Jonathan couldn't sleep that night. He had returned home and had decided to come into work later than usual (possibly mid-afternoon). The reason for him not sleeping was nothing out of the ordinary, just the same thing as every night; the sick bastard that called himself 'Jack'. Whether or not he had given himself the rest of the title or not was a complete anonymity. It could have just been the public, so Jon decided not to go any further into it. Besides, that encounter earlier that night had knocked most of his energy out of him (and possibly given him yet another bad memory to add to the collection). What would have happened if he hadn't taken any action? What would the memory be in that case? Thankfully, he fell asleep before he could even start to imagine it.
Sometimes, he liked the fact that he didn't sleep; the dreams that he usually had were grotesque, often too much for even him. Blood ruled his sleeping mind like it was a Steven King novel. The corpses of the victims always seemed to pop up when he least expected it, like they were telling him to wake up and just get on with the damn job. They plagued his mind, night and day, like they were locusts in Egypt. But back on track, the dreams (or rather nightmares) that he was now having answered his questions that he had been debating with before he slept. He dreamt of how Jack had decapitated her. She lived, so he gave her the 'hung, drawn and quartered' treatment. The whole time, she screamed and writhed in agony, but Jonathan couldn't do a thing to stop it. It was like he was frozen. Seeing her like this made him feel like this was some sort of punishment that only Hell could give you (like Prometheus).
He had never, in all the time that he could remember, woken up so fast. After a few minutes to regain himself, he sat up, face buried in his hands and elbows in his lap. He was completely drenched in sweat and couldn't tell if he was crying or not. Either way, he felt like he was dying inside. But he really didn't care, just as long as the nightmare was over. Then, when he was playing it over again in his head, he remembered something that he should never have forgotten (which he cursed himself for doing); Lisa. Why did he care so much about her? Did he, for lack of a better term, have feelings for her? Surely, he wasn't in love with her, was he? Besides, this was coming from Jonathan Crane, also known as a social no one. He had his job to thank for that. Jonathan didn't get girlfriends, he just had his work. But why did she kiss him? Surely she wasn't in love with him? That, again, was all due to his job. Finally something good had come out of it!
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He went into work earlier than he expected, about midday. He was in a pretty good mood (having slept and the good thought about Lisa), so he decided not to spoil his chance and get on with some work. Things were a little different, though. There had been no more killings, about a quarter of the staff were away, but most importantly to him, no Lisa. Maybe it was for the best. If she had have stayed with him, she would now have an even greater chance of getting herself murdered (the 'Ripper' always finished off his victims, one way or another). Throwing herself in his face would just be plain stupid. Or would she? She said that she didn't care about her life, and that she now had nothing to live for. Shit, he thought to himself. He had stopped Jack from getting her, but now (with no one to help her), would she just hope that someone came up and helped her? It was an unlikely chance, but still a chance that she would take.
He thought about this all day. If he didn't go to help her, she would be worm food. If he left work to help her, he would have to come up with an excuse that he would be expected to carry out. He couldn't go when he was supposed to be working. So it was a good thing that jack only struck in the dark.