A/N: This contains some information that is both interesting and slightly disgusting, but don't worry. It isn't that bad. Anyways, I would prefer it if you didn't diss me for this in any reviews that may come in.
Jonathan Crane had never left work so swiftly in all his life. Everyone noticed it, but then again, they all knew that the case would get to him sooner or later. They just thought that he had finally cracked, so their little spot of confusion soon subsided. Besides, they didn't have to know that he was just going to save the woman that he loved from a potential early death.
No, Lisa wasn't so brainless as to throw herself into possible danger, but yes, she was out after dark (or, after dusk, anyways). She, like many women, was a sucker for a child in distress. She had heard a baby crying. Now, you would have thought that the mother would have tended to it, but the crying kept ringing on, and it was no longer bearable for Lisa. Plus the fact that this was 19th century London, and the fact that this was Whitechapel, the mother of all evil (or, so some people said). For all she knew, that child could be in a fire, drowning, anything! If she didn't help it sooner or later, she would only have herself to blame.
Anyways, so Lisa was walking down a few alleys after dark, tempting Death and dealing with her own near-guilt. Jonathan was rushing towards her house to see if she was there, and the crying kept going on. As she got closer to the sound, she wondered all of the possible fates of it. This only left her with a depressed mind, so she quickly got all her feelings out of her head. When she finally became conscious of where she was, she stood at a dead end. When she realised her situation, she wondered if it was a good idea to turn around, or not. But, like all things, she had to make a decision. Her answer was to go back the way that she came, because she had no where to go in her current circumstances.
Bad move, though. Before she could do this, she heard a familiar voice. She knew that if she turned, she would see those same cold eyes, that same cruel smile, it would be him.
'I thought I'd catch you here…' he said, so quietly that only she heard it.
'Why would you think that?' she asked, deliberately no turning around.
'Women are drawn to crying children' he replied, his voice still dark like the night that it was.
'But there is no child' she said.
'Exactly. And if you'd turn around, I'd show you what it was that was making the noise…'
'I won't… Wait a minute, you set a trap!' she cried. She wasn't going to face him on any circumstances. She hated the way that he acted, she hated the way that he spoke, and she hated the way that he looked…
It was too late for her, though. He was determined to see her face. He was going to show her the noise-maker, and she wasn't going to like it. He would have let it lie and just have killed the bitch, but he oh-so loved the way that the whores' faces looked when they were both terrified and disgusted. He had no choice, but to spin her round himself. As his iron-like hands came across her shoulders, she felt a chill waft through her entire body. She also knew that she was going to look, once again, into the face of her sister's killer. It was all too much the first time, what makes the second any better? When she was facing his direction, she would have been looking at him, but she had closed her eyes. This just made him annoyed.
'Lisa, look at me!' he spat, still for her ears only. As he said those words, he used one of his hands to prop her chin up, the other still firmly on her left arm.
If she didn't do as he said, she might end up like the last victim (aside from her sister) that he had killed (the victim being Mary-Jane Kelly. Her body had been cut to shreds, was unrecognisable, and the heart had been taken). So, she opened her emerald-coloured eyes, and stared into his equally dazzling ones. His were a beautiful, yet cold, blue (much like Jonathan's). After a few moments, she closed them again and started to weep. Truth be told, he didn't like seeing a woman cry, but there was the odd occasion that it happened. When it did, he would try and 'make it better'. If the woman was pretty, he would kiss her, and Lisa was one of the pretty ones. When he had made his mind up, she got a bit of a shock. She opened her eyes, mid-kiss, and saw that his eyes were closed. His lips were so soft that she couldn't pull away, even if most nerves in her body were telling her to do so. She knew that it was wrong, but she couldn't stop herself.
When they had finished, she had stopped crying. As he pulled away, she started to question herself why she had done it. As for him, he was going to take the next action. He held up the noise-maker to her, and she could only bring her hands to her mouth in sheer repulsion of the thing. It was a rabbit. It seemed to be in pain, but that didn't both him.