"I'm home, Jonathan!" called Emilia a few months later. She entered the living room to see Crane hard at work at his desk over some new plans, with Lenore perched next to him.

"What's all this?" she asked, putting her arms around his neck as Lenore nuzzled her, cooing happily.

"A scheme I'm working on – fear gassing the Gotham City council," replied Crane, kissing her.

"Do all those innocent politicians deserve to be fear gassed?" asked Emilia.

"Innocent politicians?" repeated Crane, raising an eyebrow. "Don't be oxymoronic, my dear."

She giggled, kissing him. "How was your self-defense class?" he asked. "I'm so relieved you're taking them – being my wife puts you in danger, and I feel better knowing you're prepared for that."

"Yes, well, you're lucky you're worth it," she retorted, kissing his cheek. "And actually…I didn't go today," she said, casually. "I went to the hospital instead."

"The hospital?" he repeated, concerned. "What about, my darling?"

She smiled. "Just…something I suspected for a couple weeks now. A very pleasant surprise."

"What sort of pleasant surprise do you need to go to the doctor for?" asked Crane, puzzled.

She grinned, and then bent down to whisper something in his ear. He stared at her. "You're…you're sure?"

She nodded, beaming at him. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Oh, my darling…my darling, it's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet and startling Lenore, who jumped back with a squawk. Crane picked Emilia up in his arms, spinning her around. "Oh, my angel, I am the luckiest man alive!"

"Yes, you are," she agreed. "And don't you ever forget that."

"Never, my darling," he agreed. "Never, from now on. There has never been a happier man in the whole world than Jonathan Crane."

…

Several months later, the Scarecrow returned to his home. He opened the front door and removed his mask, taking the needles of fear toxin off of his hands as he called, "I'm home, my darling!"

"In the living room, Jonathan!" called back Emilia.

Crane entered the room, bending down to kiss his wife, who sat on the sofa, writing in a notebook. Lenore was perched next to her, and cooed softly, nuzzling against Crane. "How's our child today?" he whispered, placing a hand over Emilia's swollen belly.

"Active," replied Emilia. "She certainly doesn't get that from either of us."

He laughed, kissing her again. "And how's the story coming along, my love?" he asked, nodding at the notebook.

"Mmm, very well," she replied, smiling at him. "But of course it's very easy to write, being based on true events. It really doesn't take any creativity on my part."

"Are you changing the names to protect the identities of those involved?" he asked. "Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, that kind of thing?"

"I don't see why – I doubt I'll ever publish it," she replied. "But I wanted to write it anyway. It's a beautiful story, and it needs to be told. And we can read it over and over to each other when we're old and gray, surrounded by our children and grandchildren."

"You mean you want Katrina to have siblings?" asked Crane.

"Don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, but I'm not the one who has to go through the pregnancy or birth," he replied.

"Well, I'm stronger than I look, Jonathan," she replied, grinning.

"I know that, my love," he whispered, kissing her. "I would never underestimate your strength."

Emilia rubbed her belly as Crane petted Lenore. "You like Katrina, then?" she asked.

"I love it," he replied. "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow was the first book you read after we met – it seems appropriate."

"Mmm, that it does, Professor Crane," she murmured, kissing him. "If our next child is a boy, we should call him Ichabod."

"Poor boy," said Crane, dryly.

Emilia grinned at him. "I still need a title for my story," she said, flipping to the front page of the notebook. "Nothing I've come up with sounds right. Any ideas?"

Crane thought for a moment. "The Bride of the Scarecrow?" he suggested.

Emilia looked at him. "You know, as much as I love you, Jonathan Crane, I do hate you sometimes," she muttered. "I spend days and weeks agonizing over the title, and you just come up with a perfect one on the spot like that. It's simply not fair," she said, writing it down.

"Well, maybe if you read more, you'd be able to come up with snappy titles quickly too, my dear," he said, lightly.

"I've read more than you!" she retorted.

"I highly doubt that," replied Crane, grinning. "I'm older than you."

"I'm a faster reader than you," she retorted.

He scoffed. "That hardly seems likely, my love."

"Is that a challenge?" she asked. "Because I'll win that contest. We time how long it takes both of us to read the same book, and I guarantee I'll win."

"Only if we can do that in bed together," he replied.

"So we can make sure we don't cheat?" she asked. "By keeping an eye on one another?"

"Because I want to be in bed with you," he murmured, kissing her. "I would like to spend this evening reading in bed with my wife."

Emilia smiled. "It's little things like that, Jonathan Crane, that make me simply adore you," she murmured. "Most men come home eager for sex, but you just want to read in bed with your wife."

"I do," he agreed, kissing her and helping her stand up. "Of course if you're in the mood for sex later, there's no reason why we couldn't…"

"Don't ruin the moment, Jonathan, or you won't get sex later," she interrupted, putting down the notebook.

"Yes, dear," he said, replacing Lenore on her perch.

She laughed, kissing him again, and then took his hand and led him up to the bedroom. "Come on, let's go find something good to read."

The End