(A/N): Khalil Gibran owns his story, not me. You can find The Madman online and download for free. I found "The Scarecrow" by accident and I thought, it really fit Jonathan and he should hear it.

There was something about Harley Quinn that was good for him? It had been a few days since Scarecrow had told him that. He stared unseeing into the book he held as he mulled it over. Well, what were the obvious reasons?

"You think a whole lot, you know that? Can't you just let my words be for once?"

Jonathan turned his gaze, now conscious to his side where Scarecrow reclined, back against the tree Jonathan was sitting before. The man cracked open his eyes and stared, giving him a knowing look.

'I'm not disagreeing with you,' Jonathan defended, 'but I happen to like to mull over these things.'

Scarecrow snorted, "What a hobby, but I get the point. Seriously though, over-analyzing a situation is bad news, I'm just warning you."

Jonathan gave him an indignant look; he knew that, but then he sighed, 'Was there any G-rated reason you think Harley would be good for me?'

Scarecrow's eyes lazily trailed away from Jonathan's, a small smile playing about his lips, "Is there a G-rated reason? Oh, Jonny, you make this so droll," he laughed and then his attention was focused again on him, "well she was a psychiatrist too, I mean she had no specialty in psychopharmacology, but eh. She's not annoying, she's not afraid of you or thinks you're weird, despite the fact she's a female she's talking to you, and...here she comes."

Jonathan had heard the footsteps and out of the corner of his eye had seen her approach. Instantly Scarecrow was gone, really gone. Jonathan probed his conscious for the man, but he couldn't find him. That was great, now he was left utterly alone with the woman.

He looked up at her as she neared him and she gave him a friendly smile.

"You really like it out here, don't you? Do you have a problem playing with others?"

"Did they bore you again?" He didn't answer her.

Harley was, by then, standing at his side where Scarecrow had been sitting moments before. She fell to doing the same before she replied, "Yes and no, in a way they are all very intelligent, but what they talk about usually doesn't interest me, at least the way they talk about it. So is that why you aren't in the Recreation Room?"

"Not entirely. Really that environment isn't very conducive to reading. It's often very loud in there."

Her expression unexpectedly changed from it's brightness. It became uncertain and embarrassed. "Yeah, with all the talking...I'm interrupting your reading time, aren't I? I should leave you to that."

A panic suddenly seized him. He hadn't even been thinking of pushing her away, only making conversation. "No," he shook his head, smiling to make the point sincere, "you're not. I read in my cell often enough. I don't particularly mind the other prisoners, but..."

"Do they irritate you?"

It was genuine curiosity on her part, but Jonathan had no idea how to answer. How could he tell her that he had never voluntarily interacted with anyone? That he was just a person who enjoyed solitary, but it was a force of habit more than anything else? He really wished he had Scarecrow right now, but no, the man had left him to his own devices. Of all the times to respect his privacy...

"Never a social butterfly were you?" She said, amused. He must have taken too long. He frowned at her, but that only made her grin wider. "That explains a lot."

"It's habit. I've always enjoyed being alone."

Harley leaned forward slightly, "The psychiatrist in me wants to snatch onto that, because one doesn't simply choose to be alone this often merely out of preference. There's some inherent cause, but to come right out and ask you would be rude, so I'll hold off."

He couldn't help but smile, "Yet implying that you want to ask is fine?" She had no doubt expressed interest in wanting to know why he was such a solitary person. He wasn't angry, though, actually it was funny the way she had basically asked him the question without actually asking it. She chuckled.

"Call it my way of warning you, Jon," her smile had softened, "eventually the psychiatrist side will win."

"Well, I can sympathize with you there. Being so versed and interested in the mind is almost like a mental-illness itself, isn't it?" He rose an eyebrow, grin never leaving his face.

Harley laughed at that, nodding."It is, I mean it's an obsession almost. I remember some nights just trying to figure out some of my patients, wondering how much thinking was too much thinking. It was horrible."

"Do you miss it?"

Harley blinked suddenly and really looked at him; for once her cheerful exterior vanished. Regret painted a vivid picture on her face, then she glanced away. "Yes, there are times that I do, what about you? You had it better than me: Director Crane, it sounded nice."

Crane glanced at the book in his hands and nodded; she had yet to look back at him. Her eyes were focused faraway. "Nice title, hectic job. But yes, I miss being a psychiatrist, at least."

Harley turned back to him then he noticed it: there was a longing for more knowledge in her eyes; he could she wanted to know what had led him to his fall—a lot of people did, but she didn't open her mouth. He was grateful for that, extremely so, it made feel human not like an outcast. She was respecting his privacy. "You ever played twenty questions?" He surprised himself by voicing it.

"Yeah, I'm familiar with the concept."

He gave a disarming look, "Want to play? We have plenty of time and I'll make sure not to ask any prying questions. I mean we're both psychiatrists, each wanting to know more about the person we're with, perhaps we can appease that slightly."

Her eyes brightened and her face became a flame of infectious humor. She clasped her hands together. "Alright, Jon, you can start."

"And here I was going to be a gentleman and offer you to start."

"Nah, you can go ahead, your idea, you can take it away."

Jonathan pretended to think about the question, but he had known what his first question was going to be since he'd suggested the game. It was basic, beginning. "Where were you born?"

"Unity Hospital in Rochester, New York. Where were you born?"

"Brinson, Georgia," he began and after a moment he gave a fairly truthful reason why he hadn't mentioned any hospitals, "...my mom decided to have me naturally in a house."

"Ouch." Harley cringed, "Never doing that, nope. Drugs are a blessing to be used for such things."

"Agreed, and I don't even have to experience the miracle of birth physically. Alright, favorite bedtime story growing up?"

Harley grinned, "Oh it was your classic fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast. I loved that story, even if the beast was a little cruel at first, he was just so lonely, and it'd been so long he hadn't spoken to people. I mean he grew up taught to embrace superficiality, but as a kid, I loved the idea that perhaps love could have that affect on people, you know changing them for the better." She inclined her head and pursed her lips. "Alright then, Jonny, what's your middle name?"

"You can dig a little deeper than that, you know?" He laughed. She gave him a mock reproachful look.

"I know, but I'm curious. So I might as well use that question first."

He crossed his arms,"Issac, Jonathan Issac Crane."

"Oh and here I was expecting Icabod." She teased and then saw his smile crack a little, "oh, did you get a lot...of course you did. I didn't mean it callously, just a having a little fun."

Jonathan shook his head, "No, I know that, you're alright, it's just been a while since I've heard that used in a non-caustic tone. Don't worry about it, it was childish teasing anyway. I do believe it's my turn now," he went silent to let the uncomfortable air that had fallen dissipate. "When did you move to Gotham?"

"I moved to Gotham when I was seventeen to go to the University. So thirteen years ago, wow, that's a lifetime ago."

"The years really do fly by." Jonathan agreed, his voice becoming softer. So she was thirty, only a few years younger than him. She nodded in agreement, but the mirrored sober expression fell away quickly.

"Okay, enough of lamenting how old we are. Is it true that you graduated medical school at twenty-five?"

"For once the rumor is true, I did." He felt a swelling of pride at that and at the widening of her eyes.

"Impressive," she commented, "very impressive."

"Thank you, and now what about your middle name?"

She flushed embarrassedly, "Francis."

"Francis," he laughed.

"Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, laugh it up," she said in a mock pout, "I don't know what my mom was thinking either. When you're done, I'd like to know when you came to Gotham."

Jonathan grinned, "Seventeen like you, I got a full ride to Gotham University. Were you an only child?"

"I have an older brother. And you know, I bet the family's thrilled about my new career choice," her voice was once again ashamed, but she charged on, "what about you?"

"Yeah, as far as I know at least." The way and tenor in which he worded that left it to her to ask for further explanation when her turn came again if she wanted. "Did you ever want to be something other than a psychiatrist?"

"A gymnast. I got a scholarship in gymnastics from Gotham, but in my sophomore year I had an accident, it didn't put me out of commission, nothing along the lines of 'I could never do gymnastics again'...but while I was benched I did a lot of exploration into majors at the university. It was all searching out of boredom, but I spoke to a Psychology professor one day and I my life path lit up. Sort of the same question, but did you have any other hobbies than psychology?"

"Believe it or not, I'm a really good shot with a gun. I grew up on a farm and you had to know how to shoot. Sometimes those scarecrows didn't protect your crops well enough."

"A farmer's boy," Harley breathed, "how adorable."

Jonathan shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn. This was ridiculous, but it felt good to talk to someone like this. "I did a lot of hunting. Do you have a favorite animal?"

Harley grinned, "Yeah, I like the birds in the genus Corvus, Crows and Ravens."

"Really, you like crows and ravens?" At her nod, Jonathan felt his fingers twist together. He felt like a schoolboy, "I do too."

"They're intelligent little pests, but that's their appeal." Harley said as if confided an exciting secret.

Jonathan laughed, knowing he agreed fully. They were very intelligent and definite crooks, but their behavior and innate wit was what made crows and the like what they were. It was a sort of charm.

"I'll recycle a question," Harley said, "you've gotten me curious anyway. Did you have a favorite bedtime story when you were young?"

Jonathan shook his head, "I didn't, I really wasn't read to, at least those kind of stories," his happiness was sobered slightly, but he didn't look away this time. He stared right into Harley's eyes. "But I learned to read early and I went out in search on my own. My favorite fairytale was Hansel and Gretel. Those kids were smart and in the end the evil witch met her end, and rightly so."

"I always hated that witch. She deserved getting pushed into the oven. So I know this is off topic, but what are you reading now?"

Jonathan glanced down at the book, "The Madman by Khalil Gibran." Harley reached out a hand in silent request and he held the book to her. She took it and settled beside him more comfortably; their shoulders were almost touching. She opened the book carefully, face, Jonathan observed full of purpose.

"You've read this before?"

She nodded, fingers gliding over pages, eyes never leaving as they skimmed, "Yeah, he's a great poet and writer, and there is a particular story in here I think you'd like. Have you read it before?"

"No."

Harley grinned, "I'm amazed this place would let you have any book whose title advertises insanity."

Jonathan chuckled, "Yes, but then again, my ward is considered dangerous. I'm an intellectual so they allow me philosophical and medical texts so long as I behave."

Harley's fingers stopped moving. She grinned and turned to glance at him. "I found it." His eyes scanned the page until he found it. In bold, caps the title was displayed.

"THE SCARECROW"

Harley brought the book closer and with a glance at Jonathan, read:

Once I said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this lonely field."

And he said, "The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I never tire of it."

Said I after a minute of thought, "It is true; for I too have known that joy."

Said he, "Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it."

Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled me.

A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest under his hat.

Jonathan looked at her and she gave back the book. For a moment nothing was said and a heavy hush began to invade the air.

"I'm afraid, we weren't able to finish our game," she commented finally, eyes staring near the sun, "it's almost time for recreation to be over."

Jonathan subconsciously held the book tighter He nodded, "We can finish later, if you'd like. I'll hold you to it." A sense of relief settled over him when she turned to him with a bright smile. He hadn't been aware of the dread that had been seeping into him.

"And I'll return the gesture." She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes.

"Apparently you're not socially inept after all, Jonny."

Scarecrow was back. Jonathan didn't jump. He'd been waiting for his other's input.

"Mad at me for leaving?"

Jonathan grinned, 'Actually, no. I had a wonderful time, Father.'

Scarecrow snickered, "I'm happy for you, so are you satisfied? Do you think she means to cause us harm?" Jonathan stared at Harley whose eyes were staring now over the emerald grass.

'No,' Jonathan said, eyes falling again to his book. 'But I'm not sure her reasons for coming to us in the first place were as truthful as it seemed. I think she's like me, a scarecrow who stood in a lonely field, always denying that she needed any companionship, but secretly longing for it. Unfortunately the crow she decided to let nest in her hat was a vulture in disguise, but she's still open for a companion. Scarecrow, I wouldn't mind letting her be my crow if I could be hers.'

For once there wasn't a witty remark to follow him. Jonathan felt Scarecrow at his opposite side. The man was peering at the girl over his shoulder, like he was himself once again. She turned and their gazes caught.

"What are you doing Jonny," she asked, amusement in her voice.

Jonathan grinned back, knowing Scarecrow was doing the same, "Thinking about why you read me that little prose."

She raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, "When you think you know, you tell me, and tell you if you're right. It's your time to be a philosopher, Scarecrow."