"We got another tape." Jim reported a month later. The acetone had been collected-over a hundred shipments had been hit. Of Kitty Richardson, there was no sign. Not here, not in Georgia…but at least nobody else was dying.

"Great."

"You'll want to see this."

"What's on it?"

Gordon shook his head.

"I don't know if you'll be happy or not."

He put it in. The image came into focus and he felt a familiar exhaustion settle on his shoulders.

Jonathan Crane was sitting in the leather chair, Richardson's arms resting loosely across his shoulders. He looked the same as usual-pale and thin and exhausted, if not a little ill.

"Hello, Bats."

Dear God.

"Didn't think you'd see me again, did you?" He gave the camera a half-smile and let his head drop to the side. "Sorry to say, I have a talent for not dying."

"Lucky for you." Richardson said shortly. Crane chuckled and brought one of his arms up to wind around her waist.

"Indeed, lucky for you. Although I can't really blame you-I'm sure you've spent more than a few sleepless nights since my…presumed demise."

Humph.

"It's all right to admit it. It makes you human. And it amuses me." It was a shame he couldn't wipe that smug smirk off his face through the screen. "Did you like the acetone? It's a very special batch in there, so you had better appreciate it. The first few attempts resulted in some relative of the Molotov cocktail."

He did not appreciate it. He would appreciate none of Crane's little formulas.

"Stop scowling, Bats, your face will stick that way. Although…it might help us find who you are under there. Besides, you should be happy to see me. One less death on your conscience."

Was it really worth it?

"I suppose you're wondering where I've been." Not really. "The answer is simple-recovering from injuries sustained in my last encounter with you. You should be grateful nothing was permanent." He was not grateful. It was a shame he wasn't paralyzed. "But enough talk. I'm tired and would like to go back to bed now. We'll talk again, don't worry. But Batman…" He sat up a bit. "I might not be so forgiving the next time you leave me for dead."

The camera clicked off.

He kicked the door open and found an empty room. They'd been here, all right-there was the leather chair, the bookshelf, and a letter written in Crane's horrible doctor writing.

Dear Batman,

Sorry to cut and run like this, but Arkham really isn't conducive to my health right now. I won't be up to much for a while-thanks to you, I came out of that with several injuries, one of which became infected. I hold you entirely responsible for anything I may have said in my delirium that could be used against me.

If you've got half a brain under that cowl, you'll do something productive rather than chase me. I hear the clown broke out again…for that matter, I hear Nygma's got some erotica writer in his sights. Wrote some VERY unflattering prose, I understand. Wonder if there's anything about you on the market…?

Farewell, Bats. Between you and me (and Gordon, I suppose, since you'll certainly show this to him), you really ought to be grateful nothing happened to me. I seem to recall Kitty having some interesting…ideas…of what to do to you if I failed to survive. Take care of me-I'm all that stands between you and a Saw-esque demise.

In ever-decreasing fondness,

Jonathan Crane

'All that stands between you and a Saw-esque demise'? Crane really did have a high opinion of himself.

He scrunched the note and swore.

THE END

AN: You know how I said this and 'Dead' are in two different universes? I lied.

I'm disappointed. You do realise that Gotham would be in flames if something happened to me? Damn right. What are you doing-get off! I'm tired and you're comfy. Stop squirmin'. This is going to need more than a random victim. When you're less broken. Maybe an orphanage. You're cute when you're worried about your image. And a senior home. Night, love.

Johanna Crane-That one I'll take credit for. But you really should have seen Jonathan in that red wig and those goggles! I wish I had a picture. I told you that you'd get caught. But you didn't listen to me, did you? I didn't not listen, I just scoffed. You did that, all right. You're lucky he didn't throw you off the roof! Oh, stop fussing. I lived. Fortunately for him.

Christineoftheopera-Have you met Jervis? You might be his type... Kitty, what have we discussed about matchmaking? That you think it's silly and that I don't. No, that it's dangerous and never goes well! Don't be ridiculous, love. It always goes well. Seriously, darling, could be interesting. Might be fun to see who kills who... Stay out of it.

Just-Me-and-My-Brain-I always thought it might be a threat of punishment. 'If you do an ugly manicure, you could catch on fire.' But they never do...and I see such tacky things walking around. But I think a few people will be embracing the no-polish look, for a while at least, so there's something. I'll just stay out of this. It's for the best. You still don't know the difference between 'red' and 'brick red'. How many reds do you need? A few.