Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.

Thank you for giving my story a chance. I hope you like it.

Despite what Hollywood said about thunderstorms and mad-scientists, Crane did not particularly care about them. That was not to say he disliked them, they just did not hold his interest. True, a percent of the population had a phobia of thunderstorms, and another percentage were afraid of them but as Crane had no test-subject with either, he couldn't exploit the current storm that raged outside.

Therefore, Crane's psychological thriller, with its brilliant serial-killer, held his attention. Chances are it would have continued to hold Crane's attention until he finished it in the early hours of the morning had there not been a knock at his door.

No one knocked on Crane's door, save his landlord, and the police. But they always foolishly announced their presence. Still Crane was careful to arm himself with two canisters of fear-toxin before answering it.

Crane had been planning to verbally harass whoever had come knocking. At the sight of who was there, though the insults died on his tongue. The person at the door fell forward, and Crane caught her and was rewarded with the scent of her hair. Even wet it was sweet. Crane pulled her inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and locking it.

"Ivy?"

Poison Ivy, using to his arm to remain upright, smiled at him sleepily. "Good morning, Jonathan."

RISE

A couch, a TV that played all of ten channels, four of which were church sermons, that was Arkham's rec-room. Inmates, if they were very good, were allowed to bring the books they checked out from the library there to read. Jonathan Crane gave up psychologically torturing the sheep around him for that privilege.

One he wouldn't normally partake in but his new rec-room time had only easy to bully d-list costume criminals, and non-costume criminals. Crane ruled there and therefore, got the couch to himself. The couch was slightly more comfortable than the thing the staff claimed passed for a mattress, making it the more ideal place to read. For that alone Crane behaved.

Today, he had begun Pride and Prejudice, and was already well on his way to hating Mrs. Bennet when the door opened.

The sheep were already here. Either someone was leaving early or they were getting a new friend.

"You've got the rest of the hour, Isley."

Damn.

The others showed they had a modicum of intelligence by not commenting on Poison Ivy's arrival. Damn again, if she'd attacked them Ivy would have been out of here and Crane wouldn't have had to deal with the feminist eco-freak. Their brains would turn on at the most inconvenient moment for him. Such was the luck of Jonathan Crane.

"Shove over, Crane."

Ivy leaned against the back of the couch smiling down at him. Crane liked to think himself above those weak men struck dumb by a pretty face. He was not entirely immune. If he was honest with himself, smiles from pretty members of the opposite sex still made him blush like a school-boy. Boobs garnered the same reaction from him. Thankfully, attractive females never smiled at him –and he made a point to avoid boobs- so he could lie to himself. Despite those lies, Crane had to admit, Ivy was stunning.

Genetics were evil. Why couldn't everyone look exactly the same? And who had deemed that some people should blush when they were embarrassed more than others. That was a horrible idea.

"Crane," said Ivy. "Move over."

Crane blinked. Just another reason to damn beauty to Hell, it had distracted him.

"I'm being nice and sharing, if you'd prefer the floor that's fine with me."

Crane repositioned his bones and skin, so that he was seated upright. Ivy hopped over the back and settled back on the couch. "Pride and Prejudice, I'm surprised."

"Do not read into it. The library does not have any books that interest me. Calling Arkham's library's collection of books pitiful is generous. This is at least a classic that I have heard is well-written and will hopefully distract me from the tedium here for the time being."

"It's one of my favorite Jane Austen books. What do you think?"

"Mrs. Bennet is an idiot, an annoying idiot."

"Aren't all idiots?"

"Touché."

"Wait until you meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

"I'd like to go back to reading it."

As though she had not heard him, Ivy continued. "You'll want to break into the book and strangle her."

"If I was going to go to the trouble of figuring out a way into the book, I feed Mrs. Bennet and if she is even half as annoying this Lady Catherine, their worst nightmares."

"If you do, take me with you. I'd love an opportunity to castrate Wickham."

"Is he also annoying?" Crane asked.

"No, he's a pig."

"I take it pig is used as a synonym to describe male character you didn't like."

"You took it correctly."

Crane shrugged, "I'll be sure to take you with me then. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue reading it now."

Ivy scooted over to him, and reached for the book. Crane pulled it out of her reach. "What are you doing?"

"I want to read it with you."

Crane brought the book back, and held it between him and Ivy. Without warning, Ivy scooted the rest of the way over and leaned against Crane's side, and pulled one of his arms around her. It froze him effectively, and sent his blood shooting up to his face.

If Ivy wanted to steal the book and steal the book and kick Crane off the couch, she'd have minimal trouble. Crane wasn't aware of that possible danger, his brain was too busy trying to process the fact that there were boobs touching him. That Ivy was willingly this close to him, leaning against him with her soft body, boobs, and delicious scent.

Ivy laughed. That got Crane's brain working on more important things again. He leapt off the couch, dropping the book in the process. That just made Ivy laugh harder.

"You know what, you can read it," Crane snapped.

Ivy laughed again. "I'm sorry, that was mean…"

"Yes, it was," Crane sniffed. Then he realized that made him sound pathetic, and decided it was best to just glare at Ivy. She was not cowed, though she did sober.

"I didn't think you'd react so strongly Jonathan, I'm sorry." That apology sounded a lot more heartfelt. Crane didn't believe it though; beautiful women like Ivy were excellent liars. "Look if you're too scared…"

Crane's glare would have burned down Arkham if he had pyrokenetic powers.

"If you don't want to read it with me, I'll leave," Ivy offered.

"That's not necessary," said Crane. Stiffly, he came back to the couch, retrieving the book on the way. This time Ivy only came close enough to read the book with him.

RISE

Jonathan's bathroom was tiny, his shower was even smaller. All the same, the water was hot albeit the spray was a bit uneven, and for that alone Ivy was grateful. Not trusting the hot water to last, and not wanting to use it all up in case Jonathan wanted to take one in the morning, Ivy was quick. She stayed in only long enough for her teeth to stop chattering, and to clean the gravel from her hands, arms, knees, and ankle. An ankle that now that she really looked at it was blue, purple and three sizes too big. It was a wonder Ivy had managed to limp here.

Clean, Ivy turned off the water, and limped out of the shower. Jonathan had, after helping Ivy to his bathroom, gotten her a towel and that was probably his entire wardrobe of clean clothes. Ivy was never going to fit into Jonathan's pants. But one of his shirts, that worked. And his boxers had an elastic waistband and therefore, stretched. After donning pair of socks, and a sweater, Ivy limped out of the bathroom, the rest of Jonathan's clothes folded in her hand.

Jonathan's apartment was all of one room, and a bathroom. So technically, two rooms. Mostly it was full of experiments, and chemicals that were in carefully contained. In the midst of it all, Ivy did spy a mattress, covered in a variety of blankets. Jonathan sat on it, reading.

"My wet clothes are hanging up in the bathroom," said Ivy. "They should be dry by morning."

"Should be," Jonathan echoed. "I made you tomato soup. It's from a can, but it's all I have."

"It's fine," said Ivy "Where do you want these?"

Jonathan got up, and crossed the room. "I'll put them away."

Ivy thanked him, and limped over to the kitchen counter. As promised there was a bowl of warm tomato soup waiting for her. Ivy made tomato to die for. It had ruined all others for her, to the point that the soup Jonathan made tasted only slightly better than the slop Arkham provided.

But it was warm, marginally healthy, and Ivy was starving. Plus Jonathan had made it for, and it would be rude to refuse the meal.

The man in question was back, leaning against the table, watching her. When Jonathan wanted to stare intensely, he did. It was a tad unnerving, the lack of blinking. "Sit down; I'll wrap your ankle for you."

"Thanks," said Ivy. Careful not to spill her soup, she limped over and sat down.

Jonathan crouched down and pulled off her sock. "What are you doing here Ivy?"

Ivy had expected the question, had expected it earlier actually. After all she'd all but fallen down on Jonathan's floor. But he'd just led her to the bathroom with a comment about how she could easily catch a cold. Ivy had been too cold, tired and grateful to stop and explain the reason for her visit.

Now Ivy was warm, revitalized from her shower and owed Jonathan an explanation. "The Joker broke Harley out of Arkham today, or well, yesterday now. I escaped in the chaos, but was injured."

"How did you find me?" Jonathan asked. He took her ankle between his hands; they were cold and felt good against the hot, throbbing pain. Gently, he prodded Ivy's ankle. She swallowed the pain, and refrained from flinching.

"Nigma, I knew about one of his old lairs, and went there to see if there was money or food or weapons I could use. Nigma was there, and gave me your address and gun."

"That was generous of him," Jonathan commented.

"He owed me," said Ivy, shrugging.

Jonathan nodded, "I think you're ankles sprained. I'll wrap it, there's ice in the fridge, and you can have the mattress."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed Jonathan. I'm tough enough to rough it out with a blanket."

Jonathan blanched, "I wasn't implying that. I wasn't going to sleep anyway, so it's pointless for you to sleep on the floor."

"We could also share the mattress, there's more than enough room," Ivy suggested.

Jonathan glared at her. "I'd prefer to wake-up after several hours, and not be killed in my sleep for accidently groping you."

"Would it be an accident?"

"Of course."

"You'd never do it because you wanted to?"

Jonathan went back to glaring at her, though this time he blushed. Being vague and teasing him, while fun, was mean. Ivy was the one with the crush, she'd come here to confess, to ask if he wanted to start a relationship. One that was good, mutual and healthy. If he did, wonderful; if he didn't, Ivy would move on.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan. I'm here to confess."

"You'll need a cop or a priest for that."

"To confess that I like you, and if you feel the same way, I'd like to start a relationship with you," said Ivy.

Jonathan Crane and love-confessions did not mix. The man had no experience with them other than a truly pathetic on he'd given his freshmen year of college. Crane liked to pretend that memory was a nightmare and nothing more, and therefore, didn't count it. Only now, he was the one being confessed to. Ironic, since he was on his knees before Ivy.

Ivy!

Poison Ivy!

Considered to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, Poison Ivy, wanted a relationship with him. This was a dream, or a joke, yes a joke.

A cruel joke and nay moment the Joker was going to burst in with camera. No, Ivy despised the Joker. Okay, so the news would burst in with a camera. Crane could see the segment now.

"Scarecrow believes it's his lucky day."

And he had. For one moment, Crane had seen them together, a relationship with Ivy working out. How he had no clue. But he'd wanted it. Because Ivy was smart, beautiful funny and… Crane blinked, despite her teasing, Ivy was nice to him. Something he'd always craved in a locked away corner of himself. If he was ever to have a relationship he wanted it to be with someone like Ivy.

Except that wouldn't happen because women like Ivy didn't want bone-bags like Jonathan Crane was. They sold their bodies to men with bank-accounts that weren't ashamed to stand next to Bruce Wayne's. Except Ivy wasn't like those women, she despised those women, she'd kill Jonathan for thinking that. Ivy was smart, a botanical genius… Smart girls liked smart boys…

So maybe… Maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe a relationship with Ivy, something he'd never entertained it was so preposterous but now really, really wanted. Maybe it was possible.

"Really?" Crane chocked out. "Really?"

"Yes, I would like to try."

"We're both wanted fugitives, some of the most feared villains in Gotham," said Crane. "Normal people can't make a relationship work. How are we supposed to?"

"I don't have all the details worked out," said Ivy. "I haven't dated in a while."

"I've never dated period," said Crane.

"We can take things as slowly as you want," said Ivy.

"Slow, slow is good," said Crane. "Wait? You want to have sex? Tonight?"

"If you like," said Ivy. "I'm happy to wait as long as you want."

"I need to go brush my teeth," said Crane, and ran for the bathroom.

Ivy decided to take that as a yes, Jonathan wanted to have sex tonight and hobbled over to the mattress to wait for him. Shortly, Jonathan exited the bathroom; he looked around wildly for her a second. Ivy was about to tell him where she was when Jonathan spotted her. She hadn't thought he could blush anymore, she'd been wrong.

And he blushed even more when she beckoned him to her with one finger. Obediently, Crane came over and joined her on the mattress.

"It will be really bad, I haven't done it in ten years, and I only actually did it three times…"

Ivy put a finger to Jonathan's lips. His babbling stopped, and Ivy removed her finger, replacing it with her lips. Jonathan's lips were smooth, and his breath minty. That being said, it soon became Jonathan really didn't have any idea what he was doing when it came to kissing. That was alright, Ivy was happy to teach him.

"You see," said Jonathan, pathetically. "You see I'm horrible and…

Ivy ran a hand up the Scarecrow's thigh; like with a finger to lips, that shut him up.

"Men are always allowed to teach women about sex," said Ivy, distastefully. "Why can't a woman not teach a man? I like you Jonathan; I'm not going to stop because you're inexperienced. I'll teach you everything you need to know."

"T-That's a good point."

RISE

Being fast readers, Crane and Ivy finished several chapters of Pride and Prejudice before the guards came to collect them. Cooperatively, both inmates got up and presumed the position to be handcuffed.

"What did you think?" Ivy asked.

"I am surprised you like Mr. Darcy after his remark that Elizabeth Bennet was unattractive."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, Jonathan, I do not hate all men who do not bow down and worship women."

"He insulted a woman though," said Crane.

"There is a difference between insulting a woman by saying she cannot perform a task because of her gender, then voicing an opinion about her physical appearance."

Crane had never expected anything Poison Ivy said to make sense to him. But she had, and now she was continuing to speak.

"Mr. Darcy has the right to say he finds Elizabeth Bennet unattractive, though yes it is rude to say so to someone's face. However, I don't think Mr. Darcy knew she was there."

"I will finish."

Ivy looked pleased with the news.

"Umm… Doctor Crane."

Crane looked down at the shaking guard, and smirked. "Are you cold, young man?"

"No, I mean yes…"

Arkham had been scraping the bottom of the barrel again; shame for the asylum, great for Crane's entertainment.

"Dr. L-Leland is s-seeing you n-now."

The information was the not a worth a response. Especially when the guard began to sweat even more, waiting for Crane to agree.

The guard's partner grabbed Crane's shoulder and securely guided towards the door.

"See you tomorrow, Jonathan."

Crane blinked; he would see Poison Ivy tomorrow. Oddly enough, he looked forward to it.

Thanks for reading.