Author's Note: Titled after ( a line from) the song 'Sister' by She Wants Revenge.

Chapter 17:

Delivering from Grace

Jonathan walked into his home without a sound. He moved into the living room, moving towards the large patio doors, looking out into the dreary city. Large, heavy clouds loomed in the sky, mixing with the fumes from the city. His home was in good view of the beautiful city of Gotham and was in better view of the Narrows of the city. His eyes moved from one side of the narrows to the other, a few blocks away from the harbor. It was the location of where his house once was. His eyes stared at it without any sort remorse. The bitter drafts of chilly wind blew through the cracks of the window. He could still feel it breathing against his hollow cheeks. His mother did her very best for Jonathan.

She carried two jobs for him, but still managed time to prepare him breakfast and sit at their small table for dinner, asking him how his day was. She'd buy him books, and though they were second-hand, tattered and torn, he'd read them for hours on end. He had read Alice in Wonderland when he was ten or eleven. Most would call it a girl's book, but it fascinated the young Jonathan Crane. The Mad Hatter and the Cat were still vivid. Such a calmed madness in a child's book, a "girls' book". It caused his lips to slither into a smirk. His mother had mindlessly suggested psychology to him when he was fifteen after noting how much he read. It became a heavy fascination after that. An obsession.

It was at that moment Jonathan noticed Melissa. Actually, he noticed that she was not in the living room. There was a boy around the age of twenty on his couch, deeply sleeping though. His eyes scanned the kitchen, but nor was she there. "Hmph." Well, maybe she was napping or maybe she was in the lobby. It didn't bother Jonathan all to much. Melissa knew better than to just run off. Only a few days past two weeks of being in his home, she knew better. Exhaling a breath, he walked down the short hallway, loosening his tie as he walked past the closed door to the guest room. He glanced at the door as he removed his tie, but he pushed himself on into his own bedroom. He threw his tie on the armchair, hung his coat on one of the armrests, and slipped out of his shoes. His icy eyes stared at the winter blankets on his bed, unbuttoning the few top buttons of his crisp white shirt. The blankets could be changed soon, the winter snow had came to an end

, it'd even rain now and then. Spring. With a light laugh, or maybe a scoff, he ruffled his hair, turning to the door to his bathroom. What he saw made him stop in his tracks.

"Melissa?"

"Crane? I mean- Jonathan?"

"What are you doing?"

"I- er- I took a shower." And the evidence was clear of that. Her dark hair was wet and in loose curls. She looked awkward standing there, though one could hardly blame her. A large fluffy towel was wrapped around her body. Where were her clothes? In her room? In his room someplace? Did he care? Why was he staring?

"Why?" Jonathan asked shortly. His arms hung at his sides, unsure of what to do. He forced himself to keep his eyes on hers, not even trying to look anywhere else in the room—his eyes might drop below her neck. She was good at getting him people to test on. Usually men, he seemed to have suddenly noticed. Why hadn't he noticed before that it was only men? Is this how she got them from him? He had told her 'anyway necessary', but this?

She shifted her weight to her other foot. Melissa swallowed hard, her mouth was too dry to speak. Why couldn't he look someplace else? She didn't want to look into his eyes. Piercing blue eyes. She'd love it if he'd look anyplace else but back into her eyes. White, neat shirt with a few undone buttons. Tie and jacket on chair. "The other shower wasn't working." So close to the bed. Should she go? Should she continue to answer his questions? Laugh?

"Oh… You're done then? I… need to…wash up." Psychologist at Arkham Asylum. The top. The best. It felt as he was losing his mind though, without help from the Scarecrow. Sex. That's what it must be. Just sex. It was basic in the mind. It was thought about all the time, or so say the famous psychologist….What was his name? Jonathan's mind was too clouded to think of history's great psychologists.

"Yeah. Yes, I'm finished."

"Okay."

"Okay." Melissa repeated. "Then… I should leave."

"I suppose." He answered.

Neither one moved. "You're in the way." Melissa pointed out.

"You're not moving." Jonathan shot back.

"Well neither are you." This was followed by silence. It was like a mutual agreement to move into action. At the same time, Jonathan stepped to the side, and Melissa moved forward, towards the door. Melissa was staring at the doorway, Jonathan still staring at where Melissa had been a moment before. Each step felt like an earthquake to Melissa. Each step Melissa took, Jonathan felt his head get light, his hands clammy and sweaty. She walked right past him. His mind snapped.

In an instant, his hand was gripping tightly onto her wrist. He didn't mean for it to be painful and tight, it's just how it happened. He knew was tight and firm, yet Melissa didn't whimper or flinch or try to pull away. She simply stopped and looked up to him. His eyes were still staring at the spot she had been. Her other hand grabbed onto his sleeve, forcing him to look at her.

Jonathan moved his eyes towards hers finally. He stared, or simply looked, or maybe he was regarding her carefully. Melissa's mouth was slightly opened, and she even took a breath like she was about to say something. Jonathan waited, but no words came.

The air felt uncomfortable stuffy in the room which caused breaths to feel tight and slow. Whatever plans either of them had for leaving the room and passing one another was now gone. Now they seemed to be glued to the spot they were standing. Standing so close together. Neither one could comprehend their thoughts. Jonathan could get it straight of who he was at the moment- be it Jonathan, Dr. Crane, or Scarecrow. Melissa couldn't figure out who he was, either—more or less her own being. Everything had a drugged feeling to it. Unclear, clouded, and dizzy. They were standing so close together, Jonathan's hand still tightly grasping Melissa's wrist, Melissa still tightly holding onto his sleeve. Before realization came into place, their lips were hovering close together. Dangerously close.

Judgements and rational thoughts had been long forgotten—along with the boy that was sleeping on the couch. His free hand moved to wrap behind her neck, pulling her closer. She was willing. That small space between their lips was no-longer. It was sealed shut.

Author's Note: I believe that that is enough, hm? I'll say this about it though: They were in Jonathan's bedroom. Thoughts were…unclear and judgement was gone. HintHint.