Doctor Jonathan Crane (nightmareserum) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-06-28 01:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | scarecrow |
Who: Jonathan Crane
When: June 28, 2012
Where: New York City, NY
What: Jonathan starts over, leaving Gotham behind for a while.
Rating: PG
Jonathan looked down over his balcony, watching the joggers, hurried businessmen and mothers with children below him in Central Park, smiling as he sipped his coffee. It had taken most of Joker’s money, but Jonathan was now calling home a closet sized apartment located in The Century in Central Park West, high above the named park below. He had chosen this apartment simply for its view, needing the escape from humanity, removing himself from the chaos and drama of the pathetic human lives so far below him.
Removing himself from the pathetic drama his life had become.
It was his one luxury after selling off his drugs and the toxin he had been hired to make, the rest of the money, as limited as it was rested in his bank account Edward had opened for him, a strict budget set up to keep him from overspending and going hungry again now that he didn’t have someone else’s money to support him.
Which reminded him, he would need a job. An actual job, not skulking around in the shadows trying to turn a profit on toxin or illegal narcotics.
He flipped open the Times, sipping his coffee as he circled a few likely ideas. He was too brilliant to stand around flipping burgers all day, but with his medical licenses officially revoked in New Jersey and Georgia, his options were limited until he could pay off the right officials to get licensed in New York.
One promising lead was an opening for a chemistry teacher in a private highschool, no certification required. Between his doctorate in medicine and his previous teaching experience (firing not included), he would have little problems obtaining the job...even if the idea of working with adolescent idiots grated on him.
He remembered telling Pam he would never teach again and snorted, pulling his pills from his pants pocket and popping three of the tablets into his mouth, draining the last of his coffee. That had been long before circumstances of a broken heart and unfiltered rage necessitated his relocation before he turned Gotham into a pile of smoldering ash...or got himself killed.
He had left to simply do such, to run away from everything. He couldn’t start putting his life back together, when one of the main problems was constantly flittering around, turning up everywhere he looked.
This...mess...was nothing that he wanted, and he wished he could turn back time to the moment he walked into Edward Nigma’s cell and change his mind, stepping away from that cell and down the hall, never making a deal with the devil.
Sure, he might have still ended up spraying himself with the toxin, might have even ended up dead or worse, but he would still be him, and not a corpse who didn’t have the good sense to lay down and die.
He wouldn’t be craving the voice of a man who didn’t care, and even when he had, it was only to notice him long enough to belittle him, much like his Great-grandmother constantly had. He wouldn't have lost his life, his career, his goals, simply because he thought he could have found a better path...found the strength to care about something other then his research.
Only to have it yanked away from him in the next moment, as Edward let him fall away.
Though Jonathan couldn’t truly blame this on Edward, not fully. He had been the one to believe the delusions, to agree to the ideas, the plans, only to be left with crumbling dreams and growing nightmares.
Thinking of Edward, of Pam reminded him he needed to check in with the gardeners and security hired to take care of the house and grounds she had left him. He had failed enough already, breaking a promise to her wasn’t going to be another thing on the list.
Besides, he might want to return to Gotham...someday.
Standing, he tucked the pills away, gathering the paper and heading into his apartment, leaving his coffee mug on the patio table to collect dust until he got around to cleaning it out.
He tossed the paper on the futon he called a bed, stripping down and heading for the shower, eager to start the day...to start his new life. The mistakes of the past wouldn’t fade, though the pain would lesson in time, and each was a lesson for his steps to take.
Emotions were for the foolish.