Disclaimer: I do not own Batman in any form, unfortunately. And since I'm not sure I ever actually gave credit...

The Purple-Covered Notebook was inspired by the story "Jangletown" in The Further Adventures of the Joker. Mine was the upbeat version, believe it or not. The Wide-Ruled Notebook and The New Purple Notebook were inspired by "The Sound of One Hand Clapping" in The Further Adventures of Batman. Actually, the whole series was inspired by both stories, as well as much of the Joker/Harley interaction in the animated series, but you know what I'm saying. These stories were never intended to be true Joker Romance of Fluffy Clown Doom. And Liss seems to be seeing that more and more as the series progresses, but who's to say if she'll ever really get over that disturbing old infatuation, as wrong as even she knows it is.

As for Lexy and the Scarecrow, their rather complicated relationship was begun in Night of the Scarecrow, chapter three of the story begun in A Savage Pantsing. I lurve tying this together.

By the way, this takes place immediately after The Mildewed Notebook, and about six years after Night of the Scarecrow. Yays, enjoy.

Another Notebook

Or

Really…Just Another Notebook

Dear Jonathan,

I really miss you.

I got married. I sent you a letter, but I don't know if you ever got it. I don't know if what I really wanted was for you to give me away, or to stop me from making such a stupid mistake. It wasn't a good marriage. He wasn't a good man.

It's funny, I didn't really wake up and smell the coffee until the last time you escaped Arkham. You were all over the news. I couldn't stop thinking about you.

I realized how much I hate this normal life you wanted for me. I realized I was tired of living in fear.

So the next time he hit me, I shot him. And the fear just went away.

He's still alive, but I know he'll never touch me again.

Normal life, my ass, Jonathan. I hate it. I would still go with you in a second if you would take me.

So when something happened to the Riddler, I thought I could save him. He needed help, and you know I'm…how did you put it? A sucker for a wounded puppy? But the reason I went after him is because you once told me you counted him as a friend.

Was I wrong about that? We were all affected by your fear toxin down there. I don't know if you were out to kill him, or if you just got him by accident, or what.

I'm sending a friend to see you. She has some questions that I hope you'll be willing to answer. If you want the Riddler, she'll tell you where to find him. If you want him to kill him, I hope you'll be daunted by the fact that you'll have to go through me to get him.

If you want me, for any reason, you know where to find me. I wish you would take me with you. You know I want to come.

I miss you.

Love,

Lexy

--

And I thought my boss was a nutcase.

I followed Lexy's directions to the Scarecrow's lair. He has wonderful taste in abandoned buildings. This one was the office of the Gotham Herald, before the Times put them out of business. It still smells like ink and newsboy sweat.

I found the Scarecrow sitting at the old editor's desk, reading a book. Lexy said he would be working alone, so I approached him carefully, but I didn't watch my rear. Stupid.

A couple of goons grabbed me. He didn't even look up. One of them pulled off my mask.

"There was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead." He closed his book, stood up, and very calmly walked around the desk to stand in front of me. "When she was good she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid."

He opened his book again, and hit me with a cloud of fear gas.

I don't remember much after that until one of the goons gave me the antidote. He used to work for me. Nice kid. He vouched for me. That combined with Lexy's creepy letter was enough to convince the Scarecrow I was okay.

When I came to, he was holding my new notebook.

"Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie." He looked at me expectantly. "Kissed the girls and made them cry. But when the boys came out to play…"

"Uh-huh…"

"Georgie Porgie ran away." He sounded disappointed that I wouldn't finish his rhyme.

This is the Master of Fear? This is the man Lexy spoke so highly of and called her dearest friend?

Insanity. This goes beyond my experience, and that's saying something.

"Dr. Crane—"

"Scarecrow."

"You're the boss. Scarecrow, I just came to talk. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't gas me again."

"Hmm?"

I figured I should try a different approach.

"Beans, beans, good for the heart, the more you eat, the more—"

"Don't do that," he said.

"Oh, so you can speak normally."

"And you can make crude jokes. What of it?"

"My boss sent me down to the sewers a couple of days ago. I ended up blowing up part of the city because I'd been affected by your fear toxin."

"Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg, the Batmobile lost a wheel and the Joker—"

"Yes!" I was starting to get a headache. "The Joker torched the sewers for me. He's…well, he was my boss."

"Fascinating. What did you see down there?"

"I saw…what do you care what I saw? We have more important things to talk about."

"The king was in his counting house, counting out his money. The queen was in the parlor, eating bread and honey. The maid was in the garden, hanging up the clothes, when down came a blackbird and snipped off her nose."

"What the hell are you talking about, sir?" He sighed.

"Fool girl. I don't do what I do just for the money. I want to study the effects of fear."

Oh. Right. Of course.

"I take a notebook with me everywhere I go. Even in the sewers, I kept my records. You want to know how I felt? Answer my questions and I'll let you read my diary."

He chuckled with glee.

"Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider and sat down beside her and frightened Miss Muffet away."

"Please. Please. Can that nursery rhyme noise."

I think he frowned, but I couldn't quite tell. Mask.

"Pull up a tuffet and ask your questions, child." He definitely sounded annoyed. I sat down.

"Did you attack the Riddler?"

"Not I."

"Do you know who did?"

"Too many cooks spoil the broth."

"No wonder you two get along so well. Neither one of you likes to talk plain English if you can think of something more confusing to say."

"Maybe, but Lexy's use of the word 'friend' was a slight exaggeration."

"Does that mean you don't want to take him off our hands?"

"If Lexy has him, he's in the best hands he could be in."

"What is she to you?"

"A friend."

"A friend like the Riddler?"

"A real friend. Don't we have more important things to talk about?"

"Don't sass me, Dr. Crane."

"Scarecrow."

"Scarecrow. Did you target us?"

"No."

"Hit us at random?"

"No."

"What, then?"

"Do you want the short answers or the interesting ones?" I resisted the urge to hit him with my tuffet.

"Look, if you don't have anything useful to tell me, then give me back my mask so I can go home. I'll just wait for the damn Riddler to wake up. Even he couldn't be this aggravating."

"Irritating."

Oh. My. God. He corrected my fucking grammar.

"Irritating is right! Goodbye, Dr. Crane."

"Scarecrow."

"Crane."

"Scarecrow."

"Crane!"

"Scarecrow!"

"Crane!"

"Scarecrow!"

"Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane!"

We went on like that for a couple of minutes, until he gassed me again. I've got to stop relying on my charm to get me through.

Hell, I've got to learn to stop antagonizing the masks. One of these days I'm going to push the wrong button, and kaboom. No more Liss of the Many Identities.

I dreamed about Mark's eyes and woke, sobbing, in Lexy's bed.

"You finally stopped screaming." (Actually, it sounded a bit more like "You fnnllrgh strrp scrrrmng," but it makes me sad to write it like that.)

I sat up and looked around, and sure enough, there was Eddie—the Riddler—perched on a chair.

He looks much better now than the last time I saw him. Still very pale and banged-up, and the poor guy's jaw has been wired shut, but hey, he's not only awake but sitting up under his own power. And now that the shattered jawbone has a little reinforcement, he can talk without worrying about something popping out.

Honestly, I'm happy for him.

"Eddums! Feeling better?"

That took him by surprise, which made me feel better.

He flinched when I threw off the covers and stood up, which made me feel worse.

"What do you want?" He sounded scared of me.

"First I want to know what I'm doing here. Then I want to know what you're doing here. Then I want to know anything else you have to say to me." I tried to sound patient and gentle. He didn't buy it. I'm out of practice with the patient and gentle.

"Scarecrow gassed you. He didn't feel like giving you the antidote."

"So he brought me here?"

"Of course. There's no one in Gotham City to be trusted more than Lexy."

Hm. Interesting.

"How come I've never heard of this girl?"

"That's an easy one. She's exactly what she seems."

"What, a Normal?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

(I could have called her a fleshie, but that's not my thing.)

"So how do you know her?"

"I don't. I told you, she's one of them. But she and Scarecrow go way back."

"In what way?"

"Now, that is the riddle, isn't it?"

"Is that your way of saying you don't know?"

I don't know how that intimidated him. I mean, look at me. I'm a tiny little woman. Barely 5'2". I don't have the Bat's deep, menacing voice. I don't have the boss's creepy clown face. I don't even have a gimmick. The best I've got is a couple of years' training in aikido, and it's not like you can tell that by looking at me.

And let's not forget, he had just seen me in an extremely vulnerable position, crying and screaming, "no, no, no," in my sleep.

I don't think I could have been less threatening if I had tied a pink bow in my hair and gone, "Squeeee!"

But something about me frightened him, because when I moved closer, he pulled away like he'd been burned.

"Look," I said, "if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already. Remember the sewers? I could have left you down there."

"What about your boss?"

"He threw me out of a helicopter yesterday. I'm not speaking to him right now. Besides, I haven't really worked for him in a couple of years. I was just returning a favor, going after you. He didn't even tell me what he wants from you."

"The same thing you're trying so very subtly to get out of me right now. The same thing everyone always wants from me. The answer to a riddle. You stare at it and stare at it until your forehead sweats blood, but the answer never comes. So you turn to the Riddler for answers. That's cheating, you know."

"I guess. Do what you gotta do, right? If winning is that important, there's nothing else you can do. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what I want to know without any special persuasion, though." I didn't mention that I played a big part in saving his life. If he feels like he owes me for that, good. If not, that's fine, too. I didn't mention that if he has any information for me, I could always beat it out of him. I'd rather not go that way if I can avoid it. I didn't mention how much I'd be willing to pay him. If he's motivated by greed, he'll name his own price.

Leave the choice up to him.

"The Joker lost a lot of credibility when he didn't kill you. You know you've gone soft when you start taking in children."

"I wasn't a child. Besides, Batman works with kids, and I don't see anyone calling him soft."

"He's different, though, isn't he? Keep that in mind. You'll never know your enemy until you know yourself."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" He shrugged.

"I'm the Riddler. You know I can't just give you all the answers." I tried modulating my voice.

"How about you give me this answer: what would the Joker do to you if I followed my orders?" A look of abject terror flashed across his face. That was all the answer I needed. I headed for the door. "Don't worry, Eddie. If he finds you, I swear it won't be through me. There is some honor among thieves."

"I…I'm supposed to keep you in here until after the Scarecrow leaves."

"And you take orders from that clown?" Unintentional choice of wording. I did choose not to embarrass him by pointing out that he didn't look strong enough to stop me.

He followed me out to the kitchen, where Lexy and the Scarecrow were sitting at the table. Lexy was weeping brokenheartedly.

"Hey, diddle diddle," the Scarecrow said comfortingly, "the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport, and the dish ran away with the spoon."

"And what's wrong with that? I like the spoon," she said.

"Shh. We have company."

Lexy stood up, suddenly brisk and businesslike.

"Nice job, Liss. You said you could handle yourself."

"You didn't tell me he was so infuriating. Gas me again, Crane, and I'll kick your scrawny, straw-covered ass."

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how—"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!" Lexy said. Eddie looked back and forth between the three of us like a spectator at a fast-paced three-way ping pong deathmatch.

"You shut up," I yelled.

"Don't yell at me, and don't yell at Jonathan!"

"Stupid fangirl!"

"Clown whore!"

"All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel," the Scarecrow sang. "The monkey thought 'twas all in fun…" I ducked when he threw a silver ball at me. It smashed against the wall, releasing a cloud of white powder.

"I fucking told you!" I punched him in the face, totally forgetting that his Scarecrow mask doubles as a gas mask. I connected with some hard plastic.

Fuck. That hand hasn't been quite up to speed since I broke it on Superman's face a year and a half ago.

I hurt myself more than I hurt him, but he still fell, sprawling over the kitchen table. Lexy grabbed hold of my hair and hauled me back, like she thought I was going to throw myself on him and rip him limb from limb. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eddie backing slowly out of the room.

"Edward! Sit! Stay!" Lexy ordered. "I made soup! And the four of us are going to sit here and eat it and have a conversation like civilized people if I have to tie you all down and cram it down your throats!"

"Lexy, we've said all we have to say to each other," the Scarecrow said, struggling to sit up. Maybe I did hurt him a little.

"Damn it, Jonathan, I said I made soup, and you are not leaving until you eat some of it."

Damn. The fleshie has balls.

"You kids enjoy your little party," I said. "Let go of my hair."

"You're not leaving. You're having soup." Pushy little bitch.

"I'm not eating with that woman," said the Scarecrow.

"Oh, like I really want to eat with you."

Eddie said something to the effect of, "Nnnnnn-soup."

"I don't want to hear it! SIT."

I sat. They sat. She started serving up the soup.

Scarecrow had to take off his mask to eat. Gosh, what a pretty face. Big blue eyes, a delicate bone structure…yeah, now I know what Lexy sees in him.

It occurs to me that a guy like him, unarmed and all, never would have made it through Arkham intact. It's as bad as prison, the boss says. Poor guy. Nobody's going to mess with the Joker, but I bet scrawny little shrimps like Jonathan and Eddie had to be extra careful with their soap.

Doesn't mean I like the guy, mind you. But I did apologize grudgingly for splitting his lip. I even used a napkin to help him stop the bleeding. (He does have a pretty mouth.)

"That's better," Lexy said. "Thank the woman, Jonathan." He glared at me.

"Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, eating his Christmas pie. He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum and said, 'What a good boy am I.'"

Jerk.

"Old Mother Hubbard sat in her cupboard, eating Jack's Christmas pie. He opened the door, let out a great roar, and blackened the old woman's eye," I replied.

"Am I going to have to separate you two?" Lexy put a steaming bowl of vegetable beef soup in front of each of us.

Eddie's, of course, was just plain broth. She gave him a big plastic syringe with a rubber tube on the end. I watched him suck up some of the liquid, put the tube in his mouth, and squirt. Saddest thing I've seen all day. When he looked at us using our spoons, his sad little face could have melted Mr. Freeze's heart.

Someone needs a hug.

"Now, don't you crazy kids have anything to say to each other?" Lexy asked.

Grr.

"What? I already said I was sorry for hitting him."

"Not that. Tell her, Jonathan." He smirked at me.

"Tom, Tom, the piper's son stole a pig and away he run." I resisted the urge to throw meat at him.

"Dr. Crane?"

"Scarecrow."

My fingers clenched around my spoon.

"Look, you can call yourself His Majesty, the King of Cartoons for all I care. All I want is for you to talk to me like you're not a total psycho." He gave me the dead look I've heard so much about.

"Didn't you go to school? You should have been taught to think critically. Read between the lines. Someone stole my toxin and sprayed it on our Edward's clothes, worked him over, and dumped him in the sewer, knowing that even if his injuries didn't kill him immediately, the fear would keep him trapped, and any number of the enemies he's been so brazenly collecting lately might come along to finish the job, whereas any poor fool who actually tried to help him would be affected by the toxin. Is that clear enough, Chuckles, or would you like me to illustrate the Little Golden Books edition for you?"

"No," said Eddie. "More to it than that. He wouldn't steal from you without taking you, too. He wouldn't miss a chance like that. He wants you more than he wants me."

"Oh, that's right." The Scarecrow sounded bored. "You still haven't told us who did this to you. I'd like to solve the puzzle, Pat."

"Why was the law student afraid to go to court?"

Because he had to test-ify…Oh." Scarecrow's face went so pale, I thought he was going to faint. "Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up?" I repeated.

"Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up?"

"Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up. Huh. I'm guessing that's some kind of key-themed villain type?" No. "Hero?"

"He would call himself a hero," Scarecrow said. His voice was steady, but I could see his hands trembling until he clasped them under the table. "He was head of security at Arkham, a few years before your time. He was fired for using 'extreme' methods to keep the inmates in line. He tried the same methods on the wrong people outside Arkham and earned himself five years in a padded cell."

"And now he's escaped?"

Eddie laughed at me.

"Lock-Up escape? He was rehabilitated."

"This never would have happened when I was running Arkham," the Scarecrow said.

"If he was rehabilitated, what's he doing beating up on Eddie?" Lexy asked.

"We've all been rehabilitated and released at least once. Some of us change; most of us just change our methods."

"So, Lock-Up…"

"Has seen the error of his ways. He's not interested in locking us up anymore. He just wants to kill us." Poor Eddums looked sick.

"Who's 'us?'" asked Lexy.

"Everyone who gave him any trouble at Arkham. Then Gordon, Dr. Bartholomew, Summer Gleeson, Mayor Hill, and maybe Batman."

"But first, us," Eddie added. "Or, rather, first you. He wants the three who got him fired. The only reason he got me first was pure, dumb luck. He never did like to miss a golden opportunity." Glldnn opprtrrnty.

"How did you get him fired, Scarecrow?" (That was my peace offering, calling him by his chosen name. By this time, I was starting to feel sorry for the guy. Damn protective urges.)

"He had a habit of preying on the weak, the small ones with no natural weapons. Us, the Ventriloquist…"

"The Joker?"

Yeah, I know. Only an idiot would actually care about him after all this. But every time I think of him, I just…I see him the way he looked that day I saw him in Arkham, when they were taking him back to his cell after electroshock therapy, and he was straitjacketed and strapped down and filled so full of drugs he could barely see, and he looked up at me with those big green eyes and said…What was it he said?

I remember I slapped him. At the time, I thought I actually hurt him. I left a mark.

I also slipped a little something in his straitjacket. My glorious beginning. Woo.

So, Eddie laughed at me again.

"Nobody messes with the Joker. He wasn't even in Arkham then. He was smart enough to stay out. Lock-Up did have quite a thing for the Joker's girl, though."

"Harley?"

Okay, that pissed me off a little bit. I mean, Harley Quinn is a sweet girl. She's nicer than most of my "normal" friends, friendlier than the "good guys" I've known, the cutest little henchgirl I've ever seen. She's kind of my friend.

"She, Wesker, and I spoke out against him at the hearing. He never got his revenge. He'll want it."

Right.

"Will he be willing to go through Scarface's gang, or will he take the easier targets first?" Three pairs of eyes turned to me. What, were they really surprised that I wanted to help? Is my reputation really that bad? Just because the only guy I've ever really worked with was the boss?

"Scarface and the dummy will be last. He'll come at us when we're alone."

"And since I assume he won't trace you to this place, Harley will be the one he hits first."

"But she's safe with the Joker. Even Lock-Up couldn't get to her there."

"Your information is out of date. They're on the outs. Harley will be over at Toxic Acres with Poison Ivy."

"Does he have anything against Poison Ivy?" Lexy asked.

"No, but he has nothing for her, either. She wasn't one of his patients, but he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. She's still one of the bad guys."

"Then we should head over. Everybody got a gas mask?"

They all stared at me. Fucking hell, my rep really is that bad.

"Forgive my rudeness, but what do you care?" Eddie asked me. I felt my face go all hot.

"I can't imagine why I would care that a friend of mine is about to be brutally murdered. Or why I would care that a nice guy like you is eating soup through a rubber straw. What do I care? I don't like seeing bullies beating up on little boys half their size. Something about it brings out the bitch in me, I guess."

Cue the dramatic music.

The first time I ever got in a real good hand-to-hand fight, I had never even heard of the Joker. I was maybe eight or nine years old, maybe younger than that. I can't remember now. I do know I was walking with a limp, so this was after the fateful field trip when my class met Batman.

We all wanted to be heroes for that little while. If I hadn't stepped in, someone else probably would have. I didn't see it that way at the time.

There was this shrimpy little kid in my class, Patrick Jones. The other kids called him Patsy. "Pasty Patsy's mom's a fatsy." Little bastards.

So, one day on the playground, this meaty son of a bitch called Travis gave Pasty Patsy an atomic wedgie and then started to beat him senseless with his own shoes.

I didn't like that.

So I attacked the kid and broke his nose. He sat on me and broke my arm. I was suspended for picking a fight, and that was the end of a brief and profitless crimefighting career.

"She's a sucker for a wounded puppy," Lexy said, looking about ready to pinch my widdle cheeks.

"No, I'm not an animal lover." My weakness is kids. "I'm just the girl you call when you've got a dirty job that needs doing. And since I guess it's safe to assume that this guy needs to die, I'm your man."

More staring.

"You understand there will be no payment involved," Scarecrow said finally.

"Yeah, like an international jewel thief with her own island in the South Pacific really needs more money." (I don't actually own that island, but, funny story, I am worshipped as a goddess by the natives.) "Come on, I just want something to do. That, and an answer to my question, Eddie, but I can wait a little while for that."

Still more staring. The boss is never going to forgive me for hitting the Scarecrow without making the "you wouldn't hit a guy with glasses" joke. Of course, at the time, I didn't know he wore them. My nerd alarms have failed me.