The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

61

Fluorescent lights. The scent of antiseptic stinging my nostrils. A horrible prickling scar, bandaged across my lower abdomen.

My baby's cries.

Jonathan.

"Sienna." He's wearing surgical scrubs, and for a strange moment, I wonder if I've been transported back in time, to the day I had a pencil surgically removed from my throat. The blue fabric highlights every spoke of his irises, and he gazes at me with nothing but adoration.

Nothing but love.

And then I see the tiny, perfect human in his arms.

My breath catches in my throat. "Jonathan... Is that...?"

"Our baby," he murmurs. "Our perfect son."

He lowers down to me, and I take the baby in my arms. A soft gasp escapes me. So many emotions flood through my mind, so many hormones and instincts snapping into place.

What strikes me the most is how tiny he is. I've never seen fingers so small. Never seen such a tiny nose taking snuffled little breaths, fingernails barely a tenth the size of my own. I can see somebody's tried to swaddle him in a blanket and he's managed to break free, limbs flailing and head turning as his face scrunches up and he cries.

"Hey," I try to soothe him in a soft voice, holding him like the most precious thing in the world. I hush him and rock him so gently, still gazing in awe.

A nurse comes over and shows me how to feed him. It takes a while to get it right, but once he's happily enjoying his first meal, Jonathan speaks.

"I thought I'd lost you," he says quietly. "Both of you."

I take his hand, and tears come to my eyes. "What happened?"

"He couldn't get enough oxygen. They had to revive him... but they said there'll be no lasting damage. Your body went into shock. Your heart stopped beating."

I'm too choked up already to tell him what I saw. What I experienced. But I know I will one day.

"I came back for you," I say simply, wiping tears from my eyes. "For both of you." I gaze down at our baby, barely able to believe he's real. He's actually here. "I'd like to call him Jonathan," I say quietly. "Jonathan Junior. JJ. What... What do you think?"

He tries to speak, but the words stick in his throat. He clears his throat, and I see his eyes are glistening. "I love that," he tells me. Wraps his arms around us both. "How would you feel about Warren for his middle name? After your brother."

"JJ Warren Crane," I say. I smile at him. "It's perfect."

"You're naming the fear baby without me?!"

I turn to see Harleen stood in the doorway to the hospital room, still in scrubs. She grins widely and launches at us, hitting me with force as she wraps us in a hug. It disrupts JJ's latch, and I have to adjust him back again, laughing and crying and hugging Harleen as best I can.

"Don't you ever do that to us again!" Harleen tells me crossly. She takes JJ's hand, and he wraps his fingers tightly around her thumb. "That goes for you too, mister," she tells him warningly. "Just because you're my favourite person on earth, doesn't mean you can scare me to death."

"I hope he doesn't make a habit of it," I mutter.

Harleen smiles widely. "Of course he will. He can't feel fear, so he's blissfully ignorant to all the grief he'll put us through. Oh, I can't wait!"

"Actually, Harleen, Sienna's research has deduced it's impossible to eradicate fear entirely," Jonathan says evenly. His eyes shine as he kisses my forehead, and admires his son. "Even if every single phobia is successfully treated, the fear of losing a loved one cannot be dissipated."

I gaze at Jonathan with nothing but pure, unconditional love. Everything feels fuzzy and warm. So fuzzy, I can hear a faint buzzing in my ears.

But it turns out, I'm not imagining it. Harleen frowns. "You guys hear that?"

Jonathan's face tightens. He stands and walks to the window, pulling back the curtain. He's silent for a moment.

"We need to leave," he says quietly.

Harleen frowns. "Leave? Sienna needs to stay for monitoring."

"Sweetheart." He takes my face in his hands, his eyes boring into my own. "There are protestors outside. And the cops are here."

My stomach sinks. "Protestors?" I whisper. "What are they protesting?"

Even before Jonathan's eyes flicker to JJ, I already know.

"I need you to push through the next couple of hours," he tells me. "We need to drive out of Gotham, and get on a plane somewhere. Do you understand? Can you do that for me?"

Panic rises in my chest. "Sweetie, I don't know if I can even walk, I—"

Harleen walks to the window. Presses a hand to her mouth.

"Guys... they've got the whole building surrounded. They've even... holy shit, is that an SAS team?"

I can't breathe. I clutch JJ tightly to my chest, and Jonathan's whole face tenses with fury. My eyes dart from side to side as I think, running possibilities through my mind.

I'm not letting them take JJ. They can kill me if they want to. They're not hurting him.

"Harleen, take JJ," I say quietly. "Get out of Gotham. Go to Florence. Italy. We'll meet you there as soon as we can."

I glance at Jonathan. I expect him to argue. To have some other plan. I expect us to waste time on this. I expect another freaking pencil to the throat to get us out of this.

But he meets my gaze. He nods.

And though I may not have died on the operating table, I die when I hand my baby over to Harleen, not knowing when I'll be able to see him again.