i'm a week late in updating (sorry for that!). but i've got two chapters ready to go, so here goes ch. 5! thanks to all those who have stuck with the story so far!

disclaimer: i (still) own nothing.

Chapter 5: 'Neath the halo of a street lamp

She didn't get much sleep that night. She couldn't believe she had actually kissed him. Jonathon Crane—her boss! She knew she would be unstoppably jittery and embarrassed around him all day long.

But he wouldn't say a word about it. He was too professional to ever let it affect him. In fact, she knew the only evidence of his remembrance would be in those eyes of his—those icy blue intoxicating eyes.

"Good morning Evelyn." He said crisply, an almost sly smile across his angular face, and she saw it...hidden deep in those knowing eyes of his.

Last night was personal, today was business. And there was a difference.

"Good morning Jonathon." She tried to keep the nervous flutter from her voice, but failed miserably and felt her cheeks start to blush slightly.

But sure enough, he never said anything about it, and it was business as usual.

Evelyn soon found herself thrown headfirst into a series of meetings that he himself was absent from. She paid this no mind, knowing how he expected her to fully report on the dealings of these meetings, once again making her feel like a glorified secretary. And as she trudged back to her office, hours later, she could only be thankful that he had her do more than just attend meetings and type memorandums.

Immediately she noticed the lopsided abstract painting on the wall of her office. It had not been that way earlier. She knew it wasn't.

But at least this would be easy to fix and she tried not to focus on it too much—catching herself obsessing—and walked over to realign it.

Suddenly she felt a small draft graze her hand. Her brow crinkled in confusion. Surely there wasn't an air vent behind the painting?

Cautiously, she pulled down the painting, revealing an open shaft in the wall. It looked just big enough accommodate large packages. A delivery chute of some kind? Or a laundry chute? Like in fancy hotels?

Evelyn couldn't say for sure, but it was slightly unnerving. Part of her was screaming to go find Jonathon, the rest of her wanted to go through the chute to see what it was.

She grabbed her cell phone and flipped it open. The bright light lit the interior of the chute a good ways, but not far enough to find an end. But it did look clean enough …and just large enough.

Curiosity won out.

She placed a hand on the edge and shimmied inside, the light from her cell phone lighting the way. She felt almost like a spelunker—crawling through on her stomach, using her elbows and knees, as the chute slanted gradually downwards.

"This may just be the stupidest thing you've ever done Evelyn," she scolded herself, "with your luck, it'll end up being a garbage chute, and you'll wind up dead in some incinerator."

Suddenly she came upon an opening. But it wasn't lit up…or at least not very well. Holding her phone up high she crawled out onto a metal landing. With wide eyes she glanced around and found herself on a set of rickety looking metal stairs, deep in the bowels of Arkham, lit by one tiny light high on the ceiling.

Knowing it too late to turn back, down the stairs she went, curiosity growing with each step. So she guessed that chute must be for deliveries of some kind. But she still couldn't be sure. The stairs ended at a metal door that Evelyn didn't even hesitate opening.

A hallway lay out before her. It was eerily reminiscent of the ones on patient floors, but in major disrepair. Her footsteps echoed along the corridor and she fought to keep her breathing even. She came upon an open door leading into a room with glass windows. Seeing light from below and hearing faint sounds, she crossed the threshold, her eyes widening as she couldn't believe what she saw.

xxxxxxxxx

The last shipment had finally arrived. Everything was on schedule—just as it should be.

"Dr. Crane," Crane turned from his thoughts, "do you want to start on this new shipment before the weekend?" Jeremy, an overseer, eagerly asked.

"Of course. We have a schedule to keep."

"How could I forget?" Jeremy said sarcastically, moving a large box over to a table of people in white masks and suits. He oftentimes thought they had the easiest job—they just prepared the drug in a liquid form. They didn't have to answer to Crane or the Boss if something went wrong or was compromised.

He did.

He glanced up, sighing, relieved the new shipment was in and Crane seemed pleased. He was sure with this safe delivery that a raise was in order—he sure could use one.

His brow crinkled as his focus sharpened on the shadowy figure of a woman. She must have noticed him looking her way for quickly she turned and disappeared. Jeremy walked back down the stairs, keeping his eyes fixed on the spot.

"Dr. Crane…."

xxxxxx

Evelyn fought with every ounce of her being to keep from pacing her office—even though she wasn't obsessing. She simply could not believe it. She could see no motive, no reason for anything behind it. Contaminating the water in Arkham with some kind of sedative she could understand, but infecting the whole city?

The thought made her sick to her stomach. She only wished she'd been on a lower level in order to read one of the labels on the canisters. What were they doing? And why was Jonathon involved…it didn't figure. Sure at times he was secretive and cold, but she never would have pegged him as being involved in something so potentially monstrous.

Her eyes flew to the clock on her desk as she slumped into her chair. 3:47 pm. Another hour and thirteen minutes to go before she could leave to go home and sort things all out. She shifted her focus to some papers loosely scattered across her desktop and decided she had better work on something else—anything else.

And she'd gotten away with it. No one had seen her…had they?

and onto chapter 6...