Disclaimer:I don't own Jonathan Crane (sadly) nor Batman. I don't claim to own them. I don't make any profit off of this. I'm just having fun.

04

Come On Home

It's Sunday and I'm bored out of my freaking mind.

Laying on my bed all day and staring at the ceiling is not exactly how I expected to spend my weekend. But, Georgia just wasn't Gotham. Mom was out shopping or doing something else similarly mom-like. I had already spent two hours each on my cello and two violins, and it wasn't past four. I groaned and rolled over, covering my eyes. This kind of sucked.

I sat up and glared at my awful lavender walls. I had half a mind to go down to the hardware store and pick up a bucket of paint and cover up the disaster. I mean, really, who chose lavender walls with princess pink trim? According to the realtor, a single man.

The room had been a mess when we moved in. There was inches of dust plus blood stains on the bathroom tile that we had to rip up. The realtor neglected to tell us that the previous tenant had slit his wrists and bled out on the floor. Poor bastard.

See? This is what I think about when I'm bored. I need to keep myself occupied.

I had even finished all my homework besides Psych and I haven't done that because I knew Crane would help me. I glared at the offending Psychology book on the night stand. I hate you, Sigmund Freud.

I also noticed I was getting hungry. I looked at my keys on top of the Psych book and tried to resist the temptation. I knew that Jonathan probably wouldn't be happy if I just showed up, but maybe if I bribed him with food he'd willing help me battle Freud and his repression mechanism.

Jonathan and I had only gotten closer the past week. We spent every available moment together and I enjoyed it. It had gotten quiet on the Sherry Williams front, too. We both avoided each other at all costs now, and Boytoy stayed the hell away from Jonathan. It worked out well for everyone involved.

I knew something was going on with him at home. I may not be Jonathan Crane smart, but I was observant enough to notice the signs. He hated going home, he was withdrawn, he didn't trust anyone.

But I knew better than to ask him about it. We were treading a thin line as it was. I never knew if something I said was going to set him off or make him pull away. I frowned. I was getting far too involved with this kid, only knowing him two weeks now. But I couldn't help it, we were like magnets. Even he must be affected, because I've noticed him moving closer to me in the hallways and catching himself before he touched my hand.

We didn't even talk all the time. Sometimes we'd just sit in silence, reading or working on homework. He was a good companion, even when he would look over my shoulder and scratch out my answer and write it own in. We didn't need to talk, just being next to each him made me content.

I sighed and ran a hand through my messy hair. I looked down at my torn jeans and striped sweater before grabbing my keys. I'm sure he wouldn't like me just randomly showing up, but maybe I could convince him to help me battle Sigmund Freud and his repression mechanism with good food. It was worth a try, at any rate.

I walked down the lane, biting my lip. It was starting to get dark and I probably should have brought a flash light for the walk back up. I quickened my steps, hugging myself as a cold gust of wind blew through the leaves. It really had no business getting dark at five in the evening.

The crunch of the gravel was the only sound besides my breathing and some cows whining in the distance. The area really was beautiful. It was remote, but that only added to it's charm. There wasn't a neighbor for miles, which must beat being able to hear your neighbors have really rough sex at all hours of the night.

I wasn't far from the house when I heard raised voices. I narrowed my eyes. I saw a beat up station wagon sitting in the gravel in front. His grandmother must be at it again. I used the shadows and walked around the back of the house like Jonathan told me to, jumping back when the door burst open.

I had to hold my mouth to keep me from gasping. Jonathan stumbled out, falling onto his side. He was shirtless and I could see countless lesions crossing his back. An older woman brandishing a switch came out after wards, her face red with rage. "I knew it! You're going to be just like your whore of a mother! Celia told me that she saw that harlot dropping you off from school late. Did you think I wouldn't find out, you ungrateful sinner?"

"It's... not... like... that!" Jonathan pushed himself onto his elbows, glaring at his grandmother. His glasses were missing and his eyes were blazing like fire. Even in the dusk I could tell that a bruise was blossoming on his left cheek. "She's not like that!"

The switch came down on his back again and I had to hold myself back from screaming. I knew that it wouldn't do anything except ruin my chance of getting him out of here. Tears sprang to my eyes when he fell back onto the ground.

She got into his face and spit on him. "You would say that, wouldn't you? The Devil tempts and, just like your mother, you give in instantly! How did I bear such a weak child? I should have killed her when she was first born, then I wouldn't have to deal with her biggest mistake, you!" The switch came down again and I saw blood. Jonathan didn't move other than he flinched slightly.

"When she came to me, pregnant without a husband, I should have known! I should have thrown her out into the cold! But I put up with her until she ran off, leaving her demon spawn behind, crying and whining all the time. I should have known that you weren't going to be any better!" She reached down, grabbing his hair and pulling him till he stumbling after her. They were headed in the direction of the dilapidated church."You will stay out here until your birthday, and then you'll get out of here! I'm sick of having your disgraceful flesh fouling up my home, do you hear me!"

She was still talking, but now I couldn't hear her since they moved into the church. I moved quickly, crawling underneath the stairs. If I ran to get help, there's no doubt that the crazy bitch would see me and then who knows what she would do to poor Jonathan.

I waited for what seemed like forever, listening to the muted voices before Crazy Bitch made her reappearance. She closed the double doors to the church and brushed herself off primly, before making her way back to the house. She didn't even look back before she climbed up the stairs and slammed the door behind her.

I stayed under the steps for a few minutes, waiting for Jonathan to come out. He didn't. "Fuck!" I cursed. I really should have brought the Charger down here. Who knew what was waiting for me inside the church?

I climbed out from underneath the stairs but kept low to the ground, using the dark and shadows as cover as I quickly walked to the building. I pressed my ear to the outside, listening for anything that might think I'm a snack. Satisfied, I opened the door carefully, cringing when it made a low squeal. I dove in, closing the door behind me.

It was dark on the inside, the only light from the moon shining through the tiny holes of the roof. I squinted. "Jonathan?" The was no answer. "Jonathan Crane, you had better answer me right this second." My voice came out a harsh whisper, betraying my fear.

"Dahlia?" There was a quiet shuffle in front of me. I frowned, I couldn't see anything. I grabbed my bag, fumbling around before feeling the lighter I kept as an emergency flashlight. I opened it and clicked it a few times before it lit up, bringing light to the inside of the church. What I saw stunned me.

Jonathan was on the alter, tied to a cross. His arms were tied at an odd angle behind his back, making his bony shoulders stick out. Blood, old and new, covered the alter and he winced at the harshness of the sudden light. I stepped back. "Oh my god."

"Dahlia... what are you doing here?" His voice was hoarse, who knew how much he screamed before I got there. I felt anger bubble up within me. Even now he was able to keep his cool when I felt like going into the house and making his grandmother's face look like a crime scene.

I threw my lighter down and moved over to him, working on the knots. "I originally came to see if you wanted to get away for awhile, but now I'm gonna make sure you get away forever."

"I appreciate it, I really do. But... you should go before she comes back, she won't be pleased if she sees you." He pulled his arm free and I worked on the other one, freeing it as well. "I'll stay here until my birthday, it's only three-"

I moved forward quickly, grabbing his face in my hands roughly. "Stop it! You're going to come with me and you're going to damn well like it! This isn't right and you know it! Now, come on, the Charger is parked up the lane."

He looked like he was about to protest but thought better of it. I took off my jacket and helped him put it on, carefully letting it rest on his injured back. In the moonlight, I could see many more scars.

I took his hand and we escaped the church, slinking off the property. The trek back up the lane took longer than my trip down, Jonathan was in pain and I made sure to stop often with him so he could catch his breath and kept him balanced when he stumbled. I also kept looking behind my back, making sure the beat up station wagon hadn't magically appeared behind us.

We finally made it to the Charger and I breathed a sigh of relief. We were safe, even if I heard that beast of a car come up the lane I could have us gone in seconds.

I moved closer to my car before I noticed Jonathan wasn't following. I turned around and saw him staring down the lane, an indescribable look on his face. "I never meant for you to see." If I hadn't strained to hear it, I would have missed it. "Now you know how weak I am. I'm seventeen years old and couldn't even defend myself against and old woman."

On a whim, I grabbed him and pulled him to me, hugging him. I had my arms around his waist and I put my face on his bare chest, wincing at how chilled he felt even with the jacket. "You're anything but weak, Jonathan." My voice was barely above a whisper.

I was about to pull away when I felt his arms hesitantly pull me closer and he burrowed his face into my hair. "Thank you, D.G." He kissed my temple, just a soft brush of his lips over my skin.

I was in tears for a second time and I hugged him harder. I decided then that I would never let anyone hurt him again.

Jonathan was asleep on the couch when my mom got home. I had tried to get him to take my bed, but he refused. I did finally convince him to let me clean and dress his back after he showered and I found an old shirt of mine that fit his thin frame, a faded black tee with a picture of a bow on it with the words "Strung Out". It was a Christmas gift from my grandmother and I never wore it in public. The pajama pants were also a gift from her that were a couple sizes too big.

It was no wonder why Jonathan is the way he is. From dealing with an abusive grandmother, having no parents, and being bullied at school, that was a recipe for teenage disaster. But he kept everything well hidden under that cool mask of his, not letting anyone or anything get the best of him.

He looked peaceful finally and I couldn't help but smile softly. . His face was slack and his mouth was in a light pout that made me giggle a little. His damp hair was starting to wave and partially covered his bruised face. The bruise made me angry again and I sat back in the chair, trying to calm my racing heart.

I was watching some mindless television when I heard the door open. I quickly stood and motioned to my mother to be quiet. She looked at me and motioned me to follow her out into the hall.

I closed the door softly behind me and turned to face my mother's wrath. "What is going on, Dahlia?"

I bit my lip. I knew I was going to have to explain, but I didn't know how much Jonathan would want to reveal. Oh well, he could be mad. Someone had to know. "I went to go see Jonathan. When I got there, Mom, it was so bad." Tears clouded my vision and I wiped them away. "His grandmother had him outside. She was whipping him with a fucking switch. Over and over again."

My voice broke and I tried to hold back the sobs. I slid down the wall and I caught my mother's horrified look. She sat down next to me, pulling me to her. "Hun, what else? You need to tell me."

"She... tied him up. In an old church behind their house. She just left him there shirtless in the cold. There was so much blood, old blood on the alter. She just kept screaming at him, and it's all my fault." I kept choking back my sobs, falling apart.

"Baby, no, this isn't your fault-"

"It is! A... friend of hers saw me drop him off. It's all my fault. She called me a whore." My mom just ran her hands over my back soothingly for awhile and I calmed a little. "He can't go back there, Mom. He has nowhere else to go, so I brought him here. He doesn't even have any clothes or his glasses. I think she broke them."

"Don't worry, he's not going back. We're both going to go to bed and I'm going to call your father in the morning and see what he says to do. He's got to have a few of his lawyer friends on speed dial." She ran her hands through my hair and kissed my forehead, just inches where Jonathan had earlier. "You did the right thing, baby, and I'm so proud of you. Jonathan is welcome here as long as he needs us."

I gave her a big hug and we both stood. My mom went in ahead of me, I stayed out in the hallway to compose myself. I ran quickly tied my hair behind my neck and I took a few deep breaths before walking back inside.

I still heard Jonathan's light snoring so I walked back to my room and changed into pajamas, grabbing my other pillow and a throw blanket since Jonathan had my comforter. I glanced at my mom's door, the light was still on and I heard her talking to someone. I made my way back to the living room and put them in the chair, ducking into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my flushed face.

Jonathan was still asleep in the same position as before, thankfully. I smiled sadly before climbing into the recliner and turned off the TV. "Welcome home, Jonathan."

A/N: Wow, this chapter took a lot out of me! I know it kind of differs from Jonathan's original story line, but since Nolan didn't really give Crane a back story, I'm taking inspiration from the older comics and kind of mixing things up. Things flow better after this chapter, I promise. It always takes me a few chapters to get back into the swing of writing. This is a short one just because I'm a single mom and my son doesn't like giving me time to write.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorite-d, and added Dal Niente to their alerts! I'm pleasantly surprised how many responses I've gotten to this and it really made my week. They really gave me more inspiration and drive, I appreciate every single one!