AN: I have never, and will never, go to a high school reunion. I think they're only fun if you liked the people you went to school with. AND I DIDN'T.

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Try a vacation. There's a really nice, quiet motel off highway thirty-nine. The Bates Motel. Great place for rest and relaxation. Really.

Just-Me-and-My-Brain-Do you have any idea how many plans you people have ruined? Being trailed around by a noisy writer and a group of hyperventilating females tends to draw attention.

Jasmine Scarthing-It's nice to know that somebody was amused. It must be nice, being able to just watch while I do all the work.

Alexander Smith doesn't recognize Scarecrow…Jonathan Crane at first. He wasn't expecting him to show up, and the guy has honestly changed. Gone are the taped glasses and nervous posture, the hand-me-down clothes and the constant bruises. (He feels a little guilty for some of those, not that he'll admit it.)

He wouldn't have recognized him at all if it weren't for those creepy blue eyes and Kitty Richardson. She hasn't changed all that much-still short, still skinny, still with Crane.

Lucky bastard.

He bustles his way through the crowd, wondering why they came in the first place, and pops up front of them.

"Glad you could make it!" He sort of means it. "How's life been treating you?"

"Alexander." He ignores Smith's outstretched hand. "How are you."

"Oh, fine, fine." He forces a laugh and reaches around them to get a cup of punch. Ugh. There's not enough sugar in it. He should have known not to ask Sherry to make it. "How are you? You're looking…well."

Now that you're away from us. he adds silently, feeling another little twinge of guilt. He brushes it off-kids are naturally mean little shits. They outgrow it. That's life.

"Fine, thank you."

What's sure to be an awkward silence is interrupted by Bo and Sherry Griggs. They married right out of high school-unplanned pregnancy. No one was that surprised.

"Scarecrow!" Griggs laughs and claps Crane on the shoulder. "Surprised the name still fits you, after all these years!"

Crane's smile is tight, forced.

"Yes." He glances at Sherry. "How are you?"

"Fine. Three kids at home and another on the way."

"Ah."

Griggs gets a cup of punch, downs it, and makes a face.

"Sher, this is terrible."

"Sorry." she whispers. She spends half her life apologizing these days.

"So, Scary, what brings you back to little ol' Arlen? Last I heard, you were in Gotham."

"Call it a fit of nostalgia." Crane's voice is quiet. "Thought I'd come back to see what became of everyone."

It's hot in here. Maybe renting the gym was a mistake. He takes another swig of the bitter punch.

"I must say, I'm not surprised." Too hot, much too hot. "You, with your trembling hands…alcoholic. And you," he continues, turning to Smith. "Your wife left you after…three affairs? Things haven't changed much since the high school dating scene, have they?"

No, they haven't. He's still the annoying little prick he always was.

Griggs goes to take a swing at him and he steps back, grinning.

"I wouldn't do that."

His voice is changing. What the hell?

"Don't blame Sherry for the punch, by the way." Dear god, what's wrong with his face? It's… "You'll forgive me, I hope, for showing you what I do for a living." It's a goddamn scarecrow.

"Whatever is the matter?" The scarecrow's head cocks to the side. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"S-S-Scarecrow…"

"But of course." It laughs. "You really should read something besides the Bible, Alexander. You might have noticed my name in the newspaper."

The walls are melting and the scarecrow is beginning to walk around the room, its scratchy voice growing louder.

"How is everyone this evening?" It laughs. "I must say, I haven't missed you much."

At least one woman is crying. Smith squeezes his eyes shut and sinks to the ground in the fetal position.

"Hello, Mr. Griggs." The voice is a few feet to his left. "My, my, how the tables have turned. You remember, I hope, how I pleaded with you not to hurt me anymore?" There's a low whimper. "What was that? Stop?" The laugh is cold. "Why should I?" There's the unmistakable flick-flick of a lighter. "You never stopped for me."

There's nothing but silence for a second, then he hears it-flame beginning to devour fabric. And he remembers.

"The book or you, Scarecrow?"

"Hold 'im down!"

As one, the room begins to scream.

THE END