Hey guys this fic takes place in the Nolanverse which will be obvious once Joker comes into the story. Anyway I hope you guys like this and please review!


Jonathon Crane stumbled through the dark alley way, he could feel his sticky blood running down his left leg. His recent fight with the Batman had gotten ugly rather quick. It was as if Batman was taking all of his anger out on his own personal Scarecrow punching bag. Somehow he had managed to escape; he wasn't thinking at all, he just let his feet carry his battered body where they pleased.

The injured doctor gasped as he felt his knees buckle and he stumbled and fell to the ground in an unceremonious heap. Jonathon Crane had taught himself not to cry under any circumstances but when he had automatically put his hands out to protect him from the fall, his three broken fingers on his right hand protested and he bite his tongue so hard to keep from screaming, he felt blood pour into his mouth.

Gritting his teeth in defiance of his own pain, he pushed himself off the littered alleyway floor. He refused to lay bleeding and crying in an alley way like a lost child. He was the Scarecrow, he brought nightmares never thought of to the streets of Gotham. He wouldn't be brought down so easily. His body was heavy and sticky with sweat and blood but he carried on, ignoring the pain racking his body. He was almost at the end of the alley, he could see the bright city lights and cars whizzing by.

He knew he needed to find a safe place to take a look at his wounds and splint his bones. Looking up at the two buildings flanking him he saw they were both boarded up and dark. He saw a side door close to the mouth of the alley and he trudged on.

He managed to reach the door and was relieved to find it unlocked. Making his way inside the dark and musty building he found himself at the end of a long hallway. He only had enough energy left in him to make it to the first door. Flinging the door open he stumbled inside, slamming the door behind him. The room was pitch black and cold. Pressing his back against the smooth wall next to the door he slid down slowly, his body grateful to be resting at last.

Crane reached to the waistband of his pants and wrapped his hand around his pistol as he heard a noise come from the other side of the pitch black room.

Drawing his gun slowly he called out as calmly as he could; "Who's there?" he was given no reply. "Show yourself," he said irately. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the homeless or a gang of thugs. He wished he hadn't lost his precious mask in the fight with Batman because if it was just homeless or thugs they would know who he was immediately and let him alone.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the dear Dr. Crane, hiding from headless horsemen I see," he heard a cold voice say before laughter filled the dark void.

He knew who the laugh belonged to; he heard it many times when he was stuck in Arkham. "Joker," Crane said, placing his finger on the trigger of his gun.

"Right you are Scary Mary," Joker laughed. Crane heard slow foot steps coming towards him. He wasn't sure what to do. The room was too dark for him to get off a clear shot at the clown but if he didn't do something quickly he would surely die. Joker didn't care about who he killed; it didn't matter if it was the Batman or his own mother.

"How about some light hmm, darkness is so depressing," Joker said and Crane hid his eyes as a gas lamp was lit and the room was filled with a low glow.

Joker laughed as he saw the man in front of him. Crane wore a suit as usual; Joker figured he was still trying to play doctor. The other man looked up at him with a venomous glare and Joker chuckled as he set the lamp down.

"Much better," Joker said as he crouched down to Crane's level. "So what brings you to my humble abode?"

Crane didn't answer, just continued to glare and point his gun at the clown. Looking the Joker over he noticed the clown was injured as well, his violet shirt had a tear in it and Crane could see the deep cut between the spaces in fabric. He had also noticed the awkward way Joker had been walking.

"Not talkative tonight are you?" Joker said. Before Crane had a chance to react Joker had slammed his head to the wall, thrown his gun to the side and had him pinned by the neck. The young doctor felt his world spin and his vision get fuzzy as the grip around his neck cut off more of his air supply.

He felt cold steel run gently across his cheek. "You wanna know how I got these scars doc?"

Crane couldn't answer as he felt the blade enter his mouth and press softly against the edge of his lips. For some reason he tried to concentrate on Joker's story but found that the loss of both air and blood had him spinning down into darkness.

Joker laughed as he watched Crane pass out as he told his story. Removing the blade from the other man's mouth he began to laugh even harder. He couldn't believe that the man who loved fear so much would pass out scared because of a little humble clown.

Looking back at Dr. Jonathon Crane, the Joker noticed something he hadn't before, blood and lots of it. Joker frowned, Crane had lost blood and that's why he had passed out.

"How disappointing," Joker mumbled. The clown stood and was about to make his way back to his make-shift bed and let the scarecrow bleed to death but something stopped him. He turned and looked down at the man one more time and decided to do something crazy.