Daniel Stevens stumbled to his feet, making odd gagging noises as his hand swept across the table by his chair, knocking over the lamp and telephone.

"Mr. Stevens…you're going to have to calm down…" Jonathan cooed, slowly taking out a rough burlap mask from his coat pocket. He quickly pulled the mask over his face and stared at Daniel in glee. "What's the matter, Daniel? Don't you recognize your old professor?"

Daniel let out a horrified yell, tripping over himself as he struggled to reach the kitchen. But Jonathan was too quick for the drunken, drugged young man. He stepped in the doorway and shoved Daniel over with a simple push. "Sit down before you hurt yourself."

As soon as Daniel hit the ground, Jonathan leapt atop him like a wild cat, pinning his arms down and making sure he was unable to break his grip. He looked vicious, ready to kill. "Oh…Danny…Danny, Danny…why did it have to come to this?"

Daniel couldn't see the man hidden behind the mask. Before him was the image of a decrepit, decaying creature that nightmares were made of. Maggots squirmed through the rotted holes in the mask, and the ever-grinning mouth seemed to crawl with black bugs and slimy little creatures.

Jonathan leaned closed to the man's face. "Look what you've done to me, Daniel! LOOK!" He roared, gripping the man's arms tighter. Daniel flailed futilely, trying to gather his wits about him as the insane man hovering over him continued to pin him down. "I used to live a good life…I used to have a good job. And do you know whose fault it is that I have become what I am?" Jonathan broke his tirade by giving a soft chuckle. "I'll give you one guess…"

Daniel's body shook uncontrollably as his chest heaved and his throat constricted. He felt lightheaded and sick, his vision growing white and air no longer passing into his lungs. He sucked in a breath, and convulsed. Jonathan grimaced as the man's lips leaked a foamy white substance in the corners of his mouth, and needed to swallow back a wave of nausea as Daniel gagged and retched loudly. He had forgotten what happened when stronger doses were used on subjects.

"Daniel…tell me what you see…"

"M-m-m…" Daniel muttered, his pupils growing small as his eyelids grew wider. "M-m-m-m…."

"Spit it out, Danny-boy!" Jonathan hissed, gripping the man's arm's so tight that it seemed he would break the skin at any moment.

"M-MONSTER!"

Jonathan Crane howled in delight as Daniel began to sob, tears streaming down his face. "Now you understand my dear boy! Look! Look upon the face of a monster…a face…that YOU created!"

Jonathan smiled beneath his mask as Daniel shook his head, whimpering and sputtering out broken phrases.

But something caught Jonathan's attention. Something reflected through the window and onto the wall beside him. Headlights. Daniel's wife had returned.

Jonathan growled. His work was interrupted. Again. No matter. He knew his toxin had worked, he thought to himself as he stood up from Daniel's trembling frame and raced out the back door in the kitchen.

As Jonathan crept silently along the bushes and reached up to jump over the fence, he heard a scream of horror from inside the home. Jonathan's lips curled into a smile. The smile only a madman possessed, and he stole off into the night.

-------------------

"It worked! The little whelp didn't know what he had coming to him…oh how I have longed to teach that brat a lesson."

Don't get too cocky Jonathan.

"And why not? I deserve a little appreciation every once in a while!" Jonathan shouted into the air as he hopped upon his creaky wooden 'throne' in the barn and threw out his hands. "Let the world see that I. Am. Back!"

A little excited are we?

Jonathan smirked, rubbing the rough burlap between his fingers and staring at it in a daze.

"Excitement doesn't begin to tell how I feel…"

-------------------

Jonathan came home that night a defeated man. He lost his job, his self respect, and any hope of leaving the college with the same glowing reviews he had when he joined the staff.

Jonathan walked up the long, lonely walkway towards his home, a gothic-styled abode that displayed the young man's enjoyment of an older era dominated by fabulous superstitions and whimsical fancies.

He opened the door and sighed, hanging his coat on the coat rack before taking in his surroundings. Perhaps this would be the last time he ever saw his home unless he could pick up a job that would pay enough to fund his mortgage. Something odd, however, caught Jonathan's attention. The gold-orange light dancing across the books in his library indicated a fire crackling away in the fireplace. But Jonathan hadn't been home all day…who…

His eyes widened. No…it couldn't be. Was his house burning down! Jonathan sprinted down the hall and skidded to a stop in front of one of his many book cases. There, confined within the safety of the fireplace, roared a warm, cozy fire. Jonathan blinked in surprise, scratching his head, when a deep, calm voice addressed him.

"Professor Jonathan Crane I presume…"

Jonathan let out a loud curse and stared at the chair back facing him. "Who's there?" His long fingers reached over to the desk on his left, slowly making their way to the first drawer.

"No use, Professor. Your gun has been confiscated."

Jonathan swallowed and frowned. "Are…you a law enforcement agent?"

A deep chuckle was emitted from the seat once more. "You could say that."

"Don't play games with me…" Jonathan called out, a growing sense of anger and perhaps even fear running through his body. 'No Jonathan…fear is just an emotion used by the mind to—' Jonathan shook his head and scowled. "Just who are you?"

A figure rose from the seat, illuminated only by the amber light cast from the fireplace. He was an older gentleman, his light brown hair peppered with gray, as was his mustache and beard. He walked around his chair using a walking stick that made a distinct clacking sound on the wooden floorboard. Jonathan stiffened at the sight of an intruder, though he didn't look like a typical burglar.

"Who am I? Don't trouble yourself with trivial questions, Professor Crane. The better question is…what am I doing here?"

Jonathan's mouth open and closed, forming silent words, until finally he nodded. "Okay…what are you doing here?"

"I'm offering you a new start, Professor." The man extended his hand. "My associates call me Ducard. Henry Ducard."

Jonathan tentatively grabbed the man's hand. "I think you already know my name, Mr. Ducard. But a new life is hardly the answer I was looking for. What are you doing in my home?"

Ducard gave another quick nod. "All business I see. Well, Professor Crane—"

"No, not professor. Not anymore. Just Jonathan Crane will do…"

"Ah," Ducard's face hinted at a grin as he peered at Jonathan. "No longer a professor? Well that's good. It would be far too hard to say your name once I offer you a new job."

"Oh yeah?"

"Professor Doctor Jonathan Crane? Not at all easily rolled off the tongue."

"Doctor? Sir…I think you have me mistaken. I…I am no doctor." He placed a hand on his chest, then pointed outward in a sweeping motion towards a framed diploma on the wall. "I only graduated a few years ago…I'm no doctor…"

"Not a doctor of medicine, no. But , if you choose to accept my offer, you will be joining the staff of Arkham Asylum as head psychiatrist to the inmates."

Jonathan blinked. Arkham? It was like a dream come true. Sure, most people avoided Arkham like the plague. Its gloomy brick façade, however, only heightened Jonathan's curiosity for what lay behind it. Those men and women in their iron cells, padded with soft materials, were excellent cases to study for the young man. He looked up at Ducard in disbelief. "You couldn't get me a job there…unless you work there, could you?"

Ducard smiled as warmly as he could. "Dear boy, you leave that to me. So I take it you accept?"

"Only on one condition." Jonathan's eyes narrowed as he studied Ducard's face. "What's the catch? What's in it…for you?"

Jonathan wasn't stupid. He wouldn't accept anything unless he knew what he had to give in return.

"The only 'catch', Doctor Crane, is that you assist me in my own dealings. You, in return, will be taught a great secret. A secret found," the older man held up a single blue flower, "in this small beauty. A secret I know you will enjoy…you study fear, do you not?"

Jonathan nodded, his eyes now transfixed on the poppy-like plant. It was blue, a bright blue hue, reflecting a golden light from the fireplace.

"Well, what would you say if I told you that this small flower has the ability to send strong men to their knees in terror? When…properly prepared, of course." Jonathan looked up at Ducard. "I will show you the secret behind my flower, and you will help me by creating a chemical to synthetically reproduce the same effects."

"How…how will I know what to do? How would I know if it works?"

Ducard smiled once more. "You have quite a range of test subjects in the asylum…I'm sure you can use them to see the potency of the drug. You will, of course, need some way to stimulate the mind's fears. A photo, smell, color…anything…" Ducard waited as Jonathan seemed to calculate all this in his mind. "So what is your decision?"

Jonathan looked up, a startled, albeit hungry, look in his eye. A seat of power on the staff of Arkham. A chance to continue his fear studies. Unlimited supply of test subjects, it seemed. And more important…a chance to redeem his name. Doctor Jonathan Crane…

"I accept." Jonathan said almost immediately, his eyes lighting up with a strange gleam to them. He used to be a man of the law, a man of prestige and honor. Now he was sinking…he would sink lower than this over time and he knew it. But he wanted this recognition and power desperately.

"Good." Ducard murmured and smiled. "Very good. Now, for your first assignment—"

"Already?" Jonathan frowned, but the look on Ducard's face indicated that he did not like being disrupted. "Sorry…please continue."

"As I was saying, your first assignment for this position is to pay a visit to Mr. Carmine Falcone. He is to be convinced, by any means, to allow our shipments of chemicals and drugs to be brought over in his shipments of drugs."

No one touches Falcone in this city, thought Crane. It's perfect. People couldn't catch him now. "He'll be down at a local restaurant in the Narrows at precisely 2p.m. I assume most people in town know where it is."

"Yeah, I know where it is." Jonathan knew little about the dark side of Gotham. But Ducard was right. Everyone knew where to find Falcone.

"Good. I will see you tomorrow after the meeting with Falcone. You will go straight to Arkham and begin your job. Understood?"

"Understood."

Soon Jonathan was alone in his home, replaying the day's events in his head. He had been fired, then hired as the middleman between two very important people…Ducard and Falcone. Jonathan sank into his armchair in front of the fire, holding his chin as he thought deeply. So, this is what became of him now? He was a man working for criminals…

But it seems he didn't mind it so much.

Jonathan had returned to the campus the next morning, only to run into the student that caused his troubles. Of course he lavished on the sarcasm to increase the boy's guilt, but Jonathan couldn't enjoy it. He had a lunch date with Carmine Falcone to uphold.

-------------------

"Crane, right?" Jonathan winced as two burly bodyguards patted him down roughly. No gun, no wires, so the men shoved him into the seat across from Carmine. The Italian crime lord smirked as Jonathan adjusted his glasses and blinked at him. "Yeah, I gotta message sayin' yous needed to see me."

"Yes sir, Mr. Falcone," Jonathan said quietly, his face turning stony and unreadable. "I've been given orders to—"

"Whoa, hey…listn' here, princess. Carmine Falcone takes no orders from nobody. You got dat?"

Jonathan bristled at the man's tone, but kept his face still. "Yes sir, I understand completely. How can I put this then…" he laced his delicate white fingers together and placed them on the table. "An associate of mine has requested that he be able to transport some of his…goods…along with some drug shipments you're bringing in."

Falcone raised a cigar to his lips, looking completely uninterested in what Jonathan was saying. "So you wanna plant some of his crap with my shipments?" He took a long drag on his cigar and blew the smoke in Jonathan's face. "So what's in it for me, princess?"

Jonathan was starting to hate this man.

"Name your price, Mr. Falcone."

Falcone chuckled, leaning into his seat. "My price, huh? Let's see…yeah, I gotta price. You tell your guy if he can cough up some money to pay for his half of da shipment, and if he can spring one ah my guys from da' joint…I'll help ship over da goods."

Jonathan thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing. How could he possibly fulfill this request? But Ducard had said…he said he needed to do whatever it takes to get Falcone to help. He would tell Ducard about the money, perhaps strike a deal with the mob boss. But then there was the trouble of getting Falcone's thug out of prison time. There were people that wanted to put his men behind bars…how would he be able to stop them?

Suddenly, a thought formed in Jonathan's mind. "Arkham."

Carmine pulled the cigar from his lips. "The nuthouse?"

Jonathan nodded, his face now showing slight traces of excitement. "My friend will be obtaining me a job at Arkham as head psychiatrist. If I am able to give your man a mental evaluation…" A smile curled across his features, sending chills down Falcone's spine. He didn't like the way this creep smiled. "I can get your guy out of jail and into my care. You can visit him as you please. And no one says no to Mr. Falcone. I'll make sure of that."

Falcone stared at the young man, trying to pry into that mind of his and see if what he was saying was true. "You make one slip up…"

"Mr. Falcone, I have learned my lessons with slip ups. Trust me. I won't make one."

Falcone let a grin grow lazily on his features and he waved his cigar in Jonathan's face. "You're a smart kid, Crane. Yeah. Alright. I'll help your friend. I'm guessin' you want somethin' too in return fer your services?"

Jonathan nodded. "I just want enough money to pay the bills, Mr. Falcone. No more, no less."

Falcone let this idea run around his mind and gave a nod. "Deal. I trust you, Crane. Don't make me lose dis trust…" He said as Jonathan rose from his seat and was escorted out by the two bodyguards. "You'd hate to see what happens to people who lose my trust…"

Jonathan caught the man's eye, setting his face in a stone-like look once more. "I don't want to know."

Carmine's lips curled into what looked like a smile as he leaned into his chair and stuck his cigar in his mouth. "Yes you do."

A/N: Tried to use a little of my memory of the movie to do the scene between Carmine and Jonathan. So, I hope I got both their characters down and didn't mess up the little details.

Please read and review. Thanks!

...Amazon...