The Skin That Crawls From You [A Jonathan Crane Fan-fiction]

Bottoms up.

He chuckles slightly to himself at my lack of surprise.

"Well, the general public thinks that that night in the narrows was all on Rhas Al Ghul. That's what's been broadcasted. I told her that most of our patients have been transferred out of the city into Jersey."

He struggles with his maroon tie, wincing as he attempts to tighten it.

"Come here."
I say regretfully; watching him struggle.

I grasp the tie, careful not to touch his skin with my death laced finger tips; in case my subconscious bloodlust gets the best of me. I tighten the tie and he swallows hard with the influx of pain. When I look up, his ice cold eyes are staring through me. He looks almost sad before pulling away and muttering some form of 'thank you' as he sits back at his desk chair.

"I let your mother know that you won't be accepting visitors until the day of your trial."
He continues.

"My trial?"
Fuck. I forgot about the trial.

I sit up further, propping my back against the headboard. With the squirming motion of sitting up in bed; i uncover my thighs and realize that I had kicked off my jeans before sleeping last night. (Who the hell sleeps in jeans?) I cover my bare thighs nervously, but Jonathan's eyes refuse to falter from the task at hand anyway.

"Did it get rescheduled? When's my trial?"
It was supposed to be in November, and I'm sure it's almost winter now. God knows how long I was in the Joker's clutches. I feel a panicked sense of reality slam into my gut.

"Never."
He says cooley.

"What?"

"I filed some paperwork, you're legally deceased. Don't worry about the trial, you're officially off the books."

A shock rings through my veins.

"Did you tell my mom, did you-"

"No. No."
He reassures me, shaking his head slowly.

"I told her that due to the turn of recent events, that your case may be dismissed; that they may send you home."

"I'm sure she was thrilled to hear that."
I say sarcastically, remembering the disgusted look upon her orange spray tanned face when she visited me in the holding center.

"I was expecting her to be."
He says honestly.
"I didn't know you had some issues with your mother."

"What? I don't seem like I have mommy issues, Dr. Crane?"
I hiss, hating that despite our banter and the warm feelings between us as of now, he's still the mad scientist called Crane. Nothing more.

He laughs to himself.

"So what? I can just go home?"

"Well, Raven, you can do whatever you want now. You can have a whole new life, it's up to you."

"And what of my mother?"

"Well, if you never want to see her again, I'll send her your death certificate. Or if it makes you feel better, I'll deliver it myself. She didn't seem to mind me coming around."

"What happened to her the night that everything went down?"
I ask, ignoring his comment about my mother.

"She was sleeping at an apartment in the city. She's got a new beau."

"Shocking."

"Well, it's not going to last considering all of the passes she was making at the complete stranger in her kitchen last night."
He pushes his hair back and raises his brows, looking at the carpet in a form of side-eyes.

"So did you sleep with her?"
I ask; and I hate myself for the possessiveness I feel over Crane. I hate all of these conflicting feelings.

"God, no,"
He laughs.

"She offered me a drink and I made up stories about your 'progress' within Arkham."

"Of course."
I scoff.

"So Raven."
He sighs.

"Time seems to be running out- and either way we have to leave this motel before the authorities find us; what do you want to do? I've got an extra plane ticket and-"
His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks anxious. His jaw tenses as he awaits my answer; realizing he's rambling again.

The thought is captivating. Running off with the man who kidnapped me, a true Stockholm syndrome story, a twisted fantasy. One that has become my life. Yet, if I don't go with him, what do I have left to do? Face my mother? Once she learns I'm a meta, she will want nothing to do with me. She was always rather bigoted, rather afraid. When the news channels began flashing stories of humans with super strengths or the ability to manipulate plant matter, my mother was terrified. She rambled on about God's creations, about how those creatures must have crawled up from hell. Considering my abilities, it's not all that far fetched.

"Where would we go?"
I ask quietly.

"Well- I got some friends down in the big easy. I received my degree from Tulane."

"And I'm sure Tulane would be proud of you now."

"If you think they wouldn't be- then you don't know New Orleans."
He tells me, smiling slightly but swallowing it as soon as it surfaces.