Fear (A Scarecrow Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty-Three

With a frown, I found myself leaving, greeted by the stares of the group of thugs still playing cards.  I smiled, hesitating before making a move.  It was either waste time trying to gather information from them, or fruitlessly questioning Jonathan.

Oddly enough, I felt more comfortable spending my time with Jonathan, walking past the group of men without another glance.  After I had made it halfway to the door, I could feel their stares fade away as they continued on with their game.

For a moment, I hesitated, opening the door slowly before stepping into the room.  Jonathan, hunched over his chemistry set and still wearing his ridiculous costume, snapped his head in my direction.  I offered him a small nervous smile before closing the door, already regretting my decision.  He watched me wander over to the chair and take a seat, watching him in turn.

"What do you want, Doctor?  Is the simple-minded company of the others not good enough for you?" He returned to mixing the contents of a beaker.

I rolled my eyes, scoffing at the comment, "No."

"Then what do you want?" He lifted up the solution to the light, staring at it intently before setting the contents down and picking up a test tube, "I'm busy."

I shifted in my chair, "Well....I took quite a few biology classes in high school and college." I bit the inside of my cheek to remain calm, trying not to fidget as he hesitated to pour the contents of the test tube in a volumetric cylinder, "Your henchmen may not understand their way around a lab, but I can.  Would you like my help?"

He sat down the equipment, his hands not leaving the table as he stared in my direction.  Again, I wished he wasn't wearing his mask so I could gauge his expression.  My stomach flipped several times while I waited for him to react, sitting on my hands as my panic grew with each passing second.

"You don't have the tolerance to my toxins.  Why do you want to help?"

I managed a laugh, feeling slightly relieved, "I thought we've been through this.  At this point, I think the only way I can help you is to actually help you with whatever you're doing.  You don't have to tell me what the toxins are for, but at least let me help in some way.  The two of us working together can produce more output than just you working alone."

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone was disbelieving, "Really?  You're serious?"

I nodded firmly, standing up from the chair to walk over to him.  My hands shook, but I forced myself to stay calm, raising an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to do?  My methods so far haven't worked, so it's time to change things up a little.  I already told you I was tired of sitting idly by and that I wanted to help."

"Fine," he handed me the test tube and the volumetric cylinder, agreeing far too easily for my liking, "You have one chance.  Mess it up and I'll make sure you live plagued by your worst fears for the rest of your life.  Measure out twenty-five milligrams of this and try not to get it on your skin."

"Are there not any gloves?" I asked, eyeing the chemicals in my hand nervously.

He motioned to the makeshift setup, "You've seen what all we have to work with.  Do you think I have any gloves or goggles lying around, Dr. Brown?"

I frowned in response, not bothering to answer as I began to carefully pour the substance.  After measuring out twenty-five milligrams, I held it out to him.  He took it and quickly glanced at it to confirm I had done the task properly.

"Do you think me incompetent?"

"No," he replied, pouring the contents of the volumetric cylinder into the beaker, "But you're fully capable of sabotage and I don't trust your intentions are what you say."

I tilted my head slightly, drawing my brows together, "Then why are you letting me help?"

He chuckled, pausing his work to look at me for a moment while he decided weather to answer or not.  I felt a cold chill run down my spine when he merrily continued, making me shift uncomfortably, wondering what he was up too.

The silence stretched on until I forgot my unease.  Oddly enough, I had forgotten that I was working with a sociopath on creating a chemical to use against Gotham.  In fact, I found myself to enjoy being busy, realizing how bored I really was without working at the Asylum, doing chores, or visiting the gym.

"Pour this into that barrel over there," Jonathan commanded, holding out a giant beaker while motioning over his shoulder to the new barrels that lined the wall.

I took it and walked over to one, opening the lid to release a wave of fumes.  Hurriedly, I dumped the contents of the beaker before slamming the lid shut, crossing the room, and setting the beaker down on the table.  I could feel sweat begin to bead my forehead as I fought the effects of the fumes, determined to maintain control this time.

"Ah," Jonathan sounded amused, looking at me.  I could feel his cold smile despite the mask, "It's probably best if you don't breathe when you open up the container."

"You warn me now?" I asked sarcastically, "Thank you for the consideration."

This only seemed to bring him more enjoyment because he chuckled, "You don't look well, Doctor."

I rubbed my face, tired of every single moment I had to spend fighting my fears because of him.  Why was I unlucky and recieved him as a patient?  I would've gladly traded him for Killer Croc or Bane at that point.  I was certain they both would've put me out of my misery instead of watching me struggle, my pain a form of sick entertainment.  All I wanted was to go home, but I couldn't do that.

"You know what," I mumbled, already turned away, "I think I should go lie down."

I could hear him chuckle again as I wandered over to the pillar in the center of the room, collapsing in an area that wasn't covered in my dried blood as the sound began to echo around the room.