GOTHAM X READERS

[JONATHAN CRANE DRABBLE]

Prompt: "What if I'm in too many pieces now to fix myself again?"

Word count: 608

Jonathan had changed a lot, and it wasn't a wonder. His father had injected that fear serum on him for years, and now he had been in Arkham ever since that last injection, which made him afraid of almost everything, especially scarecrows.

You were the only one he really talked to - his psychiatrist. You had began to care about the scared boy, who showed almost no signs of improvement, he was still spooked about everything which was even slightly scary, and he would have no chances to survive on his own. You talked to him three times a week already, and there he was on your sofa, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, dark circles around his eyes. He hadn't slept properly during all these months - nightmares about scarecrows haunted him. He had tried to use medication to sleep, but nothing seemed to work. If you weren't his psychiatrist and it was allowed, you would have liked to hold him, sit by him as he tried to sleep. You were the only one who could get him calm down if he got one of his fear attacks, but only if you were physically by his side.

"Jonathan?" you asked, and he took in a shaky breath. "How are you?"

He glanced at you quickly, before he muttered, "They're getting worse."

You frowned. "The nightmares?"

He nodded quickly. "They... they follow me. I wake up and... they're in my room. I wake up again, and they're still in my room. Then I scream and a guard tells me to be quiet."

At the start of your therapy sessions, you had a hard time to follow his muttering. He spoke quickly, but quietly, but the more you saw him, the more you could follow his speech. You put your notepad down. "Do they say anything?"

He took in a shaky breath again, before he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his voice. "They... they say I'm going to join them someday. That I'll be one of them."

You nodded, making quick notes before you turned your gaze back to Jonathan. "What do you think that means?"

He was quiet for a bit, then he furrowed his eyebrows. "I... don't know."

You spent a few moments in silence, you were writing your thoughts about him on the notepad before you noticed that Jonathan lowered his legs a bit so he could look at you properly.

"Mx. L/N?" he whispered and you lifted your gaze to him again, offering him an encouraging smile.

"Yes, Jonathan?"

He swallowed, before he completely lowered his legs down from the couch. "Do you think I'll ever get out? That I'd be ready to live on my own? What if... what if I'm in too many pieces now to fix myself again?"

Your heart broke at the sincerity, the slight fear in his voice - he was scared that his father's experiments had doomed him into being in a mental care for the rest of his life, that he'd have to fear everything and see nightmares of scarecrows until he dies. You reached forward to touch his hand comfortingly.

"You're not fighting this alone, Jonathan. And I'm going to do all I can so you'd get out one day - and I promise, that day is coming. We just have to work hard. Soon you'll thrive in Gotham and I'll be proud of you."

You both just stared at each other for a while, and for the first time in your whole therapy session history, Jonathan smiled. It was a careful smile, but he had more hope in that than ever before in his life.