The next thing Jonathan knew, he was standing over a very dead Smith. He remembered every wonderful detail. Smith's screams and his plead for mercy. The beautiful sound of the toxin being shot into the air. Jonathan didn't think that he would ever be able to go back to the normal way of living after he felt what this was like! And best of all, now that Smith is dead, Jonathan could take his rightful place as head of Arkham!
Jonathan pushed his hair away from his eyes and looked at his watch. The illuminating face said two o'clock in the morning. I will just go home and tell Lena that Smith made me do some stupid errands for him, she won't suspect a thing. But Do I want to keep secrets from her? That has never exactly helped a relationship before… or so I've been told. Jonathan thought.
But Johnny, said the voice. Do you really want her to know that you killed someone? Even if they were causing you serious pain?
Well, you know that keeping secrets is going to do nothing but hurt our relation ship.
Oh no! said the voice. I am not going to let your conscience get in the way of one of the only good things that has ever happened to me! And all of the sudden, all thoughts of Jonathan telling Lena were evaporated from his mind.
At two thirty Jonathan rolled into bed next to Lena. Her eyes popped open and she asked, "Where have you been Jonathan? I was starting to worry about you."
"I had to do some errands for Smith," he lied easily.
"Oh, okay. Goodnight."
"Goodnight." And within a minute, Jonathan was fast asleep; still filled with the power that had reverberated through his body when he had taken the life of Smith.
Jonathan had a dream that night that was all too real. Lena had run away for some reason and Jonathan couldn't find her. He ran through the streets of Gotham calling her name. Then, his heart dropped as he turned a corner and there she was, lying on the cold, dirty ground dieing. From what, Jonathan couldn't tell, but in his heart, he knew she was slipping away. His tears started to fall onto the almost lifeless body of Lena; she smiled at him one last time and whispered "I love you, Jonathan Crane. And I always will." Then, her body went limp in his arms. He sobbed and screamed for her to come back, but there was no reply. His heart was broken. No; he no longer had a heart. That had died along with Lena.
"Come back to me Lena! Don't leave me here all alone!"
"Jonathan!" Jonathan opened his eyes and awoke from the terrible nightmare. His vision was distorted by tears, but he saw her. Alive and sitting next to him with her head cocked at an angle. Without a moment's hesitation Jonathan sat up and wrapped his arms around her, laying her head on his chest and stroking her hair. "Jonathan, what is the matter?" she asked in her soft, caring voice.
"Don't ever leave me Lena, please. I would die if I lost you," he mumbled something that was barely audible and continued to have silent tears drip into her long black hair.
When Jonathan had dropped Lena off back at her house (Mallory still wanted Lena to stay in the house at all times but Jonathan had been sneaking her to his house for the night) he got to Arkham and there was 'DO NOT CROSS' police tape everywhere.
So, said the voice. I want you to start calling me by my real name.
Which is? asked Jonathan.
Scarecrow.
Why?
Because it is annoying the way you refer to me as 'voice' all the time. And I have always been Scarecrow, you have just never wanted to admit it.
But before Jonathan could retaliate, the familiar face of the most popular sergeant in Gotham met him at the asylum door. Jonathan put on a look of annoyance and innocence when Gordon stepped in front of the door.
"Excuse me, I need to get to my job," Jonathan said when Gordon wouldn't let him past.
"In case you didn't hear your boss was murdered last night and no one knows who did it."
Jonathan smiled with pride internally and said, "Well, that is a bit unnerving, but I have patients to take care off and some of them need their medicine now."
Gordon shook his head and said, "You've got a lot courage; wanting to go in there right after your boss was killed."
"I am just dedicated to my job. Now, I really need to get in there and give my patients their medicine."
"You can't go in there alone, we aren't finished sweeping the building for the killer yet."
"Then I suggest you find someone to come with me then. I have no problem going in there alone, but those patients need to be taken care of," Jonathan retorted with the most defiant and determined voice he could muster.
Gordon thought about it for a while and reluctantly said, "Damn it Crane. I'll I go in with you." They slipped under the tape and into the asylum.
Gordon walked through the halls with his gun in firing position and Jonathan walked with ease and no worry. Gordon would throw his hand out to push Jonathan against the wall to look around the corner and Jonathan just sighed, but kept the act up. He didn't want to look suspicious. Jonathan went around the halls, administering the medicine and food to the patients that needed it. The whole process took about three hours, but halfway through Jonathan's cell phone rang.
"Crane," Jonathan said into the receiver.
"Jonathan? Why do you sound so angry on the phone?"
" Lena?"
"Yeah, it's me. You always seem angry on the phone. Did you know that your boss died last night?"
"Yes, I am in the asylum right now…"
"What?" she cut him off. "The reporter said that they haven't finished sweeping the place for the killer! Jonathan get your ass out of there right now! If you die because of your own reckless mistake of not listening to the police…"
" Lena don't worry about me, I am going to be fine. The patients need their medicine now or they will be wrecked for the week. I am hanging up now."
"Don't you dare!"
"I love you."
"Wait! If you hang up on me I will…"
Jonathan didn't hear what she was going to do with him, for he had hung up on her and he knew that what ever she was going to do to him was an empty threat. All he had to do was flash his blue eyes at her and all was forgiven.
"Are you done yet?" Gordon asked impatiently.
Jonathan gave him a piercing stare and said, "This is my job. This is what I get paid to do. Today is a longer day then usual because Smith was to busy getting killed to give the patients their medicine. Some of our higher security patients have gone hours with out the medicine that makes the killers docile." Someone screamed and Gordon jumped. "And that's my cue."
"For what?" Gordon asked shakily.
"That scream came from one of the high security rooms. The only patient in the high security rooms that screams is Louis Thompson." Jonathan set of on a speed walk to his office. "He was a mass murder who we all just thought was like any other murder, but it turns out he was a phencyclidine user,"
"A what user?"
"PCP," Jonathan answered, but when he got another blank stare from Gordon he said, "Angel dust?" Gordon nodded and Jonathan went on, "And when he had hallucinations, he saw that everything around him was a monster that he had to kill. He was the man on the killing spree of 95. They couldn't send him to jail," Jonathan was in his office now, rummaging through his cabinets for the special medicine for Thompson. "Because he was so adapt at killing that he would have killed everyone in sight. So they sent him here." Jonathan found a syringe and the bottle of medicine and started to fill the canister of the needle.
"So do you normally administer his medicine? Because he sounds like he would snap you in two."
"We have him in a full body straight jacket but every once in a while he'll chew through the restraints or somehow get out of his jacket and we have to take him down with a tranquilizer gun."
Gordon gulped audibly as Jonathan finished his sentence and walked out of the room. They took the elevator and when the screams just grew louder and were soon accompanied by loud crashes. Jonathan sighed and said, "He's loose. Damn, and I didn't bring that tranquilizer gun."
Gordon whipped his head around and said, "What are you going to do? You can't take him down by yourself."
"I will try to reason with him long enough to give him his dosage." And as the elevator doors opened, the two way mirror showed a very built man doing some very, what looked like, well practiced fighting moves on his straight jacket.
"He used to be an assassin before he started with the PCP. Apparently he was the best in the business. He was trained in Judo, Karate, and Jujitsu." Jonathan paused for a moment and then sighed, as if this was just another day's work. "I guess I'll go in now."
"You have got to be kidding yourself," Gordon said. "Either that or you have a death wish! He is going to kill you if you go in there."
"Do you see that long fracture along the glass?" Jonathan pointed out a two foot long crack with one of his long, slender fingers. "He did that with his fist and that is triple plated unbreakable glass. If I don't go in there now he will be out in less than three minutes and he will attack you. Wish me luck," and Jonathan calmly punched in the code and walked into the room with the raging bull.
Jonathan's ears were assaulted with a scream of rage from Thompson. Although he had kept a cool demeanor with Gordon, Jonathan was terrified. So, he turned to the only other person in the room for help.
You rang? said Scarecrow.
I know you all hate me for not posting in such a long time. But my computer has been crashing since Christmas, so I had to revert to the pen and paper. Then when I finished that I had to try to read my handwriting so I could get it on tomy jumpdrive. But I have been so busy with speech and debate, school, and the play (I got a part in the school play) I hardly have any time to sleep let alone deal with my stupid computer. So please don't hate me if I don't get the next chapter up right away. Please bear with me in these terrible times of not having enough time for anything. So to all of you who have stuck by me and not abandoned me you all get a life size e-Jonathan Crane! Complete with split personality disorder! I would love to chat, but the computer at the library is flashing a sign in front of me that says I have exceeded the one hour limit. Oh well.
Love,
Celia
