9:24 What an auspicious way to start the day, having never been out the door later than eight here. Evie stared blankly at the clock in disbelief until the last number rolled to a five. Confused and groggy from the extra sleep, she got off the bed, looking for Crane.

Pausing on the top of the stairs, she cautiously called out for him. "Scarecrow?"

"It's Jonathan." Came the simple reply. He had been trying to convince her to use his given name for days now, but it never quite stuck. She was less skittish around him for sure, but no where near trusting enough to accept the terms of familiarity he extended to her. With good reason, of course. Far be it from he to discredit her fears.

Evie followed his voice downstairs into the living room, finding him stretched out on the couch, reading. "Why is it past nine?" Her words had felt so strange and scrambled coming out of her mouth lately.

"My time is my own - this is still a revolution, and Bane is not a dictator." Crane set his book down on the coffee table. He looked so casual - typically if he wasn't in that worn, musty suit than it was just boxers - it was almost jarring to see him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. So strange.

"Hm." Evie sniffed at the comment. Could've fooled her. "I'm getting something to eat." Something about this just wasn't right. Crane had never been particularly cruel to her (aside from the first night) - he didn't beat her, didn't go heavy on the mind games, and surely that would have been an easy, fun route for him. She began to chide herself for being suspicious, after all, she should have been eager accept this sort of kindness as it was offered, but between last night and now...it just seemed like he was playing at something.

A man like him didn't strike Evie as the type who's nice just to be nice. Honestly, men in general rarely seem to act right without some shitty, ulterior motive. If she had to pick a familiar analogy to the situation, she would say it sort of felt like how her mom acted extra nice to the cat before vet trips.

He waited a few minutes before following her into the kitchen, taking a seat in the breakfast nook. There were no mentions or questions about the looks she gave him as she opened up the cabinets. He didn't call out her choice to lean against the counter instead of joining him.

"So..." she finally ventured, "you just...took a day off, huh?"

"I did."

"What are we doing with the day, then."

Crane shrugged. "Whatever you like, it doesn't matter."

She closed the cabinet, but in the silence it could have been mistaken for a slam.

"Do you like it here?" He suddenly asked.

That didn't seem like a question with a right answer. Evie wasn't even sure how she felt about being here anymore. It could be worse - it could always be worse. Being with Crane wasn't ideal, but he kept her alive, well-fed, off the street. Pretty rare conditions in these times, to be sure.

"I suppose." An answer she figured would be too vague to really upset him.

Crane expression turned very hard, not amused. "How would you feel about a change of scenery?"

"What, like across town."

"Farther." He shook his head. "Out of the city."

Evie couldn't help it - she laughed. "You be serious? Gotham is...on lockdown." There were snipers on all ends of the fight posed on bridges and shores, shooting anyone who dared leave.

"People escape this city every day, Evie."

Hearing her name out of his mouth made her skin crawl, but what he said was indeed news to her. "Do they make it out alive?" She asked, still extremely skeptical of where this conversation was headed.

"They do." Bane even knew about it - he didn't care. Those Gotham refugees were ultimately helping to spread his message. "So long as they aren't too blatant about it."

"Hm." She brushed the last of the crumbs into the sink. "If you say you want to leave, that's all the permission you really need, isn't it?" Her voice was so blank, it was so frustratingly blank. "I'm going to take a shower."

Crane stared after her as she left the kitchen, looking impassive as ever.

In all the time she had spent here, the most draining aspect was the way everything was always one extreme or another. Either contentment or rage. Indifference or overwhelming sadness. Today was something else...it didn't feel passive, but it didn't quite feel like anything else in particular, it was all just...vague unfamiliarity. Every time she thought she was finally touching on something, on how Crane was and how things were going to be, he threw her for another loop. Back into the fog, unaware and uncertain.

The bathroom door clicked behind her, she locked it. Hand still on the knob, she looked over at herself in the mirror. Somehow, despite eating better and much more regularly, she looked thinner. Her sweats barely hugging her hips, her face was a little less full, less childlike - Evie felt absolutely ancient. Shedding her ill-fitting clothes, she kicked them into the corner and started a shower, and found herself upset all over again by the lack of hair brushing against her back. Even weeks after the fact, she was still surprised by how short her hair now was. She wondered if anyone could even recognize her anymore.

The warm water should have relaxed her at least a little, but the ball of stress in her stomach didn't relent, urging her to find the connection, the reason why Crane would suddenly flip his whole demeanor like this. Was it just to toy with her? Was he actually getting - dare she even think it - comfortable?

It was an entertaining thought, though unlikely. In any case, Evie didn't appreciate this change at all. Still tense, but at least clean, she turned off the shower.

The room was empty - a much more welcome surprise. Crane was always everywhere, waiting for her her. She pulled on a large shirt and crawled back into bed. This was a better use a "day off". Better than The Courthouse. No gunshots and screaming and crying and chaos...finally just some peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, not for long. There was a knock on the door, a useless gesture considering he immediately walked right in. Evie pushed herself up to sit.

Crane had that smug, satisfied look on his face. One that she had learned to be especially wary of. "I have something for you." He sat down on the corner of the bed and smiled, pushing an envelope into her lap. Feeling especially vulnerable, Evie started to wish she had put on more to wear. She yanked on the front of the shirt to make it appear a little more baggy before opening his "gift".

Inside was a single Polaroid of a yellow house.

"Some time ago, I purchased myself a little safe house in the Pacific Northwest." He explained. "I think it would nice to have...a fresh start." A fresh start, with all the equipment and copies of research notes, not to mention the money - from who he used to be. Who he still was.

Evie focused on the picture. The house had a lot of windows. It was surrounded by tall evergreens and she could spy a lake in the background. It would be a more picturesque place to die.

"It'll need repairs...to be honest all I did was make sure the pipes stayed winterized year to year. A fresh coat of paint, some new furniture." His hand slid out to grab hers. "I think it makes quite the birthday present, don't you think?"

Birthday present? God, it was so hard to tell the months apart without the structure of school and, well, society as a whole being what it was in Gotham at the present. There was still snow on the ground, so it was still winter, but the months she had spent with Crane felt like five years at least.

"Do you like it." He gave her hand a tentative squeeze, looking very expectant, eager, almost.

"It's very beautiful." Evie said, attempting a smile. "So, when will we leave?"

Despite her less-than inspired reaction, Crane appeared pleased enough by it. "A few days, maybe a week." He pulled her in for a hug. "I have a very good feeling about this." Evie didn't know how to react to such a genuine gesture of affection, especially not immediately after learning that everything was going to change again. Now his hand was on her cheeck, tilting her face up. The kiss was warm and simple, but Evie knew where it was leading to, and wasn't sure about slapping him away like last time. The response had been amicable enough before, but Crane hadn't been playing nice then. would he react as calmly upon learning that all this weird, pseudo-kind behavior had been wasted?

Cooperation isn't exactly the same as lying. Helping him remove his clothes didn't feel like a lie. Lying down for him didn't feel like a lie. As long as he didn't have to say anything, as long as nothing was explicitly said between them at all, it wasn't lying. Not really.

With everything falling apart around her once again, it helped to think about the past. The past is grounded, it does not change. You can wish things turned out differently, you can inspect all the things you missed that made it turn out wrong, but it is always the same, and that was very comforting to her.

The first person she had sex with was Jack Kinsey, who lived down the hall. He had long, dark hair, had a personal uniform of jeans and a concert tee, and was eight years older than her. One day her mom found out he had been really sick and, knowing he was but a broke college student, sent her over with some medicine and homemade soup. Jack told her Jaeger was the best way to get over the flu, then offered her some. They had sex on his mattress on the floor and she went home thinking he was her boyfriend. He wasn't, of course. The next day he assured her that if she was pregnant he'd be there, but otherwise it was a mistake as she was way too young for him.

Next was Nate Goodman. He was sweet and nervous, but very romantic, and Evie wanted them to be together forever, like teenagers in love do. His family kept imposing that their relationship had an expiration date. Nate insisted he never knew his father his father was getting a job in New York and they'd have to move. Despite being an hour train ride away, his parents proved right - Nate said it was easier if they just broke up. She cried for months afterward.

Eric Wagner...she actually hadn't had sex with him, they just made out a ton and she gave him a handjob at a party once. They had been friends for a long time, and had a lot of fun together: sneaking out, tagging, smoking...Bane blew up the stadium shortly after they became official, and neither of them had exactly thought to keep their relationship going in the time since. She had seen him a few times while out scavenging, but they didn't talk. It was a bummer: Eric was a talented artist, one of the cutest boys in her grade, with beautifully sad, green eyes, and now he was neither her boyfriend or even her friend.

Jonathan Crane and his intense, clear blue eyes made sexual partner number three and the number one reason to wish for a hole in her head. Especially now, with all his pathetic gasping on top of her, groaning out her name, hoisting her legs higher on his waist, kissing her again. Eventually she turned her head, staring at the envelope on the nightstand.

As much as Evie enjoyed dwelling on the past, she would very much appreciate a fresh start.

Evie had fantasized about this sort of moment more times than she could count. A well-furnished house, an old musical on the tv, fireplace lit and the snow falling outside. Sitting in her pj's, on the couch with someone, head in her lap while she played with their hair. Someone who would know more about her than anyone else.

It's fun to imagine your future, and being in love and doing well, but life is a sick fuck. Reality spits on girlish fantasies.

The sickest part was the part of her that would have given anything - anything at all - for it to feel as normal as it looked. And for a moment she even felt angry. If Poison Ivy could create plant potions to instill love and devotion in a person, why couldn't this so-called mastermind of chemistry and human psychology make her feel differently about all this and make things easier for the both of them? Honestly, what a hack.

She looked down at Crane. He looked so content, eyes closed, the tips of his lashes touching the tops of those famous cheekbones her cousin Sarah raved about. Sarah would probably be jealous if she could see this. Her heart would race for an entirely different reason when he put a hand on her knee, and she definitely wouldn't dig her nails into her palm to have something else to focus on besides his touch.

"One more day. Then we can leave." Crane said calmly, eyes still shut. "Pack a small go bag - your backpack should serve fine - just the basics."

"Okay." Evie agreed solemnly. "How are we leaving?"

"You'll see."