Fear Awakened [Jonathan Crane / Scarecrow]

002

Were Jonathan's life a fair and balanced story, school would have been a reprieve of sorts, an escape from the torment that comprised his home life.

He would have had friends and confidantes, peers with whom he formed meaningful interpersonal relationships the way they so often seemed to on television.

As it stood, there was never any sense of overarching cosmic justice in his life, and the hope that school could be any type of comfort zone for the young man was nothing more than a pipedream he had abandoned years before.

Within the walls of Gotham High, not unlike in his life at home, there seemed to be great sport in seeing how many punches - both metaphorical and literal - any given person could land on Jonathan in a single day.

His peers excelled brilliantly at this sport, never missing an opportunity to taunt him with names such as Johnny Scarecrow or, in a stunning display of a concept of literacy, little Ichabod Crane.

On this particular day however, Jonathan made it to his locker at lunch hour relatively unscathed and was even allowed to collect his books in peace. He was muttering to himself something sarcastic about small favors when he became keenly aware of a presence standing in his personal space.

He closed the door of his locker to reveal an unfamiliar face of a girl. She was somewhat shorter than he was with straight, dark hair and a face full of freckles that screamed her naïveté from the rooftops.

He was not immediately sure if she was friend or foe and so, purely out of self preservation, had to assume the latter.

"Can I help you?" he asked flatly, bright eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion.

"Are you Ichabod?" she asked with a genuine smile, no hint of malice or understanding in her voice.

His first impulse was rage at the question she asked of him, followed by something unnamed which settled in only when he spied the usual group of culprits a short ways behind her, pointing and snickering.

"Are you new here?" he countered, lips tightening into a stiff line. The joke, as idiotic and humorless as it was, was one those brainless buffoons repeated with every new female who failed to make it into their clique, year after year.

"Yes... Why?" she answered dubiously, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Jonathan almost felt bad for this girl, obviously oblivious to the game she'd stumbled into.

"Did they send you over here?" he asked, nodding almost imperceptibly towards where Sherry Squires and Bo Griggs stood, giggling with their friends.

New Girl nearly turned around to confirm who he was leaking about before he tugged her sleeve to stop her.

"Don't turn around. Don't be obvious."

"The blonde in the cheer uniform said I should try talking to Ichabod. That's you, isn't it?" she asked again, completely unaware of how even the mention of that name caused his blood to boil.

"Listen, they're playing a game with you. Not a particularly intelligent one, but obviously it entertains them," he explained calmly. "My name is Jonathan. Jonathan Crane, if you can understand their pun, and I'm the last person you want to be seen talking to."

Her mask of confusion melted away slowly, hurt and outrage instead taking up residence on her face as she put together how they'd attempted to use her lack of knowledge regarding the barbarically cliquey student body to their advantage.

She turned on her heel to face the chuckling group of teenagers, tiny fists balled angrily at her sides.

He was initially quite certain her sense of fury was reserved for herself, having essentially been led to strike up conversation with the resident social pariah. That was the typical response, as evidenced by the several girls Sherry and Bo had pulled the same stunt with, previously.

"You are just cruel," she snapped, pointing a finger at Sherry. "You have no right to treat him or anyone else that way."

Jonathan could scarcely believe that someone was defending him, and against the proverbial queen of the school, of all people. His stomach felt sick as he considered that she was signing her social death warrant in his honor.

"Whatever, loser," Sherry snickered, tossing her blonde hair with a smug grin as she turned to walk away. "Why don't you make out with your new boyfriend?"

Typical teenage mudslinging, no substance or originality to their insults, Jonathan noted without surprise.

Though she likely wanted to bolt immediately, New Girl turned back towards him, cheeks flushed and her dark eyes filled with remorse.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan," she apologized with a shake of her head, "I didn't know they were, y'know, making fun of you. Or of me. She seemed nice..."

He stared at her in blatant confusion. Before she'd even given him her name, she was offering up apologies. It was worth making note of the fact that no other girl on her position had ever done the same, too personally humiliated at being told to strike up conversation with awkward, gangly Johnny Scarecrow to ever get that far.

"You can go now," he told her dispassionately, having no need for her niceties. "You really don't want to be seen talking to me."

"Why? Because of idiots like that? Please," she spat venomously. He couldn't make sense of why she cared, and that puzzlement made him quite uncomfortable.

"I'm Jane," she introduced herself finally, extending her hand formally.

He examined her hand and then her eyes, which seemed to harbor no obvious ill will, but still declined to offer up his own hand.

"And I'm late for lunch," he told her simply, hoisting his messenger bag further up into his shoulder and stepping around her without so much as a second glance.

Though it seemed dreadfully impolite, he was doing her a favor. There was no reason to drag a stranger into the hell he experienced from his classmates.

After all, she was new; she still had a chance to lead a relatively satisfying high school experience.

That was something she could never have if she was seen in the halls, being chummy with Ichabod Crane.