Of Shared Brilliance

[nublet]

Aahhhhh I need to learn my liiiiines.

I'm such a procrastinater. Well, if I get kicked out of the play then I'll have lots time to write my fic, lol.

[soapbubble]

That was so interesting. You can almost feel his frustration. Hmm...wish I was applying ice to his wounded hand. *sighs*

[seonedevinian]

ah, c'mon.....nah, i guess you gotta do what you gotta do, right? i look forward to reading more, just so you know.

and soapbubble, i love your avatar!

[nublet]

The next chapter's already halfway done. I am balancing the line learning and the fic writing. ;D

Thank you again for reading.

[spikie2]

By the way Nublet, you should print you siggy onto a t-shirt or top. I think it would look pretty cool on one.

But I don't know if that would give you problems with the person who took the pictures....

[nublet]

Part Seven

Trevor Bromahn was everything Jonathan Crane was not; tall, muscular, and stupid. He had movie star good looks, and a new girlfriend every week. Jonathan was less than pleased when found out that this week's girlfriend, was Riley. Riley was the only really friend Jonathan ever had, and he certainly never thought of her as shallow, until now.

“Jon, wait up! Oh come on, don't be like this!” She was hurrying after him, hiking her book bag up on her shoulder.

“I'm going to be late for class.” Jonathan said lamely, not slowing down his pace.

“You're already late! Just stop and talk to me, please.” She caught up to him and grabbed his arm to slow him down. He shook her off and walked faster.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

“Oh, don't be like this, Jon. I hate when you're like this!” She shouted. Jonathan frowned. Everyone was already in class and her voice was echoing off the walls, and probably into the classrooms. “Trevor is a really nice guy!”

Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks, “Riley, you've hardly spoken two words to him until yesterday. His last girlfriend just dumped him, for obvious reasons. You're just next in line.” He wasn't prepared when Riley backhanded him across the face. He stared at her, eyes going wide in anger, “Be careful, Riley. You wouldn't want to hurt me. I'm so very fragile.” He mocked, then began striding away from her quickly.

“What are you talking about, Jonathan? I really don't understand you sometimes! Are you jealous, or what?” Riley shouted after him, but she didn't follow him. When he didn't answer, she turned with a grimace and started towards her classroom.

--

In the boy's bathroom, Jonathan stared into the mirror and examined his left cheek. It was a little red, but at least it wasn't a hand print. He didn't know what she had to be angry at him for. She was the one dating that dope. He wanted to tell her that she deserved better, but the fact that some of Trevor's buddies were the guys that beat on up him every week was closer to actual reason.

What hurt him the most though, was that Riley had called their friendship a sacrifice for her; that she was teased because she spent time with him, defended him, and was his friend. She had cried that she hadn't a boyfriend because either it was thought that she was dating Jonathan, or nobody wanted to date the Scarecrow's sidekick. Jonathan suspected it was more of the latter. She had never once complained to him until now, never once even hinted that their friendship was a burden to her, and then Trevor comes along, and their years of friendship mean nothing.

She was mad at him?

Jonathan sighed. He turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the cold spray. He heard the bathroom door swing open, heard the footsteps on the grimy tiled floor, but ignored the person who was approaching him. The footsteps only stopped when they were right beside him, and he shifted away uncomfortably from the person who had entered his personal space. Keeping his eyes lowered, Jonathan quickly turned off the faucet and reached for the paper towel dispenser. Fingers twisting painfully in his hair brought him to an abrupt halt.

“I haven't had a chance to say hello to you this week, Scarecrow.” Jonathan knew his voice without having to look at his face. Probably the worst of his tormentors, although it was hard to compare, Clay Walters had hated Jonathan since jr. high school. He was actually the one to be credited for Jonathan's nickname. Whenever Jonathan was assaulted, Clay was always there, either watching or doing the attacking himself. He led the rest of them, and whenever the circumstances were so horrible that they happened to be alone together, Clay would make sure Jonathan got a good beating then, too. He didn't need the others like they needed him.

“I heard your freak friend Riley's dating Trevor Bromahn.” Clay's grip in Jonathan's hair tightened as he twisted and forced him to look at him. He laughed in Jonathan's face, and Jonathan held his breath to avoid breathing in the foul stink of Clay's.

“So what, we're just friends. She can date whoever she wants.” Jonathan spat out angrily. It wasn't the truth, but he wouldn't give Clay the pleasure of hearing the actual misery it was causing him.

“I'm glad she's finally moving on from you. Now that she's dating Trevor she's not going to have time for a little freak like you. So tell me, how does it feel to lose your only friend?” Clay grinned at him, and Jonathan wanted nothing more than to wipe that slimy smirk off his face. Images flashed through his mind of Clay screaming in terror, his face contorted into an obscene expression of agony and fear. His fantasy was interrupted though, by a fist slamming into his jaw. He was propelled backwards and he felt his spine hit the edge of the sink. He stumbled away from Clay and brought his hand up to his face as if to shield it.

“I asked you a question.” Clay gritted out angrily, stalking towards Jonathan again. Jonathan shrank into himself, humiliated but knowing he couldn't fight back. Clay grabbed his hair again and spun him around, and Jonathan let out a tiny groan of pain as he slammed him up against the wall, his head colliding against it with a sickening smack, “How's it feel!” Clay yelled. Jonathan grimaced as spit splattered on his face.

“I don't feel anything,” Jonathan said, as calmly and as indifferently as he could. Clay's fist slammed into his gut, and Jonathan choked and doubled over, bringing his hands to clutch at his middle.

“Did you feel that?” Clay thundered. He stared at Jonathan, angry for a moment, and then his scorn turned into a smirk. He laughed bitterly, turned swiftly, yanked the door open, and strode out of the room.

Jonathan waited until the door slowly swung shut before sliding down the wall and sobbing quietly into his bent knees.

Poor Jonny got hit three times in this. I am so mean. Anyway, feedback? Pretty pretty please? Or are you guys bored of this?

[Niquinga]

I'm not bored of it at all. It's great.

[soapbubble]

seonedevinian said:

ah, c'mon.....nah, i guess you gotta do what you gotta do, right? i look forward to reading more, just so you know.

and soapbubble, i love your avatar!

hey thanks. And i like the story...i keep rooting for Jonathan, hoping he'll get even soon

[azina]

Aww, poor Jonathan! I felt so bad for him and seriously wanted to sic my Scarecrow on Clay. Riley was quite clueless when she was younger but I'm glad she has grown in romantic wisdom as well ... just poor Jonathan's ego was wounded. *hugs Jonathan*

Another excellent chapter. I'm glad to see you're posting on fanfiction.net too.

[spikie2]

Aww, poor Jonathan.

Great writing, I love your style!

[seonedevinian]

oh, that is sad...wow. you are good. quite good indeed.
i would love to read more, although this and Azina's story do tear at my heart a little. but it's a good sad, y'know? i'm rooting for him. and you, go nublet!

[nublet]

Sorry this chapter took forever to write. I got school and everything now...

Part Eight

Crane didn't think it could stand the strange smell and the awkward company of a taxi ride home, so he decided to walk. He had only expected to be at the park, so he hadn't brought his car, but it was only a couple blocks, and the cold air was soothing. He had been nearly sweating in Riley's apartment, his nervousness contributing along with the temperature of the room.

When he left he had half expected Riley to follow him, and almost turned back when she didn't. All it took was remembering the reason he was angry with her to keep going. The memories made him angry, not just at her, but at himself. It was no use getting angry about the numerous beatings and those who had administered them, but he was angry that he hadn't even attempted to fight back. He was physically weak, he knew that, but now he regretted not ever having a weapon. He may not have ever fought back, but he certainly wouldn't object to the idea had he had the chance, and was able to.

Sometimes he surprised himself with those kind of thoughts, but he'd been having them all his life. He had a calm, cold, exterior, but inside of him some sort of fire was burning; sometimes an ember and other times a blazing inferno. Of course he knew this about himself, but it didn't bother him too much because he could control it. They were just thoughts, after all.

He was about halfway home when he felt eyes on him. The darkness and the silence had become unnatural and eerie. He considered for a moment breaking into a sprint, but he figured whoever it was could catch him if he wanted to, no use in wasting the little energy he had left.

Crane slowed his pace and then came to a stop. Using the hand facing the street he reached into his his coat pocket and wrapped his fingers around a familiar small can, and concealed it within his clenched fist and the sleeve of his coat. He was less than surprised when a large hand covered his mouth, and an arm wrapped around his body, dragging him into the nearby alley. In an instant he was thrown against the wall with a blade pressed against his throat. The hand that wasn't holding the knife had his wrists in a bruising grip over his head. Unfortunately for his attacker, the man did not have three hands.

“Keep your hands where they are,” The man growled, pressing the blade more firmly against Crane's neck to warn him. He let go of his wrists and reached searched for his coat pockets. He pulled out his wallet, flipped it open and grinned. At the distraction the threatening position of the blade faltered slightly, and Crane, using the adrenaline rush of fear to his advantage, grabbed the man's wrist and pulled, attempting to get the blade far enough away from his neck so he could slip out of the grasp.

The man laughed at him, grinning with brown teeth, and pushed the blade back against Crane's neck, the sharp edge barely digging into his skin. Even as the blood rose in little beads on the skin of his neck, Crane grinned back. Before the man had time to look confused Crane brought the down the can and sprayed its contents into his attacker's face.

“What the-” The man choked on his words, jerking away from Crane as if it were painful to be close to him. The knife slipped from his fingers and clambered onto the ground. His body convulsed violently and his face twisted with fear. Crane stayed where he was, observing the man's loss of sanity with cold eyes and a blank expression.

--

His hands were shaking. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the shattered mirror, at his hands, and at the spray can that he'd placed on his desk. A million different thoughts and emotions ran through him.

'That felt good.'

'What have I done?'

'What's wrong with me?'

'What would Riley think?'

The negative dulled the positive but he couldn't deny the feelings of satisfaction and pride that he had overcome his enemy. He couldn't deny that he liked feeling powerful, and he couldn't deny that he wouldn't do it again if the opportunity arose.

He felt sick.

It was only an experiment, the drug. He started developing it when he first began working at Arkham. At first it was intended to be a sort of truth serum, but had turned quickly into something much more different and much more powerful. Crane knew the effects. He had test subjects, he had even tried some of his less developed experiments on himself. It wasn't enough to have permanent effects. The drug in its current form didn't even have permanent effects. He had no use for a drug of such caliber.

To Crane, the worst weapon was one that could invade your mind. The mind was the most precious thing to him, and his had been beaten down and toyed with all of his life.

It is only natural to want his enemies to know his fear, experience his pain, have a shred of understanding of what they had done to him. What better weapon was there?

--

Crane had considered not going in work the next day. His hand had bruised up and the thin cut on his neck was small but noticeable. He supposed his excuse could be that he had cut himself shaving, and as for his hand, he decided it really wasn't anyone's damned business.

In actuality he was nervous about seeing Riley. She hadn't tried to call him after he left her apartment, and now that his anger towards her had pretty much subsided, he felt a bit guilty. He was still pained by what had happened between them, and he still felt somewhat betrayed, but she'd been nothing but comforting to him last night.

By the middle of the day she had still not come into his office. He knew she was there, some of staff had seen her, a nurse actually mentioning she'd seen her down at the high security ward. So she had accepted Warren as her patient, despite however uncomfortable he might have made her in their first session. Crane still knew nothing of the session, but he told her he wouldn't try to pry the information from Warren. He hoped she would talk to him soon. Last night it seemed like he had the last word, but he was the one waiting for her

If he had expected to come crawling into his office and bare her soul to him, he was gravely mistaken. Crane had mixed feelings as drove through the giant iron gates of Arkham to head home. He wanted to speak to her but his pride kept him from contacting her, and he imagined pitifully that he'd be sitting alone in his apartment that night, glancing every so often at his cell phone.

He smirked smugly to himself when he got the call. He was still in the car, and decided it was best to head towards Riley's apartment instead of his own when he saw her name on the caller id. He answered with a simple hello but the smirk was wiped off his face when she responded.

“Dr. Crane. I need you to meet me at my apartment. As soon as you can please,” The words were spoken with calmness and professionalism, except for the last, in which Crane could hear her fear and desperation. He didn't need to ask her any questions.

“I'll be right there,” He assured her.

At her apartment building he called her room and she let him in, sounding calm, but he raced into the building as soon as the doors opened He clutched the spray can securely in his pocket as the elevator brought him to Riley's floor, and was dashing to her room as the elevator doors hissed open.

'Someone has been watching me.'

He rapped impatiently three times at her door and it opened a moment later just enough so that Riley could peek through. A hand squeezed by her that was not her own and Riley looked sadly into his eyes.

“Give him the can.” She whispered anxiously. When Crane didn't, he saw her visibly flinch and clenched her eyes shut, “Please,” She begged. Anger and fear seethed in Crane, and he reached into his pocket hesitantly.

“Come now, Dr. Crane. We wouldn't want Miss Gage here to be hurt.” The husky voice from inside the room coaxed. Riley whimpered, and she bit her bottom lip at a movement from inside that Crane couldn't see. A look of pure hatred crossed over Crane's features as he finally placed the can in the outstretched hand, which was snatched back immediately after it had obtained its prize.

The door then opened fully, and Crane wasn't quite surprised to see the man who had mugged him the previous night standing behind a terrified Riley, holding her hard against him. One hand was concealed, obviously holding a weapon to her, Crane's position in the other hand, and brown toothed grin smothered across his ugly face.

“Let's have a little chat, Dr. Crane.”

[§ilvercell]

[azina]

OH NO!! You can't leave us THERE!!

[Murchadh]

OMG this is too good......I hate cliffhangers though! Please add more soon, you can't leave it there for long!