A week had passed and no improvement had been made. Blood tests had been run, samples taken and nothing. They had no miracle cure to what had happened to Professor Francois Dubois. Jonathan knew the cure, of course he did. He would need to be protected against his own fear toxin so it had only seemed prudent that a cure had been thought up.

But, Francois was suffering from a concentrated dose of the toxin. Jonathan believed he only had another few days left. He had stuck by Isabelle the entire time, not daring to let her out of his sight as they sat in the hospital waiting room. He drove her back to her mother's at night and then picked her up again in the morning. The routine seemed to never change, until that morning.

...

A whole month had passed since I lost my father. My twenty first birthday had come and gone in a flash and no fuss was brought up. My mother tried to make it special, cooking me breakfast in the morning and offering to take the day off work so that we could spend time together. I could tell she didn't want to. Work was more important to her at that moment in time. She had moved Daniel in with her, the pair of them becoming extremely cosy.

I did wonder if it was too soon for her to move on, but, she had pointed out to me that her and my father had been divorced.

And then there was Jonathan. It still felt odd calling him by his first name after the amounts of times I had respected him as a Professor. He knew it was my birthday and I hadn't even told him. I was pleasantly shocked when he offered to take me for lunch, saying he was busy that evening with things regarding work. Flowers and a necklace were the gifts which I received. The bouquet was lovely and I had killed it in a week. The necklace was even lovelier, with its locket hanging off the end of the silver chain.

Jonathan was often brash and sometimes obnoxiously rude, but, he cared in his own certain way.

"I applied for a job today," I informed him as I stood next to the window in his apartment and looked onto the Narrows. It still worried me that he was so close to the place where havoc and chaos were part of normal life. Jonathan was stood over in the kitchen, cooking quietly as I remained peering into the darkness.

"You did?" he checked with me, shouting over the noise of the slamming of cupboards. "Where did you apply?"

"You're going to think this is ridiculous," I informed him and he chuckled gently. He often did that. Laugh to himself.

"Trust me," he drawled, "I'm a Psychology Professor. I've read a lot of ridiculous things."

"Wayne Enterprises," I said and the noise in the kitchen stopped. I turned around slowly to see him leant against the worktop, his arms folded and his nose sniffing the air as he arched a brow. I shifted around in discomfort as I played with the locket around my neck.

"Wayne Enterprises?" he checked with me and I nodded in agreement.

"They need a secretary," I shrugged. "It's a start. I can't scrounge off my mother all the time, can I?"

"No," Jonathan replied back to me, his head nodding in agreement but his eyes were vacant. He was thinking. I knew that face.

"What is it?" I exasperated and he arched a brow.

"What is what?"

"You're thinking of something, Jonathan. You've got something to say. Spit it out."

"I just think you can do better than wanting to be a secretary," he shrugged and I looked to the floor. I knew he didn't approve. "They're not the smartest of people and they serve others, is that what you think you're destined to do, Isabelle? Be controlled by everyone else?"

"What are you talking about?" I wondered and Jonathan shrugged, removing his jacket from his arms to reveal his grey sweater.

"Your father walked all over you and now you're going to be walked all over by a company, whose owner isn't even here in Gotham, may I add."

"Seriously?" I checked with him. "You're bringing my father into this?"

"I'm just saying," Jonathan said, slightly defensive. "You could do better than being a brainless secretary who says yes sir and no sir to every question."

Why did he do this? Why did he need to be like this?

"I should go," I snapped at him, picking up my black shoulder bag and flinging it onto the crook of my arm as I moved over to the door, my head high as I ignored Jonathan. But, he seemed to have other ideas.

"Isabelle," he sighed once, grabbing my wrist and stopping me from leaving. He pulled me back to him, his arm snaking around my waist as I did nothing to stop him. I refused to look into his eyes, instead focusing on the kitchen cabinets which I could see behind me. One was chipped.

"Look at me," he said, his voice never pleaded. He never begged me to do anything. But it was soft...it was as if it would be rude not to do what he asked. That was my downfall. His massive blue eyes which stared at me. He wasn't wearing his glasses which helped to extenuate their...well...power. He pulled my bag from my arm and dropped it to the floor.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said back to me. "I just think that you can do better."

"What about if I am content?" I asked him, whispering as his arm pulled me closer to him, his other hand rested on my hip as he continued to stare at me. "I don't want to be like you...Jonathan...I don't...you're so clever and you wanted to be something big. I just want to be happy. I haven't even got the job yet, okay?"

"No," he agreed with me. "You don't."

"Would it kill you to be supportive, Jonathan?" I wondered again, my voice slightly harsh as he blinked quickly and his face scrunched up before he sighed once.

"If this is what you want to do then go ahead," he implored me.

"Thank you," I said. He didn't mean it. He said some things to appease me. He would be brutally truthful and then he would make it up. It was almost like he wound me up and then regretted doing it, which begged the question why he even did it in the first place.

"Dinners nearly ready," he simply said, patting my hip once and then letting me go. That was another thing about him. We'd been dating for a while and he hadn't even kissed me. Yes, I'd had the quick peck on the cheek or the forehead, but that was it. He never once had made any advance, even when it was just us two. It was becoming frustrating.

We ate dinner in a comfortable silence, both of us only looking at each other occasionally and smiling as we did so. Jonathan wasn't a great cook, granted. But he did try. I had offered to cook but he said he could do it. He preferred to stand at the stove and cook with his sleeves rolled up and sweat forming on his brow.

"I've been thinking, too," Jonathan commented as I held the remote to his TV in my hand and flicked through stations. His sofa was far too comfortable to even contemplate moving from as I rested my head against him, reaching across to grab his hand which was resting in his lap.

"What about?" I wondered, dropping the remote and settling on some drama show.

"Leaving the university," he said and I stiffened for a second, wondering where this had come from. "I don't know if teaching is really for me anymore."

"You're an excellent Professor," I assured him and he laughed once.

"You have to say that because all you could do at that college was stare at me," he responded and I turned red against his sweater. "I've been offered another job."

"You didn't say," I said, sitting upright and releasing his hand and he shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. I suppose it wasn't to him.

"I only found out the other day," he said and I sighed once. I told him everything and yet he kept things from me. Nothing seemed that important to share.

"What job is it?"

"A psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum."

I felt my spine shiver as I looked out of his window and then back at him as I bit down on my bottom lip, feeling my head begin to run with ideas.

"That's in the Narrows."

"So it is," he said dully.

"Jonathan...that place...it's..."

"Full of crazies," he confirmed for me and a small smirk reached his face. "Are you worried?"

"Jonathan," I complained again, leaning back and crossing my legs as he moved closer, playing with the hem of the red dress which I wore as I fiddled with its three quarter sleeves, pulling them further down my arm. "I just don't like the idea...well...of you being there..."

"You are worried." He confirmed.

"Where has this come from, anyway?" I wondered, changing the topic. He didn't need me to worry over him.

"I've been thinking for a while. I'd be able to specialise in Pharmacology as well as Psychology, too."

"You'd also be working with some of the world's most psychotic criminals," I deadpanned and he shrugged back at me, slowly moving his hand to my cheek and then down to the side of my jaw, his fingers moulding around my skin.

"It would be interesting," he said. "I need a change."

"I can't stop you."

"No," he said, slightly forcefully, his other hand moving to the other side of my face and curling my blonde hair around on finger as he focused on that. "I know what you think of Gotham and especially the Narrows...which is why I wonder why you haven't left yet...now your father is gone."

"I can't go," I muttered, too focused on trying to keep breathing normally than answering his question. "You wouldn't go with me...and my mother's here...and she seems needier now dad is gone..."

"You're always trying to please other people," Jonathan mumbled, his lips rising slightly as he said it.

"Would you want me to go?" I wondered and he shook his head as he kissed my cheek.

"No," he said. "I don't think I could let you go."

...

Jonathan knew he was going to be fired from his job. He had an idea that some of his students were finding out too much about the little experiments which he ran. He had panicked at first, wondering what he would do if he was fired. And then he had found the job at Arkham. It was perfect. And so, he quit before he could be fired.

Isabelle didn't need to know any of that. She didn't need to know anything. Jonathan had held her gently that evening, his arm around her shoulder as he watched the TV without even paying attention. His thoughts were too diverted. He was looking forward to his new job. He occasionally glanced down at Isabelle and kissed the top of her head. She needed affection every now and then and Jonathan was more than happy to oblige, but, the voice in his head was all too easily wound up.

...

A/N: Thank you so, so much to mahxie, Eva Sirico and Sam0728 for reviewing the last chapter! And to anyone who is following this, cheers! Come on, let me know what you think? Is Crane still in character? The plot will thicken soon so do let me know!