A/N: I'm afraid to even go back to check WHEN my last update for this fic was. It's been so long and I just have no excuses. It seems like the sooner I promise to update, the later I actually get to do it. I'm sorry about that.
Anyway, there's only one chapter left before this is over - and maybe an epilogue, but I think one chapter should be enough. In any case, I promise I'll do my best to finish before 2012. This fic has been in progress for so long that it isn't even funny. Again, sorry for the wait!

As for this chapter, there is one scene that takes place right during the Lock-Up episode and covers the hearing scene, so a large part of the dialogue for that scene is lifted directly from the episode. I didn't have much choice there. XD Same goes for Crane's line in the last scene, which happens right at the end of the episode.

Even though consciousness tried to creep back in his clouded mind at the first lights of dawn – he supposed it was dawn, but his eyes were tightly shut so he couldn't truly see the cold grey light coming from the hole in the wall of his cell someone might have the audacity to call a window – Jonathan Crane refused to allow himself to awaken, trying with all his might to stay in that blissful middle ground between sleep and awareness. As long as he stayed like that, half-asleep and unmoving, he could pretend he wasn't truly back in Arkham. And, most of all, he didn't feel the pain that was sure to shot through him the moment he tried to move.

But of course that blasted asylum couldn't just let things go his way at least for once, and he was eventually dragged to full awareness by the usual morning sounds – cells opening, handcuffs tingling, guards and prisoners yelling and talking, and eventually his own cell's door opening.

That last sound in particular not only fully awakened him, but it also filled him with terror: it was Bolton that opened the cells in the morning, and he expected them to be up and ready to get out immediately and he would be furious if he didn't-

Crane let out a strangled cry and tried to jump on his feet before Bolton could get in, but he felt weak and his everything hurt, and he crumpled back on the floor with a whimper, eyes tightly shut as he waited for Bolton to grab him by the neck and force him back to his feet, or throw him outside, or…

"Professor Crane?"

Crane's eyes snapped open at the familiar and definitive feminine voice that couldn't be farther from Bolton's usual growls. He looked up to see someone he hadn't seen in a few months – how long as she been away for her research purposes again? "Dr. Leland?" he rasped, his throat still hurting from the screams that had left him the previous night. He didn't try to get up again.

The woman was frowning as she stepped in ignoring pretty much all safety rules to crouch next to him. Crane hissed as she gently titled his head back to take a closer look at the bruise on his cheekbone, at the dried blood around his split lip and then to his crumpled form.

"Bolton told me you were not hurt in the capture," she said with barely concealed anger "you should be in the infirmary."

The relief that had filled him seemed to vanish at the thought of Bolton's anger should he think he had actually complained about him to Dr. Leland. "N… no, I shouldn't," he blabbered "I'm fine. I… I fell from the cot tonight," he tried to lie, fully knowing he wouldn't be able to fool her for an instant.

"Professor Crane, you need to go to the infirmary now. I'll call-"

"NO!" Crane almost shrieked, reaching to grab her coat "please, don't call anyone! If… if he…!"

"Lyle Bolton won't know it," Dr. Leland said, causing Crane's mouth to abruptly snap shout – how could she guess….? "He isn't here, and won't be here again until after the hearing – given that it's seen fit that he keeps his current position."

Crane found himself staring at her numbly for a few moments. "Not here? Hearing?" he echoed her words in confusion.

Dr. Leland nodded. "I received a call from Dr. Bartholomew the moment I stepped back in Gotham this morning – Bruce Wayne advanced some doubts over Mr. Bolton's competence in fulfilling his role, and I was told to ask you if you have any complaints on him. I take it you do," her gaze darkened a little "and you're not the only one."

Crane stared at her in disbelief. Could it really be that they would finally be ridded of Bolton? And… what had the other inmates told her? The idea they could have told her everything Bolton had done to them filled with humiliation. "Who… was it to complain? What did they say?"

"Not much of anything," she admitted "but I think their reactions were eloquent enough. Miss Quinn started screaming when I asked. Mr. Wesker curled in a corner while his dummy kept screaming for me to stop asking questions that would get them, and I quote, 'even deeper in the shit pit'. And now there's you – you need medical help, and even though he didn't brother to provide you that much you're still trying to cover for him. As for Mr. Tetch, he just… shuddered and began talking of Wonderland. I think he was trying to distance himself from the subject at hand, either to protect himself or avoid my questions – or both," she sighed "you'll see him soon. I'll have you brought to the infirmary as well right away."

Crane could only nod numbly, unable to form a coherent reply and barely able to hope that the nightmare called Lyle Bolton could really be over. There was one thing he still knew for sure, and only one – that there were things Bolton had done to him, to them, that he and the others were going to take with them to the grave.

"But how could they know…?"

"For the last time, Tetch, I have no idea," Crane snapped irritably from his bed before casting a nervous glance to the guards standing by the entrance, then he lowered his voice. "I suppose they don't quite know the details. They only know something must be wrong. Perhaps…" he paused "I don't know how they could guess, but I suppose it's beside the point. What matters is that now we might have a chance to get rid of Bolton."

"So will you say everything at the hearing?"

Crane shifted uncomfortably. "Not everything, no," he said quietly. There were things Bolton had done to him that he would never breathe to a soul, and he was certain none of the others would either; even minutes earlier, as they treated his scratches and bruises, he hadn't told them of any other… wound that would need to be tended and that he knew he was going to let heal on its own. They would never have to know that: after all, everything else Bolton had done to him and the other inmates would be enough to have him fired once everyone knew about it. "And they will never know everything," he added somewhat threateningly, but Tetch only sighed.

"Don't look at me. I won't be at the hearing. My ankle needs surgery, and it's schedule just the previous day," he said, glancing down at his injured ankle with a slight frown, then he chuckled "but my, isn't it wonderful that he isn't here anymore? I was so afraid he'd…" he paused "you know, for trying to escape."

Crane clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to think of his own punishment for his escape, the price he had to pay for such a short-lived freedom. Still, the thought was enough to sour whatever hopes he might have had until a few moments before.

"But there's no need to be scared anymore," Tetch was going on "we should have a tea party!"

"I see no reason to party yet," Crane said dryly "Bolton hasn't been fired yet."

The Mad Hatter's delighted chuckle immediately died down, and he looked at Crane with almost child-like confusion. "But, the hearing…!"

"Maybe they'll remove him from his place, maybe not. I can't quite picture the Mayor coming to save us upon a white steed like he would with good, tax-paying, non-criminally insane citizens," Crane said darkly "and if they don't, the hearing will have only served one purpose."

Tetch blinked. "And that would be…?"

Jonathan Crane gave a hollow laugh. "Infuriating Bolton even further. I cannot even begin to imagine his anger upon knowing of this hearing. I don't know what's the reason of it, but…" he had to pause and swallow before going on "if he thinks we are the cause, and he isn't fired…" his voice finally broke, and he shuddered. "We're not safe yet, Tetch. We have to take a gamble before. And we might lose it."

Tetch stared at him with wide eyes for a few moments, the realization clearly taking some time to sink in, then he shook his head almost frantically. "No no no no no, he won't, he won't!" he almost chanted "he has to go away, he has to go away! Off with his head! Off with his head!"

A chuckle escaped Crane – as much as he loathed thinking of the possibility things could once again go wrong for him, Tetch's panic at his words felt almost soothing. "This isn't Wonderland, Tetch. Things don't go the way you want them to. And if Bolton isn't fired after the hearing…"

"He has to be!" the Mad Hatter whimpered, and it didn't take much to guess what he was thinking – if Bolton wasn't fired, he would make him pay for both the attempted escape and the hearing, and it wouldn't be something he'd ever forget. "We… you guys must tell them what he did to us! You must! Not…" he seemed to hesitate "not everything he did, maybe, but only half of the things he did would be enough…!"

"It's easy to say for you – you won't be there," Crane shot back "and if despite our efforts he isn't fired, then he will-"

"But he'll blame us anyway!" Tetch cut him off, a note of despair in his voice "you know he will! No matter what we do, he'll never believe it wasn't us to rat him out! Trying to get him fired is the only chance to… to avoid…" his voice faded and he finally fell silent.

Crane stayed silent as well for a few moments, mulling over what he had just heard. That was true – Bolton would blame them and make them pay, no matter what they did or said at the hearing or before that; granted, the punishment would be far worse if they tried and failed to have him fired… but if they didn't try, then there would be no way out, and they might never get another chance.

"Fine," Crane finally said, hating it how his voice was shaking "I'm going to speak to Quinn and Wesker at the first chance I get, and… we'll decide what to say at the hearing," he heard himself saying, faintly wondering if they'd find the courage to accuse Bolton in his presence.

They'll have to. You'll have to. This is your only chance.

Crane tried to picture himself accusing Bolton in front of the man himself, but he felt dizzy and nauseous and he began shaking almost right away, so he was quick to push the thought on the back of his mind once more.

If Tetch had noticed his reaction, he pretended he hadn't.

Predictably enough, both Harley and Wesker – and, well, Scarface – had agreed to leave some… parts of Bolton's abuse unsaid: Harley was too scared her 'pudding' wouldn't want her anymore if he knew, Wesker and Crane himself were simply unwilling to have it known by anyone else, and Scarface… well, for once he hadn't said a word and left the decision to Wesker. Not surprising since the puppet itself had certainly been spared that kind of abuse, or so Crane hoped.

Another thing that had been easy enough to predict was that the chance of getting Bolton fired and unable to even approach them again had worked wonders in convincing all of them to testify against him at the hearing. After all, Scarface had reasoned, there would sure be someone ready to get in the way should Bolton lose it and try to attack them.

Still, there was yet another thing that Crane should have predicted, something he had feared would happen – when it came the moment for them to testify and they were led inside the room, their resolve began to waver under Bolton's piercing gaze. This is useless, his eyes seemed to tell them. You're powerless, no one will help you, nothing will change, and you'll pay for this hassle. You'll pay dearly.

Crane tore his gaze away from that man with a sharp intake of breath before looking around to see the people presiding the hearing – Mayor Hill, Dr. Bartholomew, Commissioner Gordon and… Bruce Wayne, wasn't it? – and he couldn't shake off the dreadful feeling that none of them was going to believe them, and even if they did they would think that Bolton was a hero, someone who simply did whatever was necessary to keep scum like them locked away, never to cause trouble.

This is a mistake. This hearing is useless, they'll never fire him. And he'll take revenge on us if we dare to accuse him, if we try to…

Crane was snapped from his terrified thoughts by a faint whimper by his left. He turned to see Harley Quinn's face turning an unhealthy ashen colour – she had just been called to testify, he realized. He watched as she went to her seat dragging her feet, as though wishing she were anywhere but there, and he knew she wasn't going to find the courage to accuse Bolton. None of them was. Crane shut his eyes and slumped his shoulders in defeat as he heard Dr. Bartholomew start questioning her.

"Ms. Quinn? Do you have any complaints against Mr. Bolton?"

There was a moment's pause, and Crane knew even without looking she had paused to shoot a look at Bolton. He wasn't surprised in the slightest by her reply only instants later.

"I got nothin' to say."

"But surely you must have something you wish to-" Dr. Bartholomew tried again, clearly confused, but Harley snapped at him, cutting him off.

"You got a hearing problem, or something? NO! NADA! IXNAY! ZERO! ZILCH! BUPKE! NOTHING! OKAY?" she screamed, despair clearly showing in her voice. Anyone with half a brain would have known she was hiding something, but she wasn't questioned again – yet another unsurprising turn of events, Crane thought with a sigh before opening his eyes.

As Wesker was called to be questioned, Quinn went to stand next to Crane again. She looked at him somewhat apologetically for a moment, but Crane said nothing. There was nothing to be said anymore: they both knew that none of them would speak up. Not with Bolton in the same room, not with the knowledge they might not be listened and then would only give him one more reason to torment them.

"It's alright. I promise you can speak freely here," Crane heard Dr. Bartholomew saying reassuringly to the Ventriloquist as he sat on the same seat Harley had been moments earlier.

Both Wesker and Scarface turned to look at Bolton, and this time Crane could clearly see him sneering – a sneer that made his blood turn into ice in his vein and that clearly had the same effect on Wesker, for the poor man gulped hard. When he finally began speaking, it sounded like each word he spoke took him a lot of effort. "Mr. Bolron… he's a…"

"A hard worker," Scarface immediately cut him off "a real stand-up guy. No complaints here, Chief."

And that was it – the end of Wesker's questioning, which meant it was his turn now. Wesker gave him the same apologetic glance Harley had while he left the seat – or so Crane imagined, for seeing that guy's eyes beneath the glasses was anything but easy – and hadn't he been too busy wishing he could be anywhere else, maybe even back in school to be beaten for lunch money or just for being caught reading, Crane could have almost found it amusing how everyone had accepted as perfectly normal that the puppet would voice both its own opinions and Wesker's.

"Professor Crane," Dr. Bartholomew's voice reached him as if from far away, startling him out of the daze his mind seemed to have fallen into "you've been sitting here for ten minutes. Don't you have anything to say?"

Crane didn't even look up at Bolton: he didn't want to meet his gaze. He just shook his head, his eyes still fixed on his knees. How he envied Tetch in that moment! He would have given anything just to trade places with him, broken ankle or not… then again, the punishment that awaited Tetch for his failed escape was something he had experienced already and that he had no rush to experience again. "No, sir."

"And yet yours was the loudest voice of protests," he heard Bolton speaking up, cruel amusement plain as day in his voice, causing him to wince "you must have some misgivings about my methods."

He's so sure of himself he's even daring you to speak up against him. He knows no one will believe you. How could you be foolish enough to think you stood a chance?

Crane kept his gaze lowered, still not looking up. "It seems I was mistaken," was all he said, and after a few instants one of the men had him standing out and escorted him to the other side of the room, where the others were already standing with their eyes low.

"Well, then," he suddenly heard someone – Wayne, perhaps? Odd, he had never met him before and his voice sounded almost familiar – speaking up behind him "based on today's testimony, I propose extending Mr. Bolton's contract for an additional eighteen months."

The thought caused him to stop in his tracks and turn, a terrified gasp escaping him – and not just him, for the others had had the same reaction. Eighteen more months under Bolton's charge? No, it couldn't be! It had to be a nightmare – they couldn't! He opened his mouth to speak without even knowing what he'd say, whether he'd find the courage to say anything at all, but someone else spoke – no, yelled – before he could breathe a word. The Ventriloquist.

"No, you can't! You don't know what he's doing to us!" he yelled desperately, only to be silenced by his own puppet.

"Shaddup! Don't listen to jerk-face here! He don't know what he's saying!" Scarface spoke up, but Harley pushed him – and Wesker – aside.

"No! It's all true! If we don't speak up now we'll never get another chance! He threatens us! Takes away our privileges, even when we're good!" she screamed, struggling to break free from the grasp of the men separating her and the Ventriloquist.

"We've heard enough of this nonsense," Bolton growled, getting on his feet with his fists clenched, and for Scarecrow it was easy detective something other than anger in him – fear. He truly feared they could be believed, truly feared they could cost him his job or worse… which could only meant they did have a chance.

Crane would never know what it was that made him snap – it could be the realization they really could have him fired and out of their lives, the knowledge that after coming that far there was no turning back for them or the sudden euphoria upon finally sensing fear in Lyle Bolton, or maybe a combination of all that, but now it didn't truly matter. What mattered was speaking up now. Crane took a step forward and pointed accusingly at Bolton.

"He says scum like us must be kept in line!" he exclaimed, turning to look at the jury "that's why he chains us down at night and electrifies our doors!

"He held me over a can filled with termites! Ya hear me? Termites!" Scarface was screaming somewhere behind him, apparently having guessed what their only chance was now. Not bad for a puppet.

"He's an animal!" Harley pressed on.

"A monster!" Wesker added.

"Keep him away!"

The barely restrained anger that had been building in Bolton finally exploded. "SHUT UP! All of you!" he roared, jumping on his feet, and Crane could feel the short-lived sense of triumph falter and then fade away as fear gripped his throat once more. His voice died down like that of the others, and he took a staggering step back.

Two men tried to restrain Bolton, but the man was massive and livid with anger and in only seconds he had thrown them off him to turn his attention back to them, feature twisted by fury. It was clear he didn't care about anything anymore – he only wanted to hurt the ones who had ratted him out, hurt them, and he would stop in front of nothing and nobody.

Crane could only whimper and back up to the corner of the room together with Wesker and Quinn as Bolton knocked down the desk he had been sitting at and lunged for them while they could only stare at him and shake with fear and wait.

But before he could reach them Bolton tripped over a chair someone – Wayne, wasn't it? – had accidentally knocked over, and fell heavily on the ground. In a blink of an eye several men were on him and, after a few moments of struggle, they manage to restrain him. That, however, didn't keep Bolton from screaming at them, nor it kept them from cowering as though he could still leap on them any second.

"You're all scum! You should be beaten within an inch of you misbegotten lives!" he cried out.

"I've seen enough!" Dr. Bartholomew bellowed "Lyle Bolton, you're dismissed!"

Bolton glared death at him before speaking, pure hatred dripping from each word. "Before I came here, Arkham was a revolving door of every maniac in Gotham. I kept them in. Me! Now I realize I was wrong to punish those pathetic miscreants! They're only symptoms – you're the CAUSE! THE GUTLESS POLICE, MINDLESS BUREAUCRATS, AND CODLING DOCTORS! YOU SHOULD ALL BE LOCKED UP IN A CAGE WITHOUT A KEY!" he screamed as he was dragged out of the room, away from the jury – and, Crane thought with a wonderful sense of relief, away from them. It was only when the door closed on Bolton's shouts that he realized, truly realized that they would never be under his charge again.

And, judging from the brief silence that followed, he wasn't the only one who needed a few instants for the realization to truly sink in.

"So… you fired him, didn't you?" Harley finally asked, her voice unusually small, as though she was afraid that frail hope would shatter if she spoke too loudly.

"Yes, he's been fired," Commissioner Gordon said gently "I hope the next-" he was cut off by Harley's enthusiastic shrill.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!" she shrilled, giving a rather baffled Commissioner Gordon a tight hug.

"Don't think your puddin's gonna be happy about this. And hey, ya old perv, she could be your niece or somethin'," Scarface commented, causing Harley to immediately let go of the commissioner and Gordon to snort a little embarrassedly.

Wesker chuckled a little nervously. "I, uh… apologize, commissioner," he said meekly.

Gordon sighed, the he finally smiled a bit. "It's quite alright, Arnold."

"If someone here should apologize, that's me," Wayne spoke up, shaking his head "I truly regret recommending Bolton. He did an outstanding job at the Wayne Enterprise security, and I never suspected he might be downright cruel to those he was supposed to guard. My apologies," he said, but he wasn't looking at Dr. Bartholomew – he was looking at Crane, who recoiled, finally snapping from his thoughts.

"I… what matters is that he'll never come near any of us again," was all Crane managed to say, suddenly feeling tired – relieved, yes, but so tired. He faintly hear Dr. Bartholomew babbling something on how it wasn't Wayne fault and how he'd supervise the choice of the next Chief of security himself, but he wasn't listening: all he could think was that it was finally over, that he would never see Bolton again, that he had truly been fired like Tetch had said he would.

Tetch – now that he thought about it, he owed him a goddamned tea party. Maybe they could even convince Dr. Leland to let them have some tea for the occasion. The universe certainly wouldn't implode if they had got just a bit of caffeine for once, would it?

Certain as he was that he would never see Bolton again, Crane almost couldn't believe his ears when a few months, an escape and a re-capture later he caught wind that the former Chief of security was about to be back in Arkham in a few days – as an inmate.

Even though Dr. Leland had quickly reassured him, Harley and the Ventriloquist – Tetch had just been recaptured after an escape and some failed scheme and was currently in isolation for a while – that Bolton would get no chance to be in contact with them in any way, Crane had been both surprised and relieved to realize the thought he was in the same building as himself didn't scare him.

It felt almost surreal: only months later the thought of seeing Bolton again, even from afar, would have made his blood turn into ice in his veins; the terror would have kept him from even thinking about revenge. Oh, but now it was different, wasn't it? Bolton was no longer in power, no longer invincible: the mighty one had fallen. He was only an inmate now, a human being – and as such he wasn't immune to fear.

And any man subjected to fear was a man who could, and would, someday tremble in front of the Scarecrow.

That was why, the day he saw Bolton walking in front of his cell between two guards to be brought to his own cell, Crane knew that no matter how much time it might take, someday he would have his revenge on him. It would taste so, so sweet – and perhaps he would be generous enough to share it with Tetch and the others.

As the other inmates kept hollering and mocking the man who had once ruled that place with an iron fist, Crane only let out a delighted chuckle. "Now you shall learn new lessons in fear," he said, him smile widening as he tried to picture what Bolton would look like with his features twisted in pure terror and agony in his final moments, screaming until his throat was sore for help that wouldn't come, begging him, the Master of Fear, for a mercy he did not have.

Oh, yes, he would beg – powerless, desperate, frightened.

And the last thing he'd see before any remaining scrap of his sanity shattered and his heart stopped by sheer fright would be him, the Scarecrow. It was going to be perfect, just perfect.

Scarecrow's laugh resounded in his cell like a death toll.