Bruce was rudely awakened by the brightest light he'd ever seen. Many called it 'The Sun'. He groaned and pulled soft sheets over his head, determined to get a few more minutes' sleep.
"Come now Master Wayne, it should not be this difficult to wake a grown man." Alfred yanked the sheets off and threw a change of clothes onto the bed. "You could have slept in if you lost at fifth place like planned." Referring to how he won yesterday's games after his 'episode'.
The billionaire buried his face in his hands and groaned, grumbling curses against pretty scarecrows. "I needed an excuse to be there today, he had to have been staking the place out." He convinced himself it was only a half-lie, and he die before he'd admit how much the doctor rattled his cage.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that." Alfred gestured to a vase of blue flowers on the nightstand. Seeing his confusion the butler explained, "It arrived this morning, and I already checked out the company that delivered it. They said the order was placed by a J. Crowe."
It wasn't the same as Ras al Ghul's, but the flower's vibrant hue still invoked memories of a painful confrontation in the Narrows. Bruce was hesitant to touch the card, balanced precariously amongst cerulean blossoms. "Is it a hybrid?" He asked, dreading the possibility of a powerful new strain.
"Just a common daisy sir, with dye mixed into the water for color."
The card itself was simple, plain stationary with 'Congratulations' printed on the front. The back read 'From your biggest fan –J.' in a curled script.
Bruce didn't need to read the name to know who sent it, but his heart still skipped a beat at the name. For some reason, it made him strangely happy to think Crane sent him flowers. A piece of straw less than an inch long was caught in the ribbon tying the bouquet together. "He's baiting me, Scarecrow's never this sloppy."
The butler sighed "The problem is, who is he trying to catch? Bruce Wayne or Batman?"
His fantasy wilted, and jarred him back to reality. J. Crowe, straw, blue flowers, he wanted Batman's attention and he was using Bruce's notoriety to do so. He felt a tinge of jealousy, was fame and fortune all he had to offer? I got to get a hold of myself, we're the same person!
The tournament was uneventful and made sure to lose early. Bruce kicked himself for wasting so much time searching the gala for the doctor even though he knew it was pointless.
He ran a few more tests when he went home, drowning his disappointment in work. The daisies were grown from a greenhouse under electric light. They were from seed packets purchased in the city, something no self-respecting florist would do.
A call to the delivery agency offered an address in a less-desirable district. It was most likely a red herring, but still worth a look. It led him to an abandoned warehouse that had been cleaned out a long time ago. The only sign of life was a greenhouse on the roof.
It had been built out of whatever parts that could be scavenged and had been in use until recently. Tall shelves ran lengthwise through the structure and stacked high with various shades of potted daisies. A workbench along the far wall was home to a roost of inks and dyes. Leaving him wondering how long it took to match the color.
An envelope was tacked just above the desk, a piece of pristine white amongst dingy hues. It was addressed to him, and he made note of the space between 'Bat' and 'Man'. 'From Scarecrow with Love' was scrawled across the seal and Bruce made a point to tear it open.
The paper was blank.
Closer inspection revealed that in the dead center of the page, in a ridiculously tiny font, was one word.
'Boo.'
The fear toxin soaked into the paper hit his bloodstream instantly.
The dark knight's ears were flooded with the sound of a thousand screeching bats. "Who's afraid now Bat-Man?" His nightmare screamed in deranged delight and threw his head back in a laugh.
Bruce was no longer alone in the greenhouse.
Steel scraped concrete as Scarecrow dragged his scythe behind him. Overjoyed to be back in his rag-like costume and have his true face again. It was Scarecrow, not Jonathan. His Jonathan wouldn't laugh like that, he wouldn't wear madness and cruelty like diamonds.
"Come on now, you walked headfirst into a trap…" He swung the heavy weapon straight into Batman's ribcage, knocking him off his feet. "…And do you know what the worst part is?" he asked, enjoying every moment.
Bruce hacked up blood and scrambled to reach the antidote in his utility belt. The madman caught the blade into his enemy's side and turned him onto his back.
He swung a leg over and dropped to his knees to straddle Kevlar-wrapped hips. Scarecrow set his scythe down and leaned forward slowly, draping himself over his victim. "You want me, don't you?" He sneered, running his hands over a toned chest.
The dark knight's face grew hot as he frantically held back fantasies of Jonathan's skin touching his. "You're wrong!" He growled in feeble resistance.
Scarecrow grinned through a burlap mask. "Bullshit"
In a fluid motion, he tore off Batman's mask and crushed their lips together.
Bruce squirmed to get away from the painful mockery of a kiss that left his mouth bleeding raw. Two hands wrapped around his throat, and the hero began to see stars. "Aw, don't play hard-to-get. We both know you'd let me burn Gotham to the ground if I promised to fuck you afterwards." Scarecrow licked his chapped lips at the thought.
"Wouldn't that be something? Right on your parents' grave too. I wonder what they'd say-" His sadistic monologue stopped abruptly at the sight of a syringe sticking out of Batman's thigh.
Scarecrow precious straw began to rot and turn to dust as daylight approached. "No…No, no, no!" He repeated over and over, clutching his head in pain. The nightmare dissolved layer by layer, until a broken Jonathan remained. He looked to Bruce with eyes turned red with tears, whispering softly "Save me" before he faded like all dreams upon waking.
Batman was alone without his nightmares to haunt him. The Scarecrow he encountered and his injuries were merely drug-induced hallucinations. He waited until his hands stopped shaking before risking standing. The drug was breaking down and his head cleared.
Is that really what I'm afraid of?
He knew his feelings for Crane were dangerous, and it wasn't his problem if he reformed or not. So why did it bother him to think that was there was nothing human under the mask?
Jon-Crane, he corrected, asked him to be saved. It wasn't him, he assured himself it was merely a drug.
Bruce found that most of greenhouse had been trashed during the scuffle. Shelves were smashed and potted plants thrown to the floor.
Save me…The words echoed in his ears, Batman tucked Scarecrow's note into his belt. "I'll try"
…
As pleasant as the morning was, the rest of the day was soaked with rain. Alfred greeted him at the door "Master Bruce, what happened? You were gone so long I feared the worst."
Bruce shook his head and worked at removing his gloves. "There was nothing but a toxin-laced booby trap." He made no attempt to hide the aggravation in his voice. "How could I've been so stupid?"
He was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. But before he could, Alfred stopped him. "Well you better your wits about you, there's police downstairs."
"What?" The butler stepped forward to help peel off the complicated suit. "I told them you were sleeping off a party, and I fear they're growing restless."
Bruce changed quickly, throwing on an expensive robe and a pair of slippers. He went downstairs and was slightly grateful for his eyes still being slightly dilated. "What seems to be the problem officers?" He asked, giving Commissioner Gordon a winning smile.
Jim was unimpressed. "Recently a criminal known as Scarecrow escaped from Arkham Asylum, and we have reason to believe that he's after you."
The billionaire feigned surprise. "Me? Why me?"
The older man handed him papers sealed in plastic. They were photographs and articles torn from the newspaper, all about him. "We found them in his cell, and we have witnesses saying he watching you on TV right before his escape." Jim sighed, "We'd to assign you bodyguards for the time being."
Bruce handed the papers back, making a note to photocopy them later. "I think I can take care of myself."
The Commissioner was insulted by the rude response. "Don't let his looks fool you! He's extremely dangerous, and wouldn't hesitate to kill for what he wants."
He held his hands up in surrender, "What I meant was that Batman already beat you to the punch in warning me."
The policemen were shocked to find the dark knight already on the case. Jim coughed, "Well, thank you for your cooperation. Call us if anything happens." Bruce shook his hands with Gordon, and thanked him for the concern.
As soon as the police left, Alfred said "I hope Batman remembers to think with his head instead of his pants."
Bruce watched his butler sort laundry in muted horror. "How did-?"
"If I can't tell when you have a crush after all these years, what good am I?" He muttered, picking up a load of whites.
"Tell me the truth, do you think there's any hope for us?" The billionaire asked, dreading the answer.
"He does seem like he's taken a shine to you. Our ragamuffin friend sent you another card, apologizing for being sick the other day." He gave a good-natured smile, "I think he wants to make it up to you."
Bruce was ecstatic, "Where is it?"
"On your nightstand."
The billionaire ran up the stairs, and Alfred called after him "Do try to recall that he's a blood-thirsty madman, and you're supposed to be catching him."
Bruce came back, note in hand "No problem. Some candles, a little wine, throw him back to Arkham, and visit on the weekends." Now, what does one wear to a date with your mortal enemy?