Fire: Thank you for all the nice reviews! I appreciate them! I think you all will enjoy this chapter(:

It had been a little over a week since I was assaulted in the Narrows, nine days to be exact, and I was already back to work. As I had suspected, Jonathan wasn't pleased that I had to call off, but after a heated conversation about his whereabouts that night with the GCPD, he understood.

I balanced his coffee in the crook of my left arm, a stack of files, a plate, and a fork occupied my hands, while my coffee sat precariously in the crook of my right arm. I grasped a Starbucks snack bag firmly between my teeth, along with a few envelopes. Pamela, the secretary that tended the front desk, waved and chuckled as I pushed the glass door leading to the psycho-pharmacology department open with my foot.

"Your first day back and he's already working you like a mule, Lil," she teased, pressing a button behind the desk to alert that I was here.

The brunette man opened the door to his office, holding it to allow me to stumble in. He closed it behind him, and turned the lock, a habit he'd picked up after an escaped inmate attempted to kill him.

I offered him my left arm, and he retrieved his coffee, taking mine from the other arm as well to lighten my load. He set the hot beverages down and then took the bag and envelopes out of my mouth, wiping the spit off on a handkerchief. I set the files and plate down on his desk, handing him the fork.

"Raspberry coffee cake," I explained when he gave me a strange look. "I know you like it and I assume you haven't eaten breakfast yet, so I picked up a few slices when I got your coffee."

"Very thoughtful," he praised, peeking in the tan and green paper bag. "How much was it? I can pay you back," he said, pulling out his wallet.

"It's a gift," I said, denying the money he offered me.

He sighed in defeat and said, "I owe you, Miss-"

"Don't you dare," I warned.

"I owe you, Lillian," he corrected, emptying the bags content onto the plate I'd brought him and picking at the food as he looked over the files.

I watched him for a few moments, a smile gracing my lips. This was a part of Jonathan Crane that I knew he only showed to me, the more human part of him. Granted, he wasn't a basket full of kittens, but he wasn't the ice king either. I prided myself on the fact that I knew what the blue eyed man was like when he wasn't trying to keep up appearances and tried to imagine what he was like when he wasn't working. My smile faltered a bit as I mused on the thought. All of the times I'd been in his home, or walking with him to catch a late dinner after work, I had never seen him stop working. He always had his face buried in a new file or fingers clicking furiously across the keyboard of his blackberry. A pain tugged in my chest as I looked closer at him. His hair was slightly unkempt and he had bags under his eyes. I realized he probably hadn't gone home that night.

" Jonathan" I addressed, walking toward his desk. He glanced up at me in acknowledgement for a second before his eyes returned to the file in front of me. "Have you been here all night?"

He nodded at me before taking a sip of his coffee.

Black coffee with cinnamon and sugar, I thought. I began gathering up his things, putting them neatly in his brief case. He looked at me questioningly and I replied, "You're going home. You need to sleep and have a proper meal. I will handle your paper work."

"Lillian.." he began to protest, running his hands through his thick chestnut hair.

"No. I've made up my mind, Jonathan. You are going home. Take the day off," I insisted, opening his office closet and retrieving the black, wool trench coat that resided there.

He continued to try to protest, but I ignored him, helping him up and into the trench coat.

"Since when did you become my mother?" he asked, exasperated.

"Since you hired me," I replied, securing his scarf around his neck.

"I may not be an obstetrician, but I don't think you're old enough to be my mother," he said calmly. I had to laugh at his attempt at a joke. I hoped that if I encouraged the playfulness, he wouldn't stop. I liked it when he was happy. It made me happy.

"Eh, you're only four years older than me. I'll catch up," I assured with a cheeky grin.

He allowed me to push him out of his office and lead him to his car. I turned on my heel after I saw that he was safely in the vehicle and walked toward the steel doors of Arkham asylum.

"Lillian!" he called out.

I glanced back at his jet black Mercedes and asked, "Yeah?"

"I'll be back at 9 to pick you up," he replied, and drove off before I could argue. I hated when he did that, but the notion that he cared tickled my fancy, so I ignored my distaste for his trickery. My mood immediately dropped as a memory I'd suppressed for over a month washed over me.

" Jonathan," I greeted, entering his office and handing him his coffee.

"Miss Stanley," he acknowledged, taking the Styrofoam cup from me.

His fingertips brushed mine ever so slightly and a surge of electricity ran down my spine. I was so irrevocably in love with my boss that it was almost cliché.

"How are you?" I asked, straightening up the mess he'd made over the last hour. He arrived at 7am, and I arrived at 8. Most of the time, there was some sort of disaster waiting for me when I entered his office.

"Under the circumstances, I don't think you'd like that answer Miss Stanley," he replied through gritted teeth, and I could instantly tell Miss Dawes had been here.

"What did she do this time?" I asked in an understanding tone, taking a seat across from him.

"She had the audacity to ask me if I was sure of my own mental stability," he replied, dropping his pen and running his hands over his face.

Realization came over me, and I placed a hand on his own, running my small fingers over his long digits. He didn't like it when people accused him of being insane, or mentally instable, though I wagered he was. I knew more about Jonathan Crane than I should, and there was nothing pretty about his past.

He suddenly jerked his hand away from me and ordered me out of his office saying, "Stop flirting Miss Stanley, I have higher standards than you."

Though they were tainted with anger and he apologized several times over, those words would haunt me forever. I sighed, and wiped a few tears from my face. When I re-entered the facility and made my way back to my department, I tried to compose myself, but I hadn't fooled Pamela.

"You got it bad babydoll," the older, African woman sad with a knowing look.

I nodded and wiped at my blotchy face.

"He will come around, Sugar. No one can ignore a girl that takes care of them like you do him," she assured. "Besides, he'd be stupid to pass up a looker like you."

I burst out laughing and gave her a bright smile saying, "Thanks, Pam."

I entered Jonathan's office and sat down at his desk. The pile of paperwork that sat on either side of me intimidated me, but I knew I could do it. I sighed and brought the first document down, this was going to be a long day.