This is my first fan-fic *eee*. Jonathan Crane fanfic; Crane knows he is not strong enough to destroy himself to rid the world of the Scarecrow, but what happens when he speaks to his elusive count...
Even though he seemed calm, and quite content in the silence after the storm he was actually very confused. Scarecrow, that damned being that only was supposed to haunt the inferior, uneducated mind was getting more and more control as of late and was causing Jonathan not only to face his own fears, but to lose control of himself as well.
Jonathan reflected on Scarecrow as he did now and again and how this being, this unwanted parasite had come to be. It seemed so innocent when he was a child, a little comforting voice after his mother would scream and cry about how he looked too much like the father that he never knew and beat him. Or that little voice of encouragement that told him to get up after the jocks and popular kids beat him so badly that he would have a broken arm, or a broken rib or two.
In later years, Scarecrow started to become a darker, more sinister sort of voice, convincing him to kill one of the many bullies who tormented him so.
Back then Scarecrow was just a voice that could be suppressed, and was suppressed well enough that no one who had day-to-day contact with him ever knew about the other personality. It was easy then, before Jonathan started seeing Scarecrow.
"Look what you have done you naughty boy. Won't your Mommy and Granny be mad now," Scarecrow was chuckling, sitting on a low table across from Jonathan who breathed in.
"You did this, not me," Jonathan grumbled, his usually tight and precise voice cracking just slightly as he looked up to where he thought the Scarecrow was.
Scarecrow sat exactly where Jonathan looked, like always and stared at his with black sockets instead of eyes out of the mask that Jonathan himself created to scare his patients with. Scarecrow's feet were bound in woven sacks that made it hard for him to be heard when he walked and his hands were made of the wood that his mother used on the farm to tack up this warped rendition of a scarecrow.
"Oh but Jon you did do this, your fingerprints are everywhere, not mine, I don't have them remember?" Scarecrow laughed and stood up and started to walk towards Jonathan, his stride was long and his posture confident unlike Jon who usually took smaller steps and held his head down, trying to not been seen.
"This is the last one you understand me? After tonight I'm going to get rid of you once and for all you fucking...whatever you are," Jonathan's voice showed his exhaustion from killing that man. Sure he was a bully and deserved it but once he had broken into the small dank apartment Jonathan wondered if he really needed to inflict anymore damage to this once glorious man.
"But Jonny, Jonny be reasonable. If you really wanted to get rid of me you would have years ago. Its not like you don't know how, considering you think I'm just a figment of your own mind."
Jonathan glared at the apparition, for that was all Scarecrow was anyhow, the figment of an insane, no, he was not going to admit the truth to himself. Jonathan was mentally strong, that was what he prided himself on and to admit that he was actually talking to a bare wall, or a chair was not acceptable.
Scarecrow seemed highly amused by all of this a smirk, or what Jonathan knew was a smirk was playing across the sewn section of the hood that made up its mouth.
"That's true, getting rid of you would be easy enough," Jonathan contemplated leaning back in the chair as if he was trying to trick his own mind into thinking it was more confident than it really was.
"You already tried the pills Jonny, and your little concoctions don't seem to work either," Scarecrow said with a tone of discontent. "Try something new for fuck's sake."
Jonathan cursed himself for forgetting that Scarecrow already knew everything that he was going to say and do before he could act on it.
"I am just that predicable then aren't I?" Jonathan asked the other part of himself who nodded in agreement.
"Why do you think you were hired to work at Arkham so young? You know and I know that they wanted you there because you are just as fucked up as the inmates. They probably hoped that you could connect to them in someway," Scarecrow's blank sockets stared at Jonathan who knew the truth in the words.
At 26, barely out of school with his MD Jonathan Crane was given charge of one of the most prestigious jobs a person could ever have in his field and never questioned it. Maybe he should have thought about it more, no, he had too much hubris, too much to prove to have ever thought twice on why, out of all the other more qualified people, he was chosen.
When he finally told his mother she laughed at him, told him that he was going to fuck it up somehow, like he always did. That was Mother's day over a year ago and it was the last time he ever had to hear his mother's cynical laughter again. Scarecrow made sure of that.
A cackling noise that Jonathan supposed was laughter came from Scarecrow and whimpers could be heard from the other room.
" I had to get rid of her, you know that. I have to get rid of everything that stands in between us, our goals Jonny. 'Till death do us part and all that shit," Scarecrow laughed as the realization played across Jonathan's face.
It was true, as long as he was alive Scarecrow would live, and if Scarecrow lived he would kill more and more people, everyone who ever threatened either of them, people who displayed characteristics that Scarecrow would find damning. Jonathan knew that a righteous person would kill themselves to purge the world of this evil. But Jonathan wasn't strong enough to do that, plus he had work to do.
Jonathan turned to speak to Scarecrow only to face nothing but an empty chair. He was painfully aware then that the man he thought he killed was waking up out of his terror induced fainting spell. So Jonathan grabbed the knife that laid at his side and with a sigh got up, knowing there was only one way to end this game now.
"Till death Scarecrow, then I can have peace." Jonathan said as the knife came down.