Here we go with Part 9.

Also, I have a song recommendation for the second half of this chapter that you must listen to while reading it. That's Us by Anson Seabra. 

This song (especially the chorus) fits Jonathan and Charlize's whole dynamic so well that I couldn't help but write a chapter based on it.

Enjoy!

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The lights on the docks were temporarily out, and the darkness hid the slow but methodical movements of a shipment container pulling in. The cops on duty were also conveniently not around, which facilitated the sinister activity taking place. 

A solitary figure stood at a distance, observing the men unloading cartons upon cartons from that container. Those cartons contained teddy bears and inside those stuffed toys was the main ingredient needed to manufacture the deadliest toxin Gotham would ever see—the fear gas.

His rectangular spectacles caught the slight gleam of a flashlight as he stepped closer, blue eyes closely observing the activity taking place on the docks. One of the men came up to him to report the progress and he nodded in affirmation.

"Take it all to Arkham. Follow my car."

He turned around, crushing the thin cigarette to a clump of dust as he left the docks. His car was parked at a safe distance and he looked around cautiously to check that no one was watching the secret transportation of those boxes from the container to a truck bound for Arkham.

Falcone's men were at work and he knew they would do as he instructed them to. Satisfied with the proceedings, he drove over to Arkham Asylum which was desolate at night due to the lack of staff.

The truck pulled in through the gates shortly and as instructed, the men carefully took all the cartons to the basement. Jonathan kept a close eye on them and then dismissed them when he was convinced that everything was set the way he wanted it to.

With the cargo unloaded, the truck left the asylum but his car remained as he had no intentions of returning home. He knew he had very little time left to mass produce his toxin as the shipment from Nanda Parbat had been received, starting the timer to the city of crime's ultimate destruction.

Resting was no longer an option.

So he stayed in his lab in the asylum's basement, tearing up one carton after another, pulling out the teddy bears containing powdered bags of a mysterious blue flower. 

The color of the flower was close to the shade of cornflowers yet it was so much more dangerous. It produced a strong hallucinogen that could push people to experience their worst fears that could lead to madness or even death if administered in a high dosage.

"The time is near, Jonathan. Soon, Gotham will be controlled by fear itself!" 

A menacing voice broke through the silence in his head, reminding him of the Scarecrow who was waiting for the right time to be unleashed. In his briefcase was a burlap mask that he used to trigger the switch, giving the charge to the deadly alter.

He could control the times Scarecrow took charge through that mask, but little did he know that once the alter gained enough dominance over him, the mask would no longer work.

Jonathan had gathered enough powdered flower essence to produce the first batch of the fear gas. So taking out his protective equipment, he locked himself up in the lab, working for the rest of the night on recreating the fear gas that would soon become one of the most feared weapons in Gotham.

The next morning, Miguel Hanson came to the asylum at his usual time but was surprised to see Doctor Crane's car in the parking lot. The only times when his car was there before Miguel reached was when he stayed overnight.

He unlocked the main gate using his keys and stepped in, closing it carefully behind him. The cleaning staff had yet to arrive but seeing the mess and the muddy footprints in the halls, Miguel busied himself in mopping the floors himself.

Other than the swishing of the mop on the wet floor, not a single sound could be heard from the asylum. The wings where they housed patients were silent too at that time in the morning.

Somewhat concerned, he looked at the lift as he mopped the floor close to it, thinking whether he should check up on Jonathan in the basement. But then he recalled his last experience and a shudder went down his spine.

He was in no mood to feel his organs get squished and that unnerving coil of fear and helplessness grip him.

At last, he decided to check his office first, hoping he would be there. Putting the mop aside after the floors were almost translucent, Miguel climbed up the stairs to the first floor.

Silence met him in the corridor too but he made his way to the end, stopping in front of the old pine door with the silver plate bearing Jonathan's name and designation. He thought of knocking but then pushed the door open carefully.

He saw Jonathan asleep in his office, his head resting on his arms that were folded over the wooden table. From the very little he could see of his features, he could deduce that the man was extremely exhausted.

His brow was furrowed even in his sleep and his shoulders were stiff. Miguel felt concerned for him but then closed the door silently, not wishing to disturb him.

Shortly after, he returned with two cups of freshly brewed Americano. He knocked on the office door, balancing the tray of coffee cups in his other hand. A while passed with no response, so he knocked again.

"Come in," Jonathan's tired voice came from inside, so he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Weary blue eyes looked up at him as Jonathan still seemed half asleep. Dark rings were prominent under his eyes and as he brushed his hair back from his face, his hands were not covered by the gloves, revealing the black burns tainting his skin.

Most of them looked fresh as they were red and purple, indicating that he had spent yet another night working with dangerous chemicals in his laboratory.

"I brought coffee. It will help," he set down the tray on the table, "I hope you don't mind..."

"No, certainly not." He massaged his throbbing temples, letting the strong scent of coffee soothe his frayed nerves. "Sit down, Miguel. I have to talk to you."

Hearing that, he took the seat across from him. Jonathan made no attempt to cover his injured hands as he reached out for the cup, taking a sip from the scalding hot coffee.

It jolted his senses awake, despite burning down his throat. Even though he was about to say something, he focused on drinking the coffee first.

"You look very tired. You should take a day off," Miguel couldn't help but say that, unable to tear his eyes away from the charred hands, "And maybe go to a doctor for the burns."

"I am fine but thank you for your concern." 

He was too exhausted for his voice to take on any other expression of irritation or cold impassiveness. Right then, he sounded just as tired as he looked, nothing more or less.

"Miguel, you remember that I told you not to get involved in everything I do here at Arkham," he resumed solemnly, his eyes observing him in caution. "I said that for your safety."

He nodded, "I know, Doctor Crane. I haven't stepped into the basement since."

"I know. It's..." He paused thinking about how to explain it, "It's not just about the basement. It goes deeper than that..."

"I understand. You can rest assured that whatever goes on in Arkham stays at Arkham."

For some reason, Jonathan felt the need to explain even though Scarecrow's voice in his head was urging against it.

"I said the lesser you know, the better it is for you. But... But it's not that simple," he put down the empty cup and picked his gloves from the table, covering his burnt hands. "In order to achieve my vision for Arkham, I had to go to the last resort after the Board refused my proposal, asking investment from those no one in Gotham—no one respectable in Gotham—would go to."

The words hung in the air and Jonathan observed his neighbor's expression carefully before revealing that last resort.

"I made a deal with Carmine Falcone."

The color drained from Miguel's face as he heard that. But he chose not to say anything as it was evident Jonathan wasn't finished.

"Of course, criminals like him need a high incentive for their investment and a profitable one at that," his blue eyes flickered slightly in an unreadable expression. "As a result, I might have to do things that are not ethically acceptable here... I hope you understand what I'm saying."

"But why are you telling me?"

"Because you're the manager and Arkham is at the crux of this operation. Through Falcone, I met someone... But we'll get to that later, or preferably not." His voice lowered, a sense of urgency taking over his tone and he chose not to reveal the identity of the sinister organization both him and Falcone were working for. "I've manufactured a toxin that can induce people's worst fears. You were accidentally the first human specimen other than me who experienced it when you went to my lab that day. This toxin can cause havoc if let loose... Absolute terror that can make the city tear itself apart."

Miguel still had no idea why Jonathan was confessing things to him that could easily land him behind bars. He also couldn't understand the reason behind that toxin's discovery or what benefit it could give to Falcone.

"There are forces greater than Falcone at play now," Jonathan answered the question so evident in his eyes. "It's no longer just about a crime lord and some financial investment. I have no choice. No choice..."

"No choice for what?"

"Listen to me very carefully, Miguel. It's not the first time Gotham has destroyed itself and it won't be the last," the words were ominous and combined with Jonathan's frantic blue eyes and the slightly trembling hands, it felt as if he was telling him the devil's disastrous scheme itself. "I want you to be very vigilant. Keep an eye out but don't say a word, you hear me? And when I tell you to, you'll leave Gotham with your family. Understand?"

"But... But what exactly is going on? Doctor Crane, I can't understand why..."

"If I tell you more, I'll be putting you at risk which I certainly don't want to. I have very little time left and if I didn't warn you today, I would have to watch you and your family perish. Neither you nor me want that to happen, right? Think about your children, your wife, you wouldn't want them to die... You will do anything to save them and the best option is to leave."

His eyes pierced through Miguel's concerned hazel irises as the man was both confused and perturbed after everything he had heard. It seemed as if the whole of Gotham was in some deadly peril and Jonathan was aware of it.

His next words confirmed that ominous assumption.

"When the time comes for Gotham to end itself, I'll warn you a night earlier. You know what you have to do then."

He opened his drawer and took something out which he thrust into Miguel's hands. It was a brown package, sealed all over, and felt quite heavy.

"You'll find everything you need inside it. Use it when that time comes and tell no one."

***

Charlize felt something was wrong.

Jonathan had almost disappeared, cutting off all contact with her except for the occasional texts, telling her that he was swamped with work.

She couldn't understand why he was so busy when everything at Arkham was running smoothly. The last time she saw him was at Gotham University as he had come to meet Doctor Hargrave to discuss something about the scheduled educational visits.

When she had talked to him that day, he was extremely detached, and he looked as if he hadn't slept for days. She didn't get time to ask him if everything was okay because soon after the meeting, he left.

Sometimes, it felt he was intentionally avoiding her. So, she stopped trying to reach out too, feeling she should give him some time and space.

A few days passed yet there was no answer to her concerns about Arkham's head psychiatrist. However, one night he showed up at her door unexpectedly, drenched from head to toe as it was raining heavily.

"Jonathan, how long were you waiting outside?" She asked as she brought him in, closing the door behind him.

He was shivering from the cold and his lips were almost blue. Seeing him like that increased her worries and the fact that he was not answering added to the concern.

"Jonathan?"

He left his shoes by the door, not wanting to soil her house with his muddy footprints. His feet ached and his legs refused to take his weight.

Charlize quickly took his arm and put it around her shoulder, supporting him as she led him to the couch.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," his teeth chattered and his eyes flickered to the heater, yearning for some warmth.

She switched on the heater, bringing it slightly close to him so that he could warm up. Her mind was racing with questions but she didn't ask them all outright, as always, giving him time to settle first.

The clock ticked the minutes by and when nearly ten minutes had passed, he spoke up, "I walked all the way here."

Her eyes widened in alarm at the implication, "From Arkham?"

"Yes."

"While it was raining? Jonathan, are you out of your mind?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched as if the words struck him deep. "Out of my mind... Yes. Possibly."

"What is going on?"

He gave no response because what could he tell her? He had done so much that he could never admit to her in the fear of losing her forever.

She came to sit close to him, taking his gloved hands in hers. The gloves were damp too so she peeled them off but got a shock to see the state of his hands. "Oh god, what happened to your hands?"

"I... I burnt them. Accidentally..."

She turned them over, observing the burns that were a mix of red, purple, and black patches on his skin. Some looked worse enough to be infected. "Sit here, I'll bring something. You should have gotten these treated, it looks like you'll get an infection."

She stood up to fetch her first aid kit but his hand closed onto her wrist, stopping her.

"Charlize... Don't go. Please..."

"But your hands..."

"No, stay with me. Just... Just for a little while."

She paused, looking at his pleading eyes and his fingers that still clasped her wrist. "Alright. But I won't let you go until I've treated these."

He said nothing, only pulled her down close to him. His lips brushed against her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her. She sank in his embrace
and he held her almost as if he was about to lose her but wanted to hold on, hoping against hope.

Despite that loving gesture, she also felt something was tearing his heart out the closer he held her to himself. But he didn't let go, fearing that she might disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip.

His head rested in the curve of her neck and his eyes finally fluttered shut, all the exhaustion catching up with him. His unsteady heartbeat eventually slowed down to her rhythm, a calm sweeping over his anxious form.

"Jonathan," she mumbled softly, "I'm worried for you. Please tell me what's bothering you."

Silence met that request but his head nestled deeper in her neck and shoulder. He couldn't tell her because telling her was synonymous with losing her.

And he was selfish. He didn't want to lose the way she made him feel. He didn't want to let the only peaceful and comforting aspect of his life slip from his hands.

"Jonathan?"

She tried to turn her head and look at him but he didn't let her. He kept her close, engulfed in the soft cocoon of his arms.

"Let me stay like this," he mumbled, placing light kisses on her jaw and ear, inhaling her soothing scent—her lavender shampoo mixed with the faint notes of a cool fragrance.

Her hand reached up, resting on his cheek and she brought his face closer to her, stealing his breath away with a kiss.

He should never have kissed her back. Because kissing her ended up in only one way. But the second her lips touched his, all the barriers he pulled up around him would crumble, leaving only him and his desperation to keep her with him.

In his darkest moments, he found his way back to her because she was the only one who offered him a semblance of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel he was trapped in.

If he kept that routine for any longer, it would end up hurting both of them when the time came to choose opposing paths on the fork of fate.

Still he couldn't resist her. He couldn't stay away from her for long. And he certainly couldn't let her go.

It seemed impossible but deep down, he knew it was inevitable.

It was only a matter of time and unfortunately, time had never been his friend. It kept slipping from his hands and he feared that just like that, one day Charlize would slip away too.

***

Yup I'm back with all the angst and this is just the beginning.

The next part is something I had a lot of fun writing (though it might not be very fun for y'all to read, just sayin').

So I'll see you soon with the next update. Let me know in the comments what you think about this chapter (I know most of you would be confused by Jonathan's behavior but looking from his perspective, this made perfect sense to me).

Lastly, what are your views on Jonathan and Charlize's relationship? Will it stand the tests of time or not?

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