4. Reputations

"Patient Interview Nineteen. Patient's Name: Edward Nigma. Also known as The Riddler. Information from the last few sessions has led me to diagnose the patient with a severe case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Treatment is being looked into. In addition..."

Edward cleared his throat and said, "Sorry to interrupt you, Doctor, in all of your... Technical jargon... But, may I ask a question?"

Dr. Leland looked up, taking her finger off the tape recorder. She didn't allow her face to express any surprise. "Yes, Mr. Nigma?"

"It occurs to me that you meet with your patients just one day a week... Correct?"

Leland's face remained unchanged. "That is correct."

"And, you also have exactly six patients at the moment... Myself, of course. Harley Quinn... The Ventriloquist... The list goes on. But, only to six..."

"What is it that you want, Mr. Nigma?"

Edward placed his hands on the table between the doctor and himself. "Nothing, nothing, of course, Doctor. It just strikes me as peculiar that you should work a full schedule, seven days a week, and only have six patients. Don't you think you're stifling progress? I mean, you're, no doubt, the greatest doctor in all of Arkham! Think of the patients! They need you."

Flattery was wasted on Dr. Leland. She had been working in Arkham for nearly ten years. She knew, more than anyone - except perhaps the Batman -, how the minds of the criminally insane worked. And, she knew never to accept a compliment from any one of the inmates - with the exceptions being Mr. Tetch and Ms. Quinn, whose criminal activity seemed to be completely influenced by the outside world, not by themselves. But, Edward Nigma, though far from being one of Arkham's most deadly criminals, was dangerous. Never more so than when he wanted something. And he obviously wanted something. Dr. Leland paused a moment before asking, "Just which patients do you believe 'need' my professional assistance, Mr. Nigma? All patients are cared for very well by their own doctors." No one doubted that statement more than Dr. Leland, herself, who knew very well that many of Arkham's doctors were young, inexperienced, and really had little business working with such unstable prisoners. But, she was obligated to defend her colleagues.

"Well, you see, that's the problem, Doctor. Not all of the 'patients' have a doctor."

Leland was far from out-of-the-loop when it came to goings-on in her workplace. As one of the head doctors, she knew precisely the schedules of all inmates. And though there were quite a few of the low-security prisoners who were being held in the asylum without a doctor, there weren't many of the more well-known criminals who were trusted to cope without a psychiatrist. And she happened to know of only one such inmate at that moment. His doctor had quit a few weeks earlier. "...Mr. Nigma, I appreciate your praise of my skills, but I cannot help you. Doctor..." She froze for a second - just long enough for The Riddler to notice her mistake. Then she corrected herself, "...Mister... Crane is a very unique case."

Edward noted her mistake. 'Doctor'... He'd never actually heard anyone but the inmates use that title in reference to the Scarecrow. "And I am just like every other crazy person in this asylum?"

"No, Mr. Nigma. Every patient has unique properties to his case. But, Mr. Crane simply holds the records for causing the most staff members to quit, the most staff members to retire, the most staff members to seek therapy... And, over the course of his extensive time in Arkham, he has also managed to kill three inmates without any physical means: he single-handedly led them to suicide - a feat never before seen in these walls. Eight years ago, he drove one doctor to suicide. Many others who have associated with him - doctors, guards - have ended up in other asylums. His track record is not appealing to any of the young doctors in Arkham today. I'm afraid I cannot help you, Mr. Nigma."

"You've completely missed the point, Doctor. I am not asking you to shirk him off to some new blood who'll just add to his 'record'. I'm asking you to treat him yourself."

"That is completely out of the question, Mr. Nigma. Now, please... How has your week been?"

The Riddler scowled. "It was fine, Doctor."

"Did anything exciting happen?"

"Harley received flowers."

"And, how does that make you feel?"

Edward groaned. "Indifferent. Other than the fact that she woke me up yelling that last night, I honestly don't care. But, now that we're on the subject, I'd be very grateful if you told the guards to leave me well alone."

"I'm afraid their job is to act based on their discretion."

"Fine." The Riddler stood up.

Dr. Leland quickly moved her hand under the table, preparing to signal the guards with a press of the emergency button. "Mr. Nigma, please sit down."

"If you have no interest in assisting me, then I most certainly am not going to cooperate with you. This session is over."

"I am the one who decides when this session ends. Sit down, Mr. Nigma."

"No," The Riddler answered, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

"Sit down."

"Make me."

Dr. Leland stared at her patient for a few moments. Then she sighed and said, "Even if I wanted to assist Mr. Crane, I do not have that authority. The fact that I was acquainted with him previous to his... unfortunate mental... deterioration... would interfere with his treatment."

That sparked Edward's interest, but his face said otherwise. "You knew Harley when she was still Dr. Quinzel."

"Yes, but it is different when you are treating someone who was once an equal or a lesser. Ms. Quinn was an intern for me."

The Riddler smiled, sitting down. Now that was the information he was looking for. "And, you were an intern for Dr. Jonathan Crane back when he worked at Arkham."

Leland watched her patient for a moment. But, she didn't make any response to confirm or negate Edward's deduction. "Alright, Mr. Nigma, I've explained myself to you. Now, please. Give me some thoughts or feelings..."

On the inside, Edward was practically dancing triumphantly. On the outside, he kept a straight face. "Despair."

"About what are you despairing?"

"I've run completely out of books to read. And, puzzles to solve."

The psychiatrist shook her head slightly. "I'll see what I can do about finding you some new books, Mr. Nigma. No promises on the puzzles, though. You must learn to cope without puzzles like that."

"...Fine. Then I'd like a detective novel. It's still a sort of puzzle."

"Very well. I'll see what I can do." Dr. Leland reached over, pressing 'Stop' on the tape recorder. She stood and walked to the door. "You are free to go, Mr. Nigma." She opened the door, and two guards stood just beyond the doorway, waiting. "Please escort Mr. Nigma to the Activity Center." The guard closest to the door nodded.

Edward made his way over to the guards. "See you next Wednesday, Doctor!"

Leland closed the door behind her patient and paced across the room to her desk. That interview certainly started out uneventful... But, it was obvious that Edward was slowly giving in to his treatment. He put up absolutely no fight when he was told that he was not going to be allowed anymore puzzles. And, never before had he spoken so openly about his life in prison... Why, Dr. Leland had been trying to determine for weeks just who Edward acquainted himself with. She'd managed to discover his friendship with Harley... But, the Scarecrow was a different story entirely. If he'd managed to befriend Scarecrow, then that spoke volumes about his social abilities... And, his psyche. Why, this was just the information Dr. Leland needed to begin to understand her patient!

Edward waltzed into the Activity Center, perfectly content that he had once again befuddled his psychiatrist. And, on top of that, he'd found out much more about the Scarecrow than he had ever hoped to find. Yes, the day was very good indeed... The only thing that would make it better would be to have a partner to play chess with... If only.

The Riddler took his seat at the chess table. And, Harley Quinn quickly filled the empty chair across from him. Edward let out an exasperated sigh. "No, Harley, I do not want to play against you."

Harley tilted her head, pigtails swishing about. "Oh! No, I was just gonna ask ya how the Doctah was!"

"...Oh." Edward nodded. "Fine, I guess."

"Was he mad at ya?"

It took a moment - well, half a moment, no, a quarter of a moment, really, since his mind was so much greater than any normal human being's - for Edward to comprehend the question. "Oh, that doctor. No - surprisingly. I was pretty sure that he'd be angry, but... Well, he isn't, anyway."

A bright smile lit up Harley's face. "That's good!"

"Mhm... Actually... Harley, I have a question for you."

"Aw, Eddie, ya know I'm no good at all those riddles!"

"It isn't a riddle. But, it will help me solve one."

"Oh, well if ain't a riddle..."

"You used to work at Arkham, so you know all policies, correct?"

"Yeah, I had to go through classes 'n stuff to learn everything."

"Is it against the code to become the doctor for someone who was once your superior?"

"Well, not in so many words... They can't exactly put a code on somethin' like that - ya know? It's kinda vague. But, if ya personally know someone, like an older family member or teacher or somethin', you're generally supposed to not to handle the case. Can ya imagine what would happen if one of the psychiatrists' grannies went an' killed someone? I mean, no way they'd be able to treat her personally. Favoritism and whatnot. It's hard to try to be a role model for someone who used to be a role model for you."

"...But, it isn't a rule?"

"No, 'course not."

Edward flashed a charming smile. "Thank you, Harley. Now, you'll probably want to get back to watching that TV. I believe the Joker's on in five."

"Mistah Jay's on TV?"

Ivy scowled as Harley leapt from the chair and ran across the room to block the television set. "After the commercial break, Harls..." The plant-woman then added, not quite under her breath, "Someone please change the channel..."

The Riddler stared at the checkered board on the table in front of him, deep in thought. If it wasn't actually a real rule that Leland couldn't see the Scarecrow... Then her reasons for not treating him were nothing like the ones she gave... What was it that kept her from treating him? Respect? She had called him 'Doctor'...

Edward Nigma returned to his cell, as usual, at five o' clock. But, instead of going to bed or thinking up riddles, he marched straight toward the wall between his and the Scarecrow's cell. "Crane?"

"There is no Crane..."

Impatiently, The Riddler said, "Yes, yes, I get it. You're Scarecrow. Only Scarecrow. That is actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He stopped, waiting for permission to continue. Not to any surprise of his, that permission never came. So, of course, he continued, anyway, "Why did you become Scarecrow? I talked to Leland today. She called you 'Doctor'." He stopped again for a few seconds. "You had respect - who you were before Scarecrow. Why did you give it up?"

"Nyctophobia..."

"...What?"

"Fear of the dark... Afraid of the dark..."

Edward paused. "...Who's afraid of the dark?" He felt a chill slither down his spine, completely forgetting about Leland... And all of his other thoughts that day...

"Monsters... hide in shadows..."

Edward couldn't help but glance toward the corner of the room.

"Under the bed..."

Edward turned toward the cot. Beneath it was a world of pitch-blackness...

"Everywhere..."

Edward shuddered. "Crane..."

"Everywhere..."

"Crane... Stop it." The Riddler backed into the wall, eyes flitting all across his cell.

"Everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere."

"Stop it."

"Everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere."

"Stop it!"

"Everywhere, everywhere..."

"Stop!"

"Everywhere..."

The whole room was quiet. No other inmates were making any noise. There weren't any others. Only Edward. And, only that voice...

"Everywhere~..."

"Jonathan! Stop!" Edward sank to the ground, holding his ears, and closing his eyes tightly.

"Everywhere... Everywhere~... Everywhere~... Everywhere~..."

"I'm not afraid of the dark... I'm not afraid of the dark..."

The Scarecrow's voice whispered, inside Edward's head, "No... Only of what's hiding in it..."

The Riddler screamed.

Instantly, the voice of the Scarecrow vanished, the room became the usual familiar cell, and the typical chatter from the rest of the inmates' cells filled what had been silence. Footsteps came running down the hall, stopping in front of Edward's cell.

The prison guard stared at The Riddler. "What happened? I heard a scream."

Edward looked around, blinking rapidly. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. He tried to steady his breathing as his wits returned to him... "And, you assumed it was me doing the screaming?"

"Well, I..."

Not wanting the guard to stick around, Edward quickly lied, "I fell. I'm alright."

The guard looked puzzled, but he turned and slowly walked back down the hallway again.

Edward rested his head against the wall. As soon as the guard was out of earshot, he asked, "...How did you do that?"

"Which part?," answered the professional voice of Dr. Jonathan Crane.

"...The..." Edward, for once, found himself scrambling for the correct word. "...illusion...?"

"I didn't. Fear did. That and more is what it does to people... That and so much more..."

"...But, I'm not really afraid of the dark."

"No, you certainly do not suffer under nyctophobia. But, most everyone is afraid of what they cannot see, and you, Edward, are no exception."

"...Alright. You're scary. The terrifying, horrifying, frightening, chilling, unnerving, spooky, creepy, blood-curdling Lord of Despair - Master of Fear. So, please... Don't do that ever again."

"You... are a complicated man, Edward Nigma... Full... of fear." There was half a second of silence. "And of yourself."

"Oh, ha-ha. Jonathan Crane actually has a sense of humor."

"Not at all."

Edward frowned. "You never answered my questions earlier... Why did you become Scarecrow? I mean, lots of us were looking for respect. But... I talked to Dr. Leland, and it sounds like you already had that. So, why, then?"

"Simple: I did it for the fear."

"...You know what? I sincerely hope that they find you a new psychiatrist soon. You need help, Crane."

Edward Nigma left the wall and the conversation, pretending to lose interest in the Scarecrow's past. He picked up one of the books that had been left on his bed, glancing over the cover - The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Hmm... It did seem to be a detective novel, so he silently commended Dr. Leland for her good work. And, it looked fairly interesting. So, he opened the new book to its last chapter and started reading.

The Scarecrow, meanwhile, was silently staring at the vent in his own cell. Waiting.

Just waiting.