A/N: I usually like to go by the equation New Update + New Review New New Update, but no one seems to be reviewing so I'm just going to go ahead and update anyway. Sorry it's taken so long, but I've been getting sicker and sicker lately, which means I have make-up work and normal work coming out my ass.

Chapter VIII

I decided not to tell Johnny about my dream, even when it repeated for two more days. He had enough to worry about without me adding to that with a slight case of insomnia due to weird dreams. Besides, it was just a silly dream. I didn't seriously believe that there was some scarecrow-monster out there trying to get me; that was just ridiculous. A Batman was one thing, but a Scarecrow? That was just plain weird.

I got up and took a long shower before getting dressed. And why not? It was Saturday, and I didn't even go to school anyway. I could have taught high school juniors, and they'd probably learn more from me than the underpaid losers who couldn't get real jobs who claimed to "teach" at the school (A/N: I'm not knocking teachers here, my dad's one, so no one take any offense please). Ah well, it didn't really matter anyway. I decided to wear a fitted panne velvet shirt with pointed black satin collar & cuffs and tiny braid fasteners to front and cuffs, silvery jeans, and low-heeled black boots. I almost always wore boots; I liked them. I found them comfortable and sturdy, and couldn't imagine why girls my age who wore open-toed shoes on wet, rainy days found that they had any right to bitch and whine about getting their feet wet in the puddles. No, boots all the way for me.

I hoped that that night Johnny would come home to me and we could spend time together, but I knew that wasn't likely. Maybe I would surprise him at his office. Yes, that was a nice idea. Why hadn't I thought of it before? I'd hop the monorail to Arkham Island and surprise him at the asylum. He'd like that, I was sure. It would be nice to have some time together. That trip to New York he mentioned was a very good idea, and not just because I loved "The Phantom of the Opera". I wanted Johnny to have more time for me. I wondered what he was even doing at the asylum, and if there was anything I could help him with so he'd be finished faster. Well, I'd find out that night.

I spent the day by myself in the library reading and writing stories on the computer there, occasionally taking a break to play Sudoku, an intensely difficult Japanese number puzzle. Once my stories had been a way of trying to tell the cyber-geeks out there that I was in serious trouble. I thought that, if I were lucky, some group of young anti-political extremists would try to break into the government's basement looking for Roswell survivors and find me. Now I just wrote for pleasure, mostly Gothic horror stories with plenty of blood and gore. I was particularly good at that, given my morbid imagination. Still, the genre appealed to a large amount of the patrons of my websites, so it wasn't like it was a waste of time. Time passed very quickly in this manner, and before I knew it it was dinnertime and Jonathan still wasn't home. I decided to have dinner alone and catch the next monorail out to Arkham Island to see him. As an afterthought, I brought some stew with me in a Tupperware bowl. I figured Johnny wouldn't have had time to eat during his busy day.

About half an hour later I was on the city's train headed for Arkham. I felt uncomfortable being alone on the train, but I had a taser in my pocket and I knew martial arts. I figured I'd be all right. Even so, I was very careful. I didn't want to end up getting raped or murdered. Or both. But I made it to the island without any problems, and I was the only one disembarking there. I made my way to the asylum quickly, not wanting to meet any of the lowlifes that lived on the island. I was afraid of being recognized if I went through the main doors, so I decided to go inside through the basement. I knew the way; I had escaped through there from the morgue. I figured I could just take the elevator up, and if it needed a key I'd use the stairs. A little exercise never hurt anyone.

The door down into the basement gave way easily enough. Probably it was seldom used. I went inside, trying to ignore the strong smell of chemicals. Then I stopped. I shouldn't be smelling chemicals in an asylum basement…should I? I didn't think so; there was no reason for chemicals to be in the basement of an asylum. No legal reason, at least. I continued on slowly, cautiously. There was something going on, and it wasn't good. I had heightened senses and sharper intuition than other people, and I knew something bad was happening here. My fear was the Johnny was in trouble…or in charge. The latter would have been worse to me. You can imagine, then, my reaction when I entered the main pipe room and saw my dear Johnny and his associates polluting the city's water supply with barrels of cloudy white chemicals. I could smell the same flowery-chlorine scent that had been clinging to Jonathan's clothes lately. Now I knew why. And so, I noticed, did one Rachel Dawes. She turned and ran, and Jonathan pursued her after a moment. A few minutes later some of his cronies went after him and came back carrying a slightly unconscious Rachel. Jonathan wore what appeared, at first, to be a burlap sack on his head. I realized after a moment that it was the scarecrow face that I had seen in my dreams. And I realized then that Jonathan, the one person I thought I could trust, was the Scarecrow! I stared at him, my face crumpled with hurt. How could he betray me like this? How could he lie to me? To me! Everything he told me, everything he said…was it all a lie? Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them away. I believed in a little thing called karma. And if it was working, he'd get his soon.

A moment later, a loud rattle sounded and startled everyone. Jonathan pulled off his mask and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"He's here…" he said, looking all around.

"Who?" asked one of his men.

"The Bat Man," replied Jonathan. I had never seen him so downright twitchy. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said he was afraid…

"What do we do?" asked another man.

"What anyone does when a prowler comes around: call the police," said Jonathan, still looking around the ceiling.

"You want the cops in here?" asked a third man, incredulous.

"At this point they can't stop us," replied Jonathan. "But the Batman has a talent for disruption. Force him outside; the police will take him down. Go."

"What about her?" asked the first man.

"Oh she hasn't got long. I gave her a concentrated dose. The mind can only take so much. Now go."

The first man hurried off. The other two stood around looking nervous. "The things they say about him…" said the second. "Can he really fly?"

"I heard he can disappear," added the third. Jonathan gave them both a very patronizing look.

"Well, it looks like we'll find out," he answered. Then the sound of glass shattering resounded and all Hell broke loose. The Batman materialized out of the shadows and attacked the thugs. Jonathan had ducked underneath the stairs to the catwalks and pulled his mask back on, waiting for an opportunity. I moved carefully through the darkness so I could see better. I was watched, fascinated, as Batman took out the two thugs seemingly without even breaking a sweat. Jonathan lunged at him, arm outstretched to hit him with the white gas I now knew was hidden in a canister up his sleeve. Batman seized his arm, punched him in the stomach, yanked off his mask, and pulled him up by his hair. I frowned slightly, but didn't move. The last thing I needed was for Batman to think I was mixed up in all this.

Batman twisted Jonathan's arm around to point at his own face. "Taste of your own medicine, doctor?" he growled. He sprayed Jonathan in the face with his own chemical, leaving Jonathan coughing and struggling. Batman pulled him up and pushed him against the stairs, holding his face roughly. "What have you been doing here?" he demanded. "Who are you working for?"

Never had I seen such an expression on Jonathan's face. He was terrified. Whatever drug he had created, it apparently incited panic in whoever was exposed to it. Jonathan, whom I had believed devoid of all fear, was actually panicking. Cruel irony. How I love it.

Jonathan's wide eyes darted around, looking for a way to escape this waking nightmare – for who knows what the Batman appeared as to his fevered sights? – before shakily answering, "Ra's. Ra's al Ghul."

"Ra's al Ghul is dead; who are you working for?" snarled Batman. Jonathan didn't, couldn't, answer. He just stared in open-mouthed horror at the masked man before him. "Crane!"

"…Dr. Crane isn't here right now," whispered Jonathan. "But if you would like to make an appointment-"

He was cut off by the wail of police sirens. Batman looked around and then back at Jonathan before literally throwing him aside. I watched Jonathan hit the wall and slide to the floor, a broken, shaken man. Batman took Rachel and left. I came out of the shadows and approached Jonathan slowly. He stared up at me in terror as I glared down at him in fury. Before I realized what I was doing, I had slapped him hard across the face. Jonathan crumpled to the ground, whimpering, and I was immediately ashamed. Still, I was livid.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he kept babbling over and over.

"You should be sorry, you putz," I muttered. Still, I didn't leave him. I couldn't. I thought I was going to, but I couldn't. I waited with him until Sergeant Gordon arrived, whereupon I put on my innocent act, pretending I had no idea what was going on, that I had just come to see Jonathan because he hadn't come home and I had found this, and so on. I was treated kindly, wrapped in a blanket, and taken outside. As I was led away, I looked over my shoulder to see Jonathan – the one person I thought really loved me – taken away to a cell in his own asylum.

'How the mighty have fallen!' I thought derisively. I was being cynical again, but I couldn't help it. I had just lost everything again. I should have just left Gotham when I had the chance! Tears stung my eyes again, and this time I let them flow. The police, misunderstanding, assured me that Jonathan was going to be all right and that the best place for him was the asylum where he couldn't hurt anyone, including himself. I didn't even hear them. Without realizing, I pulled away from the man holding me and started walking slowly towards the bridge. I let the blanket fall from around me. I didn't really need it anyway. I didn't need anything. I had had enough. After I went back to the house and got some money, I was leaving Gotham for good. And there was nothing that could make me stay.