The Schemer

The Things That We Carry

Clara didn't stay at the Scarecrow's home for the night. She never did, and today was not an exception. As if they've had an unwritten rule, he never offered, and she never insisted. An established routine, if you want, was set. 

By the time she finally got home, tired and worn-out, the evening was already set in, enveloping Gotham in its dark embrace, painting the suburban area of the city in misty, faded colours. It was one of the reasons why Clara chose to live here, in an abandoned zone with barely a few houses nearby, void of the city hustle and noise. 

She unlocked the door, entering her house without the usual itch of mistrust and suspicion, which was following her the entire week. The woman knew that the Joker wouldn't be here right now, as they separated in a not exactly polite manner. He might turn up later in the night to murder Clara in her sleep, but right now, she was more concerned about what she should make for supper. 

The afternoon meeting with the Scarecrow had helped. It was funny at some times to think, to reflect her own life, and realize how much other people, friends actually impacted her existence. Clara always considered herself to be a somewhat loner, a rogue among people, a highly introverted person. But the reality was, the woman was rarely actually lonely, and she hardly remembered what it meant to feel emotionally alone. Yes, she did spend a lot of time on her own, it was in her nature to be alone. But not to feel alone. 

The woman opened the fridge, tooting lowly underneath her breath. She desperately needed a trip to the grocery store and butcher. Her supplies of meats were quickly disappearing, also she felt almost ashamed staring at the shy variety of vegetables. Comparing to the clown's reserves, it was rather pathetic to look at. Clara found a large fillet of trout, which she bought a few days ago from the fish market. The fish didn't have a funny smell to it, so the surgeon decided to cook it before it went bad. Pan-fried trout, with watercress, and parsley, and gorgeous capers, lemon, and some tarragon. Salt and pepper at the end, and it should be enough.

Clara met Jonathan when she was nineteen years old. When she got into Harvard, the Scarecrow had already finished his first two years. He and her grandfather had both contributed to Clara's decision to attend the prestige university, as a way to dive into a new activity and therefore get rid of old habits. Old habits that damaged her mind. Old habits that, unfortunately, were hardly solved just by changing the environment. The mentality runs much deeper than the outer layer, than the body. The mind does not change just because you change your home. 

Crane was her... Plinth. He gave her support. He criticized her ideas, forced her younger self think and analyze, ground her opinion with immovable reasoning, and then patted on the back for a thoughtful argument. He was the one who taught her the meaning of self-reflection. The value of control. The worth of knowledge. He was a teacher and a friend. A brother and a lover.

"You wanna play games?" 

SHOOT.

A dark-haired man flinches, staring at the tall man in front of him. The barrel of a gun was put against his forehead.

"You wouldn't..." A rattled sound escaped the man's mouth, eyes widened with terror.

"I WOULDN'T? You don't think I will?" Harvey Dent, standing in front of one of the Joker's thugs, looked down at him with malice. With hate. "No. I wouldn't. That's why I'm not going to leave it up to me." He took out a coin from his pocket, showing it to the sweaty man. "Head - you get to keep your head. Tails... Not so lucky. So, you want to tell me about the Joker?" The dark-haired man swallowed, staring at Gotham's White Knight. 

The trout smelled fantastic. Lemon and garlic, and the earthy aroma of the fish itself mixed together in Clara's kitchen, creating a Mediterranean atmosphere. The woman made herself a cup of white tea. In the morning, she needed her caffeine fix. The majority would go to the coffee shop or make it at home, but funnily enough, green tea had just as much caffeine as a cup of coffee. But now, in the evening, she opted for the white tea, as the woman didn't want to stay awake for the night again. She needed her beauty sleep. Clara needed her sleep to keep functioning. To maintain a clear mind.