It had been awhile since I last spoke to fellow author SamuraiSmee about their fic "Every Other Way", and like I said last time, it's one of my favorite Jonathan Crane stories. :D In the fourth chapter, Jonathan had gone out and gotten drunk and was about to be molested by one of Joker's men before being rescued by Batman, who in return takes him off into protection from the Clown Prince of Crime.
No one is even reviewing. :'( Can anyone please leave me something without flaming me? Good old detail is appreciated.
Chapter Three
"Gran, what is that?"
The small girl looked at the bundle that her grandmother had brought into her bedroom just as she was getting tucked in at eight o'clock sharp. The package was wrapped in brown paper, tied together with ancient rope. Whatever was in there, she was curious.
Her grandmother gave a small laugh. "Something I've been meaning to give you for some time now. Something that you'll have use of when you're older."
"What is it?" The girl's curiosity grew all the more, but her grandmother put her finger to her lips.
"Nothing that your parents can know of. You do not want to face their wrath, do you?" The child quivered; no, she did not want to experience whippings and hurtful words again from the people who were supposed to protect her and love her like this woman did. She shook her head.
"Good girl. But I should give this to you in case my time is ever up. Inside is everything I am passing down to you, but no one can ever know of this…unless there are people you can trust with this secret. Someday there will come certain burdens, and you must be ready for anything unexpected. Protect yourself and everyone you love - and everyone else around you - no matter what. There are the good ones in the tales that exist out there…and there are the bad ones."
"Oooh, the faeries, elves, phoenixes, and the others are out there?" The little girl, eight years old at most, barely nine, loved the fairytales and folktales her granny would indulge her with behind the backs of her parents. Her gran nodded.
"Yes, they are, dear Sinéad. But you must know this, a secret that may or may not be as much of a burden to you later on in life more than it will be now, as long as you do not breathe a word of it to anyone." Her grandmother's voice was firm and made crystal clear, and she understood. "So, your life begins with the story of the merrow people, the most gentle, most affectionate creatures ever to exist in our proud, mysterious Irish culture…"
~o~
The minute he opened his eyes, the first thing he certified was his pounding head. Jonathan moaned as he reached up to rub his eyes, getting rid of the sleep. Light blinded him, and he squeezed his eyes shut again before opening them as he got used to it. He grunted as he sat up, bones aching and almost snapping with each movement.
"Huh...where am I?" he murmured when he glimpsed the bed he found himself sleeping in if not his futon or even a couch. Not to mention, the comforter was a vivid green covered with an almost realistic spread of white flowers that glowed in the light from the wide window next to the bed. The throbbing of his head was a memento of last night when he drank away his sorrows to temporary avail again...and fell to the floor, as always. Someone brought me to bed - but who if not Dawes? And where were his glasses? He registered that the room was bright in palette, but he needed his glasses to see better. Turning to his left, he saw a nightstand sitting there, and the glint there told him his glasses were there. He reached over and picked them up and placed them on the bridge of his nose.
And then his vision snapped into view.
Where the hell am I? He definitely wasn't in his own apartment, nor was he in Dawes' place - no, he wasn't allowed to call her by her real name given she was in hiding - because hers was calmer and cleaner than his own rathole place. No, this room was clean and modern, placed with mahogany furniture more crafted than his own. Sunlight illuminated it, giving it an air of security and safety that warmed his senses unlike his "humble" abode. Off to his right was a miniature version of an art studio, easel and all. Whoever this person was happened to be an artist.
The door then opened, and he quickly adverted his eyes from the painting to where the doorway revealed a half-view of the living room, but his attention was drawn to the person who stood there with a light, easy smile.
"You're awake."
Now he recognized her. This was the girl who visited the bar twice a week. That Irish girl, whoever she was…he couldn't think of the name, but she'd been the one who made that portrait of the dancer that hung on the wall. Had she been the one to bring him out of there instead of Dawes this time?
She was…very strangely beautiful, in an elfin sort of way: small, narrow nose with a near-sharp point, skin almost as porcelain as his own was, slim lips of a faint shade of pink, and her eyes were vivid green as the Irish terrain, all set in a narrow face that wasn't even close to heart-shaped. Her long jet-black hair was let loose about her shoulders, covered by a red sweetheart-neckline tee, and her long legs by dark indigo jeans. Overall, her body frame was small and dainty with still-noticeable curves…
He shook his head. Where did that come from? "Who are you?" From behind her, he could smell breakfast cooking, and his stomach growled as he realized how hungry he was - and couldn't even remember when he'd last had a good, proper meal.
The girl laughed sheepishly. Her laugh was soft and playful like a pixie's, her accent soothing as a brook. "Ah, maith dom, I'm sorry." She crossed the room in four long strides and stopped right next to his side, holding her hand out. "Sinéad Ryan."
"Sinéad." Her name was like a new flavor on his tongue, no other words to describe it. He stared at her outstretched hand for a moment before taking it, noting the lightness of her handshake. "Jonathan Crane."
"Evelyn told me," was the reply.
He frowned. "Oh she did, did she? What did she say about me?"
"Just that you've had it pretty rough as of lately." She gave a little smile and shrugged casually. "And asked me to bring you home myself."
Jonathan folded his arms across his chest and eyed her suspiciously. "She always brings me straight home to my place first thing, so why didn't you take me there?"
"Didn't seem right, that's all." She placed a hand over her heart and gave him the look of wide-eyed innocence. "Why ever would I just dump you off like that passed out?" Her expression immediately changed to eyebrow-raised curiosity. "Speaking of which, how much did you drink last night?"
Jonathan struggled to remember. "Um…about four, five shots."
"Four or five?!" Her jaw dropped. "Oh, good God, do you always drink that much?" Jonathan was about to say yes and nearly every night when she went on, cutting him off altogether. It was starting to get to his nerves. "And I suppose you have a splitting migraine?"
"Obviously, yes," he answered, letting his annoyance for her finally come through. But she didn't seem to notice. Or if she did, she didn't seem to care.
"Well, wait here. I got some aspirin." She disappeared through the door next to her little art section, leaving him alone. He had a series of questions on his mind at the moment. Why did this girl even care about bringing him into her home when they didn't even know each other? Did she even know he was the notorious Scarecrow? And why was she so nice to him? He supposed he should thank her for her kindness, but years of a hard heart against other people made it too difficult to even consider it. How did he know she wasn't pretending?
She returned with a glass of water in one hand and a couple tablets in the other, smiling once more. Did she always smile like that? "Miss Ryan, why did Evelyn ask you to take care of me yourself and not do it herself?" Jonathan asked, accepting the pills and popping them, downing down the half-full glass in a gulp. She laughed at that.
"Something about her son."
"Her son…obviously." Four-year-old Damien Miller - Dawes - was a little nuisance, at least to him. Kids were rather deplorable, if he said so. Never in his life had he ever wanted to have children, for they were a living nightmare. In his old life, he never would consider letting any near his precious chemicals.
"I suppose when you're a parent, your children always come first."
"Of course," Jonathan drawled. And that means giving up certain things in your life that you absolutely cherish for them. He pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the right edge of the bed, finding himself in his underwear. His eyes widened, and raised them to glare at her. "You undressed me?!"
She raised her hands as if in surrender and drew back a little. "Please, don't be angry with me. Yes, I did, but only because you wouldn't be too comfortable with jeans in bed. Nothing happened." Jonathan felt his anger subside a little, but that didn't stop him from menacing her with that same look on his face. "And, I um…I made you breakfast, and you can go ahead and take a shower if you want," she suggested, turning to walk out of the room. "Bathroom's in the bedroom!"
Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I know it is." He was thoroughly surprised that a girl who appeared to be either in college or recently got out could even afford a modern, sleek and yet personally renovated place like this. The bathroom bore an equally cool and yet inviting air as the rest of the space. Jonathan slipped off his briefs and was about to turn on the shower in the glass stall when he caught sight of himself in the mirror next to him.
He'd always been so pale, due to lack of sunlight, and the circles beneath his eyes were from insomnia both in and out of Arkham...and then it began.
He grunted, holding back the groan, as the burning up began, flaring his body not as intensely as an inferno, but his flesh tingled like his nerves. The time was coming, and he knew it. It would hit him when he did not see it coming, like the scorching was. It would appear to be a mere temporary, high temperature delirium, but it wasn't. Gritting his teeth, another wave hit him and caused him to turn halfway so he could see his guarded secret in the mirror.
Jonathan Crane had been born with this - wings. To be more precise, they were phoenix wings, the feathers ending right above his buttocks. They were outlined in black, shaded in red and orange as well as hints of icy blue. Nobody ever saw this of him as long as he was alive; his grandmother had a reputation for striking at them as her most severe of punishments because she'd screamed at him that because of WHAT he was, he'd killed his mother. And what he was not even completely human as he appeared on the outside.
That shower he really needed was in order, turning it on to hot enough if not smoldering to peel his flesh away. He uttered a sound of pleasure as the pain subsided only a little. Looking around, he saw that what Sinéad used wasn't exactly feminine smelling as he'd expected, but it was an Irish brand. Jonathan had no idea what it was, but it left his hair softer, fuller, and shining. Finishing and drying, he redressed himself in the same shirt and jeans from yesterday given he still had to go back to his apartment to change for work later that afternoon.
Speaking of which, what time was it?
He found Sinéad at the stove in the kitchen. The floors were the same soft bamboo wood as the rest of the house, but the walls were a soft cream color patterned all over with dark green four-leaf clovers - She must really want this place to feel like her native Ireland - and there were plants placed in here, too. Both were the same - bold red blooms with lush leaves for a tropical mood - except in different containers. There was one in the far corner in a tapered vase, black with goldtones, and the other was placed in a white vase on the white shelf next to the doorway he stood in. Soft, haunting, enchanting music filled the air.
"I like this type of music," Jonathan whispered as he remembered Amethystium.
"So do I," she replied, turning and walking over to the table in front of the window, where colorful plates rested on top - and filled with bacon, mushrooms, and fried tomatoes - pan in her hand. "I enjoy Celtic Woman and Celtic Thunder, Adrian von Ziegler, and Brunuhville. Their works are as lush as my homeland."
Jonathan sat down at the table, watching as she shoved the eggs onto his dish and then her own. "Why did you move here to Gotham?"
She shrugged once and walked back over to the sink to run hot soapy water into the pan, then grabbed the basket that rested before her. "When I was seventeen, my grandmother died, and then I moved out here." She set it down between their dishes, displaying slices of Irish soda bread.
It was then that he noticed the black-framed picture that rested on the windowsill beside him. It was a woman of elderly years, her graying hair piled elegantly atop her head, and her wizened face smiling warmly at the camera as her shot was taken. The one next to it in a wrought iron frame was her and a younger Sinéad, about thirteen or fourteen at the time it was taken. Jealousy tinged in him as he envied this girl for a grandmother who loved her and may have treated her right while his own was the living devil who made his life hell more than he could ever tolerate. And then he wondered about her parents. "What about your parents?"
"They live in the slums, and I live here, far away from them." He quirked an eyebrow and smirked a little. From the way she said that, it sounded like she and her parents didn't get along. Well, perhaps he shouldn't be too envious of her, after all. "Let's just say that life at home wasn't what I always imagined a child having to live in, and my grandmother was always there whenever something happened. But when she died, things got worse. So when I got accepted into the art institute, I left them and never saw them again."
Shame, I'd have hoped she'd killed them as I killed my grandmother. But this girl didn't seem to fit the lines of psychopathic avenger. Not with her mild-mannered personality. And she was still speaking even when she brought over the tea kettle, and he smelled his favorite Irish breakfast tea that he hadn't had since he'd been committed into Arkham, and after he was released. Turned out to be Sinéad's favorite, too.
His eye caught sight of something as she leaned over to fill his cup. The shirt lifted a little to show the top of her left breast, showing something black - like a small tattoo that looked like a -
Sadly, she shifted back as soon as she was done, and was still speaking. "When I was little, Gran Siobhán was the one who was my guardian angel. She would read me stories and folktales, fairytales, you name it, about mythical creatures of all kinds. Among my favorites are mermaids and phoenixes. I even still read them even though she's gone. I used to love putting the angel on top of our tree at Christmas after we'd go out and pick one up." She sighed heavenly as she set the pot back onto the stove. "Brings back memories, you know? But then for a year and a half after she passed, my parents preferred stupid artificial trees. I keep wishing I'd have a tree again like my gran and I would always go out for. The perfect, proper Christmas."
She looked back at him when he didn't speak, and found him looking her on with a dumfounded expression. She frowned. "You're not interested."
"Huh?" Jonathan caught himself and mentally slapped himself for being so rude. "Oh, no. It's just that…my family never really had a good Christmas, either. Never did anything holiday-related and I never got any presents."
Her jaw dropped, understanding in her eyes. "Your parents didn't treat you right, either?"
"Namely my grandmother." Jonathan settled back into his chair. "I'd rather not talk about it." He looked down at the food before him, and his stomach growled again, the smell getting to him. "Looks great."
She laughed and walked over and sat before him. "Well, I won't make you talk if you don't want to." She took a bite out of her bread piece, looking at him expectantly. He realized it was his cue to finally eat. He picked up a bacon piece, took a bite, and moaned in delight.
"This is amazing. I haven't had a good meal in four years."
Her green eyes widened in shock. "You're not kidding? You haven't eaten in four years?!"
"I was in an asylum for two years, and afterwards I haven't been able to find a job that lasted more than a week to even a month." He looked past her shoulder to stare at the wall before him. "I had no money, and I was starving and freezing in the abode I live in now..." He felt his hand tighten on his fork as anger seeped his veins. "…and I have for a neighbor Miss Miller whom I never lived on friendly terms with in the past. She was always on my backside for her own reasons, so she's gravely mistaken that she can try to put it behind us just by playing nice with me."
She stared at him for a while as if searching him and trying to decide what to say. Then she lifted her cup to her lips for a sip, before lowering it and surprising him just like that. "What if she really does mean it?"
"The hell if she does," Jonathan snarled in spite of himself. She moved backwards in her chair looking instantly afraid of him. He softened at the sight but kept himself as he was. "You have no idea what she was like before I was in Arkham."
"Well, all she told me was that the Batman was responsible -"
"He is responsible!" Jonathan exploded, slamming his palm on the table. "He took everything away from me! My ENTIRE LIFE! And Evelyn played a part in it all! It's her fault I have nothing in my meaningless life!" He could feel his face heating and knew he'd gone beet red in a matter of moments. His breath was out of control as was his heartbeat, but he had a right to feel this way. Before he knew it, the tears came, and he bowed his head to the table, weeping loudly. His hormones and emotions were always controlled except when he was really stricken to a certain pressure point, but it was too late to take it all back now.
He felt a hand place itself on his arm, and he looked up to see Sinéad's eyes stone-hard and boring into him. "Jonathan, listen to me," she said firmly, and gone was the sweet Irish lass he'd known only moments ago, replaced by something - or rather, someone - more motherly and ready to give her child a lecture. "I don't know the whole story, but whatever happened between you and Evelyn is all in the past. And whoever else treated you wrong, they do not exist anymore. They're either out there living shitty lives or dead and rotting in the goddamn ground. And from what I can tell, you have severe trust issues which came from childhood terror which I know too well, but you don't see me inflicting that on others around me. So you better listen to me real good, Mr. Crane: I'm here to help you, and I'll be doing it on my own with or without Evelyn's help. And if anyone ever tries to pull shit on either of us, they'll answer to me."
He was taken aback by her sudden change of attitude, and by now she was leaning into him. He could see the fire and determination, something he'd grown used to seeing in a woman, but there was also care in those emerald orbs. It wasn't false, as he'd originally thought; she meant every word, and for that, he felt guilt-ridden.
And then he caught a glimpse of the black tattoo above her breast.
It was that of a Celtic mermaid.
Much like he had phoenix wings on his back. He gasped silently and tore his eyes away from that, instead turning to look back into her eyes.
Sinéad is a mermaid.
She's a mermaid in human form, and I'm a phoenix.
Her face bore all the signs that she'd gone too far and ultimately got herself together and drew herself away from him, sitting back into her chair, staring down at her plate. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I got carried away."
"No, don't apologize," Jonathan told her, managing a little smile. "I'm actually…surprised. No one's ever talked to me like that before. This is actually the first time I've ever had a real conversation with anyone. You're the first person who actually cares about me."
He stopped himself right there. He'd just about smacked himself. What the hell, Jonathan? What the hell were you thinking telling her that on the first day? But she was smiling at him.
"And I can tell you're not like the other guys."
That made him tighten his jaw and narrow his eyes. "Guys?" He didn't know what was coming over him, but it sure as hell was beyond his control. It was like he actually liked this girl, made him feel like he knew her forever - And I've only just met her! - and feel protective, like a wolf protective of its mate.
She gasped sharply and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I have such a loud mouth. But yes…" She sucked in a breath. "When I was fourteen, I had a boyfriend who was a couple years older than I was, and it was a dream come true for a teenage girl with starry dreams…but then he left me because I was 'immature'." Her eyes were then glassing up with approaching tears. "My next boyfriend in high school abused me, hit me around, until I couldn't take it anymore and told my grandmother, and the authorities handled it. My third, who was from a year in college, he left me because I was too into my arts to even focus on him." She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "How could he even do that when I handled both him and my work? Anyways, my fourth and latest who left me recently..."
Jonathan's temper had been boiling for the last few minutes she discussed her old boyfriends as they ate their breakfast - well, he ate his while he listened with attentiveness - and then the most recent one got it perked up all the more. "What about him?"
"Broke up with me on Sunday of all days, the day he was going to take me to the game. Said we should start seeing other people. Said and I quote, 'It's not you, it's me.'" She mimicked his voice with poison on her tongue.
By now, Jonathan was too full of hate to finish his food. He wished he could, with all his might, find this latest, given the other three were beyond his reach, and beat the living hell out of him. Well, that would have helped if he'd had his fear toxin, but no. Despite himself, he said, "A sweet girl like you doesn't deserve all of this."
Her eyes met his, and he saw the light - not reflected by the sunlight - of joy and hope in them. She was beginning to believe that he wasn't anything like her exes - except there was still a lot about him that she had no idea about.
Come to think of it, there was still more to her than meets the eye, and he was sure of it.
They finished breakfast in silence before she did the honors of clearing the table for them and bringing the dishes to the sink. "Do you like sports?" she asked suddenly.
Okay, now he knew she was going to ask him likes and dislikes on the first day. "No. Never played them."
"Why not?"
"Just was never interested," he answered. "I was more of the nerd who loved books and uninterested in gossip and jocks and all."
She laughed right there. "So you were the bullied?"
"Absolutely." His jaw tightened.
"School life wasn't that bad for me," Sinéad said. "It was an escape for me, to get away from Brian and Léan." Jonathan frowned at the names, before it clicked that they were her parents. "And no, I'm not calling them Mother and Father. They in no way deserved to be, and they sure don't now."
"School and home were both hell for me," Jonathan said, standing up to help her put the dishes away, feeling the need to do something. "By the time I got into college, it improved, but I still struggled with socializing with others."
"Well…" She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. "If you want to do something sometime, maybe we can go to a movie or a game?"
Jonathan was taken aback once more. Was she…was she asking him out on a date or something? He had no idea what to say, and he certainly didn't know how to respond. And then he looked at the clock behind her. It read only ten AM. He didn't need to be in at work until one-thirty, but he needed to get home and change clothes.
"Would you like to head home with me? I need to change for work." He winced when he saw the disappointment in her eyes, like she feared she did something wrong. It wasn't her fault; it was his. He was new to all of this and had no idea how to make a girl happy.
Jonathan's emotional and mental outbursts are common in previous fics of the past, as well as his comic and media incarnations. In "Phoenix Burning" by CrowsAce, this was the vital point that inspired me to do this. :D He's a "rare, special immortal creature - a phoenix - that piqued the interest of Ra's al Ghul", though CrowsAce hadn't finished the story to explore further beyond meeting the mysterious leader of the League of Shadows in the Middle East. And with Jonathan's "burning condition", he suffers very much in terms of menstrual hormonal difficulties, and this time around is kinda similar, but later we will actually see the REAL difference not yet seen in "Phoenix Burning".
I'm a fan of Celtic Woman and Celtic Thunder, Amethystium and the other artists mentioned that their tunes are also inspiring for this story. :)
So, Sinéad is a vital part of helping Jonathan besides simply becoming his love interest, and more people come in later. Thanks to previously mentioned "Phoenix Burning" and "Saving You", we really feel emotionally touched by his present suffering...but I promise it won't last.