Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Finals, plays, and all that. But it's summer now, so I should have more time to work on this. Here's the latest installment so please let me know what you think.

Chapter Nine: Crane

Startled. Taken aback. Unprepared. Undone. Unhinged. There was no limit to the number of un-words that could be used to describe what it was that Jonathan was feeling at that particular moment, and yet none of them could quite do the feeling justice. Heather was staring at him with those large pretty green eyes, filled with such sadness and emptiness. Maybe if he did it, if he took her away from the asylum, he could ease some of that pain. No! What was he thinking? What he needed to do was get her out of his office and away from him. And he needed to do it right that second.

"Please." She said, barely above a whisper.

He focused sharply in on her at that moment. She looked so small and delicate and fragile. She was beautiful. He had thought that he had become immune to beauty, but something about Heather, despite the fact that she was never afraid, or maybe because of it, she seemed to have an irresistible draw. She was strong and feisty and weak and vulnerable all at the same time. Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached out and brushed a thick strand of strawberry hair behind her ear. She leaned into the touch, nuzzling her cheek into the palm of his hand. Her eyelids fluttered closed and he brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone and watched as her full lips parted ever so slightly as she exhaled, seemingly taking comfort in his touch.

Her words kept replaying over and over in his head. "Take me away from here." Could he? Could he just…gather her up in his arms and take her away from the asylum? Away from the pain? What then? Take her to his apartment and keep her for himself? He shook the thought away and retracted his hand. Heather's eyes flew open at the loss of his warmth.

"I'm sorry," he cleared his throat, looking away from her confused eyes, "I forgot myself."

"Is that so bad?" she asked, tears still wet on her face.

"Worse that you know." Jonathan responded honestly.

He looked back up at her and could actually see her reconstructing the walls that had moments ago crumbled around her. Her liquid green eyes were suddenly hard as stone. He didn't want that stone to be there.

"Heather…" he began.

"Can I go back to my room, now?" She said, looking away from him.

"Are you going to hurt yourself again?" he asked.

"Oh, dad, you really do care!" She said, her sarcasm back at full force.

"Heather, of course I care."

"Wow. You even managed to say that with a straight face."

"Your health is very important to me."

"Spare me your sympathy."

"I'm your psychiatrist…"

"So you keep reminding me."

"Heather,"

"I want to go back to my room."
"Let me speak."

"I want to go back to my room, now."

"Heather…"

"Let me out of here!" Heather screamed.

Jonathan stared at her completely silent, too stunned to speak. She had gone from weeping and practically begging for him to rescue her to shouting and demanding to be removed from his very presence. He didn't say another word. Simply walked over to his office door and let her out. He walked her back to her cell to make sure that she was not placed in any danger. He had fired Simon, but Hal was still very much around and unhappy at the dismissal of his friend.

He walked back to his office very slowly, letting his mind trace back to what had put him in this situation. Somehow, somewhere, his focus had shifted. His interest in Heather was no longer centered on her fear and the two of them had crossed the patient/doctor line a long time ago. This girl had walked through the door and flipped his world upside down. She had laughed at terror, but then, what could he do to her that had not already been done? She had reminded him that was a man, wakened urges in him that he had worked long and hard to suppress. She had asked comfort of him and offered herself to him for comfort, but he would deny himself that. She had revealed so much of herself to him and yet she had managed to remain a complete mystery. He could not read her as he could so many others.

He finally reached his office and took his seat behind his desk, rubbing a hand over his jaw as Heather's image floated through his mind. The fact that she was dominating his thoughts even now was enough to irritate him. He shoved both hands back through his hair and started to go for his scotch, but instead his finger traced the underside of his desk until it grazed the small button and his wall once again became filled with the moving image of Heather.

What right did she have to just show up in his life and make him question everything about himself?

She was sitting on her cot with her knees pulled up around her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Suddenly, she looked directly into the camera as though she knew that he had just started watching her again. A fierce look on her pretty face, she pushed herself up from the cot and walked to the middle of the room. Jonathan watched her tilt her head from one side to the other. She spun around, turning her back to the camera. She cast a glance over her shoulder with a wicked smile on her lips. When she looked away, her shirt slid up and over her head revealing too much bare skin. Jonathan's breath caught in the back of his throat and he nearly toppled backward out of his chair, his gaze trapped on the smooth milky planes of her back. Red hair danced teasingly against white skin as she once again cast a glance over her shoulder to the camera. His eyes traveled down the length of her spine and came to rest on the seductive curve of her hips as they gave a slight sway. Jonathan's pants suddenly felt tighter. The sound of his heart pounding in his ears was so deafeningly loud, it was as though someone were banging on a set of base drums. He brought his hand to his face again and began chewing on his thumb as he stared at the television monitor. Heather wasn't doing anything particularly sensual or sexual, she was simply standing there as though she were displaying herself. His pulse was getting louder and louder by the second. He ripped his glasses from his face and covered his ears with his hands as if somehow it would contain the noise. Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, he attempted to rid himself of her image, but once he closed his eyes he saw her lying beneath him, that vulnerability from earlier in her eyes once again, begging for him to take her. He reopened his eyes and Heather was still shirtless, only now she was leaning on one shoulder against the wall staring down at the floor. He could feel his pulse throbbing not only in his head but between his legs as well. She touched the joint where her neck met her shoulder and rubbed at what he could only assume was a tension knot. It was a simple motion, but somehow, everything she did seemed heightened by her exposed state. Jonathan felt his hand begin to reach for himself and stopped the action before it could begin. With an exasperated sigh, he pushed up from the desk and began pacing back and forth through the office. He looked once more at the screen, then, after a shuttering breath, he was out the door and thundering down the stairs.

The fast paced walk to her cell seemed to take him forever; his footsteps ringing through his ears as loudly as his heartbeat. When he finally arrived at her door, there was a group of orderlies gathered around the small window that looked in through the top of it. More than a few of them had their hands down the front of their pants. Jonathan smoothed his hands down the front of his jacket and squared his shoulders. In preparation, something occurred to him and he cursed himself under his breath. He had forgotten his glasses on his desk; that along with his disheveled hair and partial erection was going to be a hindrance to his intimidation. There was really nothing that he could do about it at this point though.

He cleared his throat noisily and the orderlies turned to see him standing there in his infamous stance, shoulders square, hands clasped behind his back, jaw clenched. He narrowed his eyes in disapproval and some of them even had the decency to look embarrassed and turn red. Pretty soon, without so much as a word from him, they had all scattered and were scampering away with their tails tucked firmly between their legs, a few tying up the front of their pants as they went. As soon as the audience had cleared, Jonathan took a slight pause to gather up his wits then burst through her cell door. Heather jumped slightly at the sudden noise, but then turned toward him with her hands on her hips. Her chin was tilted somewhat upward in defiance. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop his eyes from taking in the view of her bare breasts as they were displayed before him. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he quickly composed himself.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He demanded. He leaned down and grabbed her shirt up from the floor then took her by the arm with his other hand. As soon as he touched her skin, the pounding in his head dissipated, but Jonathan would not allow himself to acknowledge that fact. "I must have missed the term 'exhibitionist' in your file."

"It's a recent development." Heather snapped. She wasn't even attempting to escape from his grasp.

"Do you know how many of my people I just had to chase away from your door?" he said, his grip tightening on her upper arm.

"What do I care?" Heather went on, "You always seem to show up just in time to save me anyway."

Jonathan released a frustrated breath and closed his eyes. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately; at least he had been since she showed up. Heather's hip pressed up against him and his eyelids shot open as he felt that twitch between his legs that was becoming all too familiar when she was around. She glanced down and then back up to meet his eyes.

"Looks like the orderlies weren't the only ones enjoying the show, huh, doc." She said.

Jonathan could feel himself clenching his jaw and squeezing her arm between his fingers so hard that he knew he would leave her bruised. He thrust her shirt up under her nose and watched her flinch as though she thought he were going to hit her. "Keep your clothes on." He seethed, his tone frighteningly calm even to his own ears.

She turned and pressed her breasts flat against his abdomen before laying her hand over his. The tips of her fingers brushed over his skin as she peeled the shirt from his hand and stepped back away from him. He released her arm; a red handprint lingering from where he had grasped her. It was almost as though their gazes were welded together as they broke eyes contact only long enough for her to slide the material on over her head. She tugged the hem down to the tops of her pants and smoothed both hands over her flat stomach, drawing the attention of Jonathan's eyes to her body. She then crossed her arms and his gaze followed her hands, lingering for just a moment too long on her breasts.

"Are you happy now?" she quipped.

"Nothing about this makes me happy." Jonathan said.

Her eyes darted once again down to his groin then back up to his eyes, "I beg to differ."

Jonathan had begun to tremble, he was so angry. Every fiber of his being was crying out for him to strangle her. Just grab her around the neck and choke the life out of her. He concentrated on slowing down his breathing and counting to ten in his head. It was an anger management technique that he had not had to use since his teens and it annoyed him that he had been reduced to it once again.

"What's the matter, doc?" Heather cooed, "You look a little tense."

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than he reacted. Before he knew what he was doing, he had closed the distance between them. He grabbed her by the shoulders, slammed her back into the wall, and pressed his mouth against hers.

Author's Note: Sorry it's so short, but it felt like the right place to end the chapter. Let me know what you think!