I know it says "Original Character", but... well.. You'll see. No Mary Sue here. No fluff. No normal romance. All batman, all the time.

I'm using Nolan universe Dr Crane, which really didn't have a whole lot of screen time so trying to figure out his character in every single aspect will be a bit of challenge, because this is certainly similar to the comic version for the Scarecrow part of his character, but not the Dr. Crane part of it. This Dr. Crane is way too pleasing to the eye to be the comic version. His ugliness throughout his life is what caused him to be the way he was and give him the social status he had in the comic books, which drove him to become the Scarecrow. And also in the comics, Dr Crane was most definitely around 40 years old, Cillian's Dr Crane was in his early twenties. So on that note, when I have the first few chapters explaining all previous interaction between the main character and Jonathan Crane throughout the elementary, high school, and younger years I made it so he was a very ugly looking child/teenager that later in life would develop into the good looks he later had. Which would be hard since he is good looking, but nothing like long greasy hair and hormonal driven acne to solve that problem!

I'm going to try to keep this as realistic as possible, as I don't think on his list of priorities, physical interaction is anywhere near the top. I think he'd be more interested in a person's mind more than what they looked like. He is one of the more normal acting villains in the batman universe in my opinion. After being shown up by the Joker on crazy level, I'm sure he's capable of a relationship of some sort. Not a particularly normal one, but non the less an awkward not very physical one? Well see. I'm not sure how I am going to play out this story.

As for the tense of this story, it will be in third person, but the first few chapters will be one big explanation story of the main character talking, so about two or three chapters will be in first person. Basically this story starts in the middle of the story, flashes back to before the story 'really' begins, flashes back to the middle of the story and then flashes back to where the story really begins. Confused? It will make sense.

Twenty minutes had passed. Twenty long minutes of nothing.

She stared at her silent patient, strapped the to chair across from her. He was mindlessly twitching every so often and small droplets of saliva would fall down onto his orange jumpsuit darkening the wrinkled fabric where it would land.

She sighed and removed her glasses, placing them on the table in front of her. She let her hand push the falling strands of her auburn hair back into her tight ponytail. She finally decided to break the silence.

"How about I tell you more about myself? Will that make you tell me a little about yours?" She proposed.

She had set up this session, for a reason and not one to benefit the patient but herself. Her mind was boggled and clouded with all her thoughts. She needed to talk to someone, but a therapist was out of the question. Knowing that one of her patients was unable to understand a thing she would say to him, was more than perfect for her. She could figure out her thoughts out loud, talk to someone about it, and not have to worry about their judgment.

"I'm going to tell you a story, about my interactions with a doctor you may even have yourself sometimes Phil." She feigned a smile at him, feeling as if when she spoke to him it sounded like she was speaking to a puppy. "You ever have Dr. Crane?"

A bigger strand of drool rolled out of his mouth. She took that as a yes.

"Well, before I came to work here I knew him. It was a shock when I saw his name on the list of doctors here. The name came into my sight upon first entering through the double glass doors of Arkham Asylum.

After being told to wait in one of the stained and tattered chairs, for my new boss to greet me I looked at my surroundings to take in my new place of work. There on the bleak white walls of the entrance were gold plated names with papers hung in a glass frame above them. The doctor's names all were there as well as their degree papers and what they specialized in. I scanned through the names, wondering if I would see one I recognized.

And there it was.

Doctor Jonathan Crane.

I hadn't seen him since my senior year in high school. I thought to myself, 'So he really did do something good with all his knowledge and wisdom. A doctor.' I wondered if he would even recognize me."

She looked at his unchanging face, still looking at the back wall behind her.

With that she continued her story...

"7 years earlier from that day-...

I lived in a modest middle class family in the great city of Gotham. Not that there was anything particularly 'great' about Gotham, but it was one of the largest cities in our entire country. I guess that was something that caused it to be considered great.

My life was nothing less than normal, a working father in the police department and a working mother in a flower shop that she co-owned. They both worked hard and were very good to me. I had two siblings, an older sister and a younger brother. My sister was away at college in Florida for her third year, determined to set her education in a more relaxing and warm weathered town. My younger brother was 14 years old and in his last year at the middle school. My sister and I talked every so often when she called to say hi, and my brother and I got along well for our age difference.

I was sixteen in my junior year in high school. One of my more stressful years in high school.

My friends and I were loaded with the usual homework, but that was added on with all the classes and hours spent trying to get our licenses, finding a job, and looking into colleges.

I had found a job part time in my mother's flower shop. The hours were not plentiful, as they had too many workers as it was and my presence there was obvious to the others who worked there as an annoyance since I only got the job due to my mother.

The only thing I did that I loved and remembered the most about high school was dancing. I was into ballet and enjoyed it very much, minus the blisters and bruises it caused my feet.

Aside from all the fun and stressful things about high school, it was during this year I formed a relationship with a rather odd, rather interesting person named Jonathan Crane.

It all had started second term in my science class.

I walked into the half year course about a minute late, being detoured by a friend who 'just had' to tell me about some guy and something and I don't really care. In high school, it seemed like all my friends had one guy one week, another in three weeks, and one guy on the side they'd always hook up with.

I was a strong believer in the old fashion, if you were dating someone you were dating them because you want to see if it can last a long time and want to see if love would bloom out of the teenage hormone ridden mind. But I also believed if you were did not have an exclusive relationship, that flirting with multiple peers was acceptable.

With that on my mind, I almost could not hide the smile on my face upon entering the classroom and seeing the masculine, smooth skinned face of Cody Morris sitting in a seat near the back row. I guess one could say we had flirted a lot, though he did flirt with numerous other females as well. Still I could not stop my stomach from feeling a slight jolt of excitement when he talked to me.

At this point I was staring at him, and did not realize the science teacher was standing in front of me snapping his fingers in my face to grab my attention.

"I'm sure there is an explanation as to why you are late." He stated.

"Ah- went up the wrong stairwell." I lied.

"Well find your seat and we can continue to take attendance." He gestured to the room, and I tried to hide the increasing red color that was staining my cheeks. A great first impression on a teacher.

The science room was set up with 3 tables in a column and then five tables behind it. Each dark black table seated two people. I took note of some of my friends that were in the class with me as well, but they were seated all in the same back section, with no seat next to or around them open. I scanned the room and groaned mentally seeing all the seats were taken.

I was just about to ask the teacher where I could sit, when the direction my head turned caused an empty seat to come into my line of vision that had been originally blocked by the person seated in front of the area.

In the third row, with a stack of books piled next to his chair sat Jonathan Crane, already with a drawn out notebook and pencil in hand, taking notes on something before the teacher even began to teach. I doubted it was even for the class, but never the less he was writing away, consumed in whatever his mind was placing on that piece of paper.

I went to the chair to his left and slumped my body into the hard plastic, placing my backpack to the left on my on the floor. I took a moment and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

Jonathan Crane was an interesting person. I personally didn't know him well or even really talked to him.

He went to the same elementary school as me and I used to always see him being teased by the other children. They would always come up to him, while he sat either reading a book or studying insects. All the other children, myself included would play on the playhouse or with sports equipment or something. It was back in the day reading was considered to be a 'geeky' thing to do.

I vividly remember seeing him one day running around by one of the garbage bins, scaring all the birds even throwing rocks at them. I think that day it was etched into my brain to always think that Jonathan Crane was weird. Having never talked to him, I know now that was judgmental, but I was only seven or eight at the time this thought became a label for him.

The other kids had labeled him weird long before I had and some for rather ludicrous reasons. He was the child everyone picked on.

He always had been all skin and bone, and yet very tall for our age. His awkward look caused some children to make up the name "Scarecrow" for him. It wasn't exactly a creative name for him, but I guessed after being repeatedly assaulted both verbally and physically all the time by numerous people, any name can sting.

I myself never interacted with him or made fun of him to his face. There were too many people around him for me to get one word in, not that I wanted to. My mother had instilled into my mind from a young age to treat others with respect no matter how different they are. She had taught me I don't have to like someone, but not to treat them differently.

I guess I did treat him differently though, as I avoided looking at him and being near him.

And I might have agreed or said negative things about him behind his back to friends who instigated a gossip about him from afar. But that was only to avoid being teased like him.

Anyone that stood up for him was automatically as bad as him, it was an unwritten rule. I think that is why I never tried to stand up for him. I didn't want to be made fun of or hit. But as I went to middle school and still the fights and verbal assaults on him continued, my slowly maturing mind began to think that since I was afraid to be treated like that, I couldn't imagine what it was like for him to be actually receiving that treatment daily.

I lied there was one moment I had interacted with him.

Middle school, seventh grade.

Jason Aryn had noticed Jonathan entering the room with an armful of books and papers. He was minding his own business, heading to his seat in the front of the classroom, where he would get his daily blow of spitballs, paper, and even sometimes gum, thrown at the back of his head.

Jason walked over to him, just as he was about to sit down and slapped all his papers and books out of his hand.

"What's going on Scarecrow?" Jason huffed out. Jason had always been big boned and taller than the average thirteen or fourteen year old.

Jonathan let out a small gasp as the papers and books scattered everywhere on the floor. He leaned forward to lean down to pick them all up, when Jason grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and knocked off his glasses.

"Nerd." He said pushing him down. As he fell he tried to catch his glasses, but missed. The knock of them against his fingertips sent them further away from him.

Jason then spotted someone out in the hallway and ran over to them, looking for some sort of information on a sports event that night or something. I really stopped paying attention to Jason by that point.

I felt very guilty at this point for all the times I would walk by him like this all in elementary school. He looked now like a lost puppy, brushing his hands on the floor in search for his glasses, that blended into the floor to his half blind eye sight.

My morals set in and I stood up from my seat and walked over towards him.

I wonder to this day if I helped him because of my morals or because no one else was in the room as it was too early for out class to begin and no one would see me helping him. Maybe that's what caused my good moral helping spree. I hope not.

I searched around and found the glasses by the heater against the wall. I sort of kneeled by Jonathan and held my hand out with his glasses in them.

He had not even seen me there, still searching himself for his spectacles. He had never received help before, so he wouldn't be expecting me to be there.

"I think these are yours." I finally said, alerting his attention.

His head darted in my direction and met my eyes for a brief moment before quickly and not too gently snatching the glasses from my hands.

I began then helping him more by stacking the books up and papers. His voice stopped me.

"I don't need your help." Was all that he said to me. It was almost in an irritated tone of voice.

I looked at him, and was met by his bright blue eyed glare. His eyes seem to pierce through my entire body and I kneeled there frozen for a moment, having a moment of almost complete fear and the way his voice and eyes held me to the spot.

To break his sudden hold over me, I continued to pick up the books and papers by me, placing my pile of his belongings on the desk.

"I was just-...never mind." I stammered, raising an eyebrow at him. I simply could not believe the look of pure hate he gave me, for doing something I thought was very generous.

It must have also been in that moment the thought that had been carved into my mind that he was weird also added the word 'rude' next to it.

Even though after that incident I still felt bad for him, I never went to help him again. The teasing continued and then lessened when we all went into high school.

The physical attacks on him lessened to mere shoves in the hallway, but the verbal gossip about him increased. I bet he heard most of the things said about him. How could he not? Those who made fun of him tended to talk loud and purposely by him.

His nick name scarecrow had faded somewhere between freshmen year and sophomore.

And there he sat, next to me in my science class. I had not had a class with him since that seventh grade one where my attempt at a noble deed was shut down by his fierce words and glare.

I think I had tried to convince myself he was being mean to me because he did not believe I was being sincere in helping him or he didn't like me pitying him.

I wouldn't want to be pitied either though. So I really couldn't blame him.

Anyways, I saw his face turn slightly to the left and could tell he was looking at me in the corner of his eye, or what I could see of his eye.

I think he knew I was staring at him, without realizing it myself. I snapped my head forward to avoid him turning his face even sideways at me.

Jonathan was on the ugly side. His hair was greasy and tangled looking and it went down to almost past his shoulders. It was either a rebellious teen look or a not caring about his hair looked and I guessed the second option. There was simply no style to it. It appeared he just got out of bed and went to school without running a comb through it. By this point he must have stopped caring what he looked like, as he would not look attractive in the eyes of my peers. His hair sort of covered half his face and he had a bit of an acne problem. His glasses were over sized and blocked the bright blue eyes that I had seen that day with his glasses knocked off of him, sending a glare at me.

In reality his eyes were very beautiful shade of aqua blue, but blocked by the glasses that caused his eyes to look twice their size, they looked very fish eyed.

His face always held a stern look. Now instead of always looking sad or fearful, he seemed irritated or angry all the time. He in simple words did not fit in.

I wondered at that point if he remembered that time in our seventh grade class. Even if he did he most likely hated me. I don't think there was a single person in the school he liked. Even teachers he would outwit sometimes and give attitude to them when he knew more than them. Which he almost always did.

I stared now at the section of my table. Past the graffiti and carved in foul language that littered it, the surface was relatively smooth when I let one of my hands slide across it.

The teacher began to call out names, Jonathan being one of the first five called upon. He raised his hand in acknowledgment to the teacher without his eyes leaving the paper he was writing on.

I looked to my right a little again, placing my elbow on the table with my head and neck resting on my hand. I tried to look casual as I attempted to glance slyly at whatever he was furiously writing away about.

I couldn't make out his handwriting, it was in cursive and all I could see were a few drawings of schematics or machinery on it.

"Do you mind?" His voice rang into my ears so suddenly and startled me. I let my hand fall down on the desk hard in my shock.

"What?" I said trying to act like I was just spacing out and not trying to sneak a peek at his work.

"You're staring at my private writings, that is both very rude and improper of you to be doing so. You don't see me going through your bag do you?" His head wasn't fully turned at me, and I only could see one of his eyes through his glasses.

This was the most I ever heard him speak. I'm sure he spoke to other more when he stood up for himself or talked to teachers, but I personally never heard him speak that much.

His voice sounded somewhere between tired and bored.

"Oh...sorry I was just zoning, I wasn't looking at your papers, my eyes were just looking in the general area." I lied. He gave me a look like I was acting insanely drunk or stupid, and then his eyes diverted back to his paper and continued to write.

"And do you expect me to believe when you zone out, do your eyes dart back and forth as if almost reading something?" He said sarcastically, obviously irritated.

"I'm sorry." I said again feeling bad about lying, but he ignored my comment.

I wanted this awkward conversation to end.

At this point it sounded like I was living up to my dyed hair color.

Throughout my high school life I dyed my hair every two weeks the lightest blond I could find in a store brand box.

Though the down side to this decision was everyone thought I was the typical cliché blond party go wild persona. I really didn't care too much what others thought as this cliché label given to me made me have more 'friends' if you could even address them as such. Some of my friends I honestly did not care about and they felt fake to me. Other friends I enjoyed the company of.

But by gaining so many friends whether real or fake, I also gained the fear of being alone. Watching Jonathan grow up alone and even those days where I would be in my room alone with nothing to do increased my fear of being alone. My fear of acceptance. So even though I didn't like many of the people that surrounded themselves around me, my fear of being lonely and by myself outweighed my dislike and kept me keeping them close.

"Alexis Crawford." I heard the teacher say.

I raised my hand and let it fall back down on the desk after a brief moment.

The sound that rang through my mind for the next few minutes was the sound of his pencil pounding and scrapping away on his piece of paper. He was either very upset about what he was writing or very excited.

All I knew was I would not be looking over in his direction the rest of semester.

That would be more challenging than I thought as I watched our teacher go over to the board that was on the side wall, to my right. The board was right there to the side of our desks, which meant I had to literally look over his head or to the side of his head. I cringed at the thought of him suddenly turning his head back to normal and I accidentally meeting his glaring eyes once more when I was staring at the board, his face or eyes would then be blocking.

The teacher wrote his name "Mr. Newman" on it, and then began to write a rough outline of what we would learn in the class and what sections and how it would apply to real life and-

-by that point I was spacing out already.

When it came to school, the only way I learned was through hands on activities or through reading the books. Most students would just listen to the teacher and hope that they would retain something they said. I was one of the few to read the actual books. For example if questions about a certain section were assigned for a book, I would read the entire section and not just skim it looking for the answers.

Most of the things I learned fascinated me. I had a particular interest in the human body and especially the mind. My career paths were already thought of by that point in my life I was just trying to narrow it down to which one. I wanted to be a doctor of some sort, either being a psychologist or therapist or something. It was difficult to chose between my options.

Of course looking at me, others would never guess my future goals in life.

I was, trying to be as modest as I can, very smart for my age. This of course came through studying and studying things when I didn't even need too, and not sure dumb luck.

People really didn't know I was smart. Never really asking about my grades or seeing my outstanding report cards. I came across as quiet in class, never volunteering; only answering when called upon.

Outside of class I could have been considered outgoing, but in class I just never felt the need to show off my knowledge on subjects. In a way it was as if Jonathan and I were opposite when it came to our smarts. I kept mine inside, only shining on tests and grades, while he wanted his known to all; always answering questions in a condescending manner. It was as if he was trying to teach everyone in the classroom, and never the teacher.

The class felt painfully long that day, and when it was over I darted over to my friends on the other side of the room to walk out with them. I did not want to dilly dally and cause any more interaction with my neighboring table resident. I had cringed earlier in the class when the teacher said where we sat today was our assigned seats.

That afternoon I had spent with friends at the one of their houses. We talked about our days, our new second term classes, the good looking guys in those said classes, and how much we wanted the school year to end already.

"So how's sitting next to that loser poindexter?" Amy asked me when our science class was brought up, in our random conversations.

"He's a very rude person. He like freaked out at me when I was looking at what he was writing. I don't even know how he could tell I was looking at his paper, but he started calling me out on it and just- I don't know he's a weird one." I told them. At this point his rudeness to me caused me to stop feeling bad for him at that time.

"I feel so bad for you. Literally if you arrived to class a minute before, a seat near me was open but some quiet girl took it. Even she didn't want to sit next to that weirdo." Amy said.

We all laughed and continued our conversations.

For about three weeks, in that class no contact between Jonathan and I occurred, which was not an issue for me. I would come into class, he would already be there writing away or reading some books. He would raise his hand to answer often, and the teacher would only call on him as a last resort if no one else knew the answer.

There was only a few times that (and I knew it would happen), I would be looking at the board and he'd turn his head back to his notes and his eyes would be directly looking into mine. I'd feel awkward in those accidental staring moments and turn my head to look at my own desk or to my right. Anywhere, but in those glaring blue eyes.

A month into that class, the day started off normal. I sat in my seat and Cody, who had been walking towards his seat a few behind me stopped at my table and placed a hand on it to lean on it.

"Hey Lexi." He smiled at me.

His blonde hair fell forward into his eyes and he brushed it away smoothly.

"Hey Cody, how are you?" I smiled back.

"Good, good. Hey I'm having a party in two weeks. Rents aren't home. Going away on some vacation or whatever, so just letting you know to keep the Friday in two weeks open. It will be around 9 a night when it starts." He smirked.

"Sweet!" I said excitedly. "Who else is coming?"

"Only half our school." He chuckled, briefly glancing at the person seated next to me at my table. His look showed he was amused he was not inviting Jonathan and sort of rubbing it in his face by asking me loudly next to the bookworm.

"But no no-..." He began again, "We gotta keep it low key when we are at the house. No cops busting up the place. I'd be dead if my parents found out, so don't tell anyone whose a snitch. But I'll see you there right?"

"Of course, I'll just say I'm sleeping over at my friends house and we'll get back to her house late that next morning, her parents don't mind-"

He cut me off, "Oh no people are welcome to sleep over, I doubt anyone will be in the right mind to drive. Safety precaution."

"Okay." I smiled, loving this party more and more as the details came into my eardrum.

"Well I'll talk to you later, tell Amy and Sarah they can come too." He let his fist lightly tap the desk top a few times before smiling once more at me and walking to the back of the room to his seat.

I sat their in my euphoric state of mind, when I turned to sit forward in my seat. Sitting smiling to myself, I could see in the corner of my eye Jonathan staring at me.

I turned my head to find I was right, but the strange thing was is he didn't look away when I caught him. He continued to just stare at me.

"What?" I said, feeling awkward and a flash back of the first day of the class when he caught me staring at his works.

"You do realize that it is a very ludicrous idea to go to that party." He stated. The look he was giving me told me he thought I was extremely stupid. It was almost as if he was talking to me like I was a child.

"I-..I think its non of your business what I do." I stumbled to find words, but when I did I wanted to sound like he had the first day of the class when he had said along the same lines of what I just did.

"He was looking at me when he invited you, trying to brag and throw it in my face I was not invited. But even if I was I wouldn't go. Do you enjoy going to places where you will be intoxicated and dumbed down by illegal substances? Do enjoy going to things where it is a very likely chance to be caught by the police and thrown into jail, ruining your record and chances of going to an advanced college?"

I think my mouth had opened in shock at what he was scolding me over. Here was a classmate, a weird one, whom I rarely almost never talked to scolded me for going to go to a party.

I heard him chuckle and suddenly say, "What am I talking about? Advanced colleges. I'm assuming your going to a community low rate college, if that even." He suddenly started writing a few things on his notepaper and turning his gaze back to me. His hair blocked half his face.

I wanted to suddenly brag to him that I was smart and intended to go to an advanced college, but I didn't want to engage in any further conversation with him at this point. I turned and faced forward completely confused at his sudden outburst at me.

"Or don't answer me. You know I am right about the whole situation." He chimed, turning forward himself.

"What's it to you?" I snapped at him.

"It amuses me and I just want to know what is going through your mind when you make such ridiculous decisions. Purely my own research." He drummed his fingers on his notebook before writing a few more things down.

I looked at what he was writing and made out something about the brain, and thought processing.

"I believe I told you the first day of this class not to look at my private notes-" He said shutting his notebook.

I looked up at him. "You went into my business, I can go into yours. And besides, your writing something about me. I know it." I said aggravated.

"First off I believe you started all this by looking into my business before I had to yours. Second, the boy was saying it loudly and looking at me while he spoke. He wanted me to hear, so therefor it is my business, and third your name is nowhere on my notes. I'm writing about thought processes in general if you must know and right now I had happened to be writing about the mind knowing something is bad but doing it anyways. This situation conveniently occurred as I was writing and I had to note it."

At this point I wanted to reach across the table and break his glasses and push him off his chair. He was so arrogant and the way he spoke about Cody-... 'boy'. He spoke as if he was inferior to him and everyone around him was a child. That was at least how he was speaking to me. I felt so inadequate all the sudden.

"Just-...Stop being so...so..know it all!" I said in between my teeth, knowing that my insult was beyond weak.

He merely chuckled in his throat and reopened his notebook to continue writing. I didn't dare look at him the rest of class or even turn in that direction. When the teacher wrote on the board, I kept my posture forward.

At the end of the day, I was on a three way phone call with Amy and Sarah and told them what had happened.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Sarah said irritated by the thought of him.

"I've heard of him doing that to people." Amy spoke up, a television blaring in the background of wherever she was. "Once I was talking to Steven and he told me he was talking with his friend in his math class about going to smoke after school somewhere and Jonathan just butted into the conversation and started asking them things like 'are they okay with what they do' or 'what does smoking do to their mind?' and shit like that. They got creeped out and yelled at him. He just sat their taking all their words in like it was nothing. They even the rest of class threw things at him, they got so pissed off. He does this to people. It's like he wants to know how people's minds work."

"Sounds like he doesn't care about being bullied or what people think of him anymore." I said.

"He's a freak. I swear to god if I had to peg anyone to come into school one day and snap it be him." Sarah exclaimed.

"No I don't think he's like that. I think he's just way too into knowing stuff." I sighed. "There's a better chance he'll snap when he's out of college. Once he's retained all the knowledge the school systems can possibly give him." I laughed.

Changing subjects I brought up what Cody had said to me once more. "So were invited to his party in two weeks. You both in?"

"Of course!" They said in tandem.

"Sarah, were all sleeping at your house that night right?" I said sarcastically.

"If anyone asks, of course." I could hear the smile in Sarah's voice.

The next day in class, I kind of got nervous before my science class. I was dreading another bickering argument with him.

But when I sat next to him he did not acknowledge my existence at all.

Mr. Newman started class by passing out a paper to us all.

"So today I am passing to you all a paper regarding a project that you all will have to do. This project is worth twenty five percent of your grade, so don't just crumple the paper up- Mr. Banish." Mr. Newman pointed at James in the back row who had thrown the crumpled paper into his backpack. James sighed and reached in his bag to retrieve the paper.

"This project is about the human body. You know...the thing we've been covering for the past three weeks. Only two people in our entire class passed the test last week. So being the nice teacher I am I decided to let this project happen and boosted up the point value of it. This is a partner project, and each group will be assigned a part of the body to study. You will need to make a poster or video, a research paper, works cited papers, and a 3D model of your body part. It will be due in three weeks, so I expect a very good project from each group."

I scanned over the paper once more, smiling. This seemed easy enough. I looked over to my friends to see who would pair with who. I figured though no matter which of my friends I partnered with I would have to do all the work. Such as it always was for me.

"You will be working the person you are currently seated with at your table." Mr. Newman said.

It hit me like a baseball bat to the face.

What what are you doing? Stop-"

Her patient had started to rock back and forth in his seat and ended up falling over still strapped to the seat.

She sighed and went over to behind the chair, using all her might to stand him and the chair upright again.

"You can't just rock back and forth in your chair like that Phil." She told him coolly returning to her seat across from him. "You'll hurt yourself."

He hiccuped.

"That's right." She said in an almost baby voice. "Hurt yourself badly.."

She rubbed her hand to her temple and took her glasses off the table and hooked them to her shirt's pocket.

"Oh darn it Phil," She smiled. "I forget where I left off in my story. Do you remember?"

An unintellectual sound came from his mouth. It started to smell like he soiled himself.

She paid no mind and snapped her fingers, "Oh right! Mr. Newman had just announced that I had to be partnered with Jonathan for the big project. Thanks Phil."

"Well, I felt sudden fear.

I did not want to work on this project with the guy who had just yesterday had basically been calling me inferior to him and calling me dumb. He didn't even know me.

I turned to look at him, but the fact he just found out he was partnered with me didn't seem to phase him in the slightest bit. He remained looking at the teacher, who was grabbing a hat and shuffled around the slips of papers inside of it.

"In this hat are the names of all the body parts you could have. One of your group members will pick it and then I will give you the remainder of class to set up and plan what you will be doing. This is the only class day I am giving you. The rest will be done in study periods and outside of school. Remember in three weeks its due, so best to start now." He started to walk around letting each table pick from the hat.

He was walking on the side closer to Jonathan, so I let him pick a slip from the hat. He opened it and I had to crane my head to the right to see it.

Of course we would...

We got the brain for our body part.

I saw a smile grow on his face for a brief moment and I swear to this day it was the first time I saw him smile truly and honestly.

He was actually excited for this to be his topic for the project.

"Are all the slips out?" Mr. Newman shook the hat a few times; the extra pieces of paper still in there.

"Sir? We can do a video?" Cody said.

"Yes, but I want it serious... and nothing vulgar." He added at the end.

"Well uh we got the reproductive system so I don't know about that." I heard Cody snicker with his partner at his table.

"So remember we have a half left of class use it wisely." Mr. Newman returned to his desk and took out the local newspaper to read for the remainder of class.

All the other tables began to talk, whether it be to plan or to use the time as a free period and shrugging off the project for another day.

I turned my body slightly to the right to face my new project partner.

He still said nothing, placing the slip on the table and pulling out one of his books.

About a minute passed by and I could not take it any longer. I had to break the silence.

"So...what's the plan for this project?" I asked.

He lifted his head from his book, but returned to it. I grew angry.

"I'm talking to you. What are we going to do for this project."

He kept his eyes on his book as he spoke. "What do you mean by 'What's the plan'? Isn't it just going to be me doing this project and you running off and doing your own thing. You'd be in the way of this assignment and I won't have my grade affected by your lack of brain cells."

As I said before, I never had the urge to rub in my smarts to anyone before, but I had the sudden urge to prove myself to him. I was going to have say in this project and I was going to show to him I wasn't a dumb inferior being like he thought I was.

"No. That's not the plan at all. This is a group project. I know you know a lot, but apparently you don't know what the definition of that word is. It means more than one person-"

"I know what the word group means." He lowered his book and glared at me. I offended him by questioning his intelligence. It thrilled me. I started to like arguing with him.

"Well obviously not if you intend to do the project all by yourself. No, we are working on this together. Whether you and I want to or not we have to. So your going to have get over this hate you have towards me and suck it up and work together with me on this project." I raised my voice.

He stared at me, his glare relaxing into a perplexed look as if he was trying to read my thoughts or something.

"Fine." He sounded tired of the conversation. "I'll play along for now, but only because your amusing me by trying to sound as if you know better than me. But I'm going to type the paper, your input to it must be approved by me."

"Fine." I said, feeling triumphant. "So when are we going to work on this and better yet where?"

He looked confused by this and rolled his eyes. "See? This is already creating a problem that you are trying to barge into my plans to just do this myself."

"How is that?" I asked.

"I was just going to do this at my house." He stated.

"What's wrong with us doing it at your house?" I proposed.

"My grandmother doesn't allow people over."

"What?" I raised an eyebrow.

"She's a very cranky old woman. She yells at the paperboy everyday to leave and never come back. She won't allow you to set foot in our house." He said this all very calmly, and almost as if he was annoyed he had to explain.

This was all very odd.

"Okaaaaay." Was all I could say feeling awkward, "Well we can just do it at my house. My parents won't mind." I suggested, mentally picturing him in my house. In my room. On my computer with me. It was a laughable thought. Never in a million years would I think it would happen.

He thought about the idea himself, most likely thinking it would be very odd too.

Had he even ever been over someone else's house before? A girls house at that.

"This is all very weird." He said, I don't know to himself or to me. "Fine I guess. We can do it at your house. What day should we start. It will take a good amount of days even a week to finish this all you know." He told me as if trying to convince me, without saying it, to back out of the idea and just let him to the project.

"How about this Friday? Two days from now. We can start then and plan any other time we need to work on it." I said.

"I guess." He mumbled.

"So we have the brain. I think this project will be easy. There is literally thousands of topics we could write about. I think we got off easy." I smiled, trying to break the awkward tension.

He said nothing.

With that I spent the rest of class wondering if I should just let him do the project, but that determining fire inside of me wanting to prove myself and my smarts to him kept me from backing out. I was passionate about the field I wanted to go into. I wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by.

With class over my friends came over to me as I gathered up my belongings. My new project partner had already rushed out of the class.

"Alexis...I can't believe you have to be paired with-"

"I know...I know.." I sighed.

Friday came faster than I had expected, and that class I had to give him my address and phone number so we could set up for later that night.

I had written both on a slip of paper. Towards the end of our class, when we had about ten minutes of free time I put the piece of paper in front of him.

"It's my address, and phone number in case you get lost. We're still on for tonight right?" The words coming out of my mouth sounded so unnatural to me.

"Yes." He lifted it to his face and skimmed over its contents before placing it into his pocket. "What time should I be there?"

"Anytime after six is fine." I said.

"I'll bring over some poster paper." He said, "You do have a printer that works though right?"

"Yes, I have a computer and such in my room." I stated.

I think the fact where we would be working was in my room, made him feel awkward suddenly. The bell that rang stopped our conversation from getting any more further.

His tone of voice changed as he spoke, "I will see you at six then."

I nodded and he was out of the room before I could say anything else.

I just kept thinking about how odd that night was going to be. Jonathan Crane in my room tonight to work on a project. It was so surreal.

I had to just remember if we got into another argument like I knew we would, to resist the urge to throw my lamp at him.

The lamp was very expensive after all.

I'd just have to remember to reach for dance trophy next to the lamp instead to throw at him. It would leave a better indent on that stupid know-it-all cocky head of his.

And I think that's good for now. So if I have this mapped out in my head right it really should only be two more chapters of her explaining this story to her patient, then we will flash back and start the real story and see her arrival as an Arkham doctor and her interaction with older Dr. Crane. This is all just the set up chapters. Thanks for reading. Next chapter should be up in a few days or so.