AN: Spoilers for the Gotham episode 'Scarecrow'.

Johanna Crane-They never buy my lies, but they never ask me such stupid questions again. I had one idiot though, kept telling me, 'you need to break up, this relationship isn't healthy'. I had that one. Didn't we kill him? Did he die? I knew we attacked him, but I couldn't recall... He did die. Remember, he had the snake hallucination and...erm... That's right, he chopped it off and bled to death!

Christineoftheopera-They won't believe you. And it takes a while to get them to just give up. I had to kill two before they'd drop the 'brainwashed' theory. Cretins. If anyone did the corrupting in this relationship, it was me. Technically, I had two murders before you had one. One of them was self-defense and does not count. What about the other one? Romantic gesture. And they call me the crazy one...

For the first few days, there's nothing but that thing rising up from under the bed and lunging at him. Nobody comes no matter how much he screams for help-no Dad, no police, no one.

Nobody ever comes.

Eventually the thing grows bored, only coming at night, when the lights are off. Even then, it just prefers to stand at the foot of his bed-or right next to him. Wherever it knows he'll see it, that's where it stands. Just watching and waiting.

Sometimes it's there during the day, but there's other people there then-at least he thinks there are. He hears voices around him, anyway. Sometimes there's a man's voice that he doesn't recognize, and more often there's a woman's voice that he does.

But more often there isn't anyone at all.

He comes to with a soft, cool hand in his hair. For a moment he thinks the creature might be gone, but when he opens his eyes it's still standing at the foot of the bed. He squeezes his eyes shut and cringes back, wishing it would just go away, please…

"Jonathan?" He knows that voice, doesn't he? "Jonathan, are you awake?"

"Mom?"

The cool hand moves back and forth.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay."

Yeah. He'll be okay. Mom's here, she'll take care of him.

The next time he wakes up, the creature is gone-at least from his line of sight. He can still hear it breathing, but at least he doesn't have to look at it.

It's bright in here, too bright by far. He has a vague recollection of Mom being here, but that's not possible.

He must have imagined that one.

He's far more lucid this time around-the machines are irritating and the breathing has stopped. All the same, he's exhausted and he can't shake the feeling that something's watching him.

There's a presence beside his bed and he turns his head, dreading what he'll see. It's only Mrs. Richardson, who's dozing in a chair next to him. Her knitting is perched precariously on her lap.

He doesn't wake her up.

This time it's the opening of a door that wakes him, startling him out of uneasy dreams.

"Jonathan?" It's Kitty, holding a book in her hands. "Are you up?"

He risks a nod. She crosses the room, sets the book down, and promptly squeezes him.

"Kitty…"

"You scared us awfully bad, love."

"I did?"

"They weren't sure you'd come out of it." She lets him go. "You've been here for a month…"

"Huh?"

"Yeah." She sits down next to him. Her hands are shaking. "You died. For a couple of minutes when they got you in."

He doesn't remember that at all.

"What time is it?"

"A little after noon." He swallows hard and sits up, blinking at the harsh light. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." he says. "Very tired. Kitty…my dad. What happened to him, do you know?"

"Jonathan…"

"Please."

She takes his hands.

"He's dead."

Oh.

That's…he doesn't really know what to feel, to be honest. Sorry. Relieved.

Mostly relieved.

"I see."

"I'm so sorry, love…"

"He was going to kill me."

"Jonathan…"

"He gave me too much, I said it was too much…"

She hugs him and he slumps against her, shaking. He's not sorry. He's sorry for Dad, but he's not sorry for himself.

"You're okay, you're okay…god, love, I'm so sorry…"

"No. Don't be sorry."

She rubs his head and lets him cling for another minute before tucking him back in bed.

"You hungry?"

Starving, actually. He suspects he hasn't eaten very much since he came in.

"Yes."

"Anything sound good?"

"Happy Meal?"

"I think I can sneak one in."

She leaves and he closes his eyes again. He'll just rest until she gets back.

The Happy Meal tastes good but makes him queasy and he falls back asleep not long after. He's woken up by the door opening again. It's Mrs. Richardson this time, carrying her knitting.

"Kitty had homework." she says. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"M'okay." Mostly, anyway.

"Good." She fusses with his blankets, makes him take a drink, and settles in with her knitting. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

She tousles his hair and silences. For the next several minutes, the only sounds are the machine and the click-clack of her needles. He wonders how often she's been here, what all she knows.

He doesn't really want to know.

He drifts a bit before being woken by someone shaking him.

"Jonathan. Jonathan, wake up. Come on now, honey…"

He blinks, takes a shuddery breath and tries to sit up. He is not allowed.

"Please…"

"You're all right, Jonathan. Come on, wake up."

The feelings of terror melt away, leaving him breathless and mildly confused. Mrs. Richardson lets go of his shoulder and brushes his hair out of his face.

"Are you awake?"

"S-sorry…"

"Shh. Don't be sorry, you were having a bad dream."

He doesn't remember.

She tucks him back in and kisses his forehead.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I have to go, but I'll see you tomorrow. Can I bring you anything when I come back?"

"M'okay."

"Okay. Sweet dreams."

For a moment he's tempted to beg her not to go, not to leave him here by himself, but before he can find the words she's gone.

From somewhere in the blackness, he hears something breathing.

THE END