[Batman: The Dark Knight] - Going To See The Good Doctor (The Joker, Scarecrow)
Title: Going To See The Good Doctor
Author: Xanthos Samurai
Fandom: Batman: The Dark Knight
Pairing/Characters: Joker, Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane (Yes, you read that right.)
Rating: R
Length: 1,763 Words
Warnings: Massive spoilers for The Dark Knight, gore, violence, possible Joker/Scarecrow if you want to see it that way.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own anything but the arrangement of the words on the page.
Notes: My take on how one of the minor plot devices in The Dark Knight happened behind the scenes.
~
“What about if… yes… No, don’t be foolish. There are other ways… Yes, but none of them would yeild the same amount of results…”
Scarecrow and Dr. Jonathan Crane sat together in the basement of an abandoned warehouse in the Narrows, muttering to one another behind a burlap mask. Their voices alternated, soft and serious with harsh and mocking. They had decided long ago that the worst part about being stuck together like this was that they constantly interrupted one another.
A sudden, unexpected voice interrupted their argument,
“No, I don’t have an appointment. You see, I’m not a patient. I’m not crazy.”
Then came the sound of a heavy thud, followed immediately by the distinctive sound of a body hitting the floor. Scarecrow and Dr. Crane fell silent as the Joker walked slowly into the room. His shoulders were hunched, his step as deliberate as a mad dog’s. One of his hands gripped a long, bloody lead pipe. He dropped it to the floor with a loud, sharp clang as he advanced.
“Afternoon, Doctor.”
“I’ve told you before… My name is Scarecrow.” He looked over his shoulder at the Joker, irritated at this breech in ettiquette. “And I’ve told you before not to come here. It isn’t safe - you could have brought the entire MCU here.”
“I think you medical types are all too serious. Youshould lighten up. How ‘bout a little fire, Scarecrow?” Joker flicked open a lighter and tossed it at Scarecrow, who jumped away from it as though he really were made of straw. He glared at the Joker through the mask.
“Threaten me and I won’t cooperate with whatever it is you want me to do.”
“Oh I think you will.” Joker sat down in the chair across from him and licked his lips. “You see, what we’ve got here is called a mutually benefical exchange of services. You’re going do do what I ask you to because I keep you well-paid and out of Arkham.”
“I hope you don’t think that you’re my sole source of income, Mr. Joker. Because you’d be sadly mistaken.” Scarecrow leered at the Joker through the mask. He had a booming business manufacturing his drugs and selling them to the mob. The Joker didn’t alarm him. They were both merely agents of the same force. “And I told you - My name is Scarecrow. No longer Dr. Crane.”
The Joker licked his lips and leaned forward.
“You know, one of the few pieces of advice my father ever gave me was this - always know a good doctor and a good lawyer. I’m already well acquainted with Harvey Dent, but right now, I’m in need of the services of the good Dr. Crane. If he wouldn’t mind coming out to play.”
Scarecrow didn’t answer for a long moment, then reached up and pulled off the burlap mask. He placed it carefully into his lap and regarded the Joker with an arched brow.
“All right. You wanted me and here I am.”
The Joker’s eyes flickered across Crane’s face. Scarecrow wasn’t afraid of him, but Crane was. Crane was intelligent enough to understand that there was so much more about the Joker to fear than fear itself.
“I’ll make this short and sweet. I’m in need of your assistance.”
“If you’re trying to say that you need psychiatric help, I couldn’t agree more.”
“I’m not crazy, Doc. Of all the nuts in this nuthouse known as Gotham, you ought to understand that best.”
Dr. Jonathan Crane was silent for a long moment, staring into the Joker’s blackened eyes. They were voids in that He raised shaking hands and loosened his tie and then leaned back in his chair, feigning a sense of ease.
“What exactly is it would you have me do?”
“All I need you to do, doc, is perform a little surgery.”
Crane’s brows raised slightly.
“You are aware that I have a doctorate in psychiatric medicine only. I’m not a surgeon. I’ve never performed surgery before. It will look amateur.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll make too much of a difference. You know how it all fits together, don’t you? The head bone’s connected to the neck bone and all that. And I know you know how to stitch things back up, judghing from the beautiful job you did on your little alter ego down there.” He nodded to the mask in Crane’s lap. “And besides, I need it to be functional.” The Joker reached into the recesses of his coat and extracted a scalpel sticky with congealed blood. He placed it on the table between himself and the doctor. “Not pretty.”
A lump rose in Crane’s throat. He tried to swallow it, but his mouth had gone dry as paper. He licked his lips slowly, not realizing that he was in fact imitating the Joker’s own mannerisms.
“I see…”
“Come on, doctor. Don’t be such a stiff.” The Joker rose and began to circle Crane’s chair. “And in case you’re wondering why I don’t just do it myself… After all, I am known to be pretty good with a knife. And this is just a simple job - just slice and stitch and all better. But the trouble is,” a laugh began to creep into his words, low at first. “The trouble is that whenever I’ve got one - got a knife - and I’m putting it in someone, I just get so excited. And then I lose control. Sometimes I even forget why it is I put it in them in the first place!” His laughter exploded out of him like gunfire and he practically doubled over behind Crane’s chair. The doctor sat stiffly, afraid to even turn his head to look back at the madman laughing behind him.
“So you see,” the Joker continued as though he hadn’t interrupted himself at all. “It can be something of a problem. Especially when I need them to stay alive. Like now.”
“That’s all it is?” Dr. Crane wanted to get this over with. He was ready to get as far away from the Joker as possible. “There are dozens of other people you could have gotten to do this. Any underground quack would have been delighted. Why me?”
The Joker leaned over Crane from behind, placing his gloved hands on the thin shoulders.
“Because I’m convinced that if you tried hurting people physically like you do mentally, you’d have a lot more fun. Like me. So really, all I’m trying to do is broaden your horizons. Think of it as my way of doing you a favor.”
“It isn’t necessary,” muttered Crane weakly. “Really.”
“Oh doctor, don’t tell me you don’t have the heart for it.” The Joker stood straight, removing his hands from Crane’s shoulders but Crane could still feel his presence behind him. “Fortunately for you, I’ve got spares.”
Before Crane could grasp the full meaning of the Joker’s words, something wet, warm and squishy plopped into his lap. Looking down, he was horrified to discover a human heart, still warm, still oozing blood, resting on top of his mask. He flung it away with a yell and stared at where it landed on the floor with a wet smack.
“No?” The Joker continued calmly, disregarding Crane’s distress. “Maybe you don’t have the stomach for it. Maybe I have one of those in here too.”
Dr. Crane stumbled out of the chair on onto his feet before the Joker could produce any more organs from his coat.
“I’ll do it!” He said hurriedly, trying to regain his composure. “I assume you brought the patient?”
“Of course. Come in here.” The Joker whistled and slapped his thigh, as if calling a dog. “There’s a good boy.”
A large bearded man wandered into the room, stepping over the mutilated corpse of Scarecrow’s guard without even a glance.
“The voices are loud,” he whimpered as he made his way over to the Joker. “They’re louder than ever today!”
“Hush, hush…” Joker patted his cheek. “I know. That’s why I brought you here to see the doctor. He’s going to take them out and put bright lights in, remember? What did I tell you?”
“Like Christmas,” the man breathed.
“That’s right. Now go over there and get on the table. He’ll be with you in a minute.” The Joker watched as the man obediently went over to the long table off to the side of the room. He turned back to Crane and pressed something into his hand. “I want you to put this inside him.”
Crane looked down and found that the Joker had handed him a cellular phone connected to a small electronic device.
“This is a bomb.”
“What stunning powers of observation.” The Joker had walked away and was now picking his lead pipe off the floor, inspecting it as one usually inspected a diamond ring before purchase.
“You want me to put a bomb inside of him?”
The Joker didn’t say anything for a moment and licked his lips.
“This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” He put an arm around Crane and pulled him close, much to the doctor’s discomfort. “Because if it is, I could just… put it inside of you instead.”
“I’ll do it.” Crane pulled away and walked over to the table. He didn’t have any alcohol or anesthesia, so he had no choice but do do a waking surgery. Oh well - the patient didn’t seem like he would even be able to tell. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Joker slinking towards the door. “You’re leaving? I would rather have thought you would stay and watch.”
The Joker chuckled as he turned around to face Crane.
“It’s a weird quirk of mine, but I’m something of a hands-on guy. If I stayed and watched, I’d just get up dying to get involved. And that wouldn’t end well for any of us, would it?” He paused. “Well, it would end just dandy for me. But you would get offended because you’d think I didn’t admire your work and our poor patient over there really wouldn’t be feeling at all well at the end. So I’ll take my leave. I’ll be back in an hour to pick him up. Happy slicing doctor.”
The Joker waved at Crane as he walked out the door, carrying his lead pipe with him. Crane stood still for a moment before he pulled on his mask and walked over to the table.
“Do your very best to relax,” Scarecrow told the raving man. “Because this is really going to hurt.”
~
Author: Xanthos Samurai
Fandom: Batman: The Dark Knight
Pairing/Characters: Joker, Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane (Yes, you read that right.)
Rating: R
Length: 1,763 Words
Warnings: Massive spoilers for The Dark Knight, gore, violence, possible Joker/Scarecrow if you want to see it that way.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own anything but the arrangement of the words on the page.
Notes: My take on how one of the minor plot devices in The Dark Knight happened behind the scenes.
~
“What about if… yes… No, don’t be foolish. There are other ways… Yes, but none of them would yeild the same amount of results…”
Scarecrow and Dr. Jonathan Crane sat together in the basement of an abandoned warehouse in the Narrows, muttering to one another behind a burlap mask. Their voices alternated, soft and serious with harsh and mocking. They had decided long ago that the worst part about being stuck together like this was that they constantly interrupted one another.
A sudden, unexpected voice interrupted their argument,
“No, I don’t have an appointment. You see, I’m not a patient. I’m not crazy.”
Then came the sound of a heavy thud, followed immediately by the distinctive sound of a body hitting the floor. Scarecrow and Dr. Crane fell silent as the Joker walked slowly into the room. His shoulders were hunched, his step as deliberate as a mad dog’s. One of his hands gripped a long, bloody lead pipe. He dropped it to the floor with a loud, sharp clang as he advanced.
“Afternoon, Doctor.”
“I’ve told you before… My name is Scarecrow.” He looked over his shoulder at the Joker, irritated at this breech in ettiquette. “And I’ve told you before not to come here. It isn’t safe - you could have brought the entire MCU here.”
“I think you medical types are all too serious. Youshould lighten up. How ‘bout a little fire, Scarecrow?” Joker flicked open a lighter and tossed it at Scarecrow, who jumped away from it as though he really were made of straw. He glared at the Joker through the mask.
“Threaten me and I won’t cooperate with whatever it is you want me to do.”
“Oh I think you will.” Joker sat down in the chair across from him and licked his lips. “You see, what we’ve got here is called a mutually benefical exchange of services. You’re going do do what I ask you to because I keep you well-paid and out of Arkham.”
“I hope you don’t think that you’re my sole source of income, Mr. Joker. Because you’d be sadly mistaken.” Scarecrow leered at the Joker through the mask. He had a booming business manufacturing his drugs and selling them to the mob. The Joker didn’t alarm him. They were both merely agents of the same force. “And I told you - My name is Scarecrow. No longer Dr. Crane.”
The Joker licked his lips and leaned forward.
“You know, one of the few pieces of advice my father ever gave me was this - always know a good doctor and a good lawyer. I’m already well acquainted with Harvey Dent, but right now, I’m in need of the services of the good Dr. Crane. If he wouldn’t mind coming out to play.”
Scarecrow didn’t answer for a long moment, then reached up and pulled off the burlap mask. He placed it carefully into his lap and regarded the Joker with an arched brow.
“All right. You wanted me and here I am.”
The Joker’s eyes flickered across Crane’s face. Scarecrow wasn’t afraid of him, but Crane was. Crane was intelligent enough to understand that there was so much more about the Joker to fear than fear itself.
“I’ll make this short and sweet. I’m in need of your assistance.”
“If you’re trying to say that you need psychiatric help, I couldn’t agree more.”
“I’m not crazy, Doc. Of all the nuts in this nuthouse known as Gotham, you ought to understand that best.”
Dr. Jonathan Crane was silent for a long moment, staring into the Joker’s blackened eyes. They were voids in that He raised shaking hands and loosened his tie and then leaned back in his chair, feigning a sense of ease.
“What exactly is it would you have me do?”
“All I need you to do, doc, is perform a little surgery.”
Crane’s brows raised slightly.
“You are aware that I have a doctorate in psychiatric medicine only. I’m not a surgeon. I’ve never performed surgery before. It will look amateur.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll make too much of a difference. You know how it all fits together, don’t you? The head bone’s connected to the neck bone and all that. And I know you know how to stitch things back up, judghing from the beautiful job you did on your little alter ego down there.” He nodded to the mask in Crane’s lap. “And besides, I need it to be functional.” The Joker reached into the recesses of his coat and extracted a scalpel sticky with congealed blood. He placed it on the table between himself and the doctor. “Not pretty.”
A lump rose in Crane’s throat. He tried to swallow it, but his mouth had gone dry as paper. He licked his lips slowly, not realizing that he was in fact imitating the Joker’s own mannerisms.
“I see…”
“Come on, doctor. Don’t be such a stiff.” The Joker rose and began to circle Crane’s chair. “And in case you’re wondering why I don’t just do it myself… After all, I am known to be pretty good with a knife. And this is just a simple job - just slice and stitch and all better. But the trouble is,” a laugh began to creep into his words, low at first. “The trouble is that whenever I’ve got one - got a knife - and I’m putting it in someone, I just get so excited. And then I lose control. Sometimes I even forget why it is I put it in them in the first place!” His laughter exploded out of him like gunfire and he practically doubled over behind Crane’s chair. The doctor sat stiffly, afraid to even turn his head to look back at the madman laughing behind him.
“So you see,” the Joker continued as though he hadn’t interrupted himself at all. “It can be something of a problem. Especially when I need them to stay alive. Like now.”
“That’s all it is?” Dr. Crane wanted to get this over with. He was ready to get as far away from the Joker as possible. “There are dozens of other people you could have gotten to do this. Any underground quack would have been delighted. Why me?”
The Joker leaned over Crane from behind, placing his gloved hands on the thin shoulders.
“Because I’m convinced that if you tried hurting people physically like you do mentally, you’d have a lot more fun. Like me. So really, all I’m trying to do is broaden your horizons. Think of it as my way of doing you a favor.”
“It isn’t necessary,” muttered Crane weakly. “Really.”
“Oh doctor, don’t tell me you don’t have the heart for it.” The Joker stood straight, removing his hands from Crane’s shoulders but Crane could still feel his presence behind him. “Fortunately for you, I’ve got spares.”
Before Crane could grasp the full meaning of the Joker’s words, something wet, warm and squishy plopped into his lap. Looking down, he was horrified to discover a human heart, still warm, still oozing blood, resting on top of his mask. He flung it away with a yell and stared at where it landed on the floor with a wet smack.
“No?” The Joker continued calmly, disregarding Crane’s distress. “Maybe you don’t have the stomach for it. Maybe I have one of those in here too.”
Dr. Crane stumbled out of the chair on onto his feet before the Joker could produce any more organs from his coat.
“I’ll do it!” He said hurriedly, trying to regain his composure. “I assume you brought the patient?”
“Of course. Come in here.” The Joker whistled and slapped his thigh, as if calling a dog. “There’s a good boy.”
A large bearded man wandered into the room, stepping over the mutilated corpse of Scarecrow’s guard without even a glance.
“The voices are loud,” he whimpered as he made his way over to the Joker. “They’re louder than ever today!”
“Hush, hush…” Joker patted his cheek. “I know. That’s why I brought you here to see the doctor. He’s going to take them out and put bright lights in, remember? What did I tell you?”
“Like Christmas,” the man breathed.
“That’s right. Now go over there and get on the table. He’ll be with you in a minute.” The Joker watched as the man obediently went over to the long table off to the side of the room. He turned back to Crane and pressed something into his hand. “I want you to put this inside him.”
Crane looked down and found that the Joker had handed him a cellular phone connected to a small electronic device.
“This is a bomb.”
“What stunning powers of observation.” The Joker had walked away and was now picking his lead pipe off the floor, inspecting it as one usually inspected a diamond ring before purchase.
“You want me to put a bomb inside of him?”
The Joker didn’t say anything for a moment and licked his lips.
“This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” He put an arm around Crane and pulled him close, much to the doctor’s discomfort. “Because if it is, I could just… put it inside of you instead.”
“I’ll do it.” Crane pulled away and walked over to the table. He didn’t have any alcohol or anesthesia, so he had no choice but do do a waking surgery. Oh well - the patient didn’t seem like he would even be able to tell. He looked over his shoulder and saw the Joker slinking towards the door. “You’re leaving? I would rather have thought you would stay and watch.”
The Joker chuckled as he turned around to face Crane.
“It’s a weird quirk of mine, but I’m something of a hands-on guy. If I stayed and watched, I’d just get up dying to get involved. And that wouldn’t end well for any of us, would it?” He paused. “Well, it would end just dandy for me. But you would get offended because you’d think I didn’t admire your work and our poor patient over there really wouldn’t be feeling at all well at the end. So I’ll take my leave. I’ll be back in an hour to pick him up. Happy slicing doctor.”
The Joker waved at Crane as he walked out the door, carrying his lead pipe with him. Crane stood still for a moment before he pulled on his mask and walked over to the table.
“Do your very best to relax,” Scarecrow told the raving man. “Because this is really going to hurt.”
~