alright! new chapter! enjoy.

oh, and thanks to all of my reviewers, you kept me motivated.


Chapter 5

I Get Along Without You Very Well

It was the dead of night when Dr Jonathan Crane awoke to the tapping of fingers on his Plexiglas cell.

The person knocking (if you could call him a person), seemed to have a permanent evil grin plastered onto his face. The doctor took it all in, the shock of green hair, the pasty white complexion, bright red lips, purple suit, and henchmen standing close behind.

"The Joker."

"Ah, Johnny boy, so at last we meet."

Crane moved toward the glass, focusing his frigid gaze on the Joker.

"Why are you here?"

"I've a proposition for you, Johnny. I'll help you escape. But I want something in return."

"What?" he snapped icily. The price of freedom from the Joker would be high.

"I need you to help me develop a new chemical weapon. After you do, you're free to go. No strings attached."

Crane highly doubted the latter statement.

"And what if I decline?"

The Joker frowned, as though he was disappointed.

"I don't think that I've fully explained the situation to you, Johnny. You don't really have a choice in the matter. That is, unless you want your friend to die a horribly painful death…"

Friend? The Doctor mulled that sentence over in his mind. Did he have friends?

"What friend? I don't have any friends."

"Oh, I disagree. She visits you so often; it was easy to track her down. Not very willing to come with us, though…But don't worry John, we didn't do any permanent damage." The joker laughed.

Crane felt the blood drain from his face, but kept up his icy façade.

"I don't know what gave you the idea that Miss Macgregor was my friend… however, I accept your offer."

"Good…"


When one of the henchmen took off of the blindfold, the sight of a darkened corridor met Professor Crane's eyes. He had no way of knowing where he was or if August was injured, or dead for that matter. But, he wasn't in that cell anymore, and they had provided him with a fine change of clothes – a pinstriped Italian suit. It felt good to be back in the land of the living.

Two of the Joker's men flanked him of either side, and led him into a room filled with large amounts of chemicals, glassware, and anything else a good chemist would need to create a chemical weapon.

A large window caught his eye, and he walked slowly over to it. The room visible through it looked like an interrogation room from the set of Law & Order; he half expected to see policemen roughing up a suspect.

Instead, he saw the familiar, if severely battered, face of August Macgregor. She was bleeding from her nose and the corner of her mouth, and had the beginnings of a black eye. She was handcuffed to a chair, and looked to be sleeping.

One of the henchmen walked up behind him.

"She's a fighter, that one. Gave us a hell of a lot of trouble- she fuckin' bit me!" The man gestured at his forearm.

Crane laughed.

"Oh, believe me… you'll suffer much worse a fate… Much worse indeed."

The hulking figure standing next to the Doctor shivered involuntarily. Greg MacHeath had heard the Joker laugh before, which scared most people (except for him, of course). Why then, did this scrawny man's laughter and voice chill him to the bone? Perhaps because it carried a warning… No, he had been threatened with much more violent statements than that.

Oh, it was his eyes. They were icy blue, they flashed in pleasure at the thought of inflicting pain on another human being. Normally people just threaten others to make themselves feel powerful, or get something they want. Not this one though. No, he wanted to instill fear, to see his victims flinch.

Greg got out of that room as fast as he could without looking scared.

Jonathan Crane walked through the unlocked door into the interrogation room. Hopefully she was still alive.

Gingerly, he stepped over to August, and felt for a pulse in her neck. Thankfully, there was one.

Suddenly, her eyes opened.

"Hey…"

Her voice was thin and pained. She groaned and tried to get up, but found that she was still restrained.

"Good, you're conscious"

She sucked in a breath through her teeth, and then coughed hoarsely.

"This is some deep shit we're in, John. Deep shit."

Crane raised an eyebrow at her. He had never heard her call him John. Not that he minded, really. He brushed back a piece of brown, blood-encrusted hair from her eyes.

"Thanks." She coughed again.

Crane nodded.

"You know Doctor Crane, I think I'd get along without you very well. This kidnapping stuff doesn't suit my health"

As if to illustrate her point, a fit of violent coughs wracked her body. The metal table in front of the chair was sprayed with blood. Crane knitted his brows in concern. This was definitely not a good sign. He grabbed the pristine white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his new suit and held it up to August's mouth.

Once she stopped coughing, the handkerchief was speckled with blood.

"Did one of those men injure your throat?"

August nodded her head.

"I'm sorry. You're probably going to keep coughing until you can get the appropriate medical attention - "

A crackling noise drew both pairs of eyes to a small speaker attached to the wall. The unmistakable voice of the Joker filled the room.

"Awwww, are the two lovebirds having a reunion? Sorry to interrupt, but it looks as though Johnny boy needs some motivation to get to work."

A door on the other side of the room opened, and three of the Joker's men stepped into the room. One walked over to the Doctor, grabbed his shoulder and steered him out of the room. Crane didn't fight back- what was the point of making a fool of himself and getting injured in the process?

The man closed and locked the door behind him, and pushed Crane over to the two-way mirror. He could still hear the Joker's ridiculous voice; apparently there was a speaker in the laboratory too.

"Well Johnny, I'm sure your girlfriend in there is regretting ever having met you."

Crane didn't doubt it. August was being slapped and backhanded by the men; one of them wrapped a large hand around her neck and she screamed in pain. She started coughing again, spraying blood on their clean white shirts.

"Is she coughing blood?"

Crane turned his glacial blue eyes toward the man next to him. It was the same one from before, the one whom August had bitten.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Throat injury. And possibly a broken nose. But I'm not a medical doctor."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

"I don't know."

Crane rested his forehead on an arm that was splayed across the glass. The other man, Greg MacHeath, noticed that the Scarecrow showed no emotion, just an icy cold manner, as though he had seen this all before.

That is, until one of the men started to unbutton August's filthy, bloodstained chef's jacket. Crane hissed angrily through his teeth, and Greg swore that he saw a fire blaze behind the Scarecrow's eyes.

The Joker's voice crackled over the intercom.

"Now, now Joe. Let's save that for later. I think you've persuaded the Good Doctor enough."

The man (whose name, apparently, was Joe) stopped unbuttoning her shirt, and both of the assailants left the room. August started coughing again, and this time, her nose and mouth were bleeding too.

Greg MacHeath gave a pained look towards the young woman in the chair, and followed his companions out the door. Crane heard the clicking of a lock, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to see August anytime soon.

"I suggest you hurry up with that formula Johnny. The sooner you finish, the sooner you and your girlfriend get to leave."


Crane had discovered pages and pages of notes on the large metal desk in the laboratory. Apparently the Joker had hired scientists previously, but they had failed to finish the job. Or perhaps the Joker had just killed them on a whim. Crane smiled at the thought of terrified chemists being murdered, but then shook his head.

No, get back to work.

There was no way of telling the time. There were no windows or clocks in the laboratory, and Jonathan hadn't owned a watch since before his imprisonment at the asylum.

Hours passed. Doctor Crane ran a hand violently through his dark hair, and scribbled chemical equations on the yellow legal pad in front of him.

There had to be a way to make this formula work.

The blood had long since dried on his handkerchief, and Crane wiped his forehead with it. He had the appearance of a man possessed, an internal fire blazing within, driving him to keep writing. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was a mess.

He heard August's hacking cough coming from the other room. The Doctor hoped that the injuries had stopped bleeding, otherwise…

It was going to be a long night.


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