AN: Poor, poor Kathy. I meant to kill her last time we met, you know, but…well…she fought me so. Tell you what, Kathy m'dear, you don't die one more time and I'll never drag you into one of these again. Promise. Really. Continuation of 'Scratchy'.

Just-Me-and-My-Brain-It would have been downright fascinating had I not been interrupted. Cretin! These experiments are delicate! What, would he rather us live in the dark ages?

Johanna Crane-You know, I thought so, once. Then we had an infestation. It was not nice to wake up with them crawling all over you, not nice at all.

Christineoftheopera-Mistaken identity, hmm? I hope, for your sake, that it was not intentional. I don't much care for copycats.

It had been three weeks since Kathy had been pulled out of a dark basement by the Batman. She preferred to call him a Fallen Angel. Or perhaps a Risen Demon. Either way, he frightened her nearly as much as Crane had done.

Crane…she still woke up screaming in the middle of the night, when the sedatives wore off. They gave her something strong to help her sleep, to stop the nightmares, but it didn't last forever. It didn't last nearly long enough.

She was improving-the Batman had gotten to her in time, had given her the antidote. There would be no lasting effects, of that she was assured. She would be fitted with a prosthetic foot soon, and then she could get on with her life.

Well, with a healthy dose of therapy, anyway.

She didn't remember the hallucinations, not really. She thought she dreamt about them, and that was what caused the screams, but she wasn't sure. It could just as easily have been a tall, thin monster with a snake's voice and a spider's hands.

Over and done with. Most of her friends hadn't come to see her, and one-Amy-had explained why.

"He doesn't quit. There was a man two years ago that he tracked down. Stalked him for months before breaking into his house. Hid him under the floorboards, the landlord didn't find him for a few weeks."

Well. That was not at all reassuring.

She couldn't begrudge them, then, for leaving her. She didn't like it, but she couldn't blame them. She might have done the same.

After that, though, she slept less and looked twice at everyone that came into the room. Just in case. He'd been arrested, she knew that, but that meant nothing in this town. The Joker had escaped four times since she'd moved here, after all.

When she got out of the hospital, she decided, she'd buy a gun.

She woke one night with a feeling of unease. A nightmare? Must have been a nightmare.

She rolled over, shivering-why was it so cold in here?-and caught sight of a shadow figure in the doorway.

"Hello?" One of the night nurses, it had to be… "Who's there?"

The figure did not speak. It did not move. It just stood there, the low light glinting off its glasses.

God.

"Answer me, please!"

And it answered.

"Hello, Kathy."

She knew that voice, that horrid gravelly voice that haunted her dreams.

"Did you miss me?"

She screamed.

By the time the nurse arrived, the shadow was gone and there was no sign that anyone had been there.

A week passed. Kathy spent it trying to convince herself that she had dreamt the whole thing. Surely she had dreamt it. Crane was in Arkham, he would not be out so soon. Besides, it would have been on the news.

Wouldn't it?

She had not mentioned it again, not after they brought in a shrink. She was not crazy. She was not.

Obsessive, though…

Amy had brought her a laptop, and she had spent hours searching for Crane. His past had holes in it, and there was an ominous 'biography attempted, author found dead' article to be found. By the time she was through, though, she knew enough.

He would come for her, that was a given. It might take him a while-apparently he'd been brought back rather the worse for wear-but he would come. Moving wouldn't help her-someone had tried that already, to no avail. Besides, she refused to be frightened out of her own home.

And god, she was frightened. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was frightening and seeing everything he'd done made her realise that she'd been lucky. A few of his patients had survived their treatment, and they were in the mental ward of this very hospital, lost forever.

"How are you feeling?"

She liked Anne. She never lied about things. If something would hurt, she would say so, followed by a brisk, 'don't be a baby about it'.

And she was one of the only girls she knew that could rock a pixie cut. Maybe it was the red hair…lucky bitch.

"A bit tired, Anne."

Anne Foster gave her arm a pat and adjusted the IV.

"You should be off this pretty soon." she said. "Just a precaution, people have a tendency to dry out in hospitals."

"It's cold in here."

"I know. I hate it." She laughed. "But germs hate cold."

Kathy shivered and reached over to plug in the computer.

"Anne?"

"Mm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, sweetie."

"Do you think he'll get out soon?"

There was no need to clarify which he she meant. Anne knew everything, and she'd treated Scarecrow victims before.

"I don't know." she admitted. "I just don't know. You'll be fine, though-I'd like to see him get in here."

You know, Kathy would rather him not even try.

"Hello, little Kathy."

She woke screaming, his hands melting away from around her throat.

"Kathy. Kathy. Kathy! Wake up, Kathy, you're all right."

Anne. Anne was working tonight. She'd forgotten.

"A-Anne?"

"Nightmare?" She nodded and the other woman helped her wash her face before tucking her back in. "It's all right, you're all right. Come on, deep breaths."

"It was so real."

"I'm not surprised."

Her leg hurt. Hell, even her nonexistent foot hurt.

"My leg hurts."

"I can give you ibuprofen."

"Please."

She gave her two horse pills and a large glass of water. Kathy drained the glass and settled back down.

"Thanks."

"Do you need anything else before I go?"

"M'okay."

"Okay. Good night, Kathy."

She was just dropping off when the dry chuckle reached her ears. It sounded like it was coming from under the bed.

"Sweet dreams, little Kathy."

She did not sleep again.

"Good morning, Kathy."

She'd been reading her book, but the voice made her fling it into the corner.

He was standing in the doorway.

Oh, he didn't look the same-his glasses had thick black rims and he had stubble, but she knew those eyes.

"Get away from me!"

"I think you've got me confused with someone else." He remained at the door. "I'm Doctor Jim Ca-"

"Get away!" She fumbled for something, anything to throw at him and came up with a pen. "Get away from me, you sick, twisted bastard!"

She threw the pen and hit him in the arm. He looked at it, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to her, hands above his head.

"Kathy, I'm here about your prost-"

"Get away! Help! Somebody!"

The ruckus brought a gaggle of doctors from different directions.

"What's going on?"

"What's happened?"

"Is somebody hurt?"

"I have no idea what I did." said the monster at the door. "She saw me and absolutely panicked."

"It's all right, Dr. Capa." One of the doctors-she didn't remember his name-took him aside. "Scarecrow victim."

"Oh."

"That's the Scarecrow, you stupid fuck!" She tried to get up and was rushed by a pair of orderlies. "Right there! Dr. Capa, my ass, I'm onto you!"

"If it would help to see my credentials…"

"Maybe another time."

"Of course. Perhaps Friday."

"But he's the Scarecrow! Listen to me! Call the police, somebody, please…"

Somebody jabbed a needle in her arm.

The monster at the door winked at her before slipping out in the confusion.

"Kathy?" Why were her arms strapped down? Where was she? "Kathy, what happened?"

"He was here, he was here…"

"Shh, shh. It's all right. Who was here?"

"That monster, he was here…"

She tugged at the restraints. She was fine, she knew what she'd seen…

"I think she'll need emergency treatment." Anne said to someone to the left. She tried to look but couldn't move her head. "Shall I prep her?"

"You may as well."

She shrieked and tried again to pull away.

"No! No! No!"

"Be quiet."

She blinked, her screams suddenly silenced. Anne…had she been taken in, like the others?

"Anne…that's…he's…"

"You stupid, stupid little girl." Small, quick fingers tightened the restraints to nearly circulation-cutting levels. "I know who that is. I got him in here."

There was a near-silent chuckle from the left and he leaned over her. He had his regular glasses back again.

"How are you feeling, Kathy?"

"I'll scream."

"Go ahead. No one will come, not after what you did this afternoon."

"They'll come. They'll come and they'll see…"

"See what? A doctor giving you a nice dose of something to help you sleep." He pointed to the stethoscope around his neck. "Amazing what a few props and the right manner will get you."

"Get away."

"Kitty, do we have a gag?"

Kitty

Oh my god

OH MY GOD

"We do."

"Good. Keep it handy, would you?"

"Mm-hm."

"Get away from me!"

His hand shot out and pressed over her mouth. She tried to bite him and failed.

"If you don't close your mouth, I'll be forced to sew it shut."

She didn't really believe him, but she silenced anyway.

"Good girl." he murmured. "Good girl…a low dose, I think. She's had a bit already."

What?

She thrashed and his other hand moved to her neck.

"Oh, you didn't question the IV? Shame…thank you, Kitty."

"Mm-hm."

"Help me keep her still, we can't afford complications."

Before Kathy could do anything, her head was jerked to the side and held there while a needle went into her neck. She could feel the stuff coursing through her veins now, moving through like a snake in the grass.

"No…"

"Gag her."

"Hold her still."

His hands positioned themselves at the top her of head and under her chin, keeping her jaws shut. She closed her eyes.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It's not real, it's only in my head…

And then something sharp jabbed into her lower lip. She tried to scream but she couldn't even open her mouth.

The thing went up, into her upper lip, dragging something rough behind it. God, god, god somebody please this was real it was all real somebody help her PLEASE

After four or five more pokes, she blacked out.

"Oh, my god."

"How…?"

"That poor child." Dr. Capa said softly. At the sound of his voice, Kathy whimpered.

She'd been found at four in the morning, strapped to her bed with her lips sewn shut. The thread was gone, but the red, ragged holes in her lips were still very visible.

She'd been moved to the psychiatric ward when she started screaming at the sight of him, and drugged to keep her quiet.

"Poor thing." Anne whispered. "Just yesterday she was…god."

"Sad case."

"Very sad."

The little group left the room.

"I don't know that I like the red." Jonathan said once they were out of earshot. "Doesn't suit you."

"The stubble's got to go."

"It's a bit scratchy, actually."

"Come on. My shift's up. Walk me home, Doctor?"

THE END