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It’s incredible how little he seemed to age over the years. His auburn hair might have gotten a bit greyer and thinner, and the lines under his eyes have gotten darker, but he remained just as tall, as intimidating as he was those years ago. After all this time, Jonathan Crane still goes to the same café, orders the same coffee, and even sits in the same seat. In a way, you almost admired how little he cared about keeping his identity a secret.
Of course, the last time you saw him in this café, it was during his office hours, and you had come to talk with him about the midterm. Now he’s… well. You know.
A wanted criminal.
A killer.
The Scarecrow.
You’re shocked how no one has noticed him sitting there except for yourself- a testament to how thoroughly desensitized Gothamites are towards flamboyant villainy. Or, possibly, the burlap mask does work to hide his identity. Probably a combination of the two, you figured.
You absentmindedly tapped your fingers along the table. You should have left the moment you saw him; anyone who’s watched the news would never want to be in the same room as the fucking Scarecrow. Who knows what he might do? What if he floods the air vents with fear toxin? What if he lunges at a waitress for getting his order wrong?
Yet… you still haven’t left, he has yet to create any incidents, and… you still want to talk to him. It’s not like the opportunity will ever present itself again. When will you get this chance?
Fuck it, let's go. you thought. The worst-case scenario is that you get to take a few days off from work to detox yourself. The threat of fear toxin has almost become as routine for the average Gothamite as getting into a car accident; unexpected, unfortunate, and it certainly ruins your day, but it’s nothing new. Finishing your coffee, you rose from your seat to approach him.
As you got to his table, you felt your stomach churn as Crane’s eyes darted from his book to you. He watched you with caution, his mouth pressed into a familiar displeased line. He looked mildly annoyed by your presence, but he said nothing. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand his unspoken threat- what will happen to yourself and everyone in this building if you chose to make his presence known. In an attempt to make things appear more casual, you took the seat across from him. He quirked a brow, but allowed it.
You might have thought you didn’t make a presence, but Jonathan Crane never forgets a face, especially the face of someone brave enough to take his class.
You opened your mouth to speak, but Crane cuts you off. “No need to exchange formalities here.” he gestured vaguely to the surrounding café patrons. “This is hardly the place. Before you ask, yes, I do remember you- your final paper on cognitive dissonance was… adequate.” He took a sip of coffee. “If you’re asking me to change your grade, well, it’s a bit late for that.”
“Oh...” You didn’t even remember the grade you got on that final. “Well… I won’t bother you for long… I just wanted to pop in for a quick chat.”
He rolled his eyes and dog-eared his spot on his book. “Alright, but make it quick.”
...
.......
“Um..." You stutter. "... What are you doing here?”
Crane’s nose twitched. “All the things you could ask me, and you choose that?” He paused for a moment, and sighed. “Fine. If I’m being honest, no one makes coffee as good, cheap, and black as this old haunt does. Furthermore, even I get nostalgic sometimes.”
...
........
The two of you awkwardly stare at each other.
“If you don’t have anything else to tell me, you can leave.” he said.
...Better cut to the chase, then.
“I’ll leave you alone, but before I do…" You linger off, trying to find the right words. "I just wanted to let you know that you were my favorite professor back when I was in college. You changed me for the better... if you can believe it.”
Crane's eyes widened, and he disdainfully shook his head. “Of all the professors you could have chosen, and you decide that I’m your favorite? I thought I had taught you better than that. All of my research, my field data on fear, and yet I somehow fail to scare away a former student. Pathetic.”
“I suppose you still have some work to do, then.” You told him.
“Yes,” he mused. “I suppose so.”
There’s more silence, before Crane decided to press further. “May I ask why?”
“I wasn’t in a good place back in school… I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and I didn’t know how to articulate those thoughts into a vocal, healthy way... You though, you were always so passionate during your lectures” You explained. “Even if the tests were hard, and I hated having to cram for them. Coming to class and watching you talk about whatever, it was nice. You gave me hope that I’ll have that fire too, once I graduate.”
Something about that seemed to get to Crane. He blinked, and the irritated expression he had throughout the entire exchange… disappeared. His eyes softened just a bit, and his shoulders lowered into a more natural position. He studied your face, trying to find the smallest hint of deceit; something to let him know that this was just another joke. When he couldn’t find any, he sank back into his chair, his face now unreadable.
....
“... Did you find that fire?” He quietly asked.
“I don’t know... but I at least found enough to talk to you, even after all these years.”
The quiet returned, but it’s less awkward now, more comfortable. The air surrounding the table seemed to settle, and you could finally breathe.
“If it means anything to you, I am... flattered by the kind words.” Crane muttered something else under his breath, but you could make out a very restrained “Thank you”.
“I’ve got to go now, but thank you for your time, Professor.” You got up from your chair, hesitating. “It was good to see you again… I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now.”
He graciously nods his head. “It was… good to see you too… I enjoyed our talk.”
Before you could go any further towards the exit, he beckoned you back.
“Before you go- don’t drink from your tap next Tuesday. I’ll be testing out a city-wide experiment then.” He whispered.
Your eyes widened, and you quickly nodded your head. You needed to update your health insurance anyway. You thanked him again, bid him farewell, and left.
Jonathan remained in his seat as he watched you leave. He took a glance at his watch, wincing slightly at how much time had passed. He ought to be headed back to his hideout, assuming he wanted his plan to work on time.
Hmph- that’s what I get for getting sentimental. He finished the last sip of coffee lingering at the bottom of his cup, and shuffled his papers back into his satchel. It was good while it lasted, he supposed. Jonathan rapped his fingers along the table.
How long has it been since he’s been here last? Ten... no... twelve years? Dear god.
Despite the time gap, the café was just how he remembered it. Of course, things have changed- repainted walls, some refurbished furniture, and all of the regulars he shared the space with have long-since retired or graduated. Still though, things were fundamentally the same. College students mingling with each other, some trying to tutor less than-enthused peers, some study groups feverishly swapping notes with each other. The minimum-wage baristas, as expected, passed the time by flirting, or trying to study for their own classes. Yes, everything was just the same as he had left it.
And in the thick of the chaos, in the corner table sat Jonathan Crane, either up to his neck in library books, or helping out his students. Despite a more casual setting, the café had become just as academic of a place to Jonathan as the Gotham U libraries or the psychology conferences he used to attend.
His train of thought was broken as the waitress gently cleared her throat.
“Sir?” she asked. “Would you like your check?”
He thought about it for a moment. He did have work to do… but…
“Actually, could I get a refill?”
“Of course. Black coffee, right?”
“That’s right. Thank you”
Jonathan watched her take his glass away, and he pulled his book and notes back out. The fear toxin can wait.
Let him stay in this moment... just a bit longer.