Okay, folks; this is it. I don't want to give anything away, but I should warn you all that this is the end of Lucid Dreamer. It was a joy to write, and even better to know that people enjoyed reading it. I'll get back to you once you're done; until then, prepare thyself, for the end is nigh.

- nH

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Chapter 20

Oh Black, Unending River

It was darkness there. In the arms of a Scarecrow – he must have known what he was? Surely hearing the name held no surprise for him?

Jane gasped, and stiffened; her eyes suddenly snapped shut, to avoid seeing that monstrous, infested face so close. She held her breath; she was, inarguably, terrified. The next move was his.

"Ah, Jane," he murmured, as one might on a particularly successful date. It was a little late in the game for seduction, Jane thought. Once one is in a straightjacket with a burlap sack over one's head, the usual attraction has likely diminished. Though, she couldn't deny a certain thrill as he tightened his hold, working his fingers gently through her hair. Oh, sure, she thought, now you act normal. Now that we're both nuts.

His eyes, she saw as her own cracked open just slightly, were still blue. She could see them beyond the rough holes in the mask. If she concentrated hard enough, she could even make the maggots recede a little.

"Take the mask off," she tried, in an attempt to reach past the Scarecrow to the man he may – once, long before she'd ever met him – have been. It was a long shot, one that depended on there still being a human under the hastily stitched together chaos. If there ever had been, and if there was any trace of him there now, Jane hoped he'd be willing to show himself.

A dark chuckle emanated from behind the false front; things weren't looking good. "Why, darling?" he asked, bringing her that much closer with the hand in her hair. "Do you not like my face? Do I scare you?"

"No," she squeezed past her fear. "No, you…bore me. I can't see your eyes, the…storm in your eyes."

"I...bore you?" he repeated in disbelief. Even she had to admit it was a cheap shot in the dark, with no basis in reality. And the storm in his eyes? He would see through that in a second.

To confirm this, the hand not occupied with her hair tightened around her waist, holding her body against his. Despite herself, she melted into him, unable to keep up any respectable distance between doctor and patient.

"What about this?" he whispered. Her heart sped, galloped at the implications. He really was trying to scare her. "Don't you like me like this?"

I think he fancies me, Mom.

The world was falling apart again, the walls crumbling, the park from her youth growing up in swing sets and darkness to replace them. The man before her was the one who'd attacked her then; he'd always been with her, for years and decades and lifetimes before the incident that had brought her here. He was the archetypal villain, her demon, her shadow. This Scarecrow had only been waiting for the moment to arrive for him to take his place inside her head, to worm his way into her life so he could conquer and devour everything he found there. Now, she was almost gone for good.

"No," she said again. Last chance. She reached up, caught her fingers in the burlap over his head, and gently pulled it off. "So I can see you, see the real Scarecrow."

Silence then, as time froze along with the doctor. The mask was gone, and underneath she saw something far more horrifying; human madness. The person had survived, inexorably altered, and that may have been worse than the actual death of Crane. The idea that humanity can remain in a bare shred to suffer along with the external victims of an insane man…that chilled Jane more completely than any of Crane's own cold ministrations ever had. It was sympathy, mixed with terror, boiled to an intolerable, churning mass.

"There you are," she said, shuddering inwardly. His eyes were ice, as always, but the Scarecrow behind them made his previous insanity seem empty in comparison. "You don't need this." She held up the mask at her side.

He hesitated; gaze locked on the burlap sack, he spoke in his unaltered voice. "I don't need it," he agreed. "I decide on it, I want it, it's mine." He lunged toward it, Jane still held tightly in one arm.

She took this opportunity with hardly a thought. As he pushed forward, turning her body slightly in the process, Jane twisted her steps into his; the result threw the doctor so far off-balance that both collapsed to the floor. He grunted in surprise as he landed on top of her. Quickly regaining himself, the Scarecrow pinned her arms at her sides, at first concerned at his loss of control, then laughing in relief.

"Jane," he sighed finally. He lowered himself onto her, locking her to the floor with a weight surprising for his stature. "You always were my favorite patient."

Closer, closer, and he made contact. He is only doing this to frighten me. Jane squirmed frantically, unable to escape his kiss. It was ruthless, without warmth or modesty; Jane was overcome.

Go on, girl. Do it again

No need to coax her this time; all, or nothing. Jane sucked him in, and closed her teeth around his lower lip with a cruelty to match his own.

This is kissing, this is love

A warm, coppery silk coated her mouth and chin; Scarecrow's howls cut the air, piercing through the dream, bringing Jane back to life. She bucked, throwing him off of her. He scrambled to his feet, snatching the burlap mask from the ground and staggering away from her as she rose.

One hand clamped over his bloody mouth, the other tightly clutching his only barrier between himself and the real world, the unmasked Scarecrow finally gained a semblance of self-control. He straightened, regulating his breath, poking his tongue out to gauge the injury. He said nothing to Jane, but his eyes never left her. He was wary now, she noted with pleasure; he knew what she was good for, finally.

"You're not the same," he whispered eventually. She shook her head in denial, but he pressed on. "No, you're changed, now. Ichanged you."

"No," she whispered fiercely; she was the same girl, her mother's loving daughter, the normal teenager. "No, not true…"

"Yes," he nodded, backing away. When his hand dropped from his face, Jane saw the damage done; blood still oozed darkly, but it didn't gush as she had imagined. "I changed you."

The shadows reached out from behind him, swallowing him whole. The perfect end to the perfect night terror; before her, the only sound was the receding laughter of a madman. Behind her, the sturdy click of a door was almost real enough to draw her back. Softly, footsteps padded, cautious in their approach. Jane turned.

"Jane?" Angie called faintly. She was still out of sight, somewhere beyond the curve of the hallway, between reality and here.

Glancing back in the direction of the Scarecrow's escape, Jane gasped to see the shadows now reaching out to her; she jumped back, unsuccessfully. The darkness found her, embraced her, surrounded her, and soon she was blind.

"…Jane?…Jane …"

From here, the hazy light was easy to ignore. Somewhere far away, in the same place that the comforting young woman's voice existed, came the disturbing sound of hoarse laughter. She tried so feverishly to reach it; her life stretched before her, a long dark hallway with a light and an Angel at the end. But the dark was a blanket, covering her and smothering her, and suffocating her return.

This is my nightmare, my world

She struggled, and felt nothing. Disconcerting…but she knew she'd never stop trying to wake up again, to reach that girl, and the sunlight, and her loving stable home; until then, the sounds of her new world would be the silence of panic, and the clamoring of rage.

For now she could contain the Fear, the panic, shape the nightmare into something she could bear; a foreign concept once. What had happened to that Jane?

The dream becomes me

Perhaps the Scarecrow had changed her, after all.

The End

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Thankyou all for sticking around until the end! I'm so thrilled to have gained so many new readers, and to have kept all the faithful ones too. Your reviews and comments have been invaluable, and I'm happy to say that you're all talented writers in your own right. In answer to a couple of questions, I am considering a sequel or companion from Angie's point of view. I haven't given up on Jane, although I admit it does look hopeless. The thing about Angie, though, is that she is tenaciously loyal to anyone she cares about. So keep that in mind; I'd reckon we haven't heard the last of either of them.

About the sexual tension, it was totally intentional. I do consider Crane's interest in some of his patients, chiefly Jane, to be sexual in nature; it's just not purely physical. Remember, with the way he grew up, there is little value placed on the body's power over the mind; it is quite the opposite. If Crane wants to enter someone, and he has to force his way inside, he will relish taking the path of dreams and nightmares; the mind is his prize. First she will succumb to her fears, then she will succumb to him.

So a sequel; I have to warn you, if it's from Angie's p.o.v., it will look quite different than it did from Jane's. She has a reason for believing in him for so long after his experiments began; it will be the story of why their relationship is different, but there'll be no making out, I promise. He never terrified her the way he terrified Jane. It may also be a while before I post it; I want to be sure I get all the details right.

Thanks again for reading along! I've loved getting to know all of you, and those of you I haven't read up on completely, it's only a matter of time. I'll be back sometime with more…stuff. See you in the reviews.

Sincerely,

Not Human