Wow, so many kind reviews...let's get started giving credit where credit is due:

Violeta27 - See? The mere fact that you'd save me from the raiders at Vault 3 means you'd be a good Boone. The best wingman of the bunch!

Pinkqueen - You're too astute for your own good...I'mma have to keep my eye on you...

hulloguvnah - I'm glad you're back for round three! (love your screen name)

FredGeorgeWazlib - I always thought if Crane had a polar opposite in his field, it'd be Kinsey. And I'm really glad you're getting turned on to this pairing...the ship needs a lot more support. (p.s. - Go Big Red!)

Esmeralda Smith - Yeah, this is the last one. But the thing is, the story would get boring if it went on indefinitely. Besides, I might go back and re-work a few of my other Riddler/Catwoman stories and get them polished enough to post. So...I'll try not to let the pairing die...

TanithSeh1011 - Thanks. I was super worried about the beginning of this being a little darker than usual, but once it sets the tone and gets all that gooey stuff cleared away, I'm hoping for more light-hearted romps through the Batverse.

Dante'sRaven1993 - I'm really glad you checked those comics out! ^_^ I feel like a comic book pusher... Also, put faith in a girl who has Catwoman kissing the Riddler for an avatar...

Robot521 - Better late to the party than show up and vomit on the host. Also, your comment about mourning my death made me laugh hard. It's good to know that my death would be mourned in a video game world where raiders just string you up by your sternum from the ceiling.

Chapter Two: Wounded Animals & The Meaning of Flowers

Day Three

**Crane**

Patience was something Jonathan had always been good at.

He could climb high into a corner and wait in his web for the perfect time to strike like a little spider. Watchful eyes sharp, ready for anything.

But as the months wore on, all the training and preparations. All the little palm sized gas bombs he constructed, all the work he did changed, shifted, transformed him into an obsessed creature who yearned to slake his hunger for revenge.

He wanted to hurt her. Make her regret being so flighty with him.

It wasn't that often that he gave himself over to a woman's charms, but she had wormed her way into his bed and he had deluded himself into thinking she actually wanted to be there.

He really should have known better.

Proved how intelligent he really was, if he couldn't learn from past mistakes.

It could be so easy.

Killing the Joker, killing Harley.

Even if it meant his own death, he would take the bullets or the wounds, if it meant he could slog closer to his targets, if it meant taking them with him into the mouth of the maelstrom.

He felt like Kurtz. Out of his element, but so goddamned comfortable in his new role. Madness always lingered just behind the curtain of civility for him, now he was prepared to throw that curtain back and show Gotham just how goddamned mad a madman could be.

Crane was wearing his costume, forcing himself not to jump the gun and rush into things, but assuaging his desire for revenge by acting like he was about to make his move, when Selina returned.

The woman had no spark left in her. He knew that from first sight, even in that dark alley where they reunited.

He had to be careful. There would be no one who could get past his defences now. Not a single living creature could touch him anymore.

Still, she handed him warm food and brought with her the scent of jasmine.

It had almost made him weep, but he sought to wound her, to chase her off before he fell for his human desire to be a part of a friendship, he had to cut off all ties to warmth and kindness.

So he seized upon the opportunity to wound her, snap at her like a cornered beast, to hold a mirror to her face and place within her doubt and shame and being the master at emotional manipulation it had worked.

She had felt that sting and had left.

Crane wasted no time in taking the food she had brought and throwing it across the room. He wouldn't be pitied, because he would kill the last bit of humanity that dwelt inside him.

"Ya understand, dontcha? He's my puddin' and I just can't help myself!" She squealed.

"No, I don't understand. The man's an unrefined animal."

"I know!" She gushed. "Ain't he the best?"

"Hardly."

Bouncing up, she kissed him on the cheek. "Well, toodle-pips, Professa! I'll drop ya a line!"

Something was rubbing against his ankle and Crane looked down to find an orange tabby there, purring away merrily, pushing his arched back against his leg.

Tilting his head, the Scarecrow dropped his hand down and set it on the cat's back.

"You're bold, ginger." He growled, stroking the cat.

It pushed hard against his palm, purring louder.

Well, he decided, the humans of Gotham could merrily burn and die, but perhaps the cats would get his mercy. Scooping the cat up, Crane eyed it, nose to nose, before setting it in his lap.

He'd sleep in his chair as he did for three months, but at least he'd have something to keep him warm.

Day Four

**Selina**

The flower shop smelled faintly of potting soil.

Selina always loved the smell. It was probably why she spent so much time at Ivy's greenhouse, just wandering the rows of plants, enjoying the scent of growth and patience.

At the counter Maggie beamed.

"Selina!" She greeted, skirting the counter to wrap her arms around her sister. "How have you been?"

"Great, I just came in for some flowers."

Maggie's blue-grey eyes dimmed. "Oh, for Mr. Nygma's grave?"

"No," she lied. "I thought I'd make my apartment look good for a while."

"Oh, well, what kind would you like?"

"I don't know."

Maggie took her sister's hand gently. "Well, um, what kind of mood are you in?"

"Oh, I don't know." She said, forcing a smile. "Cautiously optimistic?"

Her sister quirked a brow, but lead her across the store. "Why don't you get a potted plant? We just got a shipment of beautiful azalea bonsais in, and there's one that could use some TLC. It got a little jostled in the trip." She picked up a delicate little bonsai with sumptuous pink flowers bursting out among the leaves, making it look almost like a cherry tree. It was a little more ragged than the others on the shelf. "See? Isn't it beautiful? If my boss sees it in this shape, she might make me throw it out. It's pretty wasteful, but it's company policy. I always feel so sorry for the plants."

Selina accepted the plant as it was gently pushed into her hands.

Her sister wrapped her own hands around hers around the base of the bonsai. "A gift from me to you."

"Thank you, Mags."

"You're welcome."

"Maybe I'll get a bouquet too, though. Freshen up another room, hn?"

Maggie nodded. "Of course. How about some purple hyacinth?"

"Sounds good."

As Maggie set her up with her flowers and rang the bouquet through, she smiled. "Why don't you come over to my place tomorrow night for dinner? I'll cook a turkey, it'll be just like thanksgiving!"

Selina chuckled at her sister's bright-eyed enthusiasm and gave in. "Alright."

As she approached Eddie's grave, winding through the non-descript grave markers in the John Doe section of the cemetery, she spotted a flash of red and slowed her pace. Ahead, Ivy stood over Eddie's unmarked grave, long red hair blowing on the breeze, swirling across her slightly green features.

Selina was about to turn and walk off, when the red head looked up and met her gaze.

Slowly she forced herself over.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Ivy studied the other woman.

"Dancing on his grave?" Selina teased. There was no point in lying, they both knew whose grave they were standing at.

The woman smirked. "I was going to, but it seems pointless to kick him when he's six feet down."

Beside Ivy, Victor squirmed in his stroller, protected from the sun by a large floppy green hat.

"How have you been?" Selina asked.

The woman handed her son a little toy, he grasped it with wet, gooey hands and slammed it against the tray. "Good, better than I've ever been."

"I'm glad."

"The hyacinths for Ed?"

Hefting the bouquet uneasily, she nodded. "Yeah, thought his grave could use something." Kneeling, she set the flowers down, resting them against the stone marker for plot 2372-81B. As she rose, she felt Ivy's eyes on her and pressed her palms against each other agitatedly.

Without a word, Ivy knelt as well and set her hand against the ground. A thick patch of purple clover sprung up, blanketing the brave in green and purple. She stood up and setting her hands firmly on the handle to the stroller, left the grave behind without any further words.

Selina watched the woman stroll off until she disappeared among the graves, before turning back to Eddie's marker. She smiled a little at the thought that if Eddie were around, he would never let Ivy live that one act of kindness down. She could imagine what he'd say.

In his egocentric way, he'd beamed widely and exclaim, 'well, she was bound to have a bit of a soft spot for me. I am, after all, fantastic'.

**Pam**

Gripping her hand hard around the joker playing card clutched between the pushbar handle of her sons stroller and her palm, she stormed through the graveyard, pushing her son quickly through the gravestones, thankful that she had found the card before Selina could see it.

It was one thing for the Joker to go around gloating about killing the Riddler, but it was another thing to mark his kill proudly with a card.

Pam couldn't stand Eddie, but at least she gave him dignity in death.

Purple hyacinths, the flowers of regretful sorrow. There's no way in hell Selina could say that she didn't miss Ed.

The crumpled card got tossed onto the floor of the car, the second she opened the door.

Strapping Victor in, she straightened in time to catch the merest glimpse of a man standing across the street from her vehicle, but he was there and gone so fast that Ivy was sure it was a trick of her eyes.

Still, she ran a hand through her red tresses to push them out of her eyes and took a good long look at the street, both up and down.

Day Five

**Selina**

Maggie had asked her over for dinner and she was already well over the time limit to claim fashion as an excuse.

After Eddie's death, she had his ugly assed Buick's ownership transferred over to her alias name and had taken to driving it to get to Maggie's. It sucked driving in the city, but beat taking the bus out to Little Gotham.

Easing into the front seat, she put the key in the ignition and started it.

"I remember this Buick." A voice purred from the backseat.

Tensing, she turned around in her seat to find Jonathan Crane slumped in the back passenger seat, head against the window.

"Crane," she greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"Reminiscing. Why are you driving around in Edward's car, child?" He inquired.

"Is this Eddie's?" She played dumb.

Leaning forward suddenly, Crane dangled his long arms over the bench seat. "Cute. Don't lie to me, my dear, I've been trained to read a person."

"Have you?"

Crawling over the seat, Crane reminded her of a spider with his long limbs. "You didn't come to see me last night." He said, with mock concern. "I got worried."

"It was made clear to me that you really didn't want me around." She said.

Noticing her fiery look, he smirked ever so, the same ghostly smirk he always had. "Ah," he gasped softly, "you were insulted by my insinuation that you didn't care for him."

"I was insulted by your insinuation that I did." She retorted.

Crane, ever stoic, blessed her with his only true facial expression other than cool disinterest, a tiny, barely there smirk. "Every time you lie a child learns there is no Santa Claus." He teased. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid and I'll grant you the same courtesy."

"Get out of my damned car, Jon." She stated.

Crane adjusted his lanky form in the seat, trying to fit his long legs comfortably in the space provided. Giving up, he reached for the lever to adjust the seat, speaking as he struggled. "Did anyone ever tell you about a beautiful young woman named Jessica Duchamp?"

"Jessica Duchamp?"

"Hm, she was gorgeous. Absolute angel of a girl. Strawberry blonde hair, shining blue eyes, a body like a Botticelli."

"Sounds like a real princess."

"Oh, she was a daddy's girl from what I hear. But after Edward stewed and tormented himself over her, he realized that his fascination wasn't with her, but with the riddle of why she rejected him."

"Why should I care?" She growled.

"Oh, you shouldn't really, I suppose. I'm merely making small talk."

Selina, knowing Crane to be a manipulative bastard when he wanted, tightened her grip on the steering wheel, as the Scarecrow went about adjusting his seat.

"Of course, once the riddle of Miss Duchamp was solved it all ended in tragedy." He chuckled like the heartless animal he was. "Poor Edward, he just can't help himself when he's off his meds. His obsessions were constantly the source of his failures. If he could have only laid off those goddamned riddles, he would have been the greatest of us all. He certainly had the intelligence..."

"Stop fucking with the seat and get out, Crane." Selina insisted.

He continued tinkering with it. "Ah, now, Selina dear, don't be upset. I'm sure had Edward lived, he would have married you and the two of you would have lived happily ever after in obscurity." Finally finding the seat to his liking, the Scarecrow stretched his legs.

She quirked a brow and made a move to open his door and physically kick him out, but he stopped her with a strong hand on her wrist.

"Touch me, child, and I'll leave you in a cornfield." His voice was flat and even as always.

"Fine, I can play this game as long as you want." She replied, pulling the car into gear with a fury. "But I'm not going to let your bullshit make me later than I am."

Beside her Crane buckled his seat belt as she pulled the Buick out of it's parking space violently.

It was awkwardly silent as the green Buick tore through Little Gotham.

On the radio Meatloaf sang about objects in the rear view mirror and at her side Crane eyed the houses they passed with barely contained polite interest.

She wondered what made a man like Crane. Someone who got sick pleasure out of other people's discomfort and grief.

Long ago she had heard a rumour that Crane was just some bullied boy with grew into a tormented man.

But beside her he was calm, cool, not at all tormented. He was demented, but hardly tormented.

"I'm sorry about bringing up Harley all the time," she said once they were an a quiet little residential street. She hoped she could smooth things over with him. It might make life easier.

At her side he was silent for a moment, before speaking. "Hn."

Taking her eyes off the road long enough to gage his reaction, she gripped the wheel a little tighter. "I didn't mean to cause any undue pain."

Crane chuckled dryly. "Pain..."

"Come on, don't tell me you don't miss her even a little." She replied.

"While we're analyzing me, Selina, why don't we take a look at you?" He said. "If you could care less about our deceased friend, then why are you driving around in his car with one of his old ties still in the glove compartment?"

She looked over at him again.

"Yes, I went through the glove compartment." He said. "I have no shame."

"It came with the car." She stated. "Believe me, I don't go back to my apartment and cry myself to sleep over him."

"I'm sure you don't. A strong, capable woman like yourself would feel it belittles her reputation to mourn the loss of someone like the Riddler, considering how much lower he was on the food chain than you are. To you he was a mere toy, you can always find another to replace it."

Having enough of him, she yanked on the wheel, pulling a hard right up and slightly onto the curb. Without so much as a 'how-do-you-do?', she knocked him square in the mouth, feeling the skin of his lip split beneath her knuckles.

Using his shock, she leaned across him and opened the door, then unbuckling his seat belt in the same move and pushed him hard out and onto the sidewalk.

"You can ride in my car when you learn some manners." She purred, peering down at him.

The Scarecrow glared up at her with icy blue eyes, long limbs akimbo.

They both glowered stubbornly at each other for the longest time, before she gave up.

Deciding that perhaps he was suffering just like her at the loss of a companion, she sighed and stuck her hand down to him. She could be the better man.

"Come on, I'll agree not to bring Her up and you can agree not to bring Eddie up…it's a three hour walk back to the bay, Jon."

He continued to glower up at her, blood from his lip running down and over his chin.

She wiggled her offered hand a little. "Come on, I'll take you for a hot turkey dinner."

Reaching up, Crane tentatively wrapped his long, bony hand around hers.

Selina smiled a little in victory, but it died quickly when she found herself being yanked out of the car and on top of the Scarecrow. He reached around her skull and grabbing it, brought it in contact with his forehead hard.

She saw a flash of light, then stars as her head swam from the unexpected head butt.

Crane, satisfied with his retaliation, pushed her off him roughly and rolled over to get to his feet.

Seeing her chance, she grabbed hold of his ankle and swept his leg out from under him.

He buckled to the ground again, where he was immediately straddled and assaulted by the stronger Catwoman. Her small, but powerful fists working his ribs, first the left side, then the right.

They struggled on the ground for a good fifteen minutes, before she finally pinned him properly. Sitting on his chest, with his hands trapped beneath her knees, she smirked in triumph.

"Are you going to be good, this time?" She demanded.

He peered up at her with steady, unwavering eyes.

Slapping him hard on the side of the face, she arched a brow, peering down at him. "I asked you a question, Jonny."

Scowling, he nodded. "Fine."

Giving him a long, hard, studious look, she carefully extracted her limbs from his and stood up.

Crane got to his feet as well, eyeing her warily.

"You're a horrible fighter, Jon." She stated, moving back towards the car. A goddamned headache was on the rise just behind her eyes, she could feel it.

"You fight like a man." He stated.

At her semi-smug smirk, Crane added.

"That wasn't a compliment."

As she pulled into Maggie's driveway, she turned to her passenger. "Are you going to promise to behave? Because I will slap you down like the hand of God if you insult my sister."

He cocked his head, whether that was a yes or no, Selina accepted it. Crane didn't look like he had too much fight left in him anyways. He looked like she beat the crap out of him, but there was no fight left in those unholy eyes of his.

Stepping out of the car, she wandered up the sidewalk to the door and rang the bell.

Her sister opened the door with a wide grin. "Selina, we were…" she trailed off, eyeing the area over Selina's shoulder. "We were beginning to think you weren't coming."

Following her sister's gaze, she found Crane standing there, hands in the pockets of his raggedy coat.

Crane was taller than Eddie, and since Eddie was taller than Selina by nearly a head, Crane was about two heads taller than both Kyle women and as such absolutely towered over everything before him.

He looked like someone starved Lurch.

Hugging her sister tightly, she pulled away with a kiss to her sister's cheek and stepped inside. "How have you been, Mags?"

"Good, great, actually. Come into the dining room, I was just about to serve dinner."

The two women stepped into the dining room where they found Temple Fugate seated at the table, pocket watch in hand.

"You're late." He growled. "Why is Jonathan Crane standing in the hall?"

Crane moved into the room swiftly, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. "Why is Fugate here?" He hissed at Selina.

"He's seeing Maggie." She replied. It was only then that she forgot she didn't introduce Crane to her sister properly. "Oh, Maggie this is Jonathan Crane. Crane, this is my sister Maggie."

Too busy glowering at the Clock King to care, Crane merely inclined his head ever so in Maggie's direction.

Instantly Selina knew it would be a good night. If she got lucky both men would beat the hell out of one another and she'd be able to go home with her bloodlust satisfied.

Dinner was awkward, but at least it was delicious.

Beside Selina, Jonathan Crane ate heartily, politely cramming mouthfuls of turkey and mashed potatoes into his mouth.

She wondered if he was eating properly at all in his hideout or if the food she had brought him was the first decent meals he had in three months.

"So, Mister Crane, are you and Selina good friends?" Maggie asked softly.

"Hardly. I don't think we've spent more than…two hundred some collective minutes in each other's presence."

"I see."

"I wasn't even aware she had a sister until fifteen minutes ago."

"O-oh…then why…?"

"I'm here for the hot meal."

"Ah."

Maggie gave her sister a look like she was drowning.

Selina swooped in to save the conversation. "Crane wants to get to know me better." She said. "I think he thinks he has a chance." Leaning towards her sister she whispered, "it's kind of a sad situation."

Beside her Crane froze, before he opened his mouth again to take a calm bite of succulent turkey.

"Everyone thinks you're dead, Crane." Fugate pointed out, daubing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"And?" Crane inquired.

"I'm merely making an observation."

Dabbing at his own mouth politely, Jonathan Crane set aside the napkin and sighed. "No observation is worth it, if it gets you a kick in the teeth at some point down the road."

"Do you have some kind of an issue with me, Doctor Crane?" Fugate demanded.

"No, he doesn't." Selina broke in firmly. "He's been like this lately, trying to pick fights with everyone." She eyed Crane, giving him a silent warning that if he pursued this fight he was after, she'd be the one to give it to him.

His battered mouth twitched ever so in cruel amusement and he went back to eating.

"Thank you, Maggie. I wish I could stay longer, but I want to get home and get some sleep." She remarked, hugging her sister tightly.

Maggie beamed at her as they pulled away from the embrace. "Here, I'll get you and Doctor Crane some leftovers to take home!"

"It's okay," Selina tried to insist, but her sister was already hopping off into the kitchen.

Standing at her side in the front hall to Maggie's pre-war style home, Jonathan Crane sniffed.

"Your sister is a lot prettier than you." He observed.

Selina pursed her lips at his attempt to pick another fight and inclined her head. "She is, isn't she?" Turning to him, she asked, "is it Doctor or Professor? I've been hearing people call you both."

"It is both," he replied, moving across the hall to adjust a picture on the wall. "I have a doctorate, I am a Doctor. I taught Psychology at Gotham University, I am a Professor."

"Which do you prefer?"

Turning from the painting, he cocked his head at her question. "Doesn't matter. Either one is far better than Jonny or Jon. I did the work, I earned the titles bestowed upon me."

"Hn, seems like some people got killed along the way, Jon."

His blue eyes twinkled eerily. "Some people usually do. You can't have a steak without slaughtering some cattle."

Maggie scurried back into the front hall, loaded down with containers of leftovers, some wrapped with a Martha Stewartesque sense of aesthetics and function in aluminium foil. She turned bright eyes on Crane as he unburdened her.

"Thank you, my child."

She nodded. "I'm glad you liked it."

Selina smiled ever so at her sister. "I'll stop by and visit you sometime, Mags."

"Come over anytime!" She stated. "You're always welcome here. You too Doctor Crane!"

Watching the whole scene in slow motion, Selina found herself unable to intercede as Maggie wrapped her arms around Crane just as she did with her sister.

The tall man tightened his grip on the leftovers and frowned ever so in discomfort over the top of Maggie's head.

"Your sister has personal boundary issues." Crane griped as they loaded the leftovers in the Buick.

Selina shook her head. "It's called being nice, Jon. She gave me a hug, so she extended the kind gesture to you. Most people aren't giant bastards, you know."

"Was that a shot?" He demanded, standing to his full height.

"You'll know when it's a shot." She replied. "Get in," she waited until he was inside the car to mutter, "you spindly lunatic."

Once in the car, on the way down the quiet suburban streets, she glanced over.

Crane was eyeing the passing houses idly, quietly.

As with Eddie, Selina wondered just what the scholars of men were thinking when they fell into a silence such as the one Crane was in. What his mind was capable of. What dark thoughts lingered there.

Eyeing the street, she pondered Crane. He sought to distance himself from people, yet here he was in the car with her. Did he have an ulterior motive? Was he using her somehow? For something?

"Edward always hated Little Gotham." Crane remarked simply. "He said it reminded him of his youth."

Selina turned the Buick down a maple lined street, heading for the freeway. "Did he talk a lot about his childhood with you?"

"No."

"How did you get to be such good friends with him?" She asked.

Shifting his long form in the seat, Crane sighed. "Can we have a conversation devoid of him? Perhaps one about you?"

She smirked in the near dark. "What do you want to know?"

"You were an orphan, am I correct?"

"Why do you ask?"

"As an orphan you felt that there wasn't a single place in the world where you really belonged, yes?"

"Crane-"

"When you aged out of the orphanage - I'm guessing it was Catholic - you found yourself unprepared for the darkness that dwelt within the human race. Something happened? You were raped or taken advantaged of, yes?"

Her hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. He was eerily close.

"You were digging around in my past?"

"No. Your face and your reaction told me. Was it rape?"

"Let's talk about you." She said firmly. "Were you really bullied as a boy?"

"Brutally. I can't foresee it being actual rape…were you molested? Assaulted?"

"Did they beat you?" She asked, ignoring his question.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did they beat you?"

"Mercilessly. Who did it? Assaulted you? Did you eventually kill them?"

She fell silent, taking the cloverleaf onto the freeway.

At her side Crane was quiet as well, his pale eyes like cold headlights, peering at her in the dark, breaking through the shadows of the Buick's interior.

Thankfully, after a few miles of silent driving, he turned back to the window.

"Do you do ever do normal things, Selina?" He asked after a while. "Do you ever try and fit in with the masses?"

"Sometimes I go on dates with men."

"Since Edward died?"

She pursed her lips. "No. What about you?"

"I try to do so-called 'normal' things. But I'm awkward no matter what I do." He replied.

"Maybe it's those long limbs of yours?" She suggested playfully.

In the dark she couldn't tell if he was smirking or wincing and was about to apologize when he spoke in a voice that was mild, to non-threatening, a refreshing change coming from him.

"They do make fitting in hard to do." He said.

She laughed softly, it was more of an exhale. "Have you always been this lanky?"

"Actually I was quite small for a boy."

"Was that why you were bullied?"

He fell silent, head bowed to his lap. "Not entirely."