The question that Nothing is What it Seems asked about Lisbourne got me thinking; I never told you how Lisbourne and her other personalities knew each other. And since I wasn’t going to explain it fully in the story, I’ll tell what’s needed here:

When she was first being treated, she didn’t know anything and refused treatment –hypnosis and stuff-, and soon they had to tell her and gain her trust somehow. (If you watched the 2007 remake of “Sybil”, you can see that I’m inspired by it : D) But unlike other people who would deny it and do everything to be well again, weirdly, she fully accepted the others, even somehow started to communicate with them. (Bare with me).

So there you have it. :D I hope things are cleared now.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Jonathan Crane, Batman and the surname Weyland. But I do own Lisbourne, her other personalities, and any other character that you can guess. You know the rest.

Story, luvvies. :D

Lisbourne’s POV (1st person)

I don’t know exactly how, but my last sentence had caught him off guard.

He was staring at me, wide eyed. Not saying anything. Not asking me why, like Atelier had done. Not mocking my statement, like the problematic shrink I had before Atelier. Not doing anything. I raised my eyebrows, surprised for the first time. What was his bloody problem? Besides, it was the first time I –or the others, as they whispered silently in my ear- had seen an expression on his ice cold, frighteningly calm face.

After a minute of silence, he snapped out of his trance.

He cleared his throat, and regained his calm expression. “May I ask you, why?” He asked.

Just as I thought. I was almost starting to think that something was wrong with him.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I answered, smiling. “I was almost starting to think that you sprained a muscle or something.”

He merely tilted his head. But he seemed more interested in my upcoming answer of his question. He kept waiting, and we looked at each other for a mere second. His eyes were burning me with demanding expectation. I smiled, and continued.

“You know how Scarecrows are?” I asked. “What their job is?”

“Yes,” he answered. “They’re supposed to scare the crows at the field.” He stated, his voice rather confident, but his face remaining the same.

“That’s the reason I pity them.” I answered, smirking still. “If you don’t get it, then think about it. You said it yourself,” I gestured him with my hand, “They’re supposed to. But they don’t.” I chuckled. “At first they do, but when the crows realize that he’s a stuffed sack, he’s at no use anymore.” I tilted my head. “And they throw him away.”

He just looked at me, dumbstruck. I guess he hadn’t expected this answer from me. He was probably waiting for a childhood grudge, or a phobia or something. Like an old memory. But who did he think he was, expecting things for me?!

After a minute, he got up. Although his face was still emotionless, I could somehow sense uneasiness starting to spread. It looked like he was going to leave, but he looked at me another time, and then sat down again.

“So,” he started, building up a sentence. “Let’s talk about these ‘phobias’ of yours.” He looked at me, waiting for an answer.

I was surprised how he had jumped to a complete different topic just like that. He hadn’t stayed long on the scarecrow topic, hadn’t tried to dig in deeper. I had started to think that he had an issue with scarecrows or something when he called my name.

“Huh?” I answered, returning to the real world.

“Aren’t you going to tell me your answer?” He asked. “About your phobias?”

I looked at him, raising my eyebrows. Did I have phobias? I had fears, that was right, but phobias?

“I don’t suppose I have phobias.” I replied, leaning on my right hand, looking at the ceiling and thinking hard. “I was afraid of the dark when I was 2…but now I’m really fond of it…And I have a fear of drowning, but it’s a choice about death styles, you know?” I started to explain, without waiting for him to request from me to. “You know, if I were to die, my last choice would be to die by drowning.” I tilted my head. “Think about it…Your last minutes, water filling your lungs… You struggle for a final inhale, but nothing’s coming but water…You won’t even have the time to enjoy your last seconds on Earth. Like you couldn’t be able to find the time watch as your whole life crosses in front of your eyes because you’re struggling with water.”

His expression didn’t show anything like Atelier’s did. “Reasonable.” Was all he said. It was impossible to make a guess. Oh, he was good.

Time passed, him asking questions, me answering, him taking down notes. I was starting to get irritated. Just the questions? No discussing at all? And she had thought well about this guy! He turned out to be pretty boring as the others.

Soon he was finished. He put down the pencil and looked at me. “Do you have any questions?” He asked suddenly. I was surprised. But I shouldn’t have been, I probably had a wondering expression on and my eyes were probably gleaming with curiosity, like it always would be when I got bored.

“Yes, I do have one, actually.” I said. He had learned everything about me, but there was only one thing I wondered about him.

“Ask it.” He encouraged me, waiting for my question, preparing himself for scientific explanations or simple sentences.

Seeing him getting so bulked-up, I brought up the conversation earlier. “The scarecrows.” I said, smiling. It wasn’t a question at first, just a statement.

He raised an eyebrow. “What about them?” he asked, folding her hands on the table.

“Why were you so baffled when I said I pitied them?” I explained with a tempting voice, folding my hands as well but supporting my head with them. “What caught you so off guard that it managed to crack your stone-cold expression?”

He didn’t reply at first. Just looked at me. Probably trying to come up with a smart reply. I smirked. He was good, but I was better.

After mere seconds that seemed like hours, he answered. “It’s the first time that I’ve heard that someone pitied the scarecrows.” He tilted his head.

“Something like that shouldn’t catch you off guard.” I demanded. “Anyway, so you like scarecrows, I suppose.”

“I don’t have any problem with them.” He said, a little too quickly.

“Alright then.” I said. We stayed like that for at least a minute. “But having no problem with them doesn’t change the fact that they’re pitiful.” I suddenly said.

Before he could reply—I wasn’t even sure if he would reply, a guard barged in. “Dr. Crane, there’s someone who wants to see you.” He said, talking rapidly, and out of breath.

“Who?” Crane asked, getting up.

The guard seemed uncomfortable. He glanced at me, then Crane again. “Someone.” He replied, not sure of what to say. He glanced back at me, and I returned his gaze with a devilish, cat-like smirk of my own, deeply staring into his eyes. The guard quickly moved his eyes away, looking at Crane again.

“Alright. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” He said suddenly, rushing to the table, stuffing his stuff into his briefcase.

I had discovered something about him. He had an issue with Scarecrows. And since it seemed like it was hard to find a soft spot on this creature, I decided to fully use it to my advantage.

Everyone’s POV (3rd person)

Lisbourne had started to mumble a familiar song while he packed. He did not stop to figure out which one. Only when he was at the door, he realized that the song was insanely familiar. He stopped, just for a minute, to make out what she was saying.

Seeing him standing by, Lisbourne volumed up her voice a little bit. “Sometimes, the jail can’t chain the cell,

And the rain’s too plain to tell,”

Crane frowned. He now remembered it.

“All alone by a barren well,

The Scarecrow’s only scaring himself.”

Crane shut the door quickly, and headed to his office with quick paces.

Lisbourne’s smirk grew wider. She had gotten the effect she had wanted.

The guard looked at the door, eyebrows raised. Then the insane woman residing before his eyes. With complete bafflement, he gestured her to get up. “Come on, Miss Weyland, I need to take you to your cell.” He hadn’t understood a single thing.

“As you wish.” Lisbourne got up, and let herself to be led by the fooled guard to her sweet, little cell.

A/N: Some of you may know the song. :D It’s “Scarecrow” by Beck. Savour it, remember it, and love it with all your heart! Seriously, remember this song, ok?