READ THE DESCRIPTION FIRST OR ELSE YOU'LL BE LIKE 'WHAT THE FUCK'
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It started like any other relationship....well, sort of.


Jonathan Crane started working as a therapist at age 20. Being the youngest therapist known to work in Gotham city he was looked down upon. He never got many patients and when he DID get one, there was always only one session. When the fourth person never came back after this first session  he found out from a janitor working in the building that the other therapists were telling his patients that he was unexperienced.
There was nothing he could do about it though because they didnt have bosses, they were their own bosses. But, if they Really wanted him gone (which he knew they did) he WOULD be let go because he DID have a boss.


Today was like every other day. It was 12:30pm.Lunch time. Instead of going to the little cafe on the 3rd story and chatting, he was sitting in his office drinking coffee he brought from home, and reading a book.
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde the cover read.
A soft knocking came from the door and Jonathan didn't take his eyes from the book or answer to the knocking.
The door creaked open slowly and quiet footsteps walked in.
Thinking it was the janitor, Jonathan said:
"Hey Tim. Sorry, I don't have any trash today."
The visitor cleared their throat.
"Um, Dr.Crane. I'm not a janitor."
Jonathan looked up from the book,then quickly marked the page and set it down. He stood up and came from behind the desk to greet the person.
"Good afternoon." He said, sticking out a hand.
The other man just looked at it, making no movement to shake his hand.
Jonathan dropped his hand back down to his side and eyed the man.
He looked like he was about the same age as himself, just a couple inches taller. He had dirty blonde hair that looked as if it hadn't been washed in at least a week but he didn't smell abnormal. He was on the thin side, his skin had a slightly tan tint to it, and had deep green eyes.
"Um, so can I help you?" Jonathan asked.
"I think I need therapy." The man said quickly, his eyes darting around the room as if checking to see if anyone else was present.
"Ok, well you've come to the right place. Please, have a seat."
Jonathan motioned to a small couch at the opposite side of the room. He wasn't liked very much, but his office was pretty spacious.
The other man walked over to the couch as Jonathan grabbed a pen and notepad from his desk, then made his way to sit in a chair across from the couch.
"Well first, I need to know your name." Jonathan said.
"Jake." He said quickly.
"Jake. Last name?" He replied, jotting JAKE on the top line of the notepad.
"I...don't have a last name." Jake said.
"You have to have a last name."
"I.Dont.Have.One."
"Well, I need to know your last name too."
Jonathan didn't like the vibe coming from Jake.
"I can't tell anyone or else he'll find me." Jake whispered.
Crane raised an eybrow, leaned forward and set the pad on the floor.
"Who?"
"They said I can't tell anyone anything that I shouldn't trust anyone. But they're really starting to piss me off and I just can't fucking deal with it anymore, help me please." Jake whispered again.
"Are you sure you should be here? I mean, seeing a therapist. It sounds like you need to be talking to the police about this." Jonathan said, starting to stand up.
Jake's eyes widened in panic, he grabbed Jonathan's hand and pulled him down next to him on the couch.
"They wouldn't belive me," He contiued gripping Cranes hand tightly."They'll put me in a straight jacket and throw me into Arkham. Please, I don't want to go there. Aren't therapists supposed to help people in these situations?"
"I don't know what the situation is." Crane stopped trying to free his hand from Jakes grip.
"Ok, let me give you the brief idea. There's these-" Jake abruptly stopped, let go of Jonathans hand, then jumped up and hid behind the couch.
"What on earth are you doing?" Crane asked, looking over the back of the couch to see Jake curled up in fedal position.
"Someonesatthedoor." He whispered back.
Jonathan eyed him warily then stood and tiptoed to the door. He grabbed the doorknob and flung the door open to find Dr. Jim Norris standing with his ear to where the door was.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?" Jonathan yelled.
Crane hated Norris. Jim was the one who was stealling all his patients away and turning all the other therapists against him.
"I have a right to know who is in there." Jim said calmly.
"No you don't. If a patient is talking to me, they only want ME to listen. Not someone else! Besides, there's no one in here." Crane said, closing the door.
"I heard you talking to someone." Jim said, stopping the door with his foot.
"I was on the phone you easedropping prick."
Jonathan slammed the door and locked it.
Cursing under his breath, Jonathan walked to and behind the couch and pulled Jake up.
"How did you know there was someone at the door?"
"I...I'm used to listening very very closely to everything." He said brushing off his black jeans.
Jonathan smiled slightly at the cute little clown in the middle of Jake's shirt.
"How about we continue this conversation elsewhere, where there won't be anyone listening?" Crane suggested.
"That sounds better."
They left Cranes office and rode the elevator down to the parking garage. Then to his car.
"Nice car." Jake said, seated in the passanger side.
"I hope your being sarcastic." Crane said. The engine stuttered for a minute before roaring to life.
Jake shrugged.
"Sometimes things that are shit are actually nice." He said glancing at Crane.
Jonathan nodded and drove out and away from the office building and into the busy streets of Gotham city.
"Now that I know no one else is listening....names Jack."
Jonathan glanced at JACK.
"Jonathan."
"Jonathan Crane. I like that. It flows off the tounge." Jack said smiling.
*He seems to be more comfortable with me, now that he knows no one is listening.* Crane noted mentally.
The car stopped infront of an empty coffee shop.
Once inside, Jonathan ordered two regular coffee's as Jack sat at a table near the window.
They drank their coffee silently, watching people pass by.
"so...where do you live?" Jonathan asked.
Jack eyed him nervously.
"They're telling me I shouldn't trust you. Can I trust you with everything I say? Do you promise to never ever let the information I give you leak out of your head?"
"I promise." Jonathan mentally slapped himself. He didn't what he was getting himself into.