(Y/n) looked out of the window over the unfamiliar scene. Her hand delicately resting on her slowly growing belly. She had had to get as far away from Gotham as she could. As far away from him as she could. For no matter how much she loved him. How much she needed him. No matter how much she hated not being by his side, she knew what he was. And now she had to worry about more important things. She had to worry about the life that was growing inside of her. She had to worry about her child. Their child. Jerome's child. The child of a deranged, remorseless and manipulative mass murdered. A man that had led The Manix. Had wreaked havoc on the city. A psychopathic anarchist that took great delight in needless acts of violence. And if he could kill his mother, his father. Could he, would he kill her as easily. Would he kill her child?
She would never claim to be an innocent soul. She would never claim that she had never done anything wrong. Never claim that she had gone unwillingly, or unknowingly into the relationship. From the first moment she had laid eyes on him, she knew that he was trouble. But he was just the kind of trouble that she liked. He was chaos personified. He was the master of it. His wicked smile, and the lust filled look in his eyes telling her that he liked what he was seeing too. That he wanted her, as much as she wanted him. And for a short while, Jerome seemed to forget about the dark city, as he had carried her to the bedroom. As he had pleasured her. As she had pleasured him. Her fingers gripping into his auburn hair as he had looked up at her from between her legs. Sin sparkling within his green orbs as they met hers. A broad grin pulling at his lips, as he licked slowly. As he tasted her. As he teased and tortured. Her body bucking, as she tried to push his head closer to her womanhood. Jerome telling her that she would have to beg. That she would have to plead and tell him exactly what she wanted him to do. And so, she had done. With no shame, she had begged. She had told him just what she wanted. The master of chaos beginning to devour her like a starving man given his first meal, as her words became more descriptive. Her desires darker. Jerome promising that he would do all of it and more. His own hand gripping into her hair, as she had fallen to her knees and taken him into her mouth. As she had taken her turn at tasting him. And since that first time, she had stood by his side.
She had been there when he had been stabbed in the neck by Theo Galavan. Her beloved Jerome dying in her arms with a bloody smile on his face. Unable to do anything but moan, as they had both been taken by the GCPD. (Y/n) almost dying of grief as she was imprisoned in Arkham. That grief only abating as she was broken out of the hellhole by Jerome's followers. Until she had been informed that Dwight had somehow managed to resurrect him.
She had been there when her lover had kidnapped Dwight. Helped, as he had stapled back on the face that the leader of his cult had cut from him. Stood by Jerome's side, as he had beat, tied and wrapped Dwight in explosives. Holding his hand, as she had assisted him to light the firecracker that he threw at the man, before telling him that he didn't forgive him for the face. The two of them laughing as they left. Laughing as the powerplant explode and plunged Gotham into a city wide blackout.
But now, despite all the things that they had been through together. Despite all the heartache and pain, she had put herself through just to be near him. Just to have him in her life. She now found herself on her own. Further away from the love of her life than she had ever been. Further away than she had ever wanted to be. Out in a world far removed from the city that she loved and hated in equal measure.
Slowly she moved to the bed, taking a seat on the corner. Her eyes cast down to her small bump. A bump that was growing every day. Tears coming to her eyes, as she began to regret running away. As she began to regret not just telling Jerome and hoping that he didn't become angry. That he wouldn't pull out his gun and shoot her where she stood. But she hadn't. For the first time since she had met him, she feared him. Feared what he was capable of. And that was why she was here now. I this dingy cockroach infested motel, wondering what she should do next. How she was going to make it on her own. How she could tell her little bundle what she had been. What its father was. Her body shaking as she began to sob. As she fell to her side and reached for a pillow. Holding it tight as she tried to calm herself. As she did her best to fight off the images of his face. The feel of his fingers ghosting over her sweat soaked skin, as he held her to him. (Y/n) knowing that even though she just wanted to go home, her fear of what he could do, of his anger, was now keeping them apart. That she would in fact probably never see her lover again. That she would have to keep running. That when the time came, she and the little one would have to run. Hoping that Jerome never found her. For as much as she loved him, she already loved the little life that they had created, just as much. And she wouldn't let him harm it. So, she would have to stay the runaway. Fear and love forever keeping them apart.