They Scream and They Cry >> (Scarecrow/OC fanfiction)

Riot and Havoc.

A/N: The German spoken in this chapter may not be accurate, so please refrain from getting offended and yelling at me. Check the authors note at the end for translations. Just so you know, Heinrich Himmler was a real person during WWII and he was a serious asshole, just sayin.

Anyways, Enjoy!
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Riot's eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, and sensitive to the dim lighting. Her head no longer hurt, but the fuzzy feeling still remained.

'What happened?' She thought, trying to recall what exactly went down.

She looked down at the new clean white sheets and wondered how long she'd been out for. She still wore the ratty blood soaked clothing, and she assumed Jonathan was too polite as to undress her whilst she was unconscious.

Suddenly everything came flooding back; her excessive drinking, him yelling at her, driving away, the wreck. Everything.

She thought about how he had comforted her in the car, how he had seemed worried for once.

'He doesn't care. He just didn't want a dead girl in the back of his Audi.' The small voice in her head nagged.

It was probably right, Jonathan didn't care. Why should he? She was just some psycho chick staying in his house for no reason. But was there a reason as to why she was staying with him?

She vaguely remembered him saying something about having plans for her.

As she thought about him, Jonathan sat in the living room on his armchair, thinking about her.

He pondered if she would be okay, or if she would stay in a coma for the rest of her life. He hoped that it wasn't the latter, but he couldn't be sure. He had brought over one of his fellow colleagues from Arkham, and had him take a look at Riot's wounds.

The doctor said that she needed a blood transfusion, for she had lost a lot of blood, so they did the best they could with what little they had. Thankfully she had not died that night.

Another concern was that due to a heavy blow to her chest, she had suffered a pneumothorax, a collapsed lung, or a hemothorax, massive bleeding in the chest cavity. After closer evaluation, they were thankful to find no symptoms of either one. Certainly inserting a chest tube on a bed in a house in the suburbs would be no easy task. Luckily it hadn't come down to that.

As Jonathan pondered over the strange girl in his bed, a loud banging on his front door snapped him from his reverie. He stood from his chair, and walked to the door.

When he opened it, a tall woman, whom which looked more like a man, was standing on his doorstep. Her bright green eyes stood out against her short dark brown hair, and all he could think about was that this was probably the most gender fluid human being he had ever seen.

The young woman's face was fixed into a scowl, and he could tell that she was in no mood to play games. Her flesh was littered with tattoos giving her a look of toughness.

"Where is Riot? I know that she is here." Jonathan was shocked to hear that her voice had a thick German accent to it. Who was this strange girl and why is she banging on his door at 1:00 in the morning.

"Might I ask who you are first?" He was unsure as to whether she was a friend of Riot's or an enemy. He most certainly would not let an enemy into the house while Riot was passed out.

"Havoc Himmler. I am a friend of Riot Quinzel's and when I received word of her accident, I tracked her down." She stuck her hand out for him to shake, and he wearily took it, unsure of her.