Disclaimer: We can pretend I own these characters if you really, really want to. Go ahead and send me money. Just don't tell DC. And if anybody asks, I have no idea what you're talking about.

This story is dedicated to TheNoblePorpoise, because she refused to write it.

And to Techie, whose spiral into oldness has officially begun.

And to me. Hey, I don't want to be left out.

Visit www. freewebs catverse. html to see where this fits in the timeline. And for those of you who don't like to go to any effort, it comes after "The Paean of the Bells."

Cover image by Trumpeteer34.

April Showers

If you wanted sunshine, you moved to Metropolis. It was just that simple. Gotham City was not a place kissed by the sun. About the best they could hope for was that the temperature might get somewhere above freezing, and that the wind wouldn't be quite determined enough to find every hole in a worn out suit of clothes.

Maybe in some parts of the world, April showers brought May flowers, but in Gotham, even this early in the month, no one could begin to hope that the next month would be anything but more of the same.

This kind of dreary extended-winter weather was almost enough to make Jonathan Crane think fondly of his recent week spent relaxing on a beach in Florida.

Almost.

That week had ended with him making a decision that he strongly suspected had been the worst mistake of his life. Now, a little more than two weeks later, he found himself the reluctant leader of a gang of female henchmen, three incomprehensibly devoted young women who were quite possibly among the least sane people he had ever met. (And that was really saying something.)

They had actually managed to prove themselves somewhat useful, against all his expectations. They weren't as physically imposing as the muscle he had hired in the past, but he was the last person who could fault them for that. And what they lacked in brute strength, they more than made up for in energy and determination. And they had all turned out to be far more intelligent than he could have hoped, in spite of a noticeable lack of common sense.

That intelligence, coupled with a rather eclectic set of skills, had gotten them past the security systems and in and out of the labs without incident.

And that lack of common sense was currently pitting the three of them against Batman while Crane made his escape with his new store of chemicals wrapped securely in his jacket.

It was too bad for them that they were going to end the night with a one-way trip to Arkham, but it was about time he was rid of them. He would have to think about moving, though. No matter how loyal they claimed to be, he had no doubt that they would crack when questioned by the CGPD—unless they were questioned by the Batman, in which case he would have to do considerably more to cover his tracks than simply finding a new lair.

But the point was that for the first time in a good long while, he was getting away.

He ducked into an alley to remove his mask. There were times when it was necessary for him to be the Scarecrow, striking fear in the hearts of all who saw him, and then there were times when it was better to be plain Jonathan Crane, ordinary man walking home alone in the middle of the night in a bad part of town.

All right, so it might have been nice to fall somewhere in between the two extremes. Without the mask, he looked like a prime candidate for an easy mugging. But he could handle that kind of trouble. The kind of attention that the mask could attract was considerably more of a bother.

He should have known better than to use the alley. Every time he ducked into an alley, something terrible happened.

This time, his only great misfortune was something that he couldn't in all fairness blame entirely on the location—it started to rain. Worse things had happened to him in alleyways (and outside them, now that he thought about it) but it was an annoyance. A few degrees colder, and this drizzle could have been a light snowfall. A few degrees warmer, and it might have been almost pleasant.

As it was, the rain was damned uncomfortable, forcing him to hunch over his little bundle, using his body to shield the delicate chemicals from the rain that was already soaking through his clothes.

He left the alley, trudging down a sidewalk that had seen better days and cheerfully cursing the skies for raining on his parade. He had done well tonight, and the weather should have cooperated with his rare good mood.

Instead, it started coming down harder. At this rate, he would be lucky to keep his supplies dry. He clutched the bundle tighter against his chest and sternly told himself to stop shivering. (He would be fine if he put the jacket back on, but given a choice between himself and his work, he was not about to protect himself. A little rain wasn't going to kill him, and a change of clothes and maybe a hot cup of tea would set everything to rights.)

He splashed through a puddle that was deeper than it looked, and cringed when the icy water found its way into his boots. If this wasn't such a good night, he would say it was shaping up to be downright miserable.

But it was a good night. He had all the supplies he would need to run his experiments for another month at least, he was rid of his irritating minions, the Batman was nowhere to be seen…

And if his teeth didn't stop chattering soon, he was probably going to break his molars. He clenched his jaw and broke into a stumbling run.

One of these days, he was really going to have to get a car…

He slowed to a walk when the effort of breathing began to make his lungs burn, far sooner than he would have liked. The rain was coming down so hard, he wouldn't have been able to see the lair if it were three feet in front of his face, but he knew it must be near.

Suddenly, he couldn't think about anything but dry socks.

The wind picked up just as he reached his own front door, sending a sheet of solid water straight up into his face. That felt like it was a little less than fair.

But he was home now, and safe, at least for the next few minutes. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it…maybe just a few seconds to catch his breath…

Why were the lights on?

"What kept you, Squishy?" someone called.

Oh, no. They're still here.

Then the three young women appeared from nowhere, or so he would have guessed, to cluster around him, looking horrified by his appearance and the puddle he was leaving on the floor.

"Oh, Squishykins, you're soaked!"

Al took the bundle out of his hands and disappeared. Techie and the Captain grabbed him by the arms and nearly lifted him off the floor in their haste to drag him further inside the lair.

"Come on, Squishums," said Techie. "You must be freezing. If you don't learn to take better care of yourself, we're never going to be able to leave you alone."

"Let go of me," he said. She did, only to drop to one knee to fumble with his shoelaces. The Captain started to take off his shirt. He pushed her away, and in return got his hand slapped as if he were a naughty child.

"If you don't get out of those wet clothes, Squishykins, I'm not going to be held responsible for what happens."

He tried to snap back at her, but his body chose that moment to start shivering violently. Whatever he wanted to say came out sounding like gibberish.

She threw her arms around him, an act that probably would have signed her death warrant if not for the fact that her body heat instantly began to penetrate his chill, making him feel that much closer to "alive."

"Stop cuddling and strip the man," Al said from somewhere behind him. The Captain pulled away, taking his shirt with a minimum of struggle. A heavy blanket dropped down over his shoulders, accompanied by a nuzzle from Al.

"Could you cooperate just a little?" Techie demanded as she pulled off first one boot, then the other. She made a disappointed sound at the state of his socks, and removed those as well. Meanwhile, Al moved around in front of him to seize his pants.

"S—s—" What was this? He couldn't even get out the single word "stop."

"Gently, Al," said the Captain.

"What? I want to pants him."

"Gently," the Captain repeated. She wrapped the blanket more securely around him.

"Do you really think I'm going to hurt the Squishykins?" She pulled his pants off, in spite of his own misgivings, and tossed them to the floor. They all crowded around him, hampering his movement too much for him to even think about attempting escape, and ushered him over to the couch, where they forced him to sit and covered him with more blankets until he could hardly move. The Captain pressed a steaming cup of tea into his hands, and gave him a satisfied smile when he took a sip. Then Al started toweling his hair far more vigorously than he would have deemed necessary.

"Stop that."

"But, you're wet!"

"Stop," he repeated. She fell back. The other two sat down on either side of him.

"Warming up now, Professor Crane?" the Captain asked sweetly. He glared at her.

"How did you get back here so fast? What happened to Batman?" He jumped, startled, as Techie snuggled up against him. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he couldn't keep an eye on all three of them when they surrounded him like this.

"Batman? Kid stuff," Al said dismissively. She hugged him from behind. He shivered slightly, and the Captain pressed herself up against the last available real estate.

"Will you get off me?" he snapped, his voice slightly muffled by the puff of hair in front of his mouth.

"You're cold!"

"I have work to do."

"Not tonight, you don't. The only place you're going is to bed. Anything else can wait until morning."

He felt a flash of sullen anger. How dared they try to tell him what to do?

"I want to get those chemicals stored properly."

"I'll take care of it," Al insisted. He shrugged his way out of their collective grasp.

"Are you my minions, or aren't you?" They all giggled—an affirmative answer. "Then start acting like it! If you don't learn to take orders, you'll all be out of a job."

"You don't pay us for this," Techie reminded him.

"By 'job,' I meant breathing." He met her dark eyes, and was disappointed by her utter lack of fear. In fact, she looked delighted.

"Get some rest," she said gently. "After all, if you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything."

The other two squealed with joy at some private joke, and he wondered yet again what he was doing with these three by his side. But he allowed them to usher him into his bedroom, still inside his cocoon of blankets, before he slammed the door in their faces.

xXx

He hadn't expected to sleep so long or so deeply. He was normally such a light sleeper, prone to nightmares and easily startled awake by the slightest noise. But, judging by the sunlight shining directly in his eyes, he had slept soundly until something like noon.

Maybe he had needed the rest, he thought as he threw off the covers and sat up. Not that he was admitting that they had been right. Far from it. Although his throat did feel a little sore.

Great. If he had caught a cold, they were never going to let him live it down.

But, when he stood up, he realized that he had much bigger problems. The floor tilted under his feet, and he went down.