"Today could have gone worse you know," Jonathan says as he smiles at me, holding the door open as I slip out. I twirl a little around in my black work heels to look at my colleague pushing his brown hair out of his face.
"You say that every day," I wink at him, walking backwards, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I don't hit anyone.
That enchanting and rare smile of his doesn't leave his face, it only grows as we move to his car.
Even though I work at the scariest place in Gotham I can't help but still keep a little childlike charm to my personality. I normally don't show Crane anything like my behavior currently, afraid that he will someday use it against me for one of his little tricks.
Today for some reason I have a feeling my life might be taking an unexpected turn.
"Cassandra," I hear my name being said loudly by an adult male. That voice sounds so much like... It can't be him. It's been seven years. No way...
"Is that...," Cranes face falls as I turn around to face the speaker.
An older man stands by an expensive car, he is wearing a fitted suit and has his arms folded. His black hair is clean cut and is wearing a mixed apprehensive smile.
"Bruce," my voice chokes out. A whole rush of old memories and emotions seep back into my brain and cloud my thoughts.
He stands perfectly still not sure how I will react.
"Hold this," I give Crane my purse and four of my books, shoving them in his hands without thinking of how upset he will be becoming my porter. I kick my shoes off and shove them in his hands as well.
"Cassandra," he starts to protest only now.
But I have already bolted to Bruce, throwing myself into his strong arms, he accepts my hug, picking me up a little and twirling me around. He still smells like his cologne and the classic Wayne manner.
"I thought you were going to be mad at me," he says into my neck, holding me so tightly I'm afraid that I will break in half.
"I thought you were dead. Alfred kept telling me I was full of it," I say pulling apart from him so I can really get a better look at him, as though my mind is playing on tricks on me. I have imagined this moment for years but never thought that he would really be here, I never thought he would come home... That he would come back to me.
"He said it exactly like that. Did he now?" Bruce smiles.
"In so many words," I beam up at him, my heart beating loudly in my chest.
"Cassandra," I hear to my left. "Take your stuff please," Crane glares at me and then at Bruce. I roll my eyes and Bruce lets me go. I walk over to Jonathan to take my shoes off the top of the pile I stuck him with.
I bend over slipping them on and before I have the chance to take my bag and my books Bruce takes them out of his hands.
"Thank you," I look at him again, not believing that he is there. "Manners," I roll my eyes. "Bruce Wayne meet Jonathan Crane. Vice versa."
"Everyone thought you were dead," Crane takes Bruce's hand and shakes it.
"Wouldn't that have been easier," he gruffly responds. I nudge his elbow and shot him an angered look.
"You won't need that ride will you Cara," Crane glances at the expensive car Bruce is driving.
"He didn't..." I look between the two of them starting to become flustered.
"You could..," Bruce offers. He thinks about it for a moment and gives me a perplexed look, "You don't have your own car?"
"I don't drive," I answer swiftly. And that is a massive lie, I have a motorcycle in the garage that I do in fact drive.
"Never got her license," Crane informs him as though knowing I have a license makes him know me better.
"In this day and age," Bruce looks at me, smiling like when we were kids. Always with a sense of wonder as though I am a rare gem.
"I don't need to drive. You and I both know that," I wink to him, thinking about my four floor mansion about two miles from his.
"I thought you were trying to get away from that type of lifestyle."
"It's like an itch you just can't scratch," I respond.
He looks like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. He has figured out that I haven't told Crane much about who I am or about my background. Even after all this time, Bruce knows better than to start something with me.
"I'll be in the car," he responds. The conversation will go on further as soon as I buckle in my seat belt.
"You know each other," Crane seems to crack, his professional persona breaking down.
"Yes..." I go to speak, to explain myself but Jonathan doesn't let me.
"You never brought it up. We've known each other for seven years."
"I didn't think we would have to have this conversation." I shrug my shoulders and sigh, he doesn't understand.
"Of course." He gives me a sharp angered look as though he exactly understands what I'm trying to say.
"Doctor Crane, this doesn't interfere with our professional relationship does it?"
"No. Just our personal one." He starts to walk to his car, his hands in his pocket.
I call after him, completely annoyed with his sudden mood change, "Whatever you are trying to play. I'm not playing."
"I'm not playing a game." He calls over his shoulder.
"Jonathan," I call out for him.
He stops and turns to me, a blank expression graces his face, "Doctor Jackson."
I hate when he uses that voice, it sounds like one a serial killer would use
"I'll see you tomorrow," I want to say more but words are stuck on my tongue. If he has a issue. If he suddenly likes me now... Why won't he say anything?
Why didn't he say it? I've liked him for such a long time. I've been waiting for him. I look to Bruce's car. I've known him my whole life and I've been waiting for him to come back from the dead for seven.
I have to focus on him.
