A/N: I have recently seen the first movie, and I thought it needed a lot more Scarecrow in it. So, here's my OC to not only give him a real companion, but also a dopple-ganger, and a love interest. (Eventually.) Please review, favorite, follow; whatever floats your boat.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, or else I would be filthy-rich, and not writing this in my free time.
The dark clouds hung low over Arkham Asylum, casting an ominous air over the already threatening castle-like structure.
Gnarled trees dominated the landscape, and mist poured from every corner of the area, making it difficult to see past five feet in front of your face.
Suddenly, a beat-up taxi-cab drove to the entrance, sputtering small plumes of smoke, and screeching to a halt at the tall stairs.
A strikingly pale woman stumbled awkwardly out of the cab, clutching a small handbag, and handed the cab driver a crumpled ten dollar bill before trudging up the menacing steps in her black high-heels.
She thought to herself, "You're going to be professional, not a small schoolgirl. Come on, Crowlin, be confident."
She wiped a stray strand of her raven-black hair out of her glasses with her spare hand, let out a deep breath, and pushed open the heavy metal door with a slight grunt.
The inside of the asylum was a lot lighter than the outside, so poor Crowlin stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the countless psyciatrists in their tight little pastel outfits and blonde hairdos with colorful hairbands.
But she took in another breath, and told herself to keep walking.
She walked silently to the receptionist's desk, trying not to attract any attention, and said in her mousy little voice, "Um, I'm the new psyciatrist, and I was told I needed to talk to someo-"
The receptionist looked up from her tabloid clutched in her claw-like red fingernails, and snapped, "Mr. Crane's office is down that hallway. First door on the left."
She pointed one of her claw-like fingers in the direction of her instructions, and gave her the 'get lost' look.
Crowlin nodded shakily, and turned around to follow the receptionist's instructions, when she ran head-on into a fellow psyciatrist, making them both fall to the floor.
This woman was the complete opposite of Crowlin; with her cheery blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, neat black panty-hose, and a red botton-down shirt tucked into her black pencil skirt; making Crowlin with her tight black sweater and black dress pants look like a crow standing next to a cardinal.
Crowlin picked herself up carefully, and said, "I am so sorry, I'm just so clumsy, can I help you up?"
The other woman just laughed, dusted off her skirt, and said in a bright, chipper voice, "Oh, it's fine! I'm okay!"
Crowlin was just a little surprised that the lady didn't yell at her for her clumsiness, and so she stuttered, "O-oh, okay. I-I'm the new psyciatrist, Crowlin Mortus."
The lady smiled, revealing her perfect teeth behind her ruby-red lips, and said in that cheerful voice, "I'm Harleen Quinzel! Nice ta meet ya, Crowlin! Just call me Harley, everybody does."
Crowlin's large brown eyes widened, and she said in awe, "You're the lady that does sessions with the Joker?"
Harleen just waved this off with a guilty smile, and said humbly, "Oh, that's nothing. We just get along well, me and Mista Jay."
Crowlin offered a small smile as she thought to herself, "Mista Jay?", but on the outside she said, "Well, it was nice meeting you."
Harleen shook Crowlin's hand enthusiastically, and said with a wide smile, "Nice ta meet ya too!"
Crowlin walked quickly down the hallway towards Dr. Crane's office, holding her handbag in both hands now, and slowly pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Dr. Crane was sitting in a tall black chair, scratching something in an open notebook on the desk in front of him; then he looked up, and saw Crowlin standing in the doorway.
She was surprised to see that he looked nothing like what she thought he would. For one, he was a lot younger; about her age by the looks of it.
He had a thin face and frame, with slightly pale skin (but not as pale as her), and piercing blue eyes behind thin clear glasses frames, and slightly tussled brown hair.
She was shaken from her thoughts when he said in his clear, smooth voice, "Ms. Mortus?"
She stuttered, inwardly cursing herself for being so careless, "Yes?"
Crane raised his eyebrows, and said, "I asked you if you wanted to have a seat?"
Crowlin nodded slowly, and sat down in the chair in front of his desk, her handbag in her lap.
She sat there awkwardly, biting the inside of her cheek, until he asked, "Can... I see your resume?"
She blushed a violent shade of pink (which stood out incredibly on her white cheeks), and pulled a thick manilla folder from her handbag, placing it on the desk in front of him.
Dr. Crane opened the folder, and examined its contents.
Crowlin's eyes wandered to the notebook lying open on his desk, and became mesmerized by his spidery handwriting that covered the page in his thoughts.
After a few tense moments, he said with an impressed tone in his voice, "Six years at Harvard?"
Crowlin blushed again, and said with a considerable increase of strength in her voice, "I earned a Master's Degree in Psycology at Harvard's Psycology Department, and spent two years working at Pilgrim Psyciatric Center in New York."
Dr. Crane nodded, and said in a softer tone, "Not bad. And, what persuaded you to come here to Arkham?"
Crowlin crossed her legs underneath the desk, and said while rubbing the back of her neck with her other hand, "Well, I've heard many things about this place in the medical world, and I decided I would like a challenge."
Dr. Crane nodded again, and said, "Well, as you probably know, I am just the assistant director here at Arkham, Dr. Arkham is the boss-man here. But I will be your supervisor."
Crowlin nodded, and placed her resume back in her handbag.
Dr. Crane said to her, "Your interview is over. You seem to have ample experience, your background check seems to be in order, all in all everything is in top shape.
She said as she stood up, "Thank you. May I ask when I start?"
Dr. Crane smiled in her direction, and said, "Ms. Mortus, you begin tomorrow at 7 a.m. Is that satisfactory?"
Crowlin said with a rare smile on her face, "That's great! Thank you for your time."
Dr. Crane said with another smile, "No, Ms. Mortus, thank you."
She turned around, and started to open the door when he said, "And Ms. Mortus!"
She turned back around, and said, "Yes?"
He said with another smile, "Just call me Jonathan. Everyone does."
Crowlin smiled, and said, "And you can call me Crow, Mr. Cra- Jonathan. It speaks better than 'Crowlin'."
Jonathan clasped his hands under his nose, and said, "Thank you, Crow."
She smiled another smile, her dark lips stretching into a thin curve, and left the room carrying her handbag.
Jonathan watched her leave, and said to his empty office as the door swung closed, "Crowlin Mortus."
A small smile flashed across his lips as he opened his laptop, and started pecking away at the keys.
Outside the asylum, Crowlin called another cab, and betrayed a small smile as she climbed inside.
She whispered to herself, "Jonathan Crane."
She hugged her handbag to her chest, and stared dreamily out the window at the dreary landscape passing by in streaks of grey and black and the occasional dot of green or blue.
A/N: How do you like this so far? Please leave a review, and tell me what you loved, what you hated, whatever.
FLAMES WILL BE USED TO ROAST MARSHMALLOWS.