A Fistful of Fears [Jonathan & Heather]

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

The raucous thrum of the club and its music faded as Jeremiah stepped out onto the sidewalk. He set his cane to rest against the building as too leaned into the brick wall. The night was humid and every breath brought the musk of the city into his lungs. He closed his eyes only a moment before a blast of music cut into the traffic-littered silence. He nodded to the men, one of whom was carrying a bag that looked well laden. They, of course, gave him no mind or response and simply climbed into their car. Jeremiah was hardly wounded. They couldn’t have known that it was him they’d met earlier. It was his clothing and mask they now toted in that bag. They weren’t to be trusted yet, but they were getting there. After all, you had to earn trust and Jeremiah wasn’t going to give the time of day to people who were incompetent. Having an inept force to back you was poor business and dangerous. Jeremiah loved danger, but not stupidity. Stupidity would not serve his goals and he was not in the park to fail as others had before him.

He shook the pockets of his slacks before he found the pack of cigarettes he’d been looking for. He tapped out one, placed it between his lips, and then produced matches from his other pocket. The club’s logo decorated the front as he peeled it back and snapped off one of the red-headed sticks. It’s hot flame lit up and cast shadows in front of his face as he lit the end of the butt. He threw the used match to the concrete and took a few puffs watching the end glow red. He exhaled into the night and watched the grey smoke color the air. Oh the taste of tobacco and the shot of nicotine absorbing into his veins. His eyes closed in satisfaction.

It was true, the night was quiet save the noise of cars on the highway, and the bustle and whistle of a train on the suspended trestle a few blocks over. It was a soothing night, a fine transition from the adrenaline that had been pumping through him over the few hours. He could feel the weariness setting in, but it wasn’t exhaustion, more like the relaxation that came after a job completed and completed well. That reminded him—he had another task to complete that night.

A phone booth loomed at the corner.

Jeremiah took up his cane again and crossed to and into it. The phone had been ripped from its housing. He’d only wanted the privacy anyway. He pulled his phone from a back pocket and hit a number on speed dial.

“Melina speaking,”

“Is he still awake,” Jeremiah settled comfortably against the glass as he spoke to his late wife on the phone. She must have been busy if she’d not even looked at the caller ID before answering.

The silence on the other end of the line spoke for her. He knew the answer’s likelihood before she sighed. “He wanted to stay up and watch this documentary on sharks.” Jeremiah chuckled and shook his head. Of course he did. He loved watching documentaries. For a child his age, Isaiah was much more interested in the world around him than in video games or the mindless cartoons other ten year-olds watched. Then again, he supposed that was his son.

“Hey dad,” Isaiah didn’t even sound tired.

Jeremiah took a drag on his cigarette. “You didn’t forget you had school tomorrow right?”

“I did all my homework and mom double-checked it,” Jeremiah knew he could count on him to have not forgotten, but it was just something fathers did. Make sure, even if Isaiah sounded exasperated by it. Jeremiah chuckled. “I know you did. Did you spend all day inside or did you and your mom do something?”

There was a shuffle on the other end and Jeremiah could hear the television become a little quieter. “It was awesome! We went to the Gotham National History Museum. I told you about the new exhibit they had until July remember? The one about ancient sea creatures?”

Jeremiah hummed in answer. Yes, he did remember. He was glad Melina had taken him, though he’d been planning to that next week after his office was finished being rebuilt. “Sorry I’m calling so late, but I wanted to check on you before I went to sleep myself.”

Well, went home.

“You’re a worrywart. I’m fine. The show’s going to go off in thirty minutes, I promise I’ll go straight to bed.”

Jeremiah nodded. He would have kept the conversation going, even as he stared out the glass of the phone booth he saw a duo who caught his eye but he also knew the commericals were about to end. “Okay, but straight to bed afterwards. I’ll let you go back to it. Tell your mom I love her. Love you, sport.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

The call ended just as the two he’d been watching came into even more view. He wondered how long before they noticed him. Or even if they would.

He slipped his phone out of sight and continued to smoke.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

This had become a more and more common affair of theirs. He had made it a point to walk with her often, despite what was said about it. They didn’t understand and he didn’t particularly care. As they walked they’d talk about different subjects, she would do most of the talking unless she asked him a question. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d talked to her more about himself than he had to almost anyone. It was quickly becoming a situation where there was very little he wouldn’t share with her. It was just another night of them walking together and talking about the night, last night and the night before.

He wore a thin t-shirt as the month as becoming hotter and a nice pair of slacks. He didn’t look professional tonight, but he wasn’t trying to be just out on a walk. Their situation had changed yet again and they were living in a new place, not for long however. He had yet to inform her that they would soon be moving again but he knew she wouldn’t mind. It seemed as long as he was there she didn’t mind where they were.

A rare smile escaped the corner of his lips as she spoke to him again, saying something she thought was interesting from their endeavor yesterday. Yes, he supposed there might have been some humor in the way that he had displaced the mobster that tried to harass them. From his rare pleasant thoughts he looked up to see a street light illuminating the path in front of them. A lone booth was occupied by a form, probably a drunk calling his wife to come pick him up. It wasn’t until they got closer that Dr. Crane put his hand on Miss Glass stomach, directing her to stop as he did.

It was almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

The doctor was no stranger to ghosts but this one was more familiar than most. He left her standing there and went to the side of the box just as he hung up the phone. It was Dr. Arkham, or it was. It had been a while since he’d last seen him, since he’d last spoken to him. He stalked around the side of the box, taking the man in whom he had dug up from the dead. It had been so satisfying to bury him alive, only to see him rise up again. It was like fostering a phoenix to come back. Everything had went silent after that, until now.

“Dr. Arkham..” He spoke to the glass and circled around it, moving carefully passed its entry way. He assumed Heather would stay where she was or at least stay with him. He was aware of VerMillion’s history with him, but it wasn’t any reason to be concerned.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

If you'd told Heather a few years ago that this is what her life would be like now, she certainly wouldn't have believed it. She was the host of a radio show - a job with a slight claim to fame, but she suspects that's been well surpassed by how infamous she's gotten to be at this point. Not that she's quite the household name as Jon yet, but the debate over whether she's more of a criminal or a victim has made it to the public sphere since she was not merely found with Jon when he was caught but later escaped with him as well.

But that's mere icing on the cake to the difference in her day-to-day life. She used to have friends, she used to go to parties, she used to always live in quite comfortable surroundings - not luxury, but she had more income and could afford nicer things than most people her age. All of that has changed now - largely for the worse - and yet she finds that she doesn't really care very much.

After all, what she's gotten in return is Jon, and she's been getting a lot more of him lately than she'd thought possible until just recently, which has only made her desire to stay with him stronger. In fact, seeing him open up a bit has been absolute heaven compared to when he kept her so much at arms length for so long - back then she used to occasionally, though not very often, actually consider whether or not she wanted to remain with him but she hasn't for awhile now. VerMillion has, but then again her other half seems to be determined to be dissatisfied with everything at all times.

She's wearing a graphic T and a pair of trendy skinny jeans, and her hair is wrapped up underneath a baseball cap - she knows that her brightly colored hair is her most distinctive feature so she likes to at least partly hide it whenever they go on walks so that it's at least less obvious. With that taken care of, it's all too easy for them to pass as just two other people among so many uncaring Gothamites. Just a man and a young woman out for a walk, chatting... nothing to pay attention to.

And yes, she very much appreciated how Jon had taken care of that mobster. That's one of the things that she very much likes about him actually - the protectiveness. Especially since life has gotten so much more dangerous for her since she met him - she kind of needs that now. She can't say that she's very much a fan of violence, though as Jon knows her feelings about self-defense are very different - she hadn't even needed VerMillion to take over when Jon gave the man what had been coming to him.

Having been thinking about that, she's surprised when Jon is suddenly indicating that she should stop. And the expression that's come to his face is quite concerning - it's not like just anything can cause Jon to look at something like that. Looking herself, she's perhaps not as disturbed to see Dr. Arkham as Jon is, but the last time she'd seen him he'd been... well, that had been different than just happening to see him on the street. And she's immediately suspicious that this may be no accident and that Jon knew the man would be here, in spite of his reactions, as this is quite the coincidence and Jon's been known to combine business with their walks before. Then again, much stranger things have happened.

It's completely unconscious at this point that at Jon's simple direction she remains put and doesn't feel any need to move. VerMillion probably would have, but Heather's quicker to assume that Jon has good reasons for such things and she has no idea what will happen between these two men right now. So she's quite content to wait at a distance, just so long as she's close enough to watch and listen.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

The booth was cold against his back as he watched Jonathan circle the phone booth. The action reminded him of a diver in a shark cage. The predator dancing around; the diver wondering whether it was curiosity or if the shark were waiting for the right moment to attack. He couldn’t help the single chuckle that left his lips as he took one slow drag after another on his cigarette. How fitting since Isaiah was watching a shark documentary right at this moment.

“Dr. Crane,” he nodded his head before his eyes slide just perceptibly to the female still a distance away. He shook his head, but his body was humming with amusement. He straightened and reached for the door, pushing it aside as he stepped into the humid night. He brushed just by Jonathan. “I’ve no interest in you or Ms. Glass. No need to act a knight as if she needs protecting from me.” He flicked his the butt of his smoke to the ground and stepped on it, feeling the grit of the sidewalk beneath his feet as he ground it out until it was nothing more than just another discarded butt on the concrete. Then he reached for his cane.

Did Jeremiah Arkham believe in ghosts? Perhaps. He believed in memories that could wrap around the mind, cause hallucinations. He believed in guilt and rage that could move a man like puppet’s strings and push down a path of destruction. Ghosts, metaphysical and spiritual did not scare him. The ghosts of the mind could be much more lethal. His fingers curled around the head of his crutch. Time for him had been lost, regained and pieced together. Some days it felt like years since that night on the asylum grounds where he’d been buried and then unearthed, some days like only days had passed, but the effect was the same. Or at least it was now. Was he to be perturbed by Jonathan’s appearance after so long?

Was he to be afraid?

The ghosts of his mind were much more terrifying, even if the man who had circled him like a wolf had put so many of them there. He looked back to the bar’s door. It was cloudy, though lit from within like a beacon in the darkness.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…

“I know this reunion should be quite moving, but I’ll have to cut it short. The bar was just too loud and I wanted to speak to my son. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work in the morning. One can’t linger to drink spirits. They only numb anyway. They’re rather useless. Getting wasted is useless and I’ve never had any interest in getting drunk.” He grinned. “After all, do you know how many predators who would love nothing more than to have such…impressionable prey are out there,” he snickered. “Enjoy your midnight stroll.”

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane listened to him but he was wrong about him. He wasn’t worried that Miss Glass was going to be taken from him. He knew that Dr. Arkham wouldn’t be able to take her from him this time. Before she was behind locked doors and it made it easier for him to get her alone, now he wouldn’t have a chance. Not that is seemed he was interested regardless. It had become a habit to make Miss Glass keep her distance where there was a possible struggle ahead. The last time they had met like this he was ran over after all.

But it has been a long time since all of that had happened. It was like Dr. Crane was seeing a ghost at this point. The doctor before him had simply vanished for some time now. The only thing he had heard from him were rumors and whispers of accusations and strange witnesses claiming to things unexplainable. It was nothing that he hadn’t heard while he was in the asylum but outside of the asylum the rumors were even more important to pay attention to. There was always a basis of truth in every rumor, even if it was just a little bit.

Dr. Arkham seemed as if he didn’t want anything to do with them but this opportunity was almost too good to let go of and now he had him where he wanted him. Dr. Crane was on his heels quickly as he began to walk away. He motioned for Miss Glass to follow but she should have known to keep her distance at this point. He wasn’t going to leave her back there by herself. All of the times he had left her by herself out on the streets had ended up badly. He had just decided to never leave her by herself.

“I don’t find the benefit in stalking those that are too afraid to remain in control of themselves. But your son is up late…Who’s watching him?” He asked quizzically over his shoulder. The doctor quickly moved to the other side of him, remaining intent upon following. The doctor didn’t have to answer his questions and it wouldn’t matter if he did or didn’t. The doctor knew he was going to get his way by the end of the night. “You are speaking to me as if we have spoken yesterday. You have been nothing but a whisper in this town for some time now. Have you been busy with your research doctor?” he asked yet another imposing question.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

In spite of Dr. Arkham's words, especially when she sees the way that the two men are looking at each other, she greatly appreciates the fact that Jon's keeping himself well between her and the psychiatrist. Unlike her other half, Heather rather greatly dislikes the man and would like to have him nowhere near her ever again. Even if Jon hadn't told her to stay back, she'd at least have kept herself on the other side of him.

But that thought is actually secondary at the moment, because she could hardly forget what sorts of things tend to happen when these two get together. Especially that whole thing with the car - that happened before VerMillion was around to protect her from getting too traumatized. In fact, if she wasn't so busy keeping a very nervous eye on the situation she would have been proud of herself for not instantly getting freaked out enough as to require VerMillion to take over.

Still, VerMillion has certainly taken an interest in the situation, which is something that's been gradually getting more unusual. Her other half seems to spend more and more time lurking in the background as if she's hardly paying attention to anything. Right now, though? Now it's as if she's just under the surface, making what she probably thinks are clever observations about the situation. But Heather disagrees with to what degree they are clever, so she can be heard quietly muttering, "Shut up, VerMillion."

When Jon indicates that she should follow, she does so immediately. She well remembers what has happened in the past when she was left somewhere by herself in east Gotham at night, so she's not eager for a repeat either, though she assumes that she ought to keep the same wary distance. Right now she has the odd feeling that she's about to witness a train wreck but that she's helpless to prevent it. Or at least something profoundly messy is going to happen and, though she feels like she has more of an ability to influence Jon than anyone, she somehow doubts she can do anything to prevent it.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

If Jonathan though Jeremiah was even out to be correct, he was mistaken. Ms. Glass be she Heather or VerMillion required no protection from him in the slightest. He wasn’t out to take her; he’d wanted to. He had no reason to be offended by Jonathan’s thoughts on whether or not he’d be capable of it—one couldn’t be offended what they didn’t know nor what they didn’t even entertain. What had occurred between he and VerMillion all those months ago were neither here nor there. Jeremiah had not gone into the session with her intending to “get her alone” as Jonathan had put it. In fact, he’d not even been interested in VerMillion in such a way in the beginning. Of course that had changed and he’d be lying if he’d said the interest wasn’t still there, but for now he had no need or want. Besides he could easily tell that the woman following Jonathan’s orders was not VerMillion. Of course he wasn’t interested then.

The older doctor wasn’t here for a fight. He’d no plans to engage Jonathan in any sort of battle. So if there was something in his eyes that contradicted that, he wasn’t sure just how they were staring at each other. He wasn’t the threat here; if anyone decided to make this a struggle it would be younger of them.

If Jonathan was here to cause some sort of trouble, then yes, Jeremiah was strongly disinterested. The passage of time to him was irrelevant beyond that fact he’d felt more like a ghost then than one now. He may have not been able to pinpoint when the air he breathed into his lungs became fresher nor when his very soul felt lighter, but it had. Perhaps a part of himself had been left behind in the dirt of Arkham Asylum to rot and wither and this was him shedding whatever wretch he’d abandoned. Did that make him cruel? The world was a bitch. This was a dog eat dog world. Was he regal pedigree or an izzard cur? It didn’t matter any longer.

The rumors Jonathan had heard didn’t matter. What Heather thought of him didn’t matter. Be he alive, or dead, ghost or man, it didn’t matter what word of mouth said of him or what witnesses claimed. His life until that point had been nothing but expectation and now he threw it aside. And if Jonathan was after truth, he’d have to try harder to get it.

Jeremiah casually walked down the street, listening to the noise of the cane on the sidewalk. He toyed with the idea of lighting another cigarette, but then that would certainly give the impression that he had no want to interact with Jonathan or his tag-a-long. The truth was that his car was there, in fact he passed it. He’d not been interested in the bar any longer it was true, but the night was not over. He didn’t want to climb into his car either. Besides he knew Jonathan couldn’t just let him be. He didn’t smile when he heard the footsteps (not on the outside at least). He acknowledged the amusement tickling inside his chest, but said nothing. Tonight he would not be the conversationalist. Answers came with asking questions—the right ones.

In the silent night, Jeremiah took a breath and the exhale was audible. He looked over his shoulder at Jonathan first with an almost imperceptible smile and then a laugh. “Which one? I have two sons. One is old enough to take care of himself and other, well, I’d certainly hope my ex-wife is watching him. Though, our son has gotten to the age of sneaking out.” His eyes gleamed fondly. “Teenagers,” he shook his head and then changed his grip on the cane and followed Jonathan’s movement to his side. From the corner of his eye he also Heather following them.

“As for my tone with you, did you expect it to be sharp after our last encounter. I can understand why you’d expect that, but I’m actually thankful for the experience,” he informed him. “I’ve been merely clearing my head. I had some decisions to make and with those came consequences. I have been busy and I’m always conducting research. Even now.”

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Arkhams behavior wasn’t entirely what he was expecting. The doctor was usually willing to face him and take him head on in these issues. Only in the past did the doctor turn away and ignore their most glaring issue. But even now as the doctor had risen from the grave he was still changing. The doctor studied him as he spoke, taking in his air and examining how he held himself. It was clear that he had no intention of interacting with him for stopping for him. They passed several cars on the street, none of which he recognized.

It wouldn’t be unusual for Dr. Arkham to have changed cars at some point. Once you were thrown out the window and nearly run over by a vehicle it was very difficult to forget its make and model. He had no desire to have that happen again but it didn’t seem like he had any interest in the cars on the street. It’s possible that he walked there. The city was compact on this side and many people walked to and from work. But he wasn’t interested in how Dr. Arkham planned to escape him, because right now he was in control.

He took a moment to pause in thought as he spoke about his two sons and ex-wife. His family was such a new phenomenon to him, something kept secret for so long and suddenly revealed only to end in disaster. Dr. Crane wasn’t aware of half of his family so the more details revealed the more Dr. Arkham was hurting himself. He glanced back briefly to make sure Miss Glass wasn’t far behind him.

“it’s quite a city to be sneaking off into the middle of the night. You may be mistaken for someone you’re not…Get involved in something you shouldn’t. But that’s not entirely your concern with your family anymore is it? Difficult to disappear unless its completely.” He continued to question him without actually asking questions but with his last statement the subject of interest changed. “Even now…And what might be your subject of study?’ He asked just to keep him walking and talking.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out and he didn’t need him to say it. They’d both been studying each other’s habits for so long now. Each session was a multi session with multi layers. The only difference was one of the results mattered and one of them wasn’t accurate. He could get into how wrong and how terrible Dr. Arkham was at his job comparatively, but it wouldn’t have mattered now.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Settling in behind the two men while they take a deceptively peaceful walk together, Heather is careful to keep her distance. Though on the surface they seem to be getting along quite well, how long will that last? And she definitely doesn't want to get caught in the crossfire. Not that she's afraid that either man would hurt her on purpose, but accidents do happen and if the last time she saw these two together is any indication they play rough enough that some rather large accidents might result.

But she's also careful not to let herself be too far away. Yes, there's the possible safety issues that seem to come up any time that she's alone in east Gotham, but there's also a further incentive to not lagging too far behind. She wants to be close enough to hear their conversation. Not that she has any particular interest in what they're talking about, but the tone of their conversation may give her a hint about when to duck. Besides, it's not as if she's eavesdropping. Though neither of them seem to be paying any attention at all to the fact that she's present right now, she was invited by one of them to follow along so she has permission.

As she walks and listens, she finds her eyes drifting nervously around herself on their own accord. She's actually been doing extremely well from a mental health standpoint, VerMillion aside. She doesn't get as anxious as quickly as she used to, though she's still far from returning to normal. In fact, it's by sheer paranoid instinct that she starts to feel like perhaps she should be looking around and make sure that nobody's missing some important detail while they're so occupied with their conversation. You never know when someone problematic will recognize Jon while they're in public - that's always a risk even though it seems slight tonight. The darkness hides a multitude of things.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

There are two things to note about Jeremiah and the current situation. The first is in regards to the assumption that he is too involved with conversation to be giving any attention to the area and all that surrounds them. He is not too absorbed in anything not to be picking up just where he’s walking and just who or what is around them. He’s as aware of Jonathan keeping pace with him as he is of Heather walking just slightly behind them. His eyes may seem to be focused elsewhere but they see the shadows of the alleys and his ears pick up the noises of the streets. No, he’s paying attention for the same reason Heather is—partly at least—he’s not afraid of someone noticing Jonathan and deciding to have a beef. If that happened it’d be a minor irritation at best and he would like to keep things as simple and the least irritating if possible. That isn’t to say he’s not aware that Jonathan isn’t trying to get under his skin in some way, and that brings forth the second idea worth note.

The idea that Jeremiah has no intent towards interaction with Jonathan is absurd. He’s speaking rather clearly to him, is he not? And while he may be walking, conversing is rather an easy task to achieve. There is no act on Jeremiah’s part to even appear to be ignoring or not “facing” some issue between them. Yet, even if he’d known Jonathan thought that he’d have only laughed. He wasn’t here for Jonathan’s entertainment, and he especially wasn’t here for the entertainment of his female companion. There would be no action on his part to either persuade or dissuade the impression Jonathan had of him—not an intentional one at least.

He turns to Jonathan and he does stop. He regards him a moment as he ponders the situation. Had Jonathan just tried to insult him by saying they weren’t his concern anymore? Was he expecting a chokehold, to be punched? He doesn’t do either of those things.

Jeremiah merely chooses to smile at Jonathan’s final question; he notes how the air has changed. The area around them is deserted and quiet save the sound of the busy streets just a block or so over. There is a bench and Jeremiah sits down on it and leans back. “I would hope that were any of my sons to get into some sort of trouble they would know I can be reached. They know I would help them with all my power. Melina, however, she has her choice. The split was amicable, after all…I’m the one who told her I wanted the divorce. I was gone for months after you buried and then pulled me from the grave you’d given me, and you don’t wonder what happened and where I was?”

No curiosity even? The old Jeremiah would have been hurt, but this Jeremiah knows that oh yes, Jonathan is curious. Still, he continues, not waiting for the answer. “You know very well, my subject of study as never changed. I just add and subtract other things to study all the while.” He stretched his legs out and without a care lounged on the bench and waited for the conversation to continue as he knew it would.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

No, Dr. Arkham wasn't here for Dr. Cranes entertainment. Actually, he was here for the same reason he always was. Because there was an unsettled score between them, there was a price to be paid and no matter how much they both tried to satisfy it the hunger crawled up like a beast from hell, mouthing and snapping at the Earth until it devoured everything and both of them in its path. If he could have sent Dr. Arkham into the embrace of oblivion in the beginning he wouldn't be here, walking behind him and keeping Miss Glass at a distance even further behind. None of them would be in this situation. If Dr. Arkham had just done what he was supposed to from the very beginning none of this would have happened.

But it was useless thinking about what could have been….It was something that neither of them could ever have.

The quick flip around from Dr. Arkham made him stop in his tracks just a few steps away. He could feel the knotches tighten between them, each coil of the wire threatening to snap before something went wrong. There was always this tension that continued to build and build until it broke and they were caught in the middle of something that Dr. Arkham seemed to understand so little about. It was simple….It was so simple. Why couldn't he make him see?

He watched the doctor sit down and slowly Dr. Crane circled around the bench listening to him. The more he spoke about his family the more was brought to light about the skeletons closet of Dr. Arkham's darkest secrets and he knew that there were many. Dr. Crane hadn't been able to prove most of them but the absence of proof didn't mean the absence of guilt. The court system didn't seem to believe so as they sentenced him without a single body, even if they were later found due to Dr. Arkham's Lazarus raise from the depths of the Earth.

"Wonder? It was the very first question I'd asked you in the ally that day." He reminded him of that moment, without mentioning the rest of what happened. " I was unable to draw an answer from you as you were consumed by fear." He again reminded that he did indeed pose the question of where he had been and that was again why he was stalking him now. Dr. Crane had spent a long time working on his secrets and bringing them to light. Some might have called it some of the greatest distractions from his work, but to him it was something entirely different. Dr. Arkham was an important part of this bigger purpose

And by the end…He would fullfill it.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Still silent as she follows the two men and listens to them speak, when Dr. Arkham sits on a bench she moves to follow Jon at first until she realizes that he's just circling the bench. Seeing no reason why she has to do that too, she simply stops and stands there, feeling somewhat awkward. She's not even really sure what they're talking about. They both leave too much unsaid and she's not privy to enough of their past interactions to keep up with it.

Much about Jon is still a mystery to her, especially his past. But even everything he's ever done when she wasn't present is a bit of a mystery to her - he simply doesn't talk very much, and when he does he rarely brings up anything beyond the here and now. He doesn't tell her very many stories. But that's okay - she feels like she knows enough about him. Regardless of the stories he could tell her, she loves him. The only thing that she really wishes that she knew more about him was how he thinks - then perhaps she could understand him a bit better. Perhaps then she would know how to better interact with him. And in any event, it would only make her love him more to know more about him. She's not in love with the mystery, after all, she's in love with the part of him that she knows.

Folding her arms as she watches, she pulls them in close, as if cold. But it's really because she's very nervous right now, as Jon has no doubt guessed already.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

A glance at Heather, his head tipping back further, and Jeremiah shut his eyes. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw nothing, but he felt everything. He heard everything. He felt the red-head’s nervousness like its own little pulse. It was like Ventricular Fibrillation. The heart quivered, vibrated, seized but nothing happened. No blood oxygenation, just stillness; a body collapsing, hands grasping, pupils dilating in fear. No words or utterances, just quiet. Delicious quiet with the citrus taste of fear as a marinade.

Jonathan was circling him. His feet scraped against the concrete of the sidewalks. Needles caressed his skin and Jeremiah shivered at the tension winding and coiling like a pit viper or cobra. When would the hood be revealed, the fangs? When would they sink in? His lips slipped into a peaceful smile. Peaceful, gravid with secrets and truth. No shame. His brown eyes opened in the darkness and the lights of the streetlights shadowed them, dyed them until they were almost as crimson as blood. He rolled his neck and the crack of fluid being released from between the joists of his bones was audible. He followed Jonathan with his body before he reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck.

“Consumed by fear,” he asked and then hoisted Jonathan close. Jeremiah tilted his own head, brought his face close to Jonathan’s until their lips almost caress. “Or consumed by your mouth? What your kiss lacks in finesse…it makes up in passion.” He ghosted his mouth against Jonathan’s. “But if you truly want to know...” He began to lean back and let go of Jonathan.

“I died.”

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Despite his proximity circling around Dr. Arkham he kept very aware of Miss Glass and what she was doing. His focus wasn't on her but he knew that she wasn't going to wander off like a stray and staying just behind him or just enough in vision to be able to be watched was good enough. He noted the moment the doctors eye went to her that they were both brought onto the same page. His gut was still hurting from the day.

That was the perfect thing about Miss Glass and how her role in all of this played out. She stayed with him, she did as she was told and she only asked as many questions as she knew he'd answer for her. Coming back to the lab littered in bullet holes, bleeding out his eyes, ears or sides was a common occurrence. When he had entered back into Edward's apartment, barely recovered but at least restitched from his wound, Miss Glass didn't question it. She rarely questioned the state of his body unless it was bad enough and happening at the moment. At that point it was more to ask him what he needed her to do. For the most part she was used to seeing him battered and bruised from his profession.

The doctor's passive relaxation was only the calm before the coming storm. He'd dealt with the man before, this was the same man regardless of how he tried so desperately to ignore him. As he came around the next time he paused briefly in front of him. The doctor let his knees loosen and his body buckle backward. He practiced his marital art daily still, even if his recent time constraints had given him far less time. But, a miscalculation….

This wasn't someone that didn't know him. Fingers clutched around his shirt and ripped him up from the quick reflex that otherwise he would have just fallen and rolled backwards from. It was a move that Miss Glass would have seen him perform many times as he taught her how to do it. But in this case, his assailant knew him. He knew him on a level that very few did, he'd seen him, he'd allow himself to be seen by him.

His lips barely brushed against the doctors as he was jerked to his level. He almost stumbled and hunched over from the awkward position that his fingers held him at. A glaze of ice flashed in his eyes as he mentioned it aloud. It was something between them, something he didn't think had words to be said. The jerk sent him back a bit but he stilled, his eyes still locked on the doctors in front of him. One man, to bring him to the impossible, a fury that wasn't supposed to be there. He ran his fingers through his hair with his final answer.

Death…

He'd drug him from his grave before, the very same one he'd put him in. His fingers ran to his own chin and he rubbed at the line of his jaw. It was like he was waiting for impact, the fall out of the situation as he stood there still in front of him. "Death was not meant for you." He whispered and dropped his hand. His stare lifted from the doctor to Miss Glass, she wasn't going to understand what happened and he didn't have any desire to explain it to someone whom would never understand.

Only oblivion would be good enough for Dr. Arkham…And he'd drag him to the edge himself.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Watching the two men intently, Heather gives an audible gasp of surprise when she sees Jon so abruptly grabbed. Having worked with him so directly on her own fighting skills (even though the results have been rather lackluster), not to mention all the time she's seen him wrangling test subjects, she's more aware than most that it's not usual for someone to be able to just do that to Jon.

But her surprise is rather short-lived. Or, rather, it is abruptly forgotten when not just her mind but perhaps even her whole being is overtaken by an even more intense emotion: absolute shock. Did Dr. Arkham really say what she heard? Did he really mean what it sounded like he meant? Are her eyes really seeing what they're seeing, or is this some cruel trick that her mind is playing on her? No, it's very real - though her mind is cruel enough to choose this moment to bring out the memory of a certain kiss between Jon and another man...

When his eyes turn in her direction she's standing there unmoving, looking completely stunned - as if her mind has gotten stuck while attempting to understand the thoughts now within it, her lips slightly parted because there is a part of her that wants to say... something, but she's currently incapable of speech. However, that lasts for only a moment because then something happens that has never happened before. As an absolute rule, VerMillion only takes over from Heather in Jon's presence in two circumstances: if Jon directly asks for her and when Heather would otherwise have passed out from fright. The only exception, which proves the rule, was when Heather asked her to so that she could handle the syringe - and that had been an unusual situation. Now, even as Jon looks at her, the expression on her face changes completely.

---

VerMillion is a very emotional person, but raw anger is unusual for her. Normally that's her reaction only to getting hurt, especially if she doesn't consider it to be accidental. And it's not an emotion that she's really directed at Jon - the worst emotion she tends to direct at him is mere frustration.

Except for right now. Quite suddenly, the look that she's giving him expresses a certain intense rage that few people can experience quite as acutely as she can. Most people are simply too afraid of what they might do if they were to express such a feeling fully, and so they suppress it, but VerMillion does no such thing.

She moves forward, her angry, hazel eyes boring holes into his as she approaches. At first she seems to be headed directly to Jon, but at the last moment she turns aside to the man on the bench. The anger doesn't leave, but her expression shifts - she's not angry with Dr. Arkham, after all. In fact, in a gesture that seems to fully acknowledge their history together, her manner is very familiar as she leans over and kisses him - her hand coming to his cheek to both caress it and help guide her lips to his. But though her lips aren't shy, it's only a quick peck - she's in a hurry. "Thank you," she tells him, for he's the cause of the final straw - the last slight that causes her to do what she does next.

Straightening, she now redirects not just her eyes but her entire precence back at Jon, and the sheer amount of anger now radiating from such a petite person is something to behold. "Jonathan Crane, I have had it with you," she declares, her eyes once again boring into his, "How dare you go around kissing on everyone else besides us? You like us - you even said so! And Heather left the door wide open for you! And you're not taking advantage of that? It's insulting! And it makes no sense." Surprisingly, she's not talking very loudly, though her words come out with such intensity that it's difficult to notice that she isn't actually yelling.

Stepping toward Jon, she continues, "And the only thing that makes no sense at all to me is fear." Abruptly, she grabs the front of his shirt - lacking the strength to move him around against his will very much, instead she pulls herself closer to him. As close as she can - only his height in comparison to hers prevents her from bringing her eyes any closer to staring directly into his from as short of a distance as physically possible. This too is something VerMillion never does - even though she, unlike Heather, can touch him with no amount of shyness at all, her touch as always been casual - never rough. But now she's unhesitating about using every bit of strength that she has, even though that is not something she as an impressive amount of. "Are you afraid of girls, Jon?" she asks him now.

Then, her anger seems to cool a bit as she informs him that, "You are going to fix this. You and I are going to have sex right now." It's not a request, it's a statement of fact.