SwordStitcher-I make an effort to call him one when we meet. After all, what kind of man ties a girl to a pole and then just walks away? Rope. Bedposts. Not the same. At all. Scarecrow, just...no.

Just-Me-and-My-Brain-There's my luck for you. Sorry for being knocked out. You scared me half to death! You scared me when I woke up, with all that blood on your shirt. I. Was. Worried. Still.

He's not sure how he got here. One minute there was a blinding flash and a horrible boom! and then…nothing. Well, nothing for about five minutes. Then he became aware that his head ached, his stomach hurt, and that Kitty was lying a few feet away from him, not moving.

He must have walked here, but he doesn't remember that. He doesn't really remember anything leading up to a few minutes ago.

They said she'd be fine. He doesn't really believe them-they have every reason to lie to him. Besides, if she was going to be fine, she'd have woken up and told him so.

"Mr. Crane?" It's not worth it to correct the girl. "Did you want a cup of coffee?"

Coffee…coffee sounds okay.

"Yes."

She leaves and a few minutes later-or is it half an hour later?-she comes back with a Styrofoam cup.

"She'll be okay." He's not so sure of that. "Doctor Murphy wants to look at you…"

"Send him in and then go away."

She hands him the cup-her hands are shaking, good-and leaves. He slumps forward, inhaling the smell of burnt coffee. Ugh. Just like Arkham's.

"Kitty?"

She doesn't answer and he takes a sip. Is this drugged? It had better not be drugged, or there'll be hell to pay for it.

"Dr. Crane?" That's better. "I'd like to take a look at you. May I?"

He looks up at the man, appraising him. He doesn't seem dangerous. Besides, he has one last canister up his sleeve.

"You may."

"Okay." He comes in, hands held a little ways away from his coat, and sits down across from Jonathan. "How are you feeling?"

They are not going to do the social niceties.

"Never you mind. Just get this over with and get out."

Murphy nods and bites his lip.

"I'm going to need you to unbutton your shirt so I can look at those."

His fingers are shaky and it takes him a minute to manage the buttons. Murphy winces and leans over to look at the wounds in his stomach. Now that he thinks about it, they really do hurt.

"These will need stitches."

"I'm not moving." He might be able to manage that himself. He's given himself stitches before, but they usually turned out messy. "You can do that in here, or you can go."

"Dr. Crane…"

"Then get out."

Murphy leaves and Jonathan sets his cup down. After a few minutes, he pulls his chair closer to the bed and rests his upper body across it. Ohh, he's exhausted and sore. Why won't she wake up?

"Kitty?"

She doesn't answer and he drops his head. This has got to be the longest night of his life.

He must have drifted off after they gave him stitches, because he comes to with a warm weight on his head.

"Kitty?"

"Hey, love."

She's still loopy, and he has no intention of letting her do anything for the next week or four, but she's awake. She's awake.

"Kitty." he mumbles again. She rubs his head and he purrs. Warm. Safe. She's okay. "How are you feeling?"

"M'okay, love." He sighs and closes his eyes. Once the drugs wear off, they'll go home.

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

That's good enough for him.

THE END