Disclaimer: I own none of the characters from the Batman comics, movies or various TV programs. Jonathan Crane, much as I’d love him to be, is not mine.

Author’s Notes: The plot will be a short chronicle of his life from birth, up to his being hired in at Gotham University. It may or may not bleed into a sequel (detailing his life after being hired at the university. Yes, that means a stint at Arkham.) I also have in mind, but that depends on the amount of reviews I get. Now, without further rambling on my part, shall we begin?

“It’s a boy.”

A loud, piercing scream, unearthly to the new mother, filled the sterile room; it was a shrill and relentless sound that only paused, briefly, so that its creator could take a gulp of air.

Nancy Crane felt the stifling, congested, oppressive fear sitting on her tiny, exhausted body. A body that was still bloated from where the little parasite had dwelled for nearly nine months. She moved not an inch as the umbilical cord was cut and her last physical tie to her child was removed.

They were busy cleaning it now, and she rested against the back of the hospital bed, heavy lids wanting to close so desperately. Ignoring the touch of the doctor as he now cleaned her up, she allowed he eyes to shut, grateful for the expected repose.

“Here’s your son.” Something writhing and shrill was suddenly thrust at her bosom; causing her blood-shot eyes to shoot open, then narrow darkly. She must have dozed off for a few precious moments, as the baby was now clean, and the doctor had finished with Nancy as well.

No pale, weak, arms would reach up to take this ‘son’ of hers. She had no disgusting, domestic little desire for a child. There was certainly no silly ‘motherly instinct’ holding down camp in even the remotest part of her sickly body.

“Mrs. Crane, you have to hold him. It’s crucial for the bonding process…”

Nancy’s lips curled at the condescending tone, but she merely shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t give a shit. I don’t want to bond with the little freeloader, now get it out of my room.”

God, it would not stop crying.

“But, Mrs. Crane-”

Shrill. Loud. Incessant.

“I said get it out of my room, dammit!”

The nurse recoiled at the words of the wretched looking woman, clutching the baby to her own chest, with her eyes threatening to fall out of her skull as she expressed her shock. Moving her head to the side, she shot a lost look at the doctor, who had been watching with keen, dark, eyes, as he was cleaning himself up.

Instead of Nancy being reprimanded, like the nurse seemed to want, the doctor merely nodded his head at the softhearted staff member. It was a sign for her to do as asked.

The nurse bowed her head in acceptance, before shooting a nasty look at Nancy as she placed the unnamed baby into the little plastic hospital bassinette. The room was oppressively quiet as the nurse wheeled him out into the hall, and out of sight.

“God, I thought she’d never leave.” Nancy mumbled, laying against the hospital bed and closing her eyes once more. The doctor didn’t respond, nor did the other nurses that remained. Well, she didn’t expect them to, anyway.

The new mother drifted into sleep as they cleaned up the room she was occupying, the gossip only bursting forth from their lips after they had vacated the room.

--

“So, boy, huh?”

“That’s what they said.”

“What are you namin’ it?”

“Fuck if I know. Give me one of them cigarettes.”

A tall, almost grotesquely muscled man was sitting in one of the tiny chairs of the room Nancy had been moved to after giving birth. His beefy hands held the cigarette he was smoking with all of the ease of a man who had not seen the ‘No Smoking’ sign in nearly every hall of the building. The man, David Crane, appeared almost like an overgrown child sitting in the worn-out seat.

“You know you ain’t supposed to smoke in hospitals, doll face.” He laughed, handing over the pack to her anyway. She took it almost greedily and removed a long, white, cheap little cancer stick and put it between her thin, cracked lips. Without missing a beat, the man moved over with a lighter and lit the end of the cigarette.

“So you putting it up for adoption or what?”

“I don’t know yet.” She replied, looking the other way and scrunching her eyebrows in an almost nervous gesture.

“What the hell you mean ‘I don’t know yet’? You ain’t keeping the kid, Nance. We can’t afford it, and neither of us want it.”

“Who says? Maybe I want a kid? Might be just the thing to keep you at home…”

“What are you implying, Nance?” David stood up to his full, intimidating form, leaning in slightly and causing Nancy to gasp a little before she could catch herself. Still, she stood her ground, despite feeling the cold wash of fear sweep over her person. The vein in the back of his neck was starting to show in all its grotesque glory.

“You know what I’m implying. How many women you been with since we got married, David? Huh? Instead of caring for your family, getting a better job, or-”

Crack.

Nancy was quiet almost immediately, save for her whimpering, cradling the side of her arm where her husband’s anger would undoubtedly leave a mark; it always did.

“Call me a cheater again, Nancy!”

“No! I’m sorry, I-”

He grabbed her up by the flimsy front of her hospital gown.

“Say it!” Spittle flew from his mouth and onto Nancy’s scrunched up, taut face, as she clenched her eyes shut as though it would make him stop.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She was screaming now, and crying almost to the point of hysteria. David threw her back down against the bed with a grumble not unlike a bear, stealing an edgy look toward the door.

“You’re gonna make someone come in, idiot.”

“I’m sorry…” Nancy had pressed herself away from David and toward the other end of the hospital bed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You should be. I’ve been giving leaving you a lot of thought, Nancy. Sounds pretty damn good lately to find a woman who appreciates me. To-”

“I appreciate you!” Her voice was rising again.

“Shut the hell up while I’m talking to you!”

A whimper was his only response.

“As I was saying, a woman that appreciates me. Or maybe a couple, you know?” A gratuitous laugh escaped his dry lips as his eyes burned into that of his wife. A large part of him was hoping for another reason to give her a good smack across her face, like his arm was just itching to do.

“Live for myself instead of taking care of a waste of time like you. How would you like me to leave, Nance, huh?”

“I don’t! Oh, God, you can’t leave me! I don’t have nothing but you! Please!”

“Then you’d better keep that in mind, because I’ve already got one foot out the door, and the other is just ready to follow. Get the picture?”

Nancy merely nodded, unable, and perhaps too afraid, to speak. Then, powerless to stop herself, the frail woman burst into sobs.

“God damn it!” David advanced on her again, arm raised, but this time the door did swing open. A tall, thin man walked in, carrying a clipboard. It was Dr. Hassan.

“What’s going on in here?” The demand in his voice was near to sounding like a threat, with his eyes narrowed into slits similar to the thin line his mouth had taken on.

“I was just leaving.” David replied back easily, as though the doctor had not walked in on him about to beat the living hell out of the mother of his child. The way he emphasized the word ‘leaving’ only served to make Nancy let out a sob of complete despair, wracking her body.

Before Dr. Hassan could respond, David was pushing past him, and had disappeared through the door. A very pregnant pause lingered between the doctor and his patient for a moment, and then, finally, Dr. Hassan spoke.

“Are you ready to try and hold him? Or should we start talking about other options?”

So, he was going to pretend like he hadn’t seen anything. Just like anyone else who had ever walked in on David mistreating Nancy. Oh well. She was used to it by now.

“I told you I haven’t decided if I want to put him up for adoption or not!” The disheveled female retorted, the fire in her returning almost immediately, right along with the blatant rudeness.

“Then you have to hold him, Mrs. Crane, it’s not like you’re ill. It’s been an entire day now! You have barely even looked at him, and you’re being discharged tomorrow.” His face was grim, and his eyes set. There was clear dislike written on his face. He had seen many women like her before, and he couldn’t prevent his growing dislike toward the uneducated poor. Reminding himself that it was often not their fault became difficult at times.

“Fine. Then give me the damn thing if that’ll make you and everyone else around here shut up!” Her voice was rising and her pale cheeks were taking on a distinct flush. Dr. Hassan had no desire whatsoever to give her the baby.

“You still have to give it a name, you know.” Came his reply, instead of ordering the nurse that had now stepped into the room, as if on cue, to get the baby. Nancy, despite her ‘lack of education’, was still picking up on the subtleties in what he was saying; what words he was saying behind the ones he initially offered up.

“Jonathan. Jonathan David Crane, like his daddy. Happy now? Give me my damn baby!”

Dr. Hassan had no choice but to concede, and told the nurse to fetch the newly christened ‘Jonathan’ to his mother’s room. Then, without another word, he too left the room, and Nancy was alone once more.

She hated them. All of them. They were always looking down at her, speaking so contemptuously to her, and treating her like some prostitute picked up off the street. Well, they didn’t know, and they certainly didn’t understand. Those people never understood anything about people like her; though they certainly liked to pretend they did.

She was going to keep Jonathan now, she decided. It came to her instantly, and she almost smiled at the idea. Keeping him would make David stay, no matter what he said otherwise. He couldn’t leave her when she had his child, could he? Sure, he might knock her around a little, but she was used to that. Nancy could take the blows. It was being left that she could not and would not take.

Without David, she would have nothing, and might be pushed out on the streets of the narrows. As much as she hated the little parasite, ‘Jonathan’, she knew he was her ticket to an easier life. As easy as life could be in the Narrows, anyway.

Little Jonathan David Crane had his father’s name; strategically given to further insure David would stay with her. Yes, things would work out for Nancy yet, and as the nurse walked in with the still-screaming Jonathan in the bassinette, she did her best to recoil as little as possible. The two or three minutes she held Jonathan, before sticking him back in the bassinette as soon as the nurse left, made her feel very proud of herself.

If only the damn thing would stop crying.

Author’s final note: That’s all for now! Please remember to review. I reply to all of them.