The sounds of a Big Band were wafting out of the ballroom of the estate at which the Benefit dinner was being held. The gala was raising money for new student housing at the University, as it was in great demand because of the difficulty of finding a house near the school. The oldest dorms were from the turn of the century, and included fireplaces and hardwood floors. But the ones that needed to be replaced were from the '7o's, which had been graffitied repeatedly and were literally falling apart.
Crane wondered why he was here. He suspected that the Dean and the other Professors had conspired to "get him out more". He scanned the outer corridor where the coat check was, looking for his teaching assistant. So far he had seen nearly half of Gotham's elite, but not any whom he would want to speak to.
Finally, he spotted her.
August was wearing a deep red dress, and was sporting a sophisticated hairdo. The bodice of the dress was a corset with black trim and lacing, and the skirt was a knee-length full swing style, with black tulle sticking out from the bottom. She truly looked stunning, and she had thoughtfully covered the bruise on her neck with thick black ribbon.
She waved at him cheerfully, and he waved back, taking a deep breath and composing himself for the rapidly approaching agony of being witty and chatty for two hours. He was almost glad that he had brought the girl, as she didn't seem to mind his usual cold demeanor. She walked over to him, her black heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. He took her arm in his.
"Shall we, Miss Macgregor?"
"Let's"
She smiled appreciatively at him. Soon they entered the ballroom, and August's mouth fell open in awe. The room was filled to capacity with people, all of them dressed in their finery. The decorations were nothing to scoff at either, and the wonderfully welcoming aroma of appetizers being served was irresistible.
"Oh wow. And you didn't want to come to this because why?"
"Never you mind."
"Fine, be that way."
"Wait here, I'll go get us some champagne."
"Ooh, fancy"
The doctor strode off toward the bar, and August stood and took in the sights, grabbing a few hors d'oeuvres when waiters passed by with plates full of them.
Crane showed up at her side again, and handed her a flute of the bubbling, amber liquid.
"Thanks."
"Well, guess what. Word has it that the elusive Bruce Wane is here tonight."
"Really? I wonder what he looks like."
"I'll point him out if I see him."
The dance floor was now thickly populated, as people had finished eating and were ready to dance. The band was excellent, and a famous young singer had undoubtedly been paid a large sum to be there. He had just burst into a rendition of "The Way You Look Tonight"
"Would you care to dance?"
"Yes!"
August loved to dance. He mother had insisted that she take lessons, and she spent long summer days during high school learning the steps to everything from salsa and tango to ballroom and swing. The Doctor was, to her surprise, not a horrible dancer, though she had to lead until he had gotten the hang of the steps.
After a few other songs, a tango rhythm started to play, and many people cleared off of the dance floor. Apparently, not many people knew how to dance the tango anymore, and August couldn't blame them, it was a very difficult dance to learn. She glanced at the Doctor.
"You don't know how to tango, do you?"
"I'm sorry, but no."
"It's alright"
August turned to go sit down with him, but a tap on he shoulder caused her to turn around. A tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair wearing an attractively cut tuxedo was standing there, smiling.
"Did I overhear that you know how to tango?"
"Yes..."
"May I have this dance?"
She glanced over at Crane, who nodded his consent.
The stranger was an excellent dancer, one of the best she had ever partnered with. His grip was firm, but not restricting, and he navigated his way around the dance floor with precision. Soon the two were surrounded by a ring of staring eyes, and people squeezing past others to get a better look at the action. They were indeed a sight, pacing up and down to the beat of the tango. The satin skirt was getting quite a workout, and August was starting to breathe a bit heavier. They turned, and he dipped her back and then led her into a magnificent spin, and then dipped her again as the song slowed to a close. August was breathless, but was smiling widely.
"Wow, That was great! Thanks!"
August shook the man's hand amicably, and then turned to go sit with Crane.
He was sipping his flute of champagne, looking slightly amused. August practically skipped over to him, glowing and breathless.
The doctor inclined his head towards her.
"Having fun?"
"Yes. See, this isn't so bad. You haven't even had to talk to anyone."
"Do you know who you just danced with?"
"Um… no. I forgot to ask his name…" August looked slightly flustered, as though this bothered her more than it should have.
"You really don't know who that is?"
"No, should I?"
"Miss Macgregor, you've just danced the tango with Bruce Wayne."
A few mundane weeks later, August had gotten into the routine of going to school, writing papers, going to more classes, and grading papers with the Doctor. Strangely, Mr. Merck had taken a leave of absence, and the rumor was that he had gone completely mad. August seriously doubted this was accurate; this sudden bout of insanity was almost too good to be true for her. She had asked the Doctor if he had heard anything about it, and he seemed to think that the professor had come down with an unusual case of schizophrenia. August had taken to asking Doctor Crane countless questions about mental illness; it interested her. Grading papers with him was always an educational experience, she learned more with Crane than she had in any of her classes.
But one Monday night, the Doctor was not there. She looked around and found that his office was completely empty, only the desk and the chairs remained. A white scrap of paper caught her eye. August felt her heart drop into her stomach. What if something had happened to him? Had there been an accident? A car crash?
She unfolded the white paper. A note had been scrawled on it in a cramped, angular hand.
Miss Macgregor,
This note is to inform you that I have been removed from my position here at the University. The Dean will contact you to find a new teacher to assist.
Prof. Jonathan Crane.
August slowly sunk down into one on the chairs. She stared at the letter in disbelief. What had he done to get fired?
The school was abuzz with the news that Dr. Crane had been "asked to leave". Word from the few students that had been in his class that Monday had spread around campus Apparently the professor had taken out a revolver from his desk during class, and had shot a flowerpot with it. Supposedly it was only to illustrate a point.
That was all August had been able to find out. She couldn't concentrate in her classes, and she had declined the offer to TA for another teacher. I couldn't ever be as good. It was odd, she thought of the professor as a friend, but August hadn't even known his first name until he had been fired.
No, that wasn't right. She had heard another professor boldly call him "John". This had apparently been too familiar a term, as the doctor had sharply corrected him.
"Jonathan." He had said, resentfully.
Staring into the darkness of her dorm room, August sighed.
"Jonathan"
