Scars

The showers at Arkham stripped everything bare.
Everything…and everyone.
You'd be surprised what you see in the showers;
Harley had a rose tattooed on her ass;
Eddie had a ring of question marks around his navel,
A mark that Jonathan had tried, and failed,
To talk him out of.
Ivy had flawless skin;
And only Harvey's face and hand were scarred.
That really was what was noticed the most…
The scars.
They all had them, though some more than others;
Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, had more scars than skin,
And far too many predated his fall into insanity.
Eddie glanced over at Jonathan, his mind mapping out every scar he knew;
More bullet wounds than he could count, some mere grazes,
Others having nearly claimed his life.
Deep slashes across his chest from his first run in with Catwoman,
Small pinpricks on his throat to match.
Above those was a slice,
A clumsy attempt to slit the rogue's throat.
Across his stomach, below his navel,
Was a large slash.
A memory from what was almost his last mistake.
Crisscrossing his arms and back and scalp were small, faint scratches;
There long before the Scarecrow came into being.
Another pre-rouge scar was a large one running down his inner thigh;
Which Jonathan never spoke of, and Eddie never asked about.
But of all these, Eddie hated another set of scars far more.
On the inside of Jonathan's arms were series of cuts,
Some going back to high school,
Some going back to two weeks ago.
Some were only shallow, short slices,
Some were deep, and cut across the wrist.
Eddie hated these scars the most,
Because they were caused by the only thing
Eddie could protect Jonathan from.
The showers were over and everyone began
To slipped into their clothes.
Once they were both dressed,
Eddie walked over and wrapped his arms around Crane,
Pulling him close.
He might not be able to heal the scars on his body,
But he could heal the ones in is heart.