boys his age he was playing with the bugs, not torturing them.

Greg: Kind natured and inquisitive

Suddenly a small girl ran up to him, jumping on top of his papers. It was Emily, the most rambunctious 6-year-old girl he had ever met. "Come on, Dr. Jon!" she cried. "We're going to play hide and seek!" Her pleading eyes looked right into his and her pout was so perfect he thought he might play just on that merit. Looking around he saw the other kids gathered in a circle around Christine, who was laying down rules. A few saw Emily by him and came running over to join in the begging.

"I'm sorry, but I have work to do," he sternly told them. Apparently it wasn't enough to convince them to give up. They grabbed his hands and pulled as hard as they could.

"Puhleeze!" they shouted almost in unison. Sighing Jonathan knew he would get no work done with them bothering him like this. His eyes caught Christine's and when he saw the displeasure on her face his mind was made.

"Oh all right," he caved, in a very unlike Dr. Crane manner. "But only one game!" His own voice reminded him of an older brother. The thought brought revulsion to him but he decided it might also prove beneficial. The more the children liked him the easier it would be for them to trust him. The more they trusted him the more he could exploit that trust.

Standing he allowed himself to be tugged over to where Christine was standing with the rest of the kids. She looked as though she had just tasted a bad apple.

"Alright," she said with authority. "The rules are this. You can only hide with one other person, so pick a buddy." The children paired off as though by some guiding force. Jonathan was left alone. "You can only hide in places where you can still see the van. That doesn't mean that you can't hide behind or under something. Just that if you stood next to that thing could you still see the van." There was an excited silence as she continued. "When you are found I have to tag you before I can say I found you, ok? So if I see you, you can try and run away. Any questions?" When no one said anything she told them, "I'm going to count to 50, alright? Now go hide!"

The children scattered in all directions, each holding a buddy's hand. Jonathan was more calculating with his hiding spot. He figured he would go into the patch of trees on the far side of the playground. They afforded enough shelter to remain unseen.

"35…36…37," she droned on and on. Just when she was getting hypnotized by her own voice she called out, "49…50! Ready or not here I come!" She opened her eyes and ran around in circles, pretending not to see any arms or legs sticking out nor hear any giggles or whispers.

"Gee I wonder where all the kids have gone to," she shouted. Slowly she made her way over to the most obvious spot, behind the van. To her surprise she found no one hiding there. "Not over here, I guess." She went on with her noisy narration until she found the first pair hiding in the tube slide. They were wedged in pretty well and needed a hand out. It was Emily and Lucy. The two squealed with delight at being found and tagged. Obediently they went over and sat next to the van.

Christine searched around for a while longer until she had found everyone. Everyone that is except Dr. Crane. She twirled in a circle, skirt flaring out, looking for where he might be. Spotting the cluster of tall, dark trees in the corner she made out for them at a sprint. "Hmm, now where is Dr. Jon," she mocked loudly and the kids all giggled from over by the van. As she drew nearer their chattering faded to a dull whisper on the wind. She could barely hear it by the time she entered the trees.

There was an eerie silence as her footsteps crunched the dry leaves. "Dr. Crane," she called out, startled by how loud her voice was. She jumped and turned at the sound of a twig snapping and couldn't see her way out of the trees, which had appeared a small cluster before. Behind her another twig snapped and she turned just in time to get a faceful of blue gas. She choked and gagged for a moment before raising her eyes to see what had done that.

What met her was the gruesome face of a scarecrow with maggots crawling everywhere. Backing up slowly she found it hard to focus on anything. Everything around her looked menacing. Christine turned and ran only to trip on a root sticking up from the ground. Flipping over she saw the scarecrow standing over her. It reached down as though to grab her but she was too fast. She kicked up with her leg, banking on the fact that it was a male. To her delight she was correct, and she ran screaming from the woods.

The children rushed out to meet her in the middle of the playground but to her they looked like the devil's minions. They had claws and sharp teeth. Turning around she ran strait into somebody's arms and they closed around her. A soft voice that sounded so familiar whispered, "Calm down. It's ok. Just take deep breaths to clear your system." Along with oxygen Christine inhaled the scent of cologne. It was musky and sweet, mixed with what could have been cinnamon. Before long she blacked out.

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Dr. Crane set the unconscious girl down in the shade under the tree by the picnic table. It had taken her much less time to pass out than it had the children, a result he had not anticipated. Despite that the hallucinogen appeared to work the same. Out of the controlled environment of his office he thought it more likely that she would develop a phobia, although he still had his doubts.

Sitting down he waved the children back to playing and resumed his notes. An uncomforable pain reminded him to be more careful next ime he drugged Christine. It was one o'clock before he stopped. Packing up his briefcase he figured they should probably eat lunch. The children would definitely be hungry after all of that playing. From the back of the van he brought out a large bag full of brown paper bag lunches. The perks of having a building full of people to put to use that no one will believe. He set it on the ground and the kids swarmed.

Jonathan paused on his way past Christine. She showed signs of coming to. Her fingers twitched occasionally and her breathing was normal. He knelt down to take her pulse so he could make note of that. It was normal as well, although his actions seemed to stir Christine. She sighed and rubbed her eyes while mumbling, "What happened?" Dr. Crane thought it wise to answer before she opened her eyes.

"You tripped and received a mild concussion," he lied easily, having thought it up before. He watched as she opened her eyes, saw his face, and frowned.

"And why is it that for the second time today I have the displeasure of awakening to your face?" she groaned. Sitting up she put her hands to her head and felt for a bump. She couldn't find one. And she had perfect memory up until being gassed. What was that crap? she wondered.

"Just your luck I suppose," he answered, still kneeling next to her. Christine barely managing to sit up on her own let alone stand.

"I didn't bump my head," she told him. Her eyes were as cool as his when they met. Jonathan pretended to be confused.

"Of course you did," he assured her. Greg glanced over and saw Christine sitting up.

"Christi," he yelled, running over. He was followed by a small mob. They all knelt down next to her and began talking at once.

"You went over there-"

" –And then we couldn't see you-"

"-But we heard you scream-"

"-So we came over-"

"-But you ran away from us-"

"-And Dr. Jon stopped you from falling-"

"-But you passed out anyway-"

"-And now you're awake again." She smiled at their enthusiasm but not at the story they told. Try as she may she could not remember anything that happened after she was sprayed with the gas. The one thing she did know, though, was that she had not hit her head. Storing it in her memory she turned to the kids and smiled.

"I'm fine now, so don't worry," she softly said. Satisfied with her answer the kids ran away to play some more.

Jonathan stood and offered a hand up to Christine. Ignoring it she managed to stand up but almost fell back down. Had it not been for an arm around her waist she would have. Pushing it away she stared at Jonathan for a moment.

"Don't ever," she whispered in a low, contained voice, "do that again." His touch brought raw emotions about last night to the surface, as well as unneeded memories once again.

"Would you rather have fallen," he teased menacingly. His gaze held curiosity, not a threat. Christine felt as though he was analyzing her for a weakness as a patient. He probably is, she thought cynically.

"Yes." With that she turned away and went to play with the kids. Jonathan returned to his notes.

Christine: Shows signs of past abuse, which was 3 years ago

Responded with hostility and fear to physical touch

It was no mystery to him why she acted the way she did. Not only had he harassed her last night but also, when she was 13 Christine had been raped. This brought on a depression so deep that she had struggled with self-injury and then had taken her father's blood thinners for weeks before slitting her wrists. Found lying in her bathtub she was taken to the minimum-security wing at Arkham, which now was closed. For weeks she'd stayed there, refusing to talk to anyone. Finally after heavy dosing with antidepressants, she opened up and told her story. It had taken her a year and a half to get off of the drugs but now that she was she still had flashbacks. It was not uncommon for those who had suffered severe trauma to do so. Besides that, though, she was back to being herself again.

Glancing at his watch Jonathan saw that it was already 3 P.M. Gathering his papers he called out as loud as he could while still maintaining a cool voice, "Time to go." Predictably the children moaned and complained, but eventually were herded back into the van by Christine, who avoided Dr. Crane's eyes. When at last all the children were in she sighed at seeing the only available seat was next to Jonathan in the front. Gritting her teeth she hopped in and slammed the door.

"Are we all buckled in?" she asked turning around to check on the kids. Most had already fallen asleep, amazingly, and she allowed herself a small smile. Settling in herself, she was displeased to find Dr. Crane wanted to talk.

"Is your head feeling fine?" he questioned, eyes on the road.

"Yes," she said, "but I didn't hit my head and we both know it." She glanced at his emotionless face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, voice down.

"I think you do. I was drugged, Crane, and you were the one who did it." Her voice was calm but her face was anything but. It was angry, even enraged.

"And what if I did drug you, Ms. Fellmen." His voice matched Christine's in calmness but his face cracked the shadow of a grin. "What are you going to do about it? Who are you going to tell? There is no one in Gotham who would believe you but you can't even get a message to them." Jonathan brushed his hair back off of his forehead.

"I will find a way to stop you," she told him. And she meant it, too. If it was the last thing Christine ever did she would have her revenge on Dr. Crane. Not just for herself, but for everyone.

"Remember, I hold not only your life in my hands but also the lives of 7 innocent children." He paused glancing at her. "I'll let you take your pick. Which would you rather have harmed?" His eyes held an icy glare and he could feel Scarecrow trying to come out again. He could taste her fear in the air, something breathing and alive. He wanted, no needed more of it. Not now, he told him. Jonathan needed to stay here, just to show himself he could, to show himself he wasn't out of control.

"You already know my choice," Christine spat.

Jonathan felt himself lose it, felt his humanity slip away. "Well then, perhaps you should stay in line." He reached over to grab her arm. "I would hate to have to cut into that pretty skin," Scarecrow whispered, still driving. "But you've already done that for me, haven't you?"

"Shut up," she whispered. She looked away yanking her arm away and crossing it over the other one. She didn't like to talk about her past. To Christine it was like a big shadow looming over her. Others told her to learn form it, but she loathed it.

Scarecrow let Jonathan take control again, having gotten his fix. In control once more Jonathan tried to fix some of the damage done. He meant to scare the girl, not turn her against him. "I'm sorry," he said, voice emotionless once more. "That was inappropriate."

Christine appeared to ignored his remark but took it into consideration. He seemed like two separate people sometimes. One was evil and calculating while the other was cruel and ruthless. I guess jobs like his attract the insane. Like me, she added belatedly. She had enough problems without adding Jonathan's severe dissociative disorder to the list.