The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

63

I smile at Jonathan. "Look at us. In matching straitjackets."

He raises his eyebrows. But a small smile tugs at his lips.

The van jostles around. We're sat in the back, with an armoured guard at either side. Completely incapacitated. I want more than anything to reach for his hand.

But there's hope. Twelve months. Twelve months, and we'll be with JJ again.

I'll miss the whole first year of his life. But I'll be there for every other year of it.

I think about what I'll get him for a present. All the things we'll do together, as a family. All the ways he'll amaze me. Totally fearless. A superhuman. A God, just one the world isn't ready for yet. Everything in my body still hurts, still mourns him. My breasts are swollen stiff and aching from not feeding him. My caesarean scar, unsurprisingly, isn't healing well.

But I'll endure it. I'd endure it forever for him.

The van lurches again, and tips completely onto its side.

I scream, my arms tied at my sides and useless to defend myself as I get thrown around like a ragdoll in the impact. The guards brace themselves and load their guns. The door's dented and jammed, but they kick it open with brute force. Leaving me and Jonathan lying on our sides, badly bruised and beaten.

There's the sound of gunfire. Shouting. More gunfire.

Silence.

Five black figures approach.

All wear black suits. A cape. A cowl.

All imitations of the Batman.

They grasp us and drag us out, throwing us down onto the dirt path beside the road. I glance around, panicked. Seeing empty police escort cars. Corpses littering the ground.

I recognise one of them as Jim Gordon. Blood drained and lifeless.

The Batman figure spits in my face. "She looks pretty fucking frightened to me."

Another one laughs. "Let's see how they both look once the fun begins."

Jonathan strains against his straitjacket. "I've killed every other man who dared touch her," he says through clenched teeth. "You're next."

One of the Batmen smacks his gun across Jonathan's face. I hear a crunch, and stifle a whimper.

"Where's your freak of nature? Tell us, and we'll let you live."

"Fuck you," I spit.

I'm the receiving end of the gun smack this time. The blow reverberates through my entire face, my nose crunching on impact.

Then he clicks a bullet into the chamber. Presses it to my head. Jonathan grunts in anguish as he tries to free himself, his face contorted in a twist of fury. He pulls against the straitjacket, hatred and venom in his eyes.

"Tell us where the kid is, or I'll shoot."

"He's still in the hospital," I say through clenched teeth. "He never left."

The Batman copycat moves his gun down and pulls the trigger.

I howl in agony as the bullet rips through my stomach. I cough, struggling to breathe, struggling to lift myself up.

Jonathan lurches to his feet and attacks the shooter, smashing his own head against his, so hard there's a deafening crunch. The shooter retaliates by pulling the trigger once, twice, hitting Jonathan in the chest.

He falls down beside me. Gasping for air, in shock. Blood seeping across the straitjacket.

The sound of sirens fills the air. Quiet at first, getting louder. Growing in intensity.

"Fuck!" Spits the Batman, kicking me in the chest. He grasps my hair, ripping half out as he forces my head back to look him in the eyes. "The kid. Where the fuck is he?"

I smile nastily, blood filling my mouth and coating my teeth. "You're forgetting something, asshole. I'm not afraid of anything you can do to me."

He bellows in outrage, and releases two more bullets into me. My whole body reverberates with the shock of each impact, and everything goes strangely numb. Fuzzy. Desaturated. Noise gets muffled and quiet as the Batmen leave. The green of the forest beside us turns to grey.

I feel Jonathan against me, fighting his way across despite his bullet wounds so we can be together. A sob escapes my throat. I can't even hold him. Can't take his hand in my own.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmurs. "It's okay. I... I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

I spit out blood and force my body to gain the strength to speak. "We never got to be parents," I whisper, my heart breaking as I look into his eyes.

"Yes we did, Sienna," he tells me. "We've protected him. He's safe. You gave your life for him... You're an amazing parent."

"You did, too." I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them again, Jonathan's eyes are unfocused. His skin drained of colour. "Jonathan?" I begin to sob. "Jonathan..."

He murmurs words, barely audible. "I don't believe in an afterlife, Sienna. But I know that somehow I'll find you again. Somehow, I'll always protect you."

"I know, sweetie," I tell him, tears falling down my cheeks. Everything hurts and I can feel my consciousness threatening to slip, can feel my chest heaving with every word I force out. "When my heart gave out on the operating table... I remembered something. Crow feathers. I used to find them all through my house when I was young. How can we explain that? You explain that to me, Jonathan. You can't. It was the spirits."

The sirens are so close they hurt my ears. Tires skid on the gravel. My whole face trembles as I stay looking at Jonathan. As I watch the life leave his eyes. Watch my protector, my love, my everything. My Scarecrow. Watch him die.

I never would have done this. I wish beyond all else I could go back and re-write my dissertation. Conceive JJ without the fear toxin. Give Gotham no reason to harm him. To harm us. I wish Jonathan and I could have had a life together. A normal life of laundry and dishes.

Such a life flashes through my eyes. I picture JJ as a toddler, with Jonathan's eyes and dark hair. I picture Jonathan swooping him up in his arms, smiling happily. I picture family photographs on JJ's first day of school. Taco Tuesday with a high chair. Harleen buying him a set of plastic knives.

I picture Jonathan teaching him how to drive in the Bentley. I picture JJ's first day of college. His graduation.

I picture him as an adult, as a father of children of his own. Jonathan and I old and grey. Sitting at home, reading books. Finding ways to fill the time in our retirement. Taking the grandchildren for a night.

Explaining to them why they're so special. Why they're superhuman.

And I wish more than anything they weren't.

A pair of hands turn me over. I laugh softly, or try to, but choke on my own blood. Because it's not policemen in the convoy. It's the Joker. Wearing clown makeup and a purple coat, with crooks in uniform stationed at the cars.

Our eyes lock. Regret passes through his eyes. I see it across his face. He's too late.

I gargle in my words before I can get them out. "Destroy it," I whisper. "The fear toxin. Don't let this happen to anyone else."

For the first time since I've known him, he looks genuinely sad. "I can't do that, little duck," he tells me softly. "I need it. You owe me a favour, remember?"

I blink in grim understanding. The world suddenly seems so very far away.

"We'll take care of him," the Joker promises. He cradles my head. "We'll take care of your boy."

My eyes slide across to Jonathan. He's the last thing I see before I'm pulled under.

I wonder if he's right. If there isn't an afterlife.

But I hope he's wrong. I hope we're going to a world kinder than this one. I hope we can find each other again. That this time, when I'm hiding in the closet, I'll have the burlap-hooded figure there to hold me.

I hope the crows leave us be.