"Okay, for real, Crane. Why do you need me?" Kay asked impatiently, still poised at the top of the stairs.
Noting that she had once again dropped his title, Crane rolled his eyes and gestured to the cluttered table. "You seem smart. I want to see if you're any use. I have to keep you around anyway, might as well put you to work. It's this or cleaning the house."
"Pssh." Kay scoffed. "Do you even have any cleaning solution?"
This earned her an icy glare. Kay sighed and tramped down the stairs.
"So, what do you need help with?" she asked, taking in all the labeled beakers as she tried to piece together what he could be making. "Are these the components to your toxin?"
Crane raised one sardonic eyebrow. "My my. Aren't we talkative today." He commented, dryly.
"Eh, piss off. Being clean feels nice, and you're bringing down my mood. Though, by the looks of you, you could use a hot shower, a good meal, and a long night's sleep."
Crane looked at her as if she had just announced her plans to take over the world using her magical unicorn-transformation ray, but he had dark circles underneath his eyes. His black hair was exceedingly rumpled, and his loose tie askew.
"Okay, seriously. Why the hell are you so talkative?"
Kay shrugged, not quite sure of the answer. "I dunno. I guess I just feel better when I'm around chemicals." She chuckled nervously and resolved to shut up. "Alright, I'm ready to go. How do you make this?"
As Crane showed her the proper way to mix the chemicals and how long to heat them for and what not, Kay began to wonder about him.
I wonder why he has Scarecrow? And how he got named that?
As she struggled to find the correct way of asking Crane (correct being not pissing him off), Crane worked industriously on turning the chemical mix into a gas. He dropped four drops of the ecstasy into the mixture and stirred. Footsteps could be heard shuffling upstairs as Kealy went about his business.
"So, Crane. You're a psychiatrist, right?" Kay asked casually, not lifting her eyes to see his reaction. Out of her peripheral vision she saw him pause a moment before going back to work.
"Yes." He confirmed.
"So… do you know why you have Scarecrow?" She said this quietly, fearing his wrath and a nice shot of pure toxin. To her surprise he didn't even pause in his work this time. He merely snorted and said bitterly, "I have some idea, yes."
Kay looked at him now, her eyes wide with curiosity.
He looked back at her coolly. "What?"
She raised an eyebrow; she was sure he knew what she wanted. Of course he does, he's a frickin' genius.
He returned to his beakers. "I'm not going to tell you why. Get back to work."
Kay could tell from his tone of voice that there wasn't a chance in hell of him telling right now. Well, it was probably his childhood… She knew a bit about psychiatry, but not much. She hadn't had a chance to take the class yet. The thought of childhood brought up her own traumatic memories.
Absentmindedly, she rubbed the circular burns on her left shoulder.
"Why are you rubbing your shoulder?"
Kay's head shot up. "Huh?"
Crane shook his head slightly at her idiocy.
Stuck up bastard. Kay growled in her mind, but only allowed a sour look on her face.
"I said, 'Why are you rubbing your shoulder?' Does it hurt? Is there a cut I didn't see earlier that needs treatment?"
Kay shook her head no and quickly removed her hand from her shoulder. I think the purple stuff goes in next… She was thinking before cold fingers yanked her shirt down off her shoulder.
"Crane! What the fuck?!" Kay cried, alarmed.
"Cigarette burns. From your mother?" Crane peered at Kay curiously over his spectacles.
"Ya, from my mother. I told you she's a bitch." She pulled away from his curious fingers and straightened her shirt, angrily.
Crane still didn't move from his spot immediately next to her. "They look about the same age. What happened?"
Kay gave him her best glare, but he remained unfased.
"Nothing." She spat, turning back to her work.
Crane rolled his eyes at her obvious lie. "Clearly something happened. Are they from a long time-span or a short one?"
Kay eyes narrowed but she still refused to look at him. "Nothing happened, Crane. Drop it."
But still he persisted. "I think it has something to do with your psychiatric defense mechanisms. Did she do it often?"
"Crane, I said drop it!"
"So she did-"
"Crane, drop it!" Kay practically yelled.
He looked directly into her fuming eyes and said, "Was it torture? Or convenience?"
Kay whirled around, irate. "Alright, you bastard. You wanna know what happened? I'll tell ya what happened." Her voice was low, intense, and furious.
"One day when I was eight years old, my mother can't find her ash tray. She's a chain smoker, ya see. So she calls me over and has me sit in front of her, on the floor, while she watches her soap opera. I've got a pink tank top on. I have no idea why she wants me there because it's certainly not mother daughter bonding time. Then I feel this searing pain in my left shoulder. I look over and my mother is grinding her cigarette butt into it. Of course, I start crying and trying to get away, but that bitch grabs me by the hair and makes me stay right where I am."
Her voice became even quieter, more dangerous. "So she keeps me there, bein' her motherfuckin' human ashtray for three hours. That's fourteen cigarettes that she ground out on me. I know, I counted the scars. So yeah, Crane, it happened all in one day and it was merely convenience."
Crane's smug smile at getting Kay to talk had long since vanished faded into a serious frown. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and walked back to his work.
Calmer now, Kay asked quietly, "So what about you?"
Crane stayed silent, and Kay just gave up. Not that she thought him not saying a word about himself after she had said all that was fair or anything… "Never mind. I can see you can bug me until I tell what is possibly the worst experience of my life, but I'm not allowed to ask you anything. Bastard." She muttered to herself, not even counting on him to hear.
A few more moments went by and Kay's mind slowly drifted off to daydreaming about normal life and wondering about the newly forming scar on her jaw. His quiet, resigned voice shook her out of her thoughts.
"I grew up with my grandmother out in the country. She hated my mother simply because she had gotten pregnant. She never gave my mother the courtesy of calling her by her name. It was always 'that whore' or 'filthy slut.' I never knew my mother, but it hurt my young self to hear her disparaged. I suppose Grandmother is most of the reason I have Scarecrow. Though how he was named is easy enough to figure out."
He glanced down at his thin body as echoes of the schoolyard taunt of "Scarecrow! Ya ugly Scarecrow!" floated from his plentiful store of repressed memories.
Kay drew her brows together, not understanding. She started slowly, "…No. Not really."
Unconsciously rubbing his slim arm, he stared at her incredulously. "Seriously? Look at me."
"I am."
And indeed she was. Her sepia eyes were studying Crane's body language, something she had become adept at reading through her years of trying to keep her mother and the kids at school from hurting her. Right now his slouched shoulders and his arm crossed protectively across his chest were reminding Kay of…
Myself? she realized. She took on that exact stance when she was listening to her mother scream at her.
"It was my, ah… my schoolyard nickname. They liked to call me that when they beat me up and rubbed my face in the dirt. And every time they did that Granny would tell me I was worthless and I wouldn't get dinner. That just made me skinner, which enhanced the appearance of a scarecrow, which made the amount of beatings just go up." He spat bitterly, his eyes clouding over with memories he could no longer suppress.
Scarecrow was surprisingly quiet as they played in Jonathan's head.
Dirt filled Jonathan's mouth as he struggled to push himself from the ground.
"That bitch of a teacher can't help ya out here, can she Scarecrow?" The bully growled, grinding the heel of his palm into the back of Jonathan's head. He had caught the smaller boy on his way home from school.
"It's just you and me out here ya skinny twerp. Look atcha. Ya don't have a shred a' muscle on yer skinny, weak body."
Fear coursed through Jonathan like blood. Bright tears spilled out of his eyes, dripping down his dirt stained nose before dropping the ground. A look of disgust in his piggish eyes, the bully stopped grinding Jonathan's face into the ground, but instead kicked him viciously once in the ribs.
"Man up, Scarecrow. Only babies cry."
Jonathan waited on all fours until the bully had really left before shuddering and letting his frail, undernourished body fall to the ground. Eventually he mustered the willpower to pull himself up. Whimpering, he stumbled home. Praying Granny would be in the garden so he could shower with out being seen, he caught a glimpse of the green house out back. Absentmindedly he traced one of the whispered scars across his chest as a dark look of recalled memories passed over his features.
"Jonathan? Is that you?" came the shrill voice from the living room.
Jonathan hesitated before answering, "…Yes Grandmother."
"Come here, boy. You sound like you've gotten into trouble again." He voice was dangerously soft, triumphant.
Jonathan hung his head as he slunk around the corner. Granny was seated in her rocking chair, knitting a scarf no-one would ever wear. She looked magnificently malevolent, sitting there in her antique rocking chair. As her sharp, grey eyes took in Jonathan's bleeding, dirt-covered, tear-stained face, his filthy clothes, and the clenched hand across his newly forming bruise, she grinned maliciously.
Inwardly, Jonathan groaned.
"Jonathan." She drew his name out to make it into a long, torturous sound, implying that he had committed some grave sin. "You did some thing bad again, didn't you?" Her sinister eyes commanded him to answer, but gave him no choice but to nod.
He had tried saying no before.
It was the hungriest he had ever been.
She grinned wickedly, her spindly fingers never ceasing their movement around the needles. "Go put on the suit."
All remaining color drained from Jonathan's face in an instant. "No, Grandmother, please! Please don't make me do it!" he pleaded desperately.
"Go, Jonathan. Put it on. The longer you take, the longer you'll stay there."
Knowing from experience that her words were true, he scrambled from the room, peeling his clothes off as he ran. By the time he reached his room he had a pile of dirty clothing sitting in his arms.
He pulled out the black suit from his closet. He stared at it for a moment, sighing. Pulling the pants on, he remembered that it would be a smart thing to layer, so the damage would be less. If he could find his shirt…
"Jonathan! Get down here!" Granny screeched from the bottom of the stairs.
Undershirt it would have to be then.
The boy dashed back down the stairs, landing neatly in front of his grandmother.
"Little cretin. What took you so long?" Her strong fingers gripped his scrawny bicep as she yanked him out into the backyard.
"I'm sorry Granny! I'm sorry, please stop that hurts!" He practically screamed as she tossed him inside the greenhouse.
"I'll see you in while, buddy boy." She dangled the key in front of him before snatching it away and striding back up to the house. It was getting dark out, and was already chilly. One by one, the shapes of crows slowly blotted out the sky.
At first they only circled…
"Crane? Hello, Crane?" Kay was waving a hand in front of him, attempting to break him out of his frightening reverie.
"What is it?" He asked curtly.
Kay glared at him. "I had asked if you got beat up a lot. I certainly did. Do." She corrected herself with a pointed stare.
"Yes. I did. Now get to work." His words were spoken harshly. He had no idea what he had done or what faces he had made while he was recalling his childhood. Hopefully nothing… but with his luck he had made some sort of face or mumbled something.
As he worked in peace for the next half an hour, Crane become more relaxed and forgot to worry about what he had done. As he finished off the last batch, he realized that if he was done, Kay had been done for a quite a while.
He looked up to find her studying him again.
"What?" He asked gruffly.
She took an agonizing moment before responding.
"We're more alike than different, you know."
Before he could stop himself he asked, "How so?" and then immediately flinched.
Kay turned away and sat down on a stool. "Well… we're both very skinny." She began, calling out the obvious. "Our caretakers both abused us. We were both bullied in school. And for kickers, we're both very, very smart." She finished thoughtfully.
Crane shrugged. "I guess. But psychologically we're very different. You use sarcasm as your defense mechanism, and I… Well I rely on my alternate personality."
Damn right you do. Scarecrow growled in his head.
Crane really had no idea why he was saying all this. It wasn't like him to talk to anyone about any of his feelings or past. Maybe it was for the same reason the girl had said she was talkative earlier. He was simply more comfortable around chemicals.
Kay returned his shrug. "I guess. But we both have them. The only point I was trying to make is to get you to stop trying to hurt me. I'm not one of the people who would have hurt you at school. I'm the one that tries to blend in."
To his surprise, Crane fully understood. He nodded to show his comprehension of her words.
Blending in had been a very important part of his school life. Academics had been a breeze for him. After all, he'd graduated high school at sixteen, and college at nineteen. After getting his Doctorate at twenty-one, he went on to become the director of Arkham Asylum. And now, at twenty-two, he had terrorized a city, been thrown into his own Asylum, and escaped.
So high school math? Not a problem.
Trying to slip out of the locker room unnoticed? A challenge equivalent to climbing Mount Everest.
"Well, this has been fun, but I'm starving again. I'm going upstairs to make us a proper meal. You really need to eat something." Kay announced, climbing the stairs.
Crane gaped at her. "Why the hell would you make a meal for me?"
She looked back, confused. She frowned and shrugged. "I don't know. Because you're obviously hungry?"
Crane glared at her, knowing she comprehended his real meaning.
Kay sighed, and turned around to explain. "You may have done all this to me," She gestured to the various wounds covering her body. "And not to mention terrorized me with that god-awful gas, but I understand where you're coming from now. That doesn't kiss it all better, but I'm not heartless. You understood what I meant when I said I have to blend in at school. So I'm making us a meal. "
With no further questions from Crane, Kay returned to her ascent of the stairs. Loud footsteps could be heard from over head, scuffling.
Upon hearing them, Kay dashed the rest of the way up the stairs and flew to see what was going on. Crane followed soon after.
When the two found the source of the noise, Schuster had Kealy pinned to a wall with his arm secured behind his back. Kealy's eyes were wide and rolling around in his head with terror.
"Schuster! What the hell are you doing?!" Kay yelled before Crane could.
Schuster yanked back, bringing a squealing Kealy with him.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He grunted, throwing Kealy back into the wall.
The scrawny man just moaned and slid down the wall to the floor. There was blood dripping from his nose, and he was trembling.
Before Schuster could make another grab for Kealy, Kay stepped in his way. "Stop it, you bastard! He can't fight back. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to pick on the smaller ones?It's not nice, you know." The level of sarcasm in her voice signaled her degree of outrage.
Schuster snarled, his rage apparent in his stance. "Move outta the way, bitch. That little fucker needs to be taught a lesson."
Kay stayed firmly where she was, daring him to make her move with a twitch of her eyebrow. As he pulled a hand back to slap her, Crane stepped in front of him.
"Boss? W- what are you doing?" Schuster tried his best not to snarl at the man currently holding a can of the toxin Schuster was so afraid of.
"Hit her and get a face full." Crane snapped.
Puzzled at his boss's change in attitude towards Kay's well-being, Schuster slowly lowered his clenched fist. He glared at the group assembled before storming away to wherever his room was.
Kay's eyes followed him down the hallway, one she hadn't been down before.
"Asshole." She muttered, turning around to attend to Kealy.
The timid man had managed to pull himself up into a sitting position and wiped some of the blood off of his unshaven face. Ragged breaths still racked his thin chest, but deep breaths soon changed that. Kay slid down the wall to sit next to him.
"So what happened, Bud?" Kay asked, placing a sympathetic hand on his trembling shoulder.
Crane stood uncomfortably, not sure what he should do. After a second he gave up and left with a parting, "I'm going to take a shower. Do whatever you want, but don't leave the house."
Kay had a hard time hiding her surprise from him.
"All I did was ask him to move." Kealy whimpered.
"I bet you did. Schuster seems… Well he seems like a huge asshole." Kay shrugged.
Kealy just nodded and wiped the tears away from his eyes with the palm of his hand.
"You gonna be okay?" Kay asked, rubbing his back. He nodded again and laughed chokingly through his tears.
Grinning, Kay stood up. "Good. I'm going to go make us a meal. Want to help?"
As always, please review!!! :D I've got big plans fer little Kay next chapter. Big plans. :) So review, and make my day! Every one who review gets a cookie and a dance party. Much love to all my readers! --Archaic.