His Darling Assistant

Part 3: A Debt Settled

Jonathan Crane slipped his burlap mask over his head, checking that his toxin was ready to be sprayed. He peered at Joseph Sharpe from the alley behind his house. Presumably, he was back after Dr. Crane had brought his assistant here, hoping to catch her alone and do god-knows-what. The Scarecrow wouldn't allow any harm to befall her. No matter the cost.

Joseph stepped up onto the front porch and raised his hand to knock on the door when he heard a deep, raspy voice from behind him.

"What do you fear, Mr. Sharpe?"

Sharpe spun around to face the faceless man behind him, and he was struck with a whiff of chemicals. He glanced at the burlap face of his attacker and immediately looked away, heart rate rising. Maggots and beetles and worms were squirming out from every hole in the mask, and as the man raised a hand to Sharpe's head, they crawled from his sleeve onto his face, into his nose and ears and mouth. Sharpe opened his mouth to scream, but before he could, there was a sharp, ringing pain in the side of his head, and everything went dark.

+++

"Here's that file you sent for, Doctor."

Dr. Crane looked up from his work and took off his glasses as you slipped through his door and placed a patient file on his desk.

"Thank you, Doctor. How are you doing?" You hesitated to answer, taken aback by the sudden use of small talk.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking. How are you?"

"I mean how have you been since that night? Less shaken, I hope."

"Oh," you replied, recollecting the events of the night Joseph had come back, "Yes, thank you. It's strange, though, I haven't seen or heard from him since. I expect he saw I had moved on with someone else, and left me alone. I'm definitely not complaining, although I would think he would be more persistent."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Moved on? With someone else?" There was a slight smirk on Dr. Crane's face. You felt your face flush.

"Oh- um, I just meant that he probably saw me with you and assumed-"

"That we were romantically involved?" Your stomach did a backflip.

"Yes, I suppose."

Jonathan chuckled as he slipped his glasses on and flipped through the patient file you had put on his desk.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" You had not moved from his doorway.

"No, I just wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away," said Jonathan, looking up at you.

"If it's not too much trouble, would you walk me home again? I mean my place this time."

"I'd love to."

"It's just that I don't really feel safe once it gets dark and-"

"Anytime, darling. I'm glad to help." You smiled at him, relieved, and tried to hide your blush.

"Thank you, Jonathan. I owe you, big time."

+++

When Joseph Sharpe woke up, he realized his arms were crossed over his chest, in a straitjacket. He was in a padded room, with one small, square window on the door. Joseph thrashed towards the door, but was jolted back by a chain on his leg that was attached to the wall behind him. He looked up murderously as the man from last night opened the door and stepped in.

"Where am I?"

"Mr. Joseph Sharpe, welcome to Arkham Asylum."

"Asylum," Joseph repeated, "why asylum? I'm not a fucking nutter. Who are you?"

"I am Dr. Jonathan Crane, I'm in charge here. You were found writhing on the floor in an alleyway scratching at yourself and screaming about crawling bugs all over you. The woman who called said you had attacked upon seeing her, claiming they were coming from her sleeves." Joseph was silent for a moment.

"I'm not a fucking nutter," Joseph repeated, "There was a guy in a mask-"

He was cut off by a drawn-out sigh from the doctor.

"Would you like to see my mask, Mr. Sharpe?"

Joseph stared at him as he took off his glasses, opened his briefcase and pulled out the burlap hood, slipping it over his head. Joseph stepped back.

"It was you."

"Yes, Mr. Sharpe, it was me. I gave you a low dose of my fear toxin, which gave you visions of the insects."

"Why?"

"The toxin targets the amygdala, and introduces deep fear into the recipient. It gives hallucinations of the recipient's greatest fear, which, in your case, is insects."

"No, I mean why me?"

"You were loitering at my house, Mr. Sharpe. And my lovely assistant has told me all about you. Fortunately for her, she won't have you bothering her anymore."

"That bitch needs to keep her mouth shut."

Jonathan could hear his blood boiling. He lurched forward and wrapped his hand around Sharpe's throat, pushing him up against the wall.

"Say that again." The Scarecrow's voice was low and dangerous, and Joseph shirked from his gaze.

"I'm just saying, she needs to be taught a lesson on how a lady should-"

"On the contrary, Mr. Sharpe, I will be teaching you a lesson today." With his free hand, Scarecrow sprayed his toxin right into Joseph's face, watching it change into an expression of abject terror. "I've prepared a higher dose for you this time, meaning it will be a little more permanent. You will be sorry, Mr. Sharpe. And if you're not, you'll just have to rot here forever."

+++

You looked up from the files and papers you were packing for later organization on Jonathan's desk as he entered his office and closed the door behind him, smiling. It was well past your shift, and you were more than ready to go home and watch your favorite comfort movie.

"Hello there," he said, noticing you and smiling wider.

"Why the long face," you joked, noticing his jovial mood.

"I'm sorry?"

"What caused the sudden mood shift?" You remembered him being tired and slightly grumpy that morning before he went downstairs to check in with his patients.

"Oh," he said, "let's just say I settled a debt with a friend of mine."

"How nice," you smiled back at him.

"Yes, indeed," he said looking at you as if he was considering telling you something, "well then I'll just be another moment and then we can leave for the night, if that works for you."

"Oh, right!" You felt butterflies in your stomach as you remembered that you had asked him to walk you home. "Yes, that works for me. Can I help you with anything else?"

"Will you just bring those files to the archival room, thank you."

"Yes, of course," you replied as you picked up the pile from his desk.

"Before you go, I must warn you against entering the solitary ward. A certain patient has been especially violent today, and I would like to avoid him associating his bad mood with my darling assistant," he said with a coy smile.

"Dr. Crane," you said incredulously, "you shameless flirt!" He simply turned to desk and sat down, seemingly focused on his work, but smiling all the while.

As you stepped out of the elevator onto the lowest level of Arkham Asylum, where Dr. Crane kept his experimental patients, you made a wide berth around the entrance to the solitary ward, minding his words. You ignored the screams of terror coming from the room at the end with the little square window on its door, knowing that whoever was kept in there certainly deserved his fate. It was strange, though, because on the way back, you could have sworn you heard a familiar voice screaming your name, although he was too far and muffled for you to be sure, and you opted against going closer, purposefully not making anything of it. After all, when had Dr. Crane not held your best interests at heart?