The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

70

I stared at Harleen across the black and white chequered tile floor of our house near Jonathan's, like a chessboard. She had her arms raised in a defensive pose and a black belt tied snugly around her waist. I'd never seen her so focused—not even her pigtails twitched as she stared at me in determination.

"Harleen, this is ridiculous." I nudged at my stomach, back then the size of a bowling ball. "This uniform doesn't even fit me right, and I'm too sore and swollen to learn Kung-Fu."

"You've got a fear baby now, Sienna." Lightning fast, she leapt a pace forward, adjusting her stance into a crane pose. "And if ever I or Doctor C can't be there, I need to know you can kick ass."

"I'm a ballet dancer, not a fighter."

"It's just like ballet." She raises slowly, shifting into a stork stance. "Now, copy everything I do."

I lamented those days that stretched into weeks, all the weird drills and movements and breathing exercises she made me do. At the time, I half-suspected she only did it because I taught her ballet in repayment, and there was a red and black tutu she'd been begging the Joker for her birthday.

But now, with my assailant dragging me to what could be uncertain death or total amnesia, I've never been more grateful.

I slam back into the body dragging me, and his weight shifts like he's not expecting it. He's bigger than me, stronger, but with no training—this much I can deduce in the time it takes me to spin and thrust the heel of my palm between his ribs, knocking all air from his lungs. I bring my knee up lightning fast and he groans, spluttering, fighting to remain upright.

My brow draws in confusion, my mind working lightning fast. "Professor... Strange?"

He groans, fighting to pull himself upright. "Extraordinary... You remember... You heard..."

My eyes widen. I suddenly lift my arms, ready to lash out again, to incapacitate him for good—but he holds up a hand.

"I mean you no harm! I'm here to help!"

"You're with the people who brought me back from the dead," I say through clenched teeth. "Why would you help me?"

He clears his hoarse throat. "It's easier if I show you. Come with me."

"No way." I don't lower my arms. "You think I'm stupid enough to trust you?"

"To a coffee shop, then. Somewhere public. Somewhere we can talk."

I eye him with distaste a moment longer. "Talk about what?"

He sighs, then finally pulls himself upright with a grimace, straightening his glasses. "About where to find your son, and how to get Jonathan's memories back."

My heart leaps into my throat. But I'm not taking chances. "You're trying to trick me."

"Sienna, I... I mean, Doctor Moore... I feel as though we know each other already." His face suddenly becomes wistful, with that same look I'd seen in his lab that had me worried he was about to get fear-gassed. "I kept your bodies in the original timeline, you know. Exhumed them myself for scientific research. I preserved you both perfectly, ran numerous tests..."

Bile rises to my throat. "You sick fuck."

"You are gods!" He proclaims. "You are the gods of a new species! A scale of evolution that has not been achieved since we were apes! And now... I mean, I never thought I'd see this day..."

I glance around us. Creeped out as I am right now, we're in a back alley right opposite Harleen's apartment—my apartment. If we get caught here, it won't end well for either of us.