The Skin That Crawls From You [A Jonathan Crane Fan-fiction]

Stockholm Syndrome

I've hit rock bottom, so therefore I have no where to go but up. So I do. I'm sitting in a crowded plane, hands shaking as we climb altitude. Jonathan sits beside me; he runs a nervous hand through his jet black hair and whispers something under his breath.
A prayer?

"Didn't know you were religious,"
I tell him through clenched teeth. My head spins as we take off for New Orleans.

"Didn't know you were afraid of planes."
He respond coyly, eyeing my hands as they grip the arm rest. He gave me the window seat, but I slid the window cover down the second I was settled. I would much rather pretend to be on the ground.

I can't believe I agreed to go with him. The thought of being away from him makes me feel sick, what makes me feel sicker is that I'm so attached to the very man who ruined my life. When had I become such a mess?

These last few weeks, months, my life had changed in ways I can't even fathom. Simple things, like graduating from high school, getting a job, planning for the future had all slipped my mind completely. I had been in survival mode.

"What's today?"
I ask finally.

"November 13th,"
He tells me, flicking his complex watch into his gaze.

"Oh."
I say.

"What?"

"I'm nineteen now."

His eye brows raise for a moment.

"Did I miss your birthday?"
He asks seriously.

"It was on the 1st, at that point I think I was still with, well-"
I can't finish my sentence, I can't say his name.

"With him."
Jonathan growls.

I shake my head slightly.

"Well- nineteen is something worth celebrating. I'll take you somewhere nice in the quarter."
He tells me.

"No, I uh- I don't want to be around people."
I say honestly.

"Somewhere private then."

"No, I just-"

"Miss Alcott, there is no use in isolating yourself. I understand that social interaction can be hard; especially after a trauma as exhaustive as your own but-"
He takes off with his psychoanalytic babble but I stop him short.

"Sorry, I wanted Jonathan. Not Dr. Crane. If I remember correctly, doctor Crane was the one who dragged me through literal hell. Jonathan was the one who at least attempted to make amends."
I joke, but the ending leaves a sting. It registers on his face and he goes silent for a while.

I wake up a while later, the plane is dark now and most of the passengers are asleep. We took a late flight, but we should be there by now.

"Dr. Crane?"
I turn to face the aisle. He isn't in the seat beside me. My heart sinks. Panic grips me and my head turns to tv static.

I look down the aisles frantically.

"Mam'm? Is everything okay?"
A flight attendant grasps my shoulder and I jump what feels like three feet into the air.

"Uhm, I-"
I stammer, my voice cutting- I can't catch my breath.

"Mam'm?"

I shake my head and fight back the budding tears.

"The- the man next to me? Where is he?"
My voice sounds pathetic.

She looks down the aisle for a moment snd then back at me.

"I'm not sure Mam'm- he couldn't have gone far. Unless he had a parachute."
She jokes warmly. Her slight giggle makes me want to smack her.

"Okay Mam'm, put your head down and attempt to breath."
She says, noticing the severity of my emotional state.

"Count to 8 as you breath in-"

I tuck my head against the seat in front of me and attempt to clear my head.

"Excuse me? Is everything okay?"
A voice I recognize asks- sugar sweet, a tone I haven't heard.

Crane. He's here.

She was right, he couldn't have gone far. Yet here I am, depending on a man who has maliciously harmed me many times before- and will again I'm sure. Here I am, lost without him.

I put my hands on my head