Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

This story is part of the CATverse. You can find the story listing at freewebs. com/catverse. It takes place in arc three, directly after "April Showers" by Twinings.

The Scarecrow had a headache.

Nay, he had a migraine.

The insides of his skull felt as though they were pulsing with every pump of his heart and the sides of his head-his temples, to be specific-felt like they were going to cave in.

Mark his words, these women were going to be the death of him yet. He was going the right way for a stroke if his blood pressure kept spiking this way...

It was supposed to be an easy job.

A video store right before closing time...

A quick in and out, just long enough to get some petty cash...like an ATM but with hostages involved...

But then one of them had gotten distracted and squealed 'Oh my God!'.

Things rapidly went downhill from there.

At first he thought something was wrong. That one of the patrons of the video store had decided to take it upon themselves to play the hero, but then he spun on his heel-prepared to flay whoever had dared attempt such a thing-and found...

Well, not what he was expecting.

He was expecting something...you know...violent. Maybe one of the girls with a piece out of her bleeding all over the place...or a broken bone or...

A bruise.

A scratch.

Hell, a broken nail…

Something painful, damn it!

Not one of them on her knees clutching a video case to her chest as she rocked back and forth muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'Precious' and stroked the box tenderly.

It wasn't so much the way she was acting that concerned him-he'd long grown used to strange things happening out of the blue where these three were concerned-but the fact that both Al and The Captain looked just as puzzled as he felt was...

Terrifying?

Worrying?

Disturbing?

All three?

Techie was muttering as she rocked, holding the box as though it was the only thing that rooted her to the earth.

"Ohh...oh baby, oh you're comin' home with mama. No more cold, impersonal video store for you. No more whoring yourself out every other night to a different VCR...you're gorgeous. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous." She touched the case with trembling, almost reverent fingers as she held it in front of herself.

She was talking to an inanimate object...

Oh yeah, no question about her sanity there.

She continued to coo at the box lovingly, "You're going to live on my shelf with my others...with my others...but you'll be loved above all of them...would you like that? Would you like to come home with me to the lair?"

Crane found himself prickle involuntarily.

Surely the fact that she'd referred to the lair as 'home' during an obvious psychotic break shouldn't have bothered him.

But it did.

It downright irritated him.

"What's the matter with her?" Al asked, still in the process of forcing the store manager to fill her sack with money from the cash register.

Crane turned to look at her warily, "You mean you don't know?"

"You're the psychologist here," she answered snippily.

As the Scarecrow sent a glare in Al's direction, the Captain carefully approached Techie from behind.

"Techie?" She reached out a hand to touch the insane woman's shoulder gingerly, "Techie, you're scaring Squishy."

'Squishy' turned his glare on the Captain.

He wasn't scared.

He wasn't concerned.

He was...curious...that's all. Just curious.

He was allowed to be curious. After all, it wasn't every day that one of them had a nervous breakdown out of the blue and started talking to inanimate objects.

"Techie, sweetie," the Captain said cautiously, "What's wrong?"

"It's Evil Dead 2," Techie murmured, as though she were describing something holy and looking up at the Captain with shining eyes, "The Special Edition Director's Cut."

Whatever illness Techie caught from that box seemed to be contagious, because the Scarecrow watched with interest as both of his other henchgirls went still and their eyes took on that same shiny, dreamy look to them.

"Work shed," Al said quietly, her face spreading into a smile.

"Chainsaw," The Captain replied.

"GROOVY!" All three squealed in unison, completing some kind of secret coded message that only they understood as they dissolved into giggles.

And Crane wondered-not for the first time and certainly not for the last-whether or not they really were off their rockers.

He didn't get much time to ponder the mental health-or lack thereof-of his minions for very long though, since Techie was suddenly on her feet and then standing directly in front of him before he even had time to register the fact that she'd moved.

Still holding the video case to her chest protectively, she looked up at him with what the Captain often referred to as 'The Eyes'; when they went all big and shiny and sparkly and pleading-

Actually, on her it was quite unsettling.

While the Captain utilized 'The Eyes' on a regular basis and Al used them occasionally, Techie only did so very, very rarely.

He was glad of it too. It was rather creepy when she did it, and he always had to fight the urge to take a step back away from her.

"Can we get it?" Techie asked him in a whisper, "Please?"

He looked at her appraisingly and eyed the video case that she held to her chest so desperately.

Now one of Jonathan Crane's few weaknesses was that he was a man of science. An inquisitive nature tends to go hand in hand with that sort of thinking whether you want it to or not. To be perfectly clear, he didn't really care that Techie was acting this way-and had caused the others to act in kind with just the mere mention of this 'Evil Dead 2' thing-, but he would admit to being intrigued on a purely academic level.

"Please?" She repeated with entreaty, "Scarecrow? Jonathan? Sir?"

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch at the emphasis she put on the word 'sir' and he wondered if perhaps he'd unknowingly stepped into the twilight zone.

Respect? She's showing me...respect? What's wrong with this picture?

Crane eyed her warily, like she was some kind of serpent that might strike at him at any moment.

And then the more cunning, conniving part of his brain took over and he looked at her in a predatory fashion.

"If you swear that this will keep the three of you out my hair for the rest of the evening..."

Techie glanced at her compatriots, who looked torn about giving up their cuddling rights for the night; but after they stared wistfully at the box Techie held so tightly, they nodded.

She turned back to him, "You have my solemn oath. We won't come near you."

For a few seconds he wondered if her 'solemn' oath would be as solid as that of the Captain (which wasn't very solid at all...her resolve when it came to keeping up her end of certain bargains was about as firm as room temperature Jell-o), but at hearing the earnestness of her tone, he waved his hand dismissively.

"Fine. Take the whole store for all I care."

He realized the error he'd made with his choice of words when all three of them squealed and started snatching up video case after video case.

But he didn't think they'd take him seriously...

Then again, he should have known better.

He fully expected that the very moment they returned to the lair, their promise to leave him to his own devices for the night would be all but forgotten.

Crane was absolutely shocked however, that they stayed true to their word. They were far too engrossed with sifting through their bags of video tapes to pay him any attention at all as he skulked off to his lab.

The last he heard of them before he slammed the door and locked it was their good natured bickering over what to watch first.

"I want to watch Re-Animator."

"No, no, I say we watch Singin' In The Rain."

"Yeah but I got the trilogy."

SLAM.

And then there was silence.

Blessed, welcome, all too infrequent silence.

It took all Crane's self restraint to keep from sighing in contentment.

While living with these three wasn't nearly as torturous as he originally anticipated it to be (though he wouldn't rate it as more than 'tolerable'), the quiet times were few and far between and he relished them when he got them.

Crossing the room to one of the many tables that was set up for conducting experiments, he had to control the urge to rub his palms together in anticipation.

Finally, time to work without fear of interruption or interference from the crazies.

Methodically beginning his preparations for this latest batch of fear toxin, he worked quickly and efficiently for quite a long while.

In fact, it was such a long while that the quiet started to...

Well, it certainly didn't bother him, but after being without peace for so long, it was…unfamiliar.

But not unnerving. Most definitely not unnerving in the least.

Crane cleared his throat noisily.

Not to make certain that he still had his hearing. Surely not. That would have been absolutely preposterous.

It was just quiet.

Too quiet.

'Quick! Look behind you, the killer is right there!' quiet.

He hadn't even noticed that he was holding his breath until his lungs started to ache with protest and he gasped involuntarily.

Something must have been amiss for it to be this quiet. Every other time the girls had left him to his work, he could still hear them talking or laughing or shuffling about outside in the common area of the lair (and no matter how many times Al referred to it as such, he would never ever call it the 'Family Room'.), but there were none of the usual noises now.

Just the low hum of the television.

Something in the panic family of emotions tried to tear up through him as the possibilities for why it was suddenly so deathly quiet occurred to him.

What if-just what if-something had happened to them?

He didn't actually care what happened to them, but it would have been nice to know if he was suddenly without his brute squad for protection.

Crane's eyes went wide suddenly.

What if the Bat was the one who'd managed to silence them?

If ever there was anyone who could finally shut them up...

But surely he would have heard a commotion if that were the case...after all, they'd held up against Batman before.

Granted, they'd come back looking worse for wear, but they certainly put up a fight.

Cautiously, he took two tentative steps towards his door and strained his ears.

The melodious rise and fall of a male voice from the television, but nothing more.

He reached out, unlocked his door and gave his doorknob a careful turn, allowing himself to open the door just enough to peep out.

The room was dark, with the exception of the bluish light that flickered every now and again from the television screen.

Well, they were still there. He could see the distinct forms of two heads poking up over the back of the-

Wait a second. Two?

Where was the third of the infernal trio?

He slipped from his lab, and padded up behind them in absolute silence.

Ah. All present and accounted for.

The Captain was hanging onto a sofa cushion tightly, watching the screen and Al was at the opposite end of the sofa, idly dipping her hand into a bowl of popcorn to retrieve some. Techie was on the floor in front of the other two, knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

They still hadn't noted his presence, which intrigued him further.

After all, it wasn't often that they were in a position where he could catch them off guard.

What on Earth was so enthralling?

One of his eyebrows lifted of it's own accord as he glanced at the flickering images on the television screen.

So...his-the girls-had a thing for...well, whoever this fellow was. He'd never really paid much attention to such trivial matters as which actors caught the fancy of the general female population, so he was quite clueless about who it was that held their attention so rapt.

He did note that this man was most definitely not the type that young women typically swooned over.

Indeed, he had at least thirty years on the three who were watching his every movement so intently.

Interesting.

For the second time that evening, he cleared his throat loudly-but this time it wasn't to assure himself that he wasn't going deaf-instead, to gather the attention of his minions.

The Captain and Al both started and made little squeaking noises but Techie's response was the most violent. She screamed and was up off her place on the floor like a shot, rounding on him, chest heaving and eyes wild as soon as he made his little 'ahem' sound.

"You...you...you! YOU!" She shouted angrily, her vocabulary seemingly gone as she grabbed the sofa cushion that the Captain had been clinging to and hurled it at his head (which he dodged masterfully), "Don't EVER scare me like that again!"

"Scare?" he questioned with interest and watched her pale as the two henchgirls on the sofa started giggling uncontrollably.

"Startle!" Techie corrected loudly, glaring at her companions and trying to keep herself from blushing, "I meant startle!"

A loud peal of hysterical laughter and a noise that could only be described as 'squee' erupted from the Captain and Al, "And you said we couldn't find anything that could scare you."

"I was too...too...involved with the movie to be paying attention to Mister Walking Shadow over there sneaking up on me, so this does not count!" She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

"Admit it, you were scared," the Captain and Al teased in unison, garnering a flustered but angry look from Techie.

Crane found himself smirking against his will at her discomfort. So rare it was to see her looking so very...well, ruffled.

"I was not scared. I was startled. We've been over this before: I simply don't do fear. Now...I'm going to go make some more popcorn." She straightened herself out and said with as much dignity as humanly possible, "And in conclusion, I hate you all."

She stalked off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving three very amused housemates behind in her wake.

"We're never going to let her live that down, are we?" Al asked the Captain with a wolfish grin.

"Nope. Definitely not." The Captain turned to look at the man who'd almost terrified Techie out of her skin without even intending to, "You cut quite an imposing figure in the soft glow of the telly, Squishykins, if Ops' reaction was any indication."

He couldn't force himself to bristle at hearing the pet name. Seeing one of his tormentors terrified beyond belief was too much of an adrenaline rush to let him care.

Of course, that didn't explain how he managed to let them talk him into parking himself on the couch between them.

Whatever they had been watching before was coming to an end so he found himself automatically invited to sit through whatever was slated next.

Techie returned to the common area with a fresh bowl of popcorn and looked at him for a moment, puzzled, but shrugged and resumed her place on the floor.

Which turned out to be with her shoulders wedged between his knees.

And how was it that he wound up with the Captain and Al both plastered to his sides?

Techie cleared her throat, "Now then, if we could watch something not quite so..."

"Scary?" The Captain supplied with an innocent look that worked about as well as telling an anvil to swim.

"I was going to say dramatic," Techie answered with a long suffering sigh.

"I vote Evil Dead trilogy," Al said, snuggling her head into the Scarecrow's shoulder, "It'll be better with Squish face here to watch it with us."

"You'll protect us from the big scary evil Deadites, won't you Squishy?"

He let out a grunt and tried to extract himself from the clump of girls that he had unwittingly allowed to pile on him from all sides, "As I recall, you all agreed to leave me alone for the evening."

"Ah, but the exact wording of the deal was 'We won't come near you'," The Captain corrected, "You made the deal null and void when you came to us."

"And so Techie's solemn oath remains intact. Yay loopholes!"

"Shylocks," he muttered under his breath as he wriggled uncomfortably in the iron grip of his henchgirls.

The novelty of seeing one of them startled was wearing off, to be replaced with irritation that he had just rather effectively allowed them to trap him in their little web.

He was more irritated with himself than he was with them, because if he hadn't felt the need to look in on them, this never would have happened, but the irritation was quickly forgotten as the VCR kicked into gear and a very cheesy looking horror movie started.

It was followed by another and another and another...most of them quite amusing-in a juvenile way, of course.

By the time they had worked through most of their pile of movies, dawn had broken, and he was feeling nothing more than the need to stretch his legs after being sedentary for so very long.

The Captain had fallen asleep on his shoulder and Al the same, while Techie had her arms curled around one of his legs and was also sleeping with her head resting on his kneecap.

If it hadn't been so much trouble, he might have struggled out of their little cluster now that they weren't in any condition to protest, but as it was, he found it easier to just let his head loll back and allow his eyelids to slip shut.

And if there was a contented smile playing on his lips in those few seconds as he slipped from the realm of wakefulness to that of the land of nod, he certainly didn't acknowledge it.

In fact, he would have killed anyone who even suggested such a thing.

Wondering what happens next? Read "Modern Art" by Twinings to find out!