Jackson felt his breathing quicken and his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the door. It was nothing to do with exertion. It wasn't even fear at having broken out of his cell.

He had to hurry; he'd engineered this blackout but didn't know how long it would last. He turned the stolen key in the lock and entered the bleak room.

Jonathan was sitting in the far corner, staring at one padded wall. What else he was seeing his brother couldn't even guess.

"Jon." His head shot round. Two pairs of blue eyes met. "It's time to go."

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The flat was underground, the small windows near the ceiling covered over with black plastic sacks. The paint was peeling slightly in places.

Though the main room was of a fair size the only furniture consisted of the mattress on which Jon was currently lying, a small lamp set on the floor and a row of presses. One door led into the toilet, another outside.

Stripping off his red jumpsuit, Jack located a small pile of clothing in one of the presses. He dressed in a plain shirt and slightly battered jeans. Then, running his hands through his hair, he went to sit beside his brother. "Let's get that off you," he said, rubbing his shoulder through the straightjacket. Jon didn't respond. With care that would have surprised most who knew him Jack unfastened the buckles. Jonathon suppressed a cry of pain as his arms fell free. "It's ok. It'll be gone soon." As gently as possible he pulled off the straightjacket.

"Thanks."

"That's ok." He unzipped the jumpsuit and took that off too. His hands clenched into fists. Though the old injuries had healed Jonathon had been beaten again, more than once.

A dark rainbow of bruises stood out starkly against chalk white skin. His right arm was obviously broken, hanging at an awkward angle.

Jacks nails were drawing blood where they dug into his palms. The past was invading his mind. Two tiny boys bled onto an already filthy floor. One struggled to stand with a broken leg as the other was thrown against a wall. He pushed it back.

Standing, he went to the bathroom and found a first-aid kit.

"No one's going to hurt us again," he whispered as he did his best to stabalise Jonathon's arm with bandages. "Not ever again."

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Morning took a long time to come and - due to the blacked out windows - brought with it little light. Neither of the brothers had slept more than a half an hour.

Jonathon was sitting slumped against the wall. He wore a knitted sweater and a pair of pajamas pants, both of which hung loosely off him. "Where are we Jack?"

"Still in Gotham," he answered, sighing. "Still in the narrows."

Jon laughed. "A narrow little cage..."

Jack fished a small radio out of his pocket. "The police set up road-blocks on all the bridges after Arkham raised the alarm about our escape."

"No getting out... never... You did... but only for a little while... then you had to come back..." As he spoke he became increasingly distressed. "No escaping..."

"Shhh, it's ok. They can't keep up the road blocks forever. We just have to hide out here for a while. Then we can leave, for good."

Jon looked as though he was going to speak. But a knocking on the door caused him to flinch and fall silent. Jack was instantly tense and alert.

"Jackson? You in there? It's just me, Kev."

Relaxing, Jackson opened the door. A rather short man with dirty-blond hair stood at the threshold of the flat. Looking inside his brown eyes widened. "You really broke Jonathon out."

He'd been in the Narrows that night, remembered the feeling of panic the fear gas caused. No one sane could have created that. He wanted to suggest that maybe Arkham was the best place for Crane. But one look at his condition proved that wasn't true. He'd always been skinny but...

"I wasn't going to leave my brother to rot," Jackson snapped.

Quickly changing the subject, "I brought groceries."

"I take it the money's coming through alright then?"

"Yea, the money's fine." He handed him a large brown paper bag and stepped inside. "There's a camping stove in there too."

"Good, that'll be useful."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No. I'll see you ne-"

"They're coming! Won't stop! The crows! The crows..."

Jonathon was screaming, staring wide eyed at nothing as he rocked rapidly back and forth. Jack rushed over to him. "Jon?" He placed a hand carefully on his shoulder. Jon flinched, then looked up at his mirror image. "The Scarecrow. They made me be."

"I know Jon. But you're safe now."

"No! They're..."

"I won't let anyone hurt you again. You know that."

"Jack?"

"Yea, it's me."

Long thin fingers grasped his brother's hand.

"He'll hurt us, like always."

"No."

"Bigger than us."

"No, that's over. It's the past."

"Over?"

"Yea. It's been ten years since..."

"I'm confused?"

He nodded. "Yea."

Closing his eyes he rested his head against the cool plaster.

Now that Jon was calm his twin remembered Kev. The fair haired man was still standing near the door. The shock on his face was clear. Jack met his gaze. "Next week?"

"What? Oh yea, I'll see you then." He hurried back outside.

"You think he'll be a problem?" Jack asked.

"No. Kev's always done what you've told him."

A pale hand stroked Jonathon's face. Smiling, he leaned into the touch.