Fear Awakened [Jonathan Crane / Scarecrow]

010

She waited on the sidewalk for over an hour despite the bitter cold and the drizzle that remained after the storm.

There was a nagging nervousness in the pit of her stomach, both due to the relatively dangerous nature of wandering any street in Gotham alone after dark as well as Jonathan's absence.

Her mind went wild with the possibilities of what could have happened to him at the hands of that wretched old woman, all because she'd seen the two of them innocently kiss that afternoon.

It had only been a kiss, but the pure ire in that woman's tired old eyes - one would have thought she'd caught them together without a stitch of clothing.

He should have been here by now, she thought to herself, checking her watch in the glow of the street lamp for the hundredth time. Something was wrong, she could feel it.

She decided to wait another ten minutes before attempting to check out Jonathan's house as surreptitiously as possible, just to be sure be was alright.

Ten minutes rolled by in what felt like year long increments as she paced beneath the streetlight until she could no longer stand it. She made quick work of the walk to his house.

The first thing she noticed was that the Lincoln was absent from the driveway - his grandmother was not home. The crumbling Victorian home was entirely darkened, not a sound coming from inside its walls.

But there was a sound.

It was faint at first, but definitely there - a shrieking caw emenating from somewhere behind the house.

It took all of her nerve to walk towards the noise as it grew louder, her hands trembling with imaginative fear of what might be causing the ruckus.

She tried to see through the dark as she looked across the backyard of the property, the sound coming from some dilapidating structure on the edge of the field. In the moonlight, she couldn't make out what it was.

She blinked at what she saw next, not believing her eyes. Something - someone was staggering their way through the knee high grass, movements uncoordinated and jerky.

It was Jonathan, and for the first time, she understood why they might have dubbed him Scarecrow.

Without hesitation, she ran towards him, growing more horrified as his form came into clear view in the moonlight.

He was in tattered clothes, the skin that was exposed bleeding. He shuffled forward with glassy eyes, unfocused even on where he was going.

"Jonathan," she yelped, rushing to help stabilize him, slipping her arms beneath his small frame as a support structure. He leaned into her touch almost imperceptibly but shook his head.

"Jonathan isn't here right now," he rasped hatefully, his voice not at all his own.

A chill ran down her spine but she dutifully ignored it for the time being, chalking it up to being put through whatever it was that wicked woman had done to him.

"We need to get you someplace safe," she told him, staggering awkwardly towards the edge of the field with the bulk of his weight on her. He was heavier than appearances allowed, his much taller frame awkwardly draped over her.

"I'll take you to my house. It's just two blocks up," she insisted. "My mother is away for work and we can get you cleaned up there."

He silently trudged along with her, limping and bleeding the entire walk to her house. She was surprised that he was able to maintain consciousness in his state, considerably less shocked at his inability to articulate what had happened.