Jonathan wasn't born a monster. I was sure of that much. He never told me anything about his past, saying it wasn't important and that it was just a memory. It seemed to be a memory which he had wanted to erase. I don't know what it was that turned him into the man everyone now knows. I don't know how I lost to him to his alter ego. But, the worst past is...I don't know how to get him back.

...

"Are you listening to me, Isabelle?"

I blinked quickly, looking up at my mother as I did so. She rolled her eyes as I ate the cereal in the bowl in front of me. The breakfast bar was crowded in all of the college books which I needed for that day, much to my mother's dismay again. She didn't agree with mess and I was certainly creating just that on that freezing morning in Gotham.

Gotham. The city that always sins. There was something about it that I couldn't stand. Maybe it was the high crime level. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't allowed out in the city alone. I didn't really know. I was determined to make it out of the city. I couldn't put my finger on it. Oh, the sarcasm. It was something which wasn't an attractive trait, according to my father. My parents hadn't allowed me to leave and go to a different state for college. They considered that too dangerous. I had laughed hysterically until I saw my dad's face. It was no laughing matter.

"Yes," I exasperated, dropping my spoon into the bowl so it clattered against the side. "I have to go to college and then dad will take me back to his apartment tonight. I also know that you're going away for the weekend."

That seemed to shock mother. She blinked quickly, running her hand nervously through her long, blonde hair as she looked to the side and placed the orange juice back into the fridge. She was biting down on her bottom lip and I sighed once and shrugged. She was nervous about dating again. I didn't know why.

"I'm not bothered that you're dating, mom. It's been two years," I informed her and she nodded in agreement, her shoulders slumping downwards as she did so and she continued moving her head up and down.

"I know. I know it has been," she assured me. "I know I shouldn't feel guilty. I just want you to know that I will never try to replace your dad."

"I know," I managed to smile at her and she nodded once in confirmation. "Dad and you split up. It happens. Divorce is a common thing."

"I miss him, Is," mom mumbled back to me and she picked up my empty cereal bowl and began to wash it, her yellow rubber gloves becoming wet as she did so. She allowed her head to loll downwards and I thought that she might begin to cry. I don't think I could deal with that. Mom had cried for the first three weeks after the divorce. She had been a mess. Dad had dealt with it fine.

I...well...I'd coped. I had to look after mom so I didn't get a chance to really grieve. I didn't want to grieve.

"But," I said, trying to be cheery for her, "you've got a date!"

"I do," she suddenly replied, flipping her hair behind her shoulders and smiling in my direction, trying to be encouraging and optimistic. "I'm only going to New York for a weekend with Daniel."

"Daniel," I nodded at her, standing up and grabbing my books, dropping them into my hands and making sure they balanced. "Well...have a great time...and...can you call me when you get there, please?"

"You're like my mother," mom complained, removing her gloves and pulling her red, fitted dress downwards. "But yes, I will call you."

"Good," I nodded, walking over to my mother and kissing her on the cheek before I grabbed my car keys from the bowl on the breakfast bar. "I will talk to you later."

"Be good for your father."

...

College dragged. It always dragged. I was a Law student. I didn't really get a say in what I was going to do in life. Dad had decided it for me. That was how I found myself sat in the back of the lecture hall, my pen in my mouth as I looked to the front and listened to what my father was going on about. I didn't understand. I never understood.

Much to my father's dismay.

I was grateful for when the bell sounded and everyone emptied the lecture hall, walking past me as I took longer to pack away my books then what was really necessary. My dad remained at the front of the hall, picking up his papers and dropping them back into his briefcase before walking up the red carpeted steps to where I was sat.

"You were sat there with that pen in your mouth for the last half an hour," he commented, tucking his blonde hair behind his ears as he looked down the rows of empty seats as if it hurt to look at my plush, red fold up chair. "Did you make any notes?"

"Maybe," I mumbled in response and dad sighed, loosening his tie as he did so and turning his neck to this side, his jaw set in a stubborn position.

"You need to go home and catch up, Isabelle," he warned me and I bit down on my tongue. There was no use in arguing. There was never any use in arguing. He always won and I always lost. It was how it was. "I'm your father as well as your Professor and you're luck that I don't single you out because of your poor attitude. Now, catch up."

"I don't see a point," I mumbled in response and stood up, pulling my white blouse down and my tight jeans up. I placed my satchel onto my shoulder and picked my books up, looking up at the broad man in front of me.

"I do," he replied simply. "I need to stay behind for an hour to finish off some paperwork. You have your car and the house keys, I take it?" he checked with me and I nodded at him as he switched his briefcase from one hand to the other.

"Good. You go home and begin catching up. I shall see you in a few hours," he spoke and I knew I had been dismissed. I walked towards the car park, my feet stomping on the floor in annoyance as I muttered under my breath.

Why couldn't I find my car keys when I needed them? I remained in the cool winter air, shivering slightly as I looked in my bag and continued walking, too preoccupied with my own thoughts to notice anyone else. I suppose that was my first mistake. If I had looked up then I would have been safe. I wouldn't have met him.

"Ouch!" I suddenly complained as I bumped into a slim figure. I fell to the side, my arm hurting as someone's hand wrapped around my upper arm and he held me upright, his grip vice like tight as I looked over to see who it was.

"You do know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, don't you?" he asked me as I rubbed my arm up and down, probably being melodramatic as I stuck my chin out and looked into his large blue orbs.

"No," I replied with a nonchalant shrug and he chuckled lightly, holding his briefcase tight to his side as he looked at me. I recognised him vaguely. He was a Professor, I was sure of that. I just didn't know what he taught or his name. He wasn't old either. He looked as if he had just come out of college himself! His hair was messy around the top of his head and his glasses were halfway down his nose as he continued to look at me. He was probably expecting an apology. I was a mere student and he was a Professor.

"But...I should have looked where I was going, Professor."

"That may be true," he agreed with me, unbuttoning the button to his black blazer which hid his vest sweater and tie. "But we all can become preoccupied, Miss Dubois."

He knew my name? How...oh right...your father is a Professor, Isabelle. That's why most of the student body don't like you. Because they see you as some kind of teacher's pet. If only they knew the truth.

"Yes, I suppose so," I mumbled in agreement as he continued to look at me. He was off putting, to say the least. "Sorry, Professor...mm..." I trailed off. God, this was embarrassing. First, I had walked into a teacher, and second, I didn't know who he was.

"Crane," he replied to me. "Jonathan Crane."

"Right!" I suddenly snapped out. Psychology. He taught psychology. I knew who he was. He looked at me with an arched brow, possibly disturbed by my sudden outburst. I felt myself redden slightly under the intensity of his blue eyes and my ridiculous statement.

"Judging by that previous comment, you had forgotten who I was," Jonathan smirked at me and I bit the inside of my cheek.

"I knew...I'm just not very good...well..." I trailed off. I looked an idiot. It was irrelevant what else I said because he would just think that I was an idiot. Which I was, but he didn't need to know.

"You're not very good with names?" he pushed me and I nodded meekly. That was it. His grin remained fixed in place as I thought now would be a good time to make an excuse, but he continued to talk. "Well, Miss Dubois. Your name isn't difficult to remember. What with your father being the head of the Law department, which you so happen to study."

"Coincidental, huh?" I said to him and he chuckled, looking down at the ground and running a hand through his hair as he did so.

"Extremely," he agreed with me. "You're in the last year, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I muttered.

"Well...a career in Law isn't something I can see your pursuing," he informed me and I looked up at him with wide eyes as he looked over to the car park.

"Why not?" I asked him and he chuckled, pulling his car keys from his pocket as he did so.

"I'm a Psychology Professor, Miss Dubois," he informed me as he stalked off. He looked behind his shoulder for a second, "I know you better than you know yourself."

I remained stood on the spot, unable to move further as I watched him walk away to the car park. The campus was still quiet but it felt chilly and creepy all of a sudden. How did he know me better than I knew myself? I shuffled my books in my hold as I thought about his words. There was something about him. Something which I couldn't shake, regardless of how much I wanted to.

...

A/N: Review? Please? I have many ideas for the future of the story but I want to know people are reading it!