Rory had been confined to her bedroom for weeks now. She could leave at any time and explore the strange place they were staying in, but she had felt no urges to expose herself to even more lunatics. Her nerves had gotten the better of her ever since she was introduced to Jerome's band of criminals. It was only when Jerome mentioned Lola which cause Rory to think about leaving. The death of her friend still weighed on her chest. Lola had saved her life and Rory did nothing when she was killed right in front of her. Her inability to stop her friends death was what seemed to haunt her. For the past couple of days she had been trying to work up the courage to go and visit her body. Just to say goodbye, to try and apologise.

It was a warm day. She had woken up in the late afternoon, taking comfort in Jerome's absence. She had spend the past couple of days convincing herself to visit her friend. After a long bath, Rory decided that she would find Lola - where ever she was in the warehouse.

Rory walked sheepishly up to the closet, unsure as to what she was going to see. Hanging neatly, was a row of dresses. Folded on the bottom of the wardrobe were a pair of jeans and several t-shirts. Rory lightly ran her hands over the fabric. Anxiety quickly rushed through her chest at the thought of getting dressed. She was so scared to leave the room. Her mind was spinning. All she wanted was to see her friend but she felt like she had to fight off thousands to get there. She grabbed the sleeve of one of the dresses hanging in front of her and took a deep breath in. She had to do this, she had to do it for Lola.

She pulled the dress that she was gripping off the hanger. It was a light grey colour, the hem falling just above her feet. It was a satin fabric that gently hugged her, with a lace detail around her neckline and sleeve ends. It was a beautiful garment and if she wasn't so caught up in her fear she would have been excited to wear it. As she pulled the sleeves to cover the palms of her hands she turned to look at herself in the mirror.

Who was this person staring back at her? Her hair had grown. Long red locks hang from her head, frazzled and still damp from the bath. She had lost weight, her body looked alien to her, like it was not hers. She traced her silhouette with her hands, trying to convince herself that she didn't look as drained as the mirror was showing her. She met her reflections gaze, her wide eyes locking onto her appearance. She looked so tired, so sad. Rory pursed her lips as she analysed herself, taking in this new person.

At least I don't glow she thought to herself as she pushed her hair behind her shoulders. She repeated that to herself as she turned away from the mirror and towards the bedroom door. "You can do this," she whispered to herself as she reached for the door handle.

Swallowing the ball of nerves which had started to grow in her throat, Rory gently pulled the door open. It was only a small gap, she peered out to see what she was facing. She was greeted with a grey corridor, similar to the ones that she had been led down just before Lola was killed. She couldn't see anyone out there. Taking a deep breath in, Rory opened the door wider and stepped out into the unknown.

#

Johnathan had been working in Jerome's lab for days, trying to create the perfect chemical solution for their master plan. The goons that joined him in his scientific work were all frightened of him. Working with frightened scientists didn't exactly help develop his plan.

The Scarecrow had left the lab out to try and control his irritation with his colleagues. When he came back he saw that the area was empty. He huffed with annoyance, anger slowly starting to boil up inside of him as he cursed his workers incompetence. Then as he started to go to his desk, something caught his eye. A girl in a silver silk dress was standing over the body of a failed test subject. She was weeping. Crane stopped in his tracks as he took this figure in, believing that he was seeing a ghost. She had a strange affect on him, it was like he was looking at an angel. He took a small step towards the girl which caused her to look up from the body with fright. At the sight of him, she gasped.

"Don't be afraid," he exclaimed, putting out his hands as if to show that he was harmless.

She didn't seem to believe him and took a step back, distancing her self from her. As he saw her face, he recognised her.

"Y-you're Jerome's wife?" he asked, cautiously, remaining still.

Her gaze dropped and she nodded. She regained her composure and turned to look back at the body.

"I am," she muttered sorrowfully. Her cheeks were wet from crying and glistened as she looked at the girl on the table.

Crane didn't know what to do. Jerome had said to all of the Legion that if they ever tried to talk to his wife, he would cut them up and fry them. But how could he not talk to her. Crane felt this overwhelming need to protect her, to guard her from all the danger that surrounded her.

"Did you know her?" he asked, nodding towards the body that Rory was sobbing over.

"Yes," she said, quietly.

"She saved my life." She muttered through her tears, holding the hand of the corpse. There was a short pause as Rory looked over her friend.

"and I failed to save hers." she tragically remarked.

Crane was moved by Rory's sadness, it brought back a flash memory of his mother. He realised that he was intruding on something private, and this need to make sure she was safe came washing over him.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said, bowing his head to try and show her that he was serious.

Rory looked at him, her eyes were red and puffy from all the crying.

"It's okay," she said weakly, her hand was still gripping the corpse's. Her response, as tragic as it was, seemed to warm his heart.

Crane looked up at her, taking in the image of her and soaking up all the strange effects she had on him. Then he left her. As soon as he was out of her presence, he realised how strange he had been. As he walked away from the laboratory and towards Jerome's office, he thought how lucky the clown was to have someone so enchanting as a wife.