Alright guys I'm back! Sorry it took so long but between the holidays and the final exam week slamming down like a proverbial guillotine, I have been away. However, I did read a few fanfics. Thusly inspired I brought you this little teaser. Hope you like, though I hope you remember, smidgens of plot! BTW Thomas Shiff is the guy that Dent holds hostage for a bit. The shcizophrenic, that he almost shoots, remember? So, yeah, yay for a cameo I guess. Oh yeah...I do not own them sam i am, I do not own the batman clan. They belong to Nolan yes I swear, and DC Comics...hmph so there!

Crisp blue eyes opened to face the world once more. These eyes were more intelligent than their body's current state suggested, hiding dark secrets and a sinister mind within. They were eyes that did not miss a single detail and were always thirsting for knowledge. These eyes scanned the bleak room fruitlessly for the answer that eluded him even now.

"How the hell did that psychotic bastard escape!?!"

Jonathan Crane had always had an exceptional mind. Both before and after his career he had prided himself on being ten steps ahead of his adversaries, with the exception of Batman. Batman had dodged logic and had used brute force instead. The barbarian, though possessing some smarts, the bespectacled man admitted, did not seem to be using much of it when gassing him into a panicked frenzy. No, he had certainly held no elegance then, but it did not stop him from admiring him all the same. How he wondered about the mind of Batman. The man had been beaten, poisoned, humiliated, hunted, and even bitten, but still he pursued his quest of righteousness. A man such as he must possess an iron will even more formidable than his fists. Jonathan had always wanted to see the man behind the mask, the man who seemed to be incorruptible.

Eyes.

He could feel them watching him through the small window of his cell door. He turned to see that they were only the dull doe eyes of one of the patients. Curious how certain patients were allowed freedom, but he, one of the few who could actually remember his own name, was left locked in his cell...in a straight jacket.

He turned away from the door and once again picked up the erratic trail that was Joker's escape. The madman had been in Arkham for even less time than he and had already escaped? He had worked here for quite some time, certain that he knew the entire layout of the building, and yet here he sat. Again. The first time he had been placed there by the Batman, the second time he had been...well come to think of it...the Batman had put him in the dreary mental hospital both times. He shut his eyes feeling a migraine forming. Ever since he had been poisoned it seemed that there was an underlying current to all of his thoughts. It seemed as if everything was darkened to a more hopeless shade. His escape, his career, his brilliance, all of it seemed inadequate, and the only way to find true peace was to set the carnal part of himself free.

Scarecrow.

Beneath all of the mind numbing drugs the beast was there. There was no burlap sacks to aid the illusion but the creature was still there beating fervently in his mind. The creature railed against all logic only wanting to taste fear.

A flicker of motion moved by the door and Jonathan turned to see who had walked by again. These eyes were not the ones that had appeared last time. He noted that they were flat and grey. They were intelligent but had an air of sickness to them. He was fascinated by these eyes, having not seen eyes this expressive in a long time. He wriggled a bit under his restraints turning to face the door. After a few moments he heard a gargled scream and a splash. Flecks of blood tapped the plexiglass and he heard a dull thump. After a few shuffling steps a siren was heard throughout the facility and there was no denying that there was something amiss in the dismal asylum.

His door opened with an audible click, one he had gotten used to hearing only three times a day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The door widened and spouted forth a man of such vibrant colors that Jonathan had to close his eyes. Purple, green, white, red, a mass of color in his world of white made his brain twinge in pain.

"I, uh, told the Bat that this place was gonna go soon, and I am," the deranged clown said licking blood red lips sensuously," a man of my word."

The clown skipped excitedly over to him and began to unbuckle various straps. Jonathan watched in awe as sure fingers set him free. He couldn't even think to move because-

"You, uh, gonna sit there pretty boy?"

"What? No, I am not actually. I was just wondering about the nature of your escape."

The clown rolled his eyes and hauled the thinner man to his feet. "Wonder about that later. Unless you, ah, want to get blown up." He grinned wickedly, but Jonathan noted that the smile did not reach the other man's eyes. They remained just as cold as ever and he could not help but shiver beneath his sardonic gaze. He let the clown lead him out of Arkham the way a slightly upset mother would lead her child. Wiry fingers clenched possessively around his arm almost painfully dragging him down corridors. It was strange that there didn't seem to be any sign of the staff around. Surely they would be here, checking on patients? As they entered the lobby he understood why the Joker was in such a hurry. One of the patients was holding what appeared to be a detonator. The frightened staff were sitting knees up on the floor arms and feet bound. Some of them were crying almost certain that they would not escape their fate. Others seemed to be praying, their lips moving silently. And then he saw one of his most favorite looks, a glassy stare. Ah, how refreshing their fear was. Looking again at the patient he realized he knew the man, treated him before actually.

"You have ­Thomas Schiff holding the detonator!?!"

"Relax, pretty boy he won't let go. Isn't that right,Tommy?"

The man nodded his head eagerly and stared down the staff a few giggles escaping his lips. The Joker continued to lead Jonathan to the door eager to get out and watch his handiwork unfold. The schizophrenic shuffled out of the door after them still clutching the detonator like a junkie with a bag of heroin. When they were a good ways away from the building Joker looked to Thomas and nodded. The man eagerly clicked the button and Jonathan braced himself for the ear drum shattering blast.

Nothing happened.

Joker growled angrily and Jonathan heard a gruff laugh come from behind him.

"You didn't think that I would be keeping an eye on the place?"

Jonathan froze knowing the voice immediately. It had haunted his nightmares for months and he loathed hearing it again. It meant that he was sure to get hurt and put back in a small padded cell. He tried to run but the Joker gripped his arm more firmly bruising his skin.

"Just had to fuck everything up, Bat?"

Batman smirked as he grabbed Thomas and led him back to Arkham. Jonathan shivered again wondering why the man had not taken him or Joker back to Arkham. It was evident that they had both committed serious crimes and were no closer to reform than before. Why leave them be? He looked away from the now empty space that Batman had occupied to Joker.

"He did not even attempt to apprehend us. Why?"

"We've, uh, managed to find a way to, ah, coexissst."

Crane pushed up his glasses a little further on his nose. So the Batman had stopped trying to be the hero and was instead making deals with criminals, psychotic ones, at that. The way the news had portrayed the battle between Joker and Batman months before, it seemed that the two were completely against each other. Joker had dominated Batman at every turn, taken away loyal friends, and done everything in his power to destroy the lives in Gotham. He very nearly succeeded. If anything, Jonathan thought further, Batman should be willing to kill Joker, not let him go. Something must have happened that had changed the relationship between the two, but what?

"What's on your mind, pretty boy?"

"I want to know why he no longer sees us as a threat. I'm certain that the two of you have reached some sort of agreement, but how? To what purpose? Batman, by all rights and logic, should hate you, and yet, he let us both continue on our merry escape."

"Oh, that. We're having mind blowing sexssss."

Jonathan started choke and doubled over. 'What!' Even the Scarecrow in him had blanched. A heavy thwap landed on his back helping him to recover. After the brief choking he remained bent over hands on his knees. He noticed angrily that his eyes were watering. He stood, took off his glasses and wiped away the moisture.

"I'm not gay if that's what you're thinkin'."

"No, that is not what I was thinking. You and Batman are..."

"F-U-C-K-I-N-G. We're fucking pretty boy. You know, umm, we take our clothes off one of us bends over an-"

"I know what fucking means! I just want to know why?!?"

"You want to know, why, ah, people fuck?"

"You are incorrigible!"

"I try. Now come on before the cops get here. And you don't want to get fucked by them."

"Agreed."

---------------------------------------------

Jonathan sniffed at the surroundings and briefly wondered if he wasn't better off at Arkham. they may not have treated him with the dignity he deserved but at least their facilities were sanitary. It was a small warehouse near Gotham's seedier docks. It was filled with several hundred crates, large brown ones that were stacked one on top of the other. There was an area, Jonathan noticed, that seemed to be cleared away. Amidst the seemingly tangible layer of dust was there really-

"I refuse!"

"Eh," the Joker said nonchalantly as he began removing his jacket.

"I have lived in less than admirable conditions, I admit. This, on the other hand, is ridiculous!"

"Aw, thought it was a bit betterrrr than a cell."

Joker turned suddenly and grabbed Jonathan by the collar of his hideous traffic cone colored jumpsuit. The smaller man tensed in his arms suddenly going from antagonizing to meek in the blink of an eye. Scarred lips widened into a sick grin.

"Uhh, think the Bat will like my present?"

Jonathan sniffed, his glasses shifting into a precarious position at the end of his nose.

"Wh-what present?"

"You."