Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot and the characters not found in Batman Begins.

This story basically talks about the origins of the Scarecrow, the alter ego of Dr. Jonathan Crane. Therefore, he may seem a little out of character, because the main story is set before he becomes the character that he is in the film. This version of Dr. Crane's backstory may differ from other writers', for it is written merely based on my own interpretation and imagination.

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Searching For My Shadow – Prologue

It was the sound of running water that woke him up.

He wondered if the tap had begun leaking badly again, or if his mother was simply forgetful and had left the shower running. His head sank further back into the slight depression in his pillow, and he retreated further into the quiet sanctuary of his bed, trying to ignore the noise and pretend that his sleep was never interrupted. Of all things, 12-year old Jonathan Crane detested interruptions, hiccups, mishaps and indeed, everything out of the ordinary. In short, he detested himself.

It was all in vain. It didn't stop.

He squeezed his eyes shut further, scrunching up his thin drawn face in a sort of grimace before sitting up with a groan. Fumbling for his glasses that he kept by his bed, he half-stumbled, half-trudged toward the source of the noise.

Jonathan let a resigned sigh fall from his lips, as he called tiredly, "Mom?"

The only answer he received was a violent splash and a stifled scream.

His heavy footsteps quickened to a sprint toward the bathroom, as cold sweat trickled involuntarily down his head and the back of his neck. He could feel it gathering at the tips of his hair, messy bunches of wavy dark brown.

He stopped short at the entrance of the bathroom. It seemed that he was suddenly jerked awake, and his vision that was previously foggy with sleep, cleared instantly as he silently took in the scene before him.

The bathtub was overflowing and much of the water had spilt on the floor, creeping quickly across the smooth tiles to meet his feet. His sister Julien was lying beneath the water surface, the sides of the bathtub framing her body, like a coffin gently cradling a child. Her face was blue and her features seemed to be distorted due to the refraction of light. She was inert, and he stood there, arms hanging limply at his sides, regarding her body with a vague scientific interest.

With her hands poised not far away from the water surface, Jonathan's mother was drenched and had a vacant look in her eyes. She turned slowly to face her son.

Jerked out of his trance, he lifted his eyes and stared at her. With a voice quivering slightly with fear and uncertainty, he asked, "Mom?"

She simply continued to stare blankly at him.

Jonathan picked up his courage and stepped forward. He was about to hold her and shake her out of her trance when she practically lifted him up and submerged him into the water.

He was way too shocked to even cry out, much less resist her sudden attempt. As he thrashed about in the water, fighting his mother's grasp, he heard her sobbing and screaming to him, "I'm sorry, Jon, I had...I had to do it! The Voices from Heaven said that if I wanted to protect...protect you and Julien from the Devil, I had to keep...keep you both under water, always. You see, I always...always... try to be good...a good mother. I always wanted...wanted the best..."

Limbs flailing uselessly, Jonathan tried to hold his breath and find a way to rise above the water, but the harder he tried to free himself, the stronger his mother's grip became. He ears were ringing, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. As he swallowed even more mouthfuls of water, he suddenly became aware of the body of his sister close against him, her dark hair moving eerily in and out of his vision, one with the water. He felt his strength leaving him as his mother's grip tightened on his shoulders. As a final attempt to save his own life, he turned over in a swift motion and using his arms, pushed himself out of the water, all the while staring at Julien's blue eyes which were wide open and fixed blankly upon his own.

Scrambling out of the tub, Jonathan slipped and fell on the slippery floor, shoulders heaving with each breath drawn, coughing. Shocked, his mother made a desperate lunge at him, but he tore himself away from her. He swayed a little as he stood up and ran out of the apartment, trying in vain to ignore her cries and the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks.

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It was dark. He picked up his pace, running, running, till he could feel the blood pounding in his ears and his chest ached with every beat of his heart. Not knowing where he was heading, Jonathan merely followed the will of his feet and took flight into the night.

After what seemed like eternity, he stumbled into a dark alley. He continued to grope blindly about in the dark, mind overtaken by fear and trauma. A sudden madness seized him, propelling him to move faster against his own will, causing him to trip over his own feet on the uneven ground, arms stretched out in front of him as though embracing the inky darkness before his eyes. Just as he thought he was nearing the end of this nightmare, he tripped over a large rock, which sent him flying for a third of a second, before he fell flat on his face. The thud from his fall resonated throughout the alley as he struggled to get to his feet; too-loud echoes that bounced off the uneven walls in all directions. A hampered sense of sight had distorted the sensitivity his other senses.

A harsh light pierced the darkness and shone directly at his face, hurting his eyes.

"What's this young fry doing here, eh?"

As his eyes slowly accustomed themselves to the light, Jonathan could make out four or five burly figures staring down at him. He smelt the familiar stench of booze and saw a small sachet falling out of one of their pockets; its white powderish contents a stark contrast to the dark surroundings.

"I..."

"Watcha you here on my turf for? Asking for a beatin' huh?" There were other loud mutterings expressing dissent in the background.

"No...I mean...I was..."

Click. The light switched off, engulfing him in darkness once again. Their fists made swift contact with his thin frame, again and again. He felt a dull ache in his body, as each sharp stab of pain was numbed by grief and confusion. Jonathan could taste the blood in his mouth, a faint hint of metal, flowing slowing from the corner of his lip where it had been split. As his swollen eyelids slowly slipped shut, he imagined formless dark shadows towering above him, his tormentors, with heads of Death and arms of steel...

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Gotham Times

(This made it to page 23)

The bodies of a 35-year old woman and her seven-year old daughter were discovered in Apartment 4, 10 Crescent Street by a neighbour. He had ventured into their house after he noticed that there was water flowing out of the entrance of the apartment. The girl's death was caused by drowning, and it is suspected that the mother hanged herself after discovering her daughter's body. The police have classified both cases as unnatural deaths.

To be continued...