Alrighty, eight pages for ya!

Easter went pretty well. I have to say, it is quite amusing to watch your fifteen year-old brother and your sixteen year-old family friend hop around with two of their legs and two of their arms tied together, attempting to steal candy from a ten year-old using a ping-pong paddle attached to a yardstick. Ah, the memories.

I'll be seeing Scary Movie 4 tonight, which is supposed to have a scene parodying 'Red Eye'. Here's hoping it's good!

By the way, for future reference: if you're going to look up info on Jungian archetypes, make sure you look up Carl Jung, rather than George Jung. Apparently, there's, erm, a bit of a difference. XD

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Disclaimer: Jackson and Jonathan are my playthings, and I shall do with them as I please! DANCE, LITTLE MONKEYS, DANCE!

Jonathan and Jackson: –dance-

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THE ONE WARNING: There are no warnings. You have now been warned by the warning that warns against warnings.

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A Twisted Kind of Brotherhood

The Wreckage That He Left Behind

When Jonathan arrived at the police station the morning after the fire, he was amazed by how people who had once hated and reviled him for his psychotic games now looked down on him with pity. Apparently, there was nothing bad you could say about a kid who'd just lost his entire family the night before. Not that Jonathan particularly cared; he felt like he was walking through a dream world and that nothing truly mattered, because it was only a matter of time before he awoke in his bed at home and began a normal day.

As the officers all gave him sympathetic looks, one of the inspectors led him into an empty room, where he was questioned about the events of the past night. Jonathan numbly recounted a night in which he'd squabbled with Jackson over something stupid, went into the woods for two hours to cool off, and came back home to discover his house on fire. He'd known that he would eventually be questioned, considering that they were investigating the possibility of arson, so he'd been able to come up with a story the night before.

Jackson would've hated him if he'd known, but Jonathan was quite the accomplished liar.

The police, who had no reason to believe that Jonathan's story wasn't true (after all, how could a fourteen year-old kill his own family?), ended the questioning fairly quickly. Once they had, one of the investigators asked Jonathan, "Has anyone told you about where you're going to stay now?"

"No," Jonathan admitted, not even having considered the idea himself. He was still convinced that this was all a very elaborate hallucination, so why would it matter?

"Well, we've found your parents' old wills. They've stated that, in a case such as this, you're to live with your aunt Helen."

Jonathan mulled over this, trying to remember a single time that either of his parents had ever mentioned anyone named Helen, or, for that matter, the existence of any relatives whatsoever. He came up blank, the idea of having relatives outside of his four-member family never having crossed his mind.

"Is she my aunt on my dad's side or my mom's side?" Jonathan asked abruptly, wondering what kind of woman he was going to end up stuck with.

The inspector, surprised that Jonathan didn't even know this simple fact, blanched a bit before answering, "Your mother's."

Jonathan shrugged. "Alright."

Recovering from his surprise, the inspector added, "We also looked over the inheritance part of their will. Even though you would have been set to inherit their savings, it seems that your parents had several debts racked up, and, well…"

"There's no money," Jonathan filled in, having expected something like this to happen.

"Essentially, yes. But I'm sure your aunt will be able to provide for you without any trouble." Checking his watch, the inspector added, "When we called her, she said she would buy a plane ticket on the next flight out. She should probably be here by this eveni-…"

He was cut off when a loud commotion coming from down the hall, and the inspector got up to go investigate. Jonathan, vaguely curious, got up and followed him, wondering if he'd get to see a fistfight.

Looking out into the hall, Jonathan could see that the ruckus consisted of a petite Italian woman screaming at two police officers at the top of her lungs as a tall man (who Jonathan could only assume was her husband) looked on.

"Ma'am, have you considered the possibility that she's at a friend's house, or…"

"We moved here yesterday! She doesn't know her way around town, she barely knows anybody here…"

Attempting to sooth the riled woman, the officer said, "She's only been missing for a few hours, ma'am. She's seventeen, she might have decided to walk into town…"

This only served to further enrage her. Jonathan found the whole situation slightly amusing, watching a tiny woman make two full-grown cops cower in fear. Furious, the woman shrieked, "There was a ladder by her window! When we went out into the woods to look for her, there was a trail of blood! And…"

She stopped for a second, and her eyes seemed to rest on Jonathan, who was still standing in the doorway of the room he'd been questioned in. She stood frozen for a moment, as though a realization had swept over her. After a second or two, she took a step towards him, face contorted. The cops, confused by this, didn't spring into action until she ran over to him like a raging bull and grabbed him by his shirt collar.

"What did you do with her?-! Where is my Anna?-!"

Jonathan, taken aback, managed to reply, "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"You liar!" she screamed, and it looked like she was about to hit him when one of the officers managed to pull her off.

"Ma'am, what do you think you're…?"

Pointing wildly at Jonathan, she yelled, "Jackson must have done it! He was the only one who'd spoken to her all yesterday! She'd have trusted him, that's why we didn't hear a struggle…"

The officer quieted her for a second, realizing the mistake made. She tried to continue, insisting, "Ask him! Ask Jackson…"

"Ma'am, this isn't Jackson Crane. This is his brother, Jonathan." The officer's expression changed noticeably, and he gave Jonathan a mournful look as he added, "Jackson died last night in a fire."

Anna's mother took a step back, and it seemed as though her face began to crumple into itself. Jonathan watched curiously as she seemed to attempt to apologize, her mouth forming the words but the sound getting caught in her throat. Eventually, tears just ran down her face and she buried her face into her husband's chest.

One of the officers sighed loudly and asked, "Is there any particular reason that you think Anna might be in danger? Anything that might put her at a high level of risk?"

The husband seemed to consider this question for quite some time, not knowing how to deal with both irritated cops and a sobbing, hysterical wife. Biting his lip, he began, "Her uncle…" But then he stopped, seeming to think better of it, and merely shook his head.

"Never mind."

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Just as they had planned, Leon and Jonathan went out for coffee once again the next day. It was an amiable meeting, and it was similar to their previous gathering. They got coffee and discussed Zsasz, eventually moving on to other topics of discussion. Leon smoke Capris, and Jonathan spied a familiar blonde-haired man standing outside. This time, however, he ignored him.

They eventually got to talking freely, if only because Leon seemed so interested in keeping the conversation moving. From Zsasz, they began discussing psychology and its various schools (when Jonathan admitted to being a Jung follower, Leon dismissed Jung as "Freud without the sex"). They continued from there into talking about work in general, before swapping stories about the horror that was their coworkers. After that, they finished their coffees and threw out their containers. Jonathan was just about to walk out the door when Leon quickly asked him if he'd like to meet again the next day.

Surprising even himself, Jonathan accepted.

There was something about Leon that Jonathan had to begrudgingly admit to himself that he liked, though he wasn't completely sure what it was. Jonathan didn't even really like people in general, and had only agreed to the first (and second) coffee meeting because he needed information on Zsasz for the upcoming trial. It had been purely out of self-interest that he'd accepted both times, so what made him agree to a third?

Leon had an easygoing air about him, which made him feel approachable, and he honestly seemed to be interested in what Jonathan had to say. And yet, at the same time, he had an irritating habit of trying to tease Jonathan during conversation. He probably only meant it to be friendly, but it reminded Jonathan too strongly of Jackson's taunting attitude. Plus, if Leon didn't stop smoking those awful cigarettes, Jonathan was going to throttle him.

In any case, Jonathan decided to let it go. He didn't need to understand why he had accepted (even if being a psychiatrist made him want to). He merely reassured himself by reminding himself that, if Leon asked him to coffee again, he could always say no. Depending on how he felt, he could always decline.

After their third meeting for coffee, Leon asked if he'd like to meet for lunch in a few days' time. Without hesitation, Jonathan agreed.

Needless to say, Jonathan's inner turmoil over this didn't even come close to matching Jackson's envy as he watched his brother go out, day after day, with the ruffled-hair punk from the asylum. Something about Leon annoyed Jackson, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Just something about his mannerisms irritated him. In any event, watching him with his brother was like looking at a car wreck: you don't want to look, but you can't help it.

In any event, Jackson hadn't stopped his following, though he had gotten slightly better at disguising himself. Instead of sticking with the familiar "blonde middle-aged man" disguise, Jackson started swapping around hair colors, eye colors, and aging effects.

During that fourth meeting, the one where they went out to lunch, he came dressed as a red-haired young man with green eyes and a shit-load of freckles. There was a boardwalk outside of the restaurant they were at, and Jackson merely wandered around, chatting in a heavy Dublin accent with nearby vendors. When Leon and Jonathan emerged, Jackson followed them from afar, and he couldn't help but hate the way Leon kept smiling at his brother.

Watching them pile into Leon's car, Jackson felt frustration build inside of him for reasons he didn't care to think about. If Jonathan wanted to go out with Leon, it was (sadly) his choice to do so. Besides, nothing had progressed past "meeting with a co-worker" level yet; hell, when Jackson heard Jonathan talk about it, it seemed like they weren't even friends.

Yet Jackson couldn't help but abhor it when the two of them met, and there was some small part of him that nagged at him, telling him that he was jealous. Personally, Jackson hoped that the small part of him that was nagging him would go jump off of a cliff.

As Leon's car drove away, headed for some unknown location, Jackson strolled off, his head clouded with thoughts that he tried to ignore. As he headed for a local tavern, intent on getting something strong to drink, he could only think of what Leon's neck might look like after being snapped in half.

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Jonathan found himself watching the Harrisons' two young boys later that day, still feeling numb from the events of the night before. He felt a twinge of sadness as he watched the Harrisons' six year-old son chase his four year-old brother around their den, both of them squealing with delight, knowing that their impromptu babysitter would do nothing to stop them.

There was a loud knocking on the door, and Jackson could vaguely hear Mrs. Harrison call, "I'll get it," before emerging on the stairwell. Walking quickly, she went down to the door and, after peering at her two sons and their wild game of tag, opened the door and called out, "Hello?"

Standing there was a tall woman that Jonathan could only assume was his aunt Helen, judging by the similarities she had with his mother. She wore a business suit as though she'd been born in it, and had an air of authority that gave her the appearance of one who could take on the world and win. She had the same facial features as his mother, but because she had more weight on her, they had been softened to look more welcoming than his mother's harsh face. When Jonathan looked at her, she looked more human to him than his mother ever did, probably because her skin wasn't layered in makeup, and her hair was a natural-looking dirty blonde, rather than bleached. Her whole manner seemed energetic and alert, and at the center of this energy hovered her piercing blue eyes, the same shade as her sister's.

Shooting a warm smile at Mrs. Harrison, she said, "I'm Helen Bouvier, Jonathan's aunt. Is he around?"

Mrs. Harrison nodded, her eyes sweeping over the woman who stood before her. "He's right over there," she indicated, jabbing her thumb in his general direction.

Spotting her nephew, Helen pushed her way right past Mrs. Harrison and walked over to Jonathan, her warm smile crinkling into a sympathetic expression similar to the ones Jonathan had seen all day long. Jonathan remained seated in the same position on the couch, not even turning his head when his aunt sat down next to him while Mrs. Harrison exited the room.

"Hey there, Jonathan. How're you doing?"

Jonathan tried to think of some sarcastic reply, but gave up and merely shrugged his shoulders as he stared off into space. "As good as can be expected."

Helen nodded, seeming concerned for her nephew. Jonathan wondered why she should even care, but he kept his mouth shut. "Well, I'm not sure if anyone told you, but you're going to be coming to live with me after the funeral."

Jonathan didn't move his head or change his expression. He merely mumbled, "They told me."

Seeing that Jonathan seemed to be anesthetized to everything around him, she put her hand on his and said, "I know this has got to be hard on you. And I know that we've never met before, but I promise you, it'll be alright."

It'll be alright. You're going to do fine without me.

Jonathan blinked, and tried to remember where he'd heard those words before. Try as he might, though, he couldn't seem to remember. After a few seconds, he gave up, deciding that it didn't really matter.

Helen continued. "I'm going to take care of the funeral expenses and everything, and once it's over, we'll take a flight back to my place. Is there anything from your house that you'd like to take with you?"

"Everything was destroyed in the fire," Jonathan stated without any emotion in his voice. He noted the surprise on Helen's face, and it was obvious that she hadn't realized what she was saying.

"I'm sorry, I…"

Turning a cold eye to her, he asked, "Why? Did you set it on fire?"

Helen didn't answer this, not willing to take the bait. Instead, she said, "If it's alright with the Harrisons, I'll take you back to our hotel room and you'll stay with us. Tyler's waiting back there…"

"Who's Tyler?" Jonathan asked abruptly, unfamiliar with the name.

If Helen was surprised by this question, she certainly didn't show it. Instead, she simply replied, "He's your cousin. He's only a year younger than you, so you two should get along fine. He'll be coming to the funeral, too."

Jonathan shrugged. "Okay."

Helen, seemingly satisfied, asked, "Are there any questions you have?"

Jonathan thought for a minute, trying to figure out what questions he might have about this woman whom he'd never met before and with whom he'd be living. Not to mention her son, who he hadn't even known existed until five seconds ago. Amazingly, he was only able to come up with one question to ask his aunt, all others fizzling out his brain before he had a chance to ask them.

"Where do you live?"

She smiled brightly. "Gotham City."