#when Jon full-names Eddie that just means that if he doesn’t stop whatever he’s doing he’s gonna get a dose of fear toxin
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(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)
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Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)
(Masterlist here)
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Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.
Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.
And so, that led Dr. Crane here.
He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.
(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)
Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.
Danny needed ectoplasm.
Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.
The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.
Dr. Crane is not afraid.
He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.
(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)
Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.
(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)
He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.
The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.
As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.
He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.
Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.
He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.
Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.
Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.
Right.
Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.
Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.
The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.
Hopefully this time he got the timing right.
Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.
He thinks of the letter.
Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.
Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.
Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.
Scarecrow did what he had to.
He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.
However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.
Jonathan is no longer shaking.
He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.
With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.
Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.
When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.
Success.
Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.
And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.
At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.
Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.
He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.
“Is that..?”
“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”
Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.
Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.
Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?
And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.
“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”
“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?
The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.
Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.
Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.
Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.
He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.
It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.
And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.
“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”
Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.
Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.
“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.
“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”
Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.
“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.
“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”
“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”
Edward gasps dramatically.
“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”
“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”
“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”
“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”
Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.
“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”
“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”
“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”
Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.
“Eddie.”
Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.
“A heart!”
“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”
“Eddie, stop.”
“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”
“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.
“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”
“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”
“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”
“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.
Danny’s jaw drops.
“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.
“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”
“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”
Danny chokes on air.
“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”
Edward pales.
“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.
“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”
With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.
And, as per usual, that silence does not last.
“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”
Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.
“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”
“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”
Jonathan groans.
“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”
“Come on, please?”
“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.
This boy is going to be the death of him.
“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”
Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.
The rest of the day is relatively normal.
Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.
It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.
Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.
…
Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.
The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.
He sends a quick message to Red Hood.
Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.
—
#dcxdp#dc x dp#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp fic#liminal scarecrow#Jon’s PTSD is triggered by the smell of ectoplasm because his life is a nightmare#HDJFNDNDNFKDJF#I am the master of emotional whiplash#rip Jon just trying to have some peace in this fucking house#never gonna happen king 🫡#oh also Eddie is not lying that bat can manwhore#and like half the rogues in Gotham know this from experience#and also most of the JL#and some of JL dark#btw Eddie and Jon are besties#they’re both awful but they make it work#when Jon full-names Eddie that just means that if he doesn’t stop whatever he’s doing he’s gonna get a dose of fear toxin#Eddie isn’t intimidating enough to full-name anyone so if he gets mad he just bashes whoever in the head with his cane#Jon is the living embodiment of ‘me and my girl don’t argue she bash me in the head with a rock and I walk it off like a man’#also side note I’m not doing any ships in this#because I don’t want to#they are just Like That#if you wanna read it that way though it’s completely fine#also shoutout 2 that one scriddler fic on ao3 that helped inspire that riddle LMAO
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Jonathan hates it when you call him your Spookshow Baby, but it didn’t bother him as much as it did when you said it in public. Whenever Jonathan escapes Arkham Asylum, he would spend most of his free time, or whatever was left outside his research, at your place whether you allowed it or not. He would help with the cleaning, even though he does a horrible job at where he crashed at, and does occasionally go out to grocery shop with you. This is when Jonathan usually gets the most stress in. He is already taking a risk going out into the public eye with you as it is, but your little nickname would give him away as The Scarecrow.
“What would you like for dinner, Spookshow Baby?”
“Hey, Spookshow Baby, I found those wheat things you like!”
“My poor Spookshow Baby being beaten up by the Batman.”
It was bad enough that Jonathan would get strange looks from people as it is, but with you calling him Spookshow Baby… He just wants to gas bomb the store. Maybe this is the whole ‘In a Relationship’ deal, get to be with a beautiful person who understands him, get fed when he’s in their home, have a warm bed to pass out in, and in return get to call him embarrassing names. Jonathan never thought he would be so lucky as to have you as his significant other, even when you call him Spookshow Baby. He wouldn’t mind you saying that one more time.
Jonathan sits in the REC Room with a book in his hands as Jervis beats Edward at chess for the third time in a row. Jonathan doesn’t really pay attention to Eddie’s assumptions of the small man cheating, or really reading the book in front of him. Instead the thought of you enters the Scarecrow’s mind, what are you doing right now? Do you even know what today is? Today is Jonathan’s birthday and he’s stuck spending it in Arkham with people he would rather not be around on this day. A sad sigh passes through Jonathan’s lips getting his friends’ attentions he would rather be at a Starbucks with you drinking a pumpkin spice latte.
“Geez, Jon.” Edward starts resting his head on his hand looking at Jonathan, “You look really depressed. Did they get rid of the book you like to read?”
“Up yours, Nigma.” Jonathan grumbles his shoulders hunching up to where they almost touch his ears as a thin blush travels across his cheeks. There was no way in hell that he is going to tell them that it’s his birthday and is missing a certain someone. Edward and Jervis don’t know about Jonathan being in a relationship with you, and would like to keep it that way.
“Now, now, Jonathan.” Jervis lightly scolds resetting the board. He seems more lucid today, yesterday the hatter was in full Wonderland Mode to the point of being sedated for the whole day. Jonathan knows this from how Jervis’s fiery hair is combed back rather than looking like a he had a good romp. “Edward has a point, you look rather sad today, more so on the emotional side than any given day.” That cheeky bastard. “Mind telling us?”
“No.” Jonathan immediately barks out glaring at his companions adjusting his glasses by the nose piece with his index finger. The other two look at each other in a side glance, “I’m telling you two that there is nothing wrong about today!” By God, he will get through today, plan his escape, and be done with these lunatics without anyone knowing about…
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JONNY!” Harley and The Joker scream into both his ears. A painful ringing makes Jonathan’s eyesight go blurry, but it comes back faster than his hearing. He sees Edward’s mouth move and his expression change to glee. Jervis’s overbite is now even more prominent baring a wide grin of his own. As Jonathan regains the concept of sound more inmates crowd his view and muffled 'Happy Birthday’s are becoming more clear. For some odd reason, he is half expecting them to start chanting 'Kali Ma’.
“How old are you turning?”
“We shoulda threatened the cook for a cake!”
Jonathan growls actually baring his pointed canines at the crowd, “How did you even know?”
“We read your file.” The Joker grins like a smug snake that he is. Figures, it would totally be Joker and Harley to break into Arkham’s office and read everyone’s files. Hell, they probably even change the prescriptions on the damn computer just for shits and giggles.
“Alright that’s enough!"The inmates turn to look at the Head of Security, Mr. Cash, and Dr. Jeremiah Arkham not too far behind. Jonathan sees that Arkham is standing with someone, who he can’t tell but has caused a stir if Cash is out of his box. "Crane, you have a visitor.”
Jonathan, as well as the other insane criminals, exchange confused looks. No one has ever come to visit him, on his files it clearly states that he has no known relatives in Gotham, or any that want to acknowledge that he is related to them. A smile is on Arkham’s face, this usually means that he has something planned that can be 'beneficial’ or he just got another grant for his asylum. Jonathan stands up leaving his book on the chair, giving Edward and Jervis a look. They know what that means, they won’t be able to talk about this without any sort of recreational drug present, luckily Jervis is that guy who knows a guy in their group. Jonathan is about half way there when his jaw drops. There you are with a soft smile on your face and a small cake in your hands. It is covered in the darkest brown frosting, you know him all too well to know that he is a sucker for chocolate. Nothing could ruin this moment…
“Happy birthday, Spookshow Baby.”
It grew silent, Jonathan could not believe you called him Spookshow Baby in front of everyone. All time seems to stop, he feels all color drain for his face and into the pits of his stomach. Jonathan knows it will be coming, that horrible storm that he never wanted to endure again after highschool. He wants to turn around to his fellow inmates to see their reactions, but he can already picture them. Joker and Edward probably have the same smiles on their faces, a few will think it’s cute that Jonathan is known as Spookshow Baby, and the rest will deem it as sickening sweet. To his horror, the storm hits.
“SPOOKSHOW BABY?!”
“THAT’S SO CUTE!”
“Isn’t that a Rob Zombie song?”
Jonathan’s skin blooms into color once again in an overdose of red. A long bony hand slides under his glasses and covers his eyes and forehead in embarrassment. He would give anything for a gas bomb of his toxin right about now. Cash yanks Jonathan with his hook out of the REC Room closing the laughter off by the closing of the door. You and Arkham stand before him, his gaze is averted to the ground avoiding all eye contact from anyone. You regret calling him by the nickname that you express your love for him. You knew that Jonathan really didn’t like it, but you couldn’t help to make his blush with just a simple word. Now, it will give him nothing but grief as long as he is in the asylum.
Dr. Arkham still has a smile on his face, looking between you and Jonathan, “You can have the interview room.” He informs as the group gets to walking down the hallway, “Normally, I would say that you two will have a limited time.” He gets to the door facing you again, “But take all the time you like.”
“Thank you, Dr. Arkham.” You smile at the good doctor as he allows you to enter the room. Cash pushes Jonathan lightly into the room, his head still downcast. You can’t see his eyes from the combination of his hair and his foggy glasses. He sits down in the chair on one side of the table as the door closes leaving you two alone. You inhale deeply taking the other seat gently placing the cake in the middle of the surface that is between the two of you. “Jonathan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that in front of your friends and I didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday…”
“Y/N,” Jonathan smiles peeking from under his hair, “I’m glad you came.” He reaches over the table to grasp your hand before putting your fingers to his lips. “I haven’t had company on my birthday for many years, dear.” You smile at your love going to cut the cake until he slides it over towards himself, “Oh no, pet, you’re not getting any after that little stunt.”
You laugh then stop once you realize Jonathan is being serious.
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