The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

58

"You'll have four weeks leave from work," Jonathan says.

I'm curled up in the armchair in the living room beside the fire. Drinking tea, dressed in warm yoga pants and an oversized sweater, the muscles in my neck beginning to swell and really freaking hurt.

"Four weeks?!" I ask incredulously.

"Be thankful it's not the next four months," he says darkly.

I shake my head. "No. I need minimum hours for my PhD."

"I'm sure the committee will be understanding, seeing as you were just attacked by a patient."

"Or they'll think I'm trying to find an excuse for extended maternity leave."

Jonathan slams his whiskey glass onto the mantelpiece. "I don't care what they think."

"Easy for you to say. You're already established in your career."

His gaze flickers. Anger begins to dissipate. "Sienna, you're going to be an incredible doctor. But sweetheart... I can't risk you getting hurt."

"I didn't know she'd be in there," I whisper. "It didn't even feel like me... It wasn't me. But it was."

He crosses the room and sinks to his knees before me. The reflection of firelight flickers in his glasses. "Rachel Dawes had it coming. You did not." His fingers ghost across the dressing on my throat. "I've always respected the Joker, if nothing else. But he's gone too far."

"I agreed to it. It was the best option."

His jaw clenches. "It isn't over. There's going to be an inquiry. And if Wayne really is the Batman... he's going to enact vengeance."

My phone pings. I take Jonathan's hand in my own, stroking my thumb across his knuckles as I check the text from Harleen.

I'm coming over, so make sure you're both dressed and not doing whatever freaky shit it is you do.

P.S. - check the news. And tell Doctor C since I'm the only one who hasn't killed someone from that article, I call dibs on whoever's left.

My brow furrows in confusion. I pull up the Gazette on my phone, and my expression cools.

Wayne Tower Executive Killed in Seemingly Opportunistic Mugging.

My gaze lifts slowly to Jonathan. He blinks innocently behind his glasses.

"What would you know about this?" I ask darkly, turning my phone.

Jonathan reads the headline. His face remains perfectly composed. "There's no need to be concerned about crime in the city, Sienna. I'll keep you perfectly safe."

I'm not falling for it. "You don't suppose he would happen to be the same spokesperson that threatened our baby's life in yesterday's Gazette, do you?"

"Hmm. Would it be so terrible if he was?"

"Jonathan Crane, you tracked him down and killed him today. Didn't you?"

He sighs. "Sienna—"

"I thought we were playing the long game!"

"Sweetheart. I love when you assist me in villainy," he says, stroking my face. "But I need you to trust me and let me handle this. Okay?"

I close my eyes and release a frustrated sigh.

"Please," he murmurs.

It's not like I haven't made a mess of it already. "Fine," I relent.

"Good girl." He kisses me softly. "I'm so proud of you, Sienna."

"Even though I got myself stabbed?" I whisper.

His gaze darkens. "Don't remind me."

I laugh softly. And then the front door opens, and Harleen's voice calls out to us.

"I brought tacos, and you guys are going to tell me everything."

***

I don't know what part's worse about the five months that follow.

There's the fallout of the article. The way people at work glance sideways at me, whisper when I walk past. Stare at my stomach. Only one nurse had the audacity to make a comment. After Harleen punched her in the nose, everyone learned pretty quick to keep their thoughts to themselves. But I still feel their judgement.

Then there's the ordeal with the Joker and Rachel Dawes. The Joker's moved to a higher security room, and nobody's allowed in to see him. Not even Harleen. It takes almost three weeks of stroking her hair while she cries each night, oscillating between reassuring her the Joker hadn't hurt me out of spite, and apologising for the fact it's my fault she can no longer see him. She hugs me fiercely and tells me not to be stupid, but still I carry the guilt. Three weeks before my due date, the Joker has visitation rights reinstated, limited to asylum personnel only. Jonathan surprises them both by setting up a room for them to spend time in together. A table, a candlelit dinner, a glass of wine. I ask him cautiously if the wine's been poisoned. He rolls his eyes and begins a lecture with "Sienna, if I wished to end the Joker's life do you really think I'd harm Harleen in the process?". But still I give the bottle a sniff before vacating the room, hugging him for doing this for my best friend.

Then there's the inquiry, just as Jonathan predicted. I take the stand and give my testimony. I watch the footage. I feel Bruce Wayne's cold, cold eyes on me in the courtroom. I can't bear to meet them.

Maybe Jonathan's right. Maybe vengeance is coming for what we've done.

Maybe it'll be the Batman.

Or maybe it's the gush of blood that leaks from me one morning, signalling something's horribly wrong with our baby.