Guess I am continuing with a fifth part for this AU of an AU.

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Tim knew something was wrong with Jonathan Crane, and it went much deeper down the surface. By then, he had been living with him for almost a year and had gotten familiar with all his weird mannerisms and responses. But he constantly felt that the former psychiatrist was more than just one person.

Whenever he had those draining headaches, he would morph into a completely different person, turning mean and cold to Tim. Not that he was a bundle of warmth and comfort otherwise, but Tim liked to think he had gotten the Doc to soften toward him considerably by then.

But when he switched into his Scarecrow mode (as Tim would call it), he was downright terrifying, caring about nothing and no one. He had tried talking to him about it when he was his normal self, but Jonathan would shut down each attempt.

It was as if he didn't want to acknowledge the possibility that someone else could take control of him at will and make him do terrible things. Perhaps he was well aware of it himself but tried to avoid it whenever Tim asked anything.

In his head and possibly in that withered notebook, he had an assumption of Crane's diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder. He wasn't sure, but based on the differences he had observed in the two modes, he felt that could be the only answer.

He assumed Jonathan Crane was the host personality while Scarecrow was the very deadly alter who was obsessed with spreading fear. There was a third alter too, who rarely ever came into the light; a scared and timid being who would soon be usurped by the menacing Scarecrow.

As Tim was quite observant, he had figured out what situations could cause the switch that activated Scarecrow mode. The Scarecrow would take over whenever Jonathan felt angry or afraid and it would stay in control until the issue was resolved and he had calmed down.

In other words, the unstable and malignant alter had plenty of opportunity to take control whenever he wished because fear and anger were two of Crane's common emotions. He got afraid of crows which were plenty in Gotham and he got angered whenever things were inconvenient for him, which also happened very often.

It certainly didn't help that even the slightest thing could set him off, and that was a terrible situation for Tim. The poor boy would always be walking on eggshells, making sure that nothing from his end caused the switch.

He had grown quite fond of Jonathan but he was well aware that the Scarecrow hated him. He tried his best to keep the Doc calm and comfortable so the Scarecrow would have no reason to lash out. But it was an impossible task and in some way or other, the deadly alter would take hold of Crane and make things twice more difficult for Tim.

"Boy, the lab is a mess. Who was going to mop it, me?"

"Nope, I'll be there in a jiffy!"

Tim came up with a floor mop, intending to quickly sweep the place. However, all the dust dispersing in the air around them irritated Jonathan.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am allergic to dust? Get out!"

He scurried away lest the man could get more angry at him. Jonathan's coughs could be heard in the background so he quickly filled a glass of water and reemerged in the lab to give it to him.

His eyes were red, his coughs had turned to sneezes and he looked in quite a state.

"I'm really sorry, Doc, I forgot..." Tim's voice was no more than a squeak and he jumped out of his skin when the glass shattered on the floor close to him.

"Timothy... Get out... Now..." Jonathan's voice was no longer the familiar tone he remembered. Instead, it was a crazed hiss; a plea and a threat rolled into one.

It seemed he was frustrated and was desperately asking him to leave. But the unnervingly large blue eyes were telling a different story altogether.

Soon enough, Tim realized why it felt like that.

Jonathan was no longer there, the Scarecrow had taken over. He was telling him to get out to avoid being hurt by the maniacal alter but it was too late. The former psychologist that Tim viewed as a mentor had retreated behind the terrifying shades of fear and menace.

"If you like using this place so much, you should be involved in it fully, don't you think?" 

The Scarecrow's distorted voice made Tim's skin crawl and he drew back instantly, his hands coming in contact with the counter behind him.

It was almost as if he didn't know the man in front of him, hadn't talked to him, or spent any time with him at all. Those blue eyes were vacant—crazed—and his lips were turned up in a vicious smile. Mask or no mask, Scarecrow lived up to his name.

He was trapped, there was no way out. He noticed the vaporizer in Crane's hand but before he could duck, the gas hit him with full force.

"What use is experimentation if you don't get to sample it?" The fumes cleared but by then Jonathan's face was distorting as well, the toxin he had used taking effect over Tim. "Why only brew toxins when it is twice more fun to see their effects firsthand? And you have quite a killer immunity, you shouldn't hesitate to try it."

That face merged into what looked like his father's, the thin rectangular frames and brown eyes that pierced through him. He gulped, feeling his throat go raw as he tried to back off but couldn't.

"That's right, feel your worst fear..." There was no sign of Jonathan Crane in the towering figure before him, it looked like a mix of the Scarecrow and Jack Drake. 

Tim's blue eyes had gone wide to the utmost extent, his already pale skin looked even paler and he was trembling as the toxin intensified. "Dad... No... Doctor Crane..."

"Ah, so the diabolical little menace is scared of Mummy and Daddy dearest? Is that why they tried to kill you? Is that why you faked your death?"

Those thin bony hands reached out to him as if to strangle him and he pushed himself up on the counter, trying all means to get away from him. 

Tim knew he had to keep a clear head or else the Scarecrow would overpower him too, just like he had taken full control of Crane's body. Fear was indeed a powerful weapon and he was an expert at wielding it. If he wasn't stopped, Tim would face severe consequences.

If only he could get his hands on his emergency kit, he could use a tranquilizer and break free. In his scuffle of climbing down the counter on the other side, he snatched up a syringe and filled it with a tranquilizer he kept in his kit. However, Jonathan's hand had locked onto his ankle, pulling off the counter and breaking the test tubes in the process.

"Don't try to get smart with me, boy. I will make you rue your existence!"

"Take this first," he hissed, plunging the syringe into Crane's neck.

But it angered the Scarecrow further and as he still had a firm hold of Tim, he slammed the boy's head at the counter. Tim saw red tainting the marble—the drops of blood trickling down his face made it hard to see anything—his head swimming with pain and agony. He felt he was done for and there was no way he would live after that.

The tranquilizer began to take effect in a while, making Scarecrow unresponsive as he finally let go of Tim who was in a half-conscious state, pain shooting up in every cell of his frail body.

He slid down to the floor, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. Holding his head to staunch the blood flow, he tried to see whether Crane was back in charge of his body or not but couldn't.

The darkness began to increase, clouding his vision entirely and slowly, everything blacked out into pitch darkness.

***

By the time Crane came back to his senses, it was eerily silent in the lab but that spine-chilling laugh was raging in his conscience. He knew Scarecrow had taken control of him but couldn't remember anything after that.

However, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, he paused in shock at the sight in front of him. Tim was lying unconscious on the floor not far off from him and he was bleeding profusely from a cut on his head.

"Timothy?" He got alarmed, edging closer to the boy who did not respond.

Seeing him like that made him worried and he knew whatever had happened, it had been due to him. He cautiously took the boy's wrist, feeling for the pulse that could indicate he was alive. He caught the faint throbbing but Tim was quite lifeless otherwise, making him panic.

Knowing he had to stop the blood, he frantically looked around for a piece of cloth and tore up a lab coat, holding it against the wound.

"What did I do? What have I done?" He mumbled fervently, the voices in his head getting far more menacing with every passing second.

"You hurt him. Look at him now, almost dead... You did this to him."

"Shut up! Shut up! I did not do anything to him! I just told him to get out before you could hurt him!" He was getting anxious and Scarecrow's voice began to overpower him again but he tried to fight against it.

"And he didn't listen, what a shame... The poor boy was only trying to help you, and look what that got him into."

He tried to shut out the cackling laughter raging in his head, focusing on the frail unconscious teenager as he tried to ascertain how much he had gotten hurt. He had to be taken to the hospital but Crane couldn't do that himself as he was a convict on the loose.

"Timothy, wake up. Tim..." He shook him cautiously but there was no response from him.

Cursing under his breath, he stood up, intending to bring water for him and see if that would rouse him. Fetching water and his phone, he came back to Tim, splashing the water on his face to rouse him. After two to three splashes, the boy stirred, a painful groan escaping his lips.

Jonathan helped him up, making him sit but his head had dropped off to the side as he passed out again. Worried, he decided to call someone for help and the only name that came to mind was Miguel Hansen.

He dialed his number, hoping for him to pick up. After a few rings, the man received the call, "Miguel Hansen, Arkham Asylum. If it's a prank call, you better hang up before I set the crazies on you."

He must have not checked the caller ID so Jonathan spoke up, "Miguel, I need you to listen to me carefully..."

"Crane? Do I look like a freaking fairy godmother for you maniacs to call at the most godawful times? What have you done now?"

He paused, thinking about what could be safe to tell him, "Timothy got into a situation. He needs to be taken to the hospital."

"What the fuck! You gassed him, did you? Or was it something even worse... He's a child, for fuck's sake, devilish indeed but still a boy and you hurt him!"

"Look, he's losing blood and we don't have time. If I wasn't a convict on the loose I would have taken him to the hospital myself but he's hurt and I don't know who else to call. He needs help."

Miguel's voice had gone incoherent and it seemed he was pacing in worry, the words pouring out of him in a frantic rush. When at last he got slightly stable, he spoke, "Good heavens! Alright, I am coming. You stay put and don't do anything stupid."

Miguel hung up and saw the janitor staring at him. His eyes narrowed, the anxiety settling inside him as he knew Tim was hurt and he had to leave.

"Don, I need you to be the receptionist for an hour. Could be more," he spoke up, quickly packing his bag as he had to leave.

"But I am just a janitor..."

"Yes, and when you don't come I cover your job so you should have no problem repaying the favor!" He snapped in irritation but then tried to compose himself as he added, "I have to go. Family emergency."

"Geez, okay, man. You go."

"Good. Thank you."

He rushed out as the words losing blood and Tim were swirling in his head. He didn't know what had happened but by Crane's voice, it felt twice more horrible than he could expect.

He hoped Timothy would survive but before that, he had to go to that apartment and take him to the hospital.

"And what do I do if someone calls?" Don asked, feeling overwhelmed that the whole of Arkham Asylum was being left on his shoulders.

"Whatever the fuck you want to!" He yelled back, "Tell them it's McDonald's or some shit! Or tell them to fuck off. I don't care!"

"And if anyone escapes..."

But Miguel didn't bother to answer. He sprinted down the stairs to the small parking they had in front of the Asylum, got into his car, and backed it out onto the road. 

He had to reach the Narrows fast. There was no time to lose.

***

So that's all for part 5. I will write more when I get time. 

Let me know what you guys think will happen next.

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