here goes chapter 6. thanks to all those who read & have read this far!
disclaimer: still own nothing more than i did before.
Chapter 6: My only friend, the end
"Evelyn?" Jonathon's soft voice filtered curiously through the door, causing her a moment of panic.
"Come in." She rose from her chair, hoping movement would alleviate her nervousness. He couldn't know she had seen…no one had seen her. She smiled warmly and what she hoped was sincere as he closed the door behind him.
"You look so flushed Evelyn, are you alright?" He asked caringly, his eyes falling on hers as he took a step closer to her.
"Oh, I'm fine—yes, just a little warm is all," she quickly answered, "what can I do?"
"I came to see the progress in researching the case on Alan Jones," he said as she nodded and moved around her desk, him close behind her, "his lawyer believes he is in need of another evaluation of his mental stability." She flipped the file open as she felt his hand rest on the back of her chair. He stood so close to her, her shoulder brushed against his stomach every time she moved and she could smell his faint, dizzying cologne.
"The DA didn't even call Jones' mental health into question," she suddenly said, "yet Jones' lawyer wants to bring it up anyway?" She turned towards Jonathon. "Trying to plead criminal insanity when he's already been treated and habilitated?" Jonathon turned to face her.
"That may be what he's trying for." She nodded uncertainly, not fully seeing the justice in still claiming someone criminally insane when they were on treatment.
"Well, it's not my place to judge, just research." She snapped the file closed as Jonathon smiled thankfully at her as she rose. "Looking forward to the weekend?" She casually asked.
"I suppose. I'll be here quite a bit—there's a lot of work and preparations for next week that need attending to." He indifferently answered as she stiffened. She remembered the chemicals in the water supply. He furrowed his brow and looked at her concernedly.
"Evelyn…are you sure you're alright? You look scared." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder, a hidden knowing tone to his voice.
"Scared?" She answered quickly, shaking her head vigorously. "Why should I be scared?"
"People get scared for all sorts of irrational reasons," he gently said, moving closer to her, watching her eyes soften, as he rubbed his thumb against her shoulder, "but you shouldn't be scared now."
"I'm not." She heard herself say, her breathing quickening, all thoughts fading away, eager to fall away in his eyes
"Good." On the rare occasions when he smiled, it was killer—and she found herself melting under it. His hand rose gently from her shoulder to her cheek as he slowly leaned in. Impulsively she met his lips halfway. A kiss that was so gentle and smooth, yet heated and longing completely blew her mind away.
Suddenly a sharp sting in her arm broke through the haze and before she could move, darkness enveloped her.
Jonathon smirked. He knew playing up to her would pay off one day. Her intelligence would push her too far and she would discover the lower levels. Sure enough, that day had come.
He supported her limp frame in his arms as he looked down at her, shaking his head disappointedly. She'd been doing her job so well—and observing her hidden OCD had been most enjoyable—but, curiosity had gotten the better of her, and that simply couldn't be ignored. He shifted her around and gathered her in his arms before leaving her office behind in favor of a more secure room.
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Nearly all those uninvolved had left Arkham by 6:30 pm. Crane locked the door to his office behind him as he walked silently down the hallway, buttoning his lab jacket. Chemicals were just a bear to remove from clothing, and there was no sense in ruining another white dress shirt. He slid his security pass-card and entered a 4-digit code before disappearing into a lab where Evelyn lay on a table.
He had no worries about her waking up anytime soon. With the dose of Traktacin she'd received, she probably would not wake up until Saturday afternoon. But by then she would no longer be his problem.
He stood over the table, looking down at her, wondering just what exactly do to with her. He turned sharply at a metal door sliding open, admitting two men he knew well.
"What's with her?" The first one, Max asked curiously, a slightly worried note to his voice.
"She witnessed our underground operations," Crane smoothly answered, "something needs to be done before she reports it."
"How do you know she hasn't already?" Max asked Crane accusingly.
"She's been here since she found out." He shook his head, disappointed in Evelyn all over again. The second man, Devlin, raised his head and flipped a cell phone back in his pocket.
"Boss doesn't want her hurt." Devlin reported. Crane looked up, surprise registering only in his eyes, a plan forming in his head.
"What are you going to do, Doc?" Max asked curiously, eyeing him with a suspicious eye. Crane turned and walked directly towards a cabinet on the wall, filing a syringe with a pinkish liquid.
"After this, when she wakes up tomorrow, wherever she will be," he looked at the two men, issuing them a silent assignment, "she won't remember anything about today or yesterday." He lifted her left arm, and injected her above the elbow joint.
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More than anything Bruce hated pretending to be Bruce Wayne. Having to attend all these formal parties and dinners, mingling with people as shallow as mud puddles and greedy as cats in rooms full of mice. Not only that, but they were as boring as hell.
"Did you have a nice evening sir?" Alfred casually asked from the front seat.
"Oh sure Alfred." Bruce answered noncommittally, pulling his tie out from his collar before resting his head in a hand, yawning.
"You need to sleep tonight—you were out gallivanting much too late last night." Alfred commented caringly. Bruce looked up with a defeated smile. He knew his old friend and confidant was right. He turned to the window and lazily glanced up at the night sky obstructed by thick winter clouds, only making it feel colder than it really was.
"Oh my goodness!" The car halted to a sudden stop, throwing an unsuspecting Bruce from his seat.
"Alfred?" Bruce asked concernedly, letting go the seatbelt.
"A hand sir…there in the brush." Alfred said, disbelief mixed with worry on his voice as he glanced out the passenger window. Bruce slid across the slick leather, eyes transfixed on the window.
"Good God." He whispered, a pleading form of an attempted prayer, as he flung the car door open. The skin of the wrist was freezing cold to the touch, but still had a pulse. He began throwing loose brush aside, revealing the body of a woman in a black pantsuit, with a face strikingly familiar.
"I know her," he said quietly, dislike coloring his voice as Alfred walked around to join him, "she was at a party here a while back." He fought to remember a name but couldn't find it.
Dismissing it for now, he gingerly gathered her in his arms, and carried her to the car as Alfred helped him lay her across the backseat. Without caring, Bruce slid in the front seat as Alfred returned to the wheel and they continued on home. Bruce glanced over the seat, staring down at the woman's still form, searching for a name.
"Werren," he suddenly, softly said, "that's it—Evelyn Werren." He turned around, sighing preparedly, laughing wryly. "Just my luck."
well there ya go. i should have the next chapter up by this weekend or so (at least that is the plan!). post a review if you feel so inclined, and if not--thanks again for stopping by!