Chapter 2: Another Collision

Disclaimer: read chapter 1

Throughout the day, Kathryn had to wear Gretchen's white coat to cover the coke stain, until she had to go home.

Whistler was right about one thing. The patient was unlike anything Kathryn had ever seen before. He was a monster, heavily guarded with good reason. They called him a crocodile for his demeanor and cannabilism appetite. He snarled like a monster. He had been treated like a monster, eventually acted like a monster.

The second Kathryn entered the prison with the soda aroma on her, he noticed. She couldn't shake off the words he said to her, the only words he told her.

"I got your scent."

Once the day was over, finally, Kathryn went home and attempted to clean off the stain with many types of detergent, but no such luck. Since her blouse was ruined, Kathryn had to throw it away. She could never forgive the man for what he did to her twenty dollar shirt.

~000~000~000~

Kathryn contacted Elise on the phone, and the two started hanging out. The blonde was indeed fun to be around, the light of the party at her condo. She served expensive drinks, a sushi bar, upbeat music, cute boys, football games in HD, and a birds-eye view in the Diamond District. Elise had it all, contradicting her words from before. From somebody who claimed she couldn't afford law school, Elise was living the life like the stars from MTV. It was all fun and games until her older brother had to come over in uniform to address the noise complaints. That was the cue to end the party.

Kathryn contacted her parents a couple of times this week. They were just as worried and naggy when she left Florida; her mother was the worst. Melissa kept reminding her daughter not to spend too much on food and to make sure to pay the bills early before the due date. Gas was another critical issue. There were two ways to get to the Arkham - bridge or by boat. Kathryn was driving her beetle through the bridge to Arkham and back. She considered buying the ferry pass for fifty dollars a month, better than spending twenty on gas every week.

It was Kathryn's sixth day in Arkham. Instead of meeting Whistler at her office, as usual, she was called into Doctor Arkham's office.

"What exactly happened to Gretchen, Dr. Arkham?" Kathy asked curiously as she sat down across from the asylum's director.

"Unfortunately, Dr. Knightly, she called in sick today, so she can't be here to supervise you."

"Dr. Arkham," Kathy asked with hesitation, "do I really need supervision? I have the experience, and I know what to do-"

"Dr. Knightly, it is necessary to have someone supervise you. This is not like Florida. Alright? This is a dangerous asylum. I can't risk my new doctor going into the deep waters by herself." Kathy rolled her eyes and leaned back against her chair. This was just like the internship all over again; supervision was required to obtain her license.

"Fortunately, I'd found someone who can take over Dr. Whistler while she is resting."

Kathryn smiled, hopefully. "Did you get Dr. Young? I met her yesterday, and she is the nicest and one of the most helpful doctors I met here... besides you, of course."

Doctor Arkham nodded, "Yes, Dr. Young is indeed one of the good ones. However, she is already busy with... other commitments, so she can't help you." What kind of commitments? Kathryn didn't bother to ask, for it wasn't her business. "No, I have someone else who's qualified, and you're going to like him."

Kathryn raised her brows, "Him?"

The door opened, stealing Jeremiah's eyes from Kathryn. "Oh, there he is." The woman turned around and widened her eyes in disbelief. There he was—the raven-hair man with glasses she wished never to see again.

"Dr. Crane, meet Dr. Knightly. Dr. Knightly, meet Dr. Jonathan Crane, the chief of staff and psychiatrist in Arkham."

Was Crane the head of Arkham? Not Doctor Whistler? Why? Kathryn stared at Jonathan, who released an aggravated sigh. He, too, wasn't thrilled to see her. The woman glared back at Jeremiah Arkham, shaking her head. A silent plea for him not to make this arrangement.

Jeremiah looked at Kathryn, then turned to Jonathan with the same confused expression, "Why do I get the feeling you two are not happy to see each other?"

Jonathan walked behind Kathy's chair, glaring at the woman with a fake smile, "We'd met."

"That must've been pleasant."

"Oh, you have no idea," Kathryn grumbled sarcastically.

"Allow me to give him the idea, doctor, for it was you who wasted my suit, after all," Jonathan said in his annoyed tone of voice.

"I said I was sorry!" Kathryn snapped in his direction. "Where's your apology? Huh?!"

"What for?" Jonathan asked with a shrug. "Sorry that you're too incompetent to watch where you're going? Are you incapable of following the rules? Have you not read the handbook before coming here?"

Kathryn pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the yell. Was it too late to get Doctor Young?

"Alright. Enough," Jeremiah lifted a hand. "You two sound like a couple of five-year-olds. Now as much as I love to separate you two from bickering, for now, you guys have to get over it. We're all a team, and I'm the coach."

"If I may, Dr. Arkham-" Jonathan tried to rebut.

"And I want you, Dr. Crane, to show Dr. Knightly the ropes," Jeremiah stood up from his chair and led the two doctors out the door. "Make her feel welcome. Teach her. Mentor her. I did make you head of Arkham, after all."

"But-" Kathryn didn't want this as much as Jonathan did.

"And Dr. Knightly, you must listen, follow instructions - follow his instructions. Don't disappoint me," Jeremiah Arkham opened the door and gently pushed them out of his office. The pairs' mouths opened about to protest. "It won't be easy, but I'm sure you two will get along just fine. Best of luck to you both, and try not to bicker too much. The board is coming over for a meeting."

"Dr. Arkham, isn't the meeting supposed to be-"

"Exactly, Dr. Crane," Arkham uttered hurriedly. "That's why I need to prep myself before tomorrow. Don't worry; I'll pitch your report and request for funding the first chance I get. Now I need to get going. Have fun. Goodbye." For that, Jeremiah shut the office door in the doctors' faces. They looked at each other with a not so pleasant look on their faces.

Jonathan was the first to speak as he sighed dramatically. "It seems that I couldn't recommend your termination quick enough."

Kathryn crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Jonathan angrily.

"It's bad enough, Arkham foisting you on me like this - like I don't have anything better to do."

It required all of Kathryn's strength to restrain herself. Crane may be a jerk, but he was the chief of staff. One wrong move and she shall fall onto her sword and out on the streets. Jonathan was intimidating, intense, and a control freak. His piercing stare added that he was a creep, up to the point that it was unbearably uncomfortable. It seemed like an eternity until Kathryn decided to get the day over and done with, ending the staring showdown.

"Dr. Crane?" She began.

"Yes?" Jonathan blinked as if he was coming out of a trance.

"Are you ready to get started?" she asked, wondering what was going inside his head at the moment.

"Yes, right this way." He gestured her to begin walking through the halls. His hands folded behind his back professionally. Kathy's posture slouched as she speed-walked towards the elevator.

"So what exactly did Dr. Whistler tell you?" the head man asked. His tone wasn't genuine but automatic - a robot programmed to say the most tedious and obvious. "Or maybe it's better to ask what she didn't mention."

The woman doctor shrugged. "Basically, she's told me the rules and protocols. She introduced me to Killer Croc - I - I mean-"

"Waylon Jones," he corrected. "First off, Dr. Knightly, you must never address the patients by their personas. We are rehabilitating them, not encouraging their madness. Second, I am not Dr. Whistler. I am in charge, and believe me - working with me shall not be fun and games."

Obviously. Kathryn thought to herself, almost rolling her eyes at his authoritative tone of voice to believe that Gretchen Whistler was the commander in this war-based operation. Looking at the doctors passing by them, they seemed afraid of the head man — a headless horseman haunting a tiny village.

"Last but not least, do keep up the pace. We have so much to do with little time. If you are smart, as Dr. Arkham claims, then you should have no trouble," Jonathan pushed the button to the elevator, refusing to make eye contact. "Am I clear?"

The psychologist suppressed the exhausting groan from escaping, submitting her answer, "Yes, Dr. Crane."

~000~000~000~

"I'm telling you, Elise," Kathryn exited the elevator with a phone in hand. "He is a complete jerk to me! He hates me!... No, I didn't do anything wrong; if anything, he's waiting for me to slip up, and it didn't help that one of his patients was giving him a hard time."

Kathryn paused and furrowed her brows at Elise's next question. "What?... Are you asking if Crane is cute or his patient?... Elise, you know I can't tell you who his patient is; that's against doctor-patient confidentiality... Okay, maybe Crane is somewhat good looking, but that's not the point. He's a complete jerk. I don't think he wants to help me at all... No, I'm not overly dramatic; it's a fact! He's a narcissist! I know the signs!... Okay, why are you defending him? Don't you already have a boyfriend?" Kathy's face turned from angry to pity when Elise told her the tragic news over the phone.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that... Wait..." she blinked. "How much did he take?..." Kathryn widened her eyes. "Your car?! Will the insurance cover it? Did you report it?... Did he use a fake name? Your brother can't do anything?! What the..." The psychologist raised her hand, motioning Elise to calm down even though she wasn't here to see the gesture. "Okay. Okay, I won't ask any more questions. Maybe we should lay off our plans for tonight, considering you... Are you sure you're up to it? I mean, your ex-boyfriend did steal your car... Okay... I'll see you there at 6:30... Okay. Bye." Kathryn hung up her phone and shoved it in her pocketbook.

"Hey! New girl!"

As she was heading out of the asylum, a woman behind the front desk summoned Kathryn with a wave. The psychologist was a little skeptical at first but decided to see what the receptionist wanted.

"Hi," the woman replied with a smile.

"Hi," Kathryn returned the greeting.

"I never got the chance to introduce myself. My name is Emma Thomas. I'm the receptionist," Emma reached her hand over the desk for a handshake.

Kathryn grabbed Emma's hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Emma. I'm-"

"Kathryn Knightly, the new girl. I know. I just want to say 'Welcome, and you must be pretty sane to work in this crazy joint.'"

"Yeah, it seems like I'll be hearing that quite a lot, huh?" Kathryn chuckled.

"Hey, don't sweat it. We need people like you for this crazy town we're in. There's one tip I would like to share: don't let the inmates smell fear, and don't be naïve. Most of these patients here are psychos; they eat little girls like you for breakfast!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Kathryn uttered, already recalling those words from Gretchen. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, and if you have any questions about any doctor here, let me know. Just like the janitors, I'm the eyes and ears of this place."

"Thanks. I'll take you up on that..." Kathryn paused as she laid her arms on the counter and whispered. "Actually, there is one question I have about a certain doctor."

"Okay?"

"What's the story behind Jonathan Crane?"

Judging by the gulping throat and the dilating pupils, Emma seemed hesitant in answering the question. She was afraid of the man, but why? "Crane? Why-Why..." Emma paused to clear her throat to speak correctly. "Why do you want to know about him?"

"He's my supervisor and-"

Emma held her hand up to silence her, lightening the mood with a single giggle. Though, Kathryn could tell it was forced. "Girl, you don't have to explain anything. I told you, I'm the eyes and ears of this place. Basically, the man is..." she trailed as if to find a proper word to describe the man.

"High maintenance?" Kathryn offered.

Emma scoffed, "That's putting it lightly. He may not look like it, but he's a bully, not the kind that could dunk your head in a toilet then walk away. He's worse than that." How worse? Kathryn wondered.

"He seems dedicated to his work," the psychologist observed.

"Yeah, almost too much. Before this asylum, he used to teach psychology at Gotham U at a too young age."

"How young?" the doctor asked. Emma shrugged, not knowing Crane well enough to find out his birthday.

"Does he have a life other than Arkham?" Kathryn asked. "A hobby? Friends? A wife?"

"Don't even go there," Emma scolded. "We have a no dating policy here."

"No. No. No," Kathryn shook her head. "I wasn't thinking that way at all."

"Doesn't matter. He's not your type nor any girl's type. He could be gay for all I care! I don't know!"

Kathy raised her brows at the intrusive accusation. It seemed like Emma was suffering a bad case of rejection. Kathryn stepped back to politely bid farewell and hightail out of this place as quickly as possible. Emma caught, realizing that she was becoming too embracive for the new girl's liking.

"Look, I'm sorry, doctor. I'm sorry. I know you can't avoid him, and you want to stay on his good side and all. The truth is, he has no good side. Trust me. The last time someone tried to kiss Crane's ass, he scared the young man into packing his things two days after his start date."

Kathryn blinked, trying not to let the fear become evidence.

"But I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about," Emma continued in a dismissing manner. "You've been here - for what? A week? So I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Yeah, thanks..." Kathryn glanced at her phone for the time. "I... I should get going. I have a prior engagement.'

"Okie-dokie," Emma turned back to her computer, picking up the ringing phone. "If you need anything, want to hear the latest gossip, or even want to hang out - I'll be here."

"Thanks, Emma," Kathryn waved as she finally left the building.

~000~000~000~

Kathryn remained seated at Habatchi's, a Japanese steakhouse in Gotham, waiting for Elise to show up. However, the blonde was twenty minutes late.

An Asian waiter walked over to her table with a big smile on his face as he poured another refill of coke. "Are you ready to order?"

Kathryn shook her head, "No. I'm still waiting for my friend."

"Waiting for a friend?"

She pouted, "Can I wait a few more minutes?"

The waiter nodded, "Of course, whenever you're ready." For that, he turned away at Kathy's request.

"Thank you," Kathryn sighed heavily and looked at her phone to check the time. What she didn't realize was that somebody from the bar noticed and approached her.

"Well, isn't this a small world?"

The woman looked up and saw Dr. Crane standing by her table. She didn't know if she should be happy or annoyed to see him. Kathryn was truthfully annoyed, but the woman didn't want to be rude.

"Dr. Crane. Hi..." She forced a smile on her face, "again. What are you doing here?"

"Grabbing takeout. You?"

"Yeah, I'm just waiting for my friend. She's supposed to meet me, but I guess punctuality isn't her thing."

"Hm, so it seems that you're not the only one who is incompetent."

Kathryn pressed her lips in a fine line, trying not to make a smart-aleck comment. Instead, she was forced to converse politely. "So... funny seeing you here... of all places."

Before Jonathan could respond, Kathryn's phone started ringing, much to her relief. "Excuse me for a sec," The petite turned her torso to pull out her phone from her purse. Elise sent her a text message, stating -

'Hey, Kat. Sorry. Can't make it. I'm needed for the dinner rush. Is tomorrow night, okay?'

Kathryn sighed in dismay, replying, that's okay, then put the phone away.

"Anything okay?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," she grumbled. "It's okay. My friend just canceled on me. No big deal."

"Oh, such a shame." From the tone in Jonathan's voice, it was anything but sincere. He was automatic, programmed to say the niceties.

"It's fine," Kathryn dismissed. The waiter appeared again, asking if she was ready to order. Her mouth opened, debating what to do. Her friend wasn't coming. What's the point of being here? Maybe she should grab some takeout as well.

"I'll let you go, Dr. Knightly," Jonathan turned away about to leave. Before he could take the first step...

"Dr. Crane, wait," Kathryn's voice stopped him from walking, instantly regretted speaking out. Why did she call his name? No doubt that Jonathan heard her, for he stopped and raised a brow at her, silently asking what she wanted. She breathed out, knowing it was too late to back out now.

"Would you like to join me?" she offered.

Jonathan pinched his brows together, shaking his head, "Oh, no. I don't want to intrude-"

"What exactly are you intruding, Jona - Dr. Crane?" Kathryn asked, correcting the formality. "My friend isn't coming. I'm by myself. You're by yourself. We're coworkers."

Doctor Crane was silent, refused to give away anything. Kathryn felt the pressure to continue.

"I thought we should talk and get to know each other. Maybe you can answer some of my questions... Don't you agree?"

Jonathan stared ahead to think about her logic. Kathryn realized that he had been doing that a lot as if he was living his own little world, just like her little sister. The guy was weird, but hopefully, Crane won't be too bad once she gets to know him better. Jonathan gazed at the smiling waiter before he glared at Kathryn. He took a step towards the other side of the table and sat down across from her.

"What will you have?" the waiter asked, preparing to write the order.

"Um, I'll take the Habatchi Steak meal," Kathryn stated as she handed him the menu.

"Very good. Soup and Salad?"

"Just soup."

The waiter turned to Jonathan, "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the same," Jonathan replied with a polite smile as he handed the menu, "but add the salad. Ranch. Ice tea to drink, hold the lemon." Despite sounding robotic, his hypnotic voice swayed the woman and the male waiter. It was husky but lovely that matched his sculpture face.

"Want to try something new," Jonathan explained. "I hope you don't mind."

Kathryn shook her head as she took a sip from her drink, "It's fine."

The waiter bowed his head at the customers, "Very good. I'll be back for your soup and salad." For that, he walked away.

"Thank you," Kathryn said politely. The doctors looked at each other, debating who should speak up first. "So-" they both said at the same time. Kathryn chuckled awkwardly but died down when she saw that Jonathan wasn't smiling one bit. Could this guy loosen up a bit?

"Ladies first," Jonathan insisted.

"Um... Well..." Kathryn tucked a curl behind her ear as she asked her first question, "So, how long have you been working in Arkham?"

"Seriously?" Jonathan scoffed. Kathryn was taken back, pinching her brows in confusion. She opened her mouth to explain her reasons for asking, but Jonathan wasn't the type to hear excuses. "Doctor, you are a nice lady and all, but you are asking the wrong questions. How long I've been a psychiatrist is irrelevant. Some licensed therapists may have lasted longer than our age combined, yet it does not mean they're good at what they do. Most if not all have been found guilty of misconduct, incompetence, and mostly ignorance."

"Okay..." Kathryn drawled, suppressing the disrespectful eye roll. Crane had forgotten to mention 'insensitivity' on his list. Despite the condescending tone, he made a good point. "So what questions should I ask?"

The left-hand corner of Crane's mouth twitched. "Finally, a question worth answering," he leaned slightly, his arms resting on top of each other. "First off, you must ask about their experience in the psychology field - experience not the number of years. Ask for their point of view on how they are when working in Arkham?" He paused to clear his throat. "What makes them tick? What is their biggest fear?"

Kathryn double-blinked at the last question. What did it have to do with treating patients?

"So, what-"

"I don't need to ask you these questions," he interrupted. "You graduated at the top of your class - Florida Tech. Is that correct?"

Her brows tensed together. How did he know that? She opened her mouth to ask; once again, Jonathan interrupted.

"You have finished your degree early and completed the requirements for your license. You interned at a small hospital for beginners - your first paid job." Kathryn's frown deepened. "Pensacola, Florida, that's where you from, isn't it?" he questioned. "Pensacola, Florida?"

"You read my file?" she was able to ask without Jonathan cutting her off.

"I'm the head of Arkham staff, Dr. Knightly," Jonathan clarified, a smug creeping to form on his face. "I'm supposed to know everything and everyone who works for me." Did Jonathan forget that he's working for the Founder and Director of Arkham Asylum - Jeremiah Arkham and his other board members? Crane seemed full of himself, completely deluded.

"I see you've done your homework..." Now it was Kathryn's turn to shift his balance of power, "but you're wrong about one thing. My first paying job was babysitting three kids for two summers in a row. My second was behind a concession stand, whether it's at the movies, concert venues, or baseball stadiums - I was there, receiving the checks until graduation."

"Hm," was all he said. No evidence showed a stab to his ego, which disappointed the petite doctor.

"I heard you were a professor at Gotham University," Kathryn sipped her drink.

"Yes, sick of being surrounded by ungrateful scum, I decided to broaden my passion."

"Passion?"

"Yes," his voice deepened. "Do you want to know why I do what I do?"

"To help patients get better," Kathryn guessed.

"Yes, but that's not exactly why."

"Then, why?" She caught the corner of his eye twitched along with his mouth. He seemed eager about the upcoming subject at hand. What did he have to gain from all of this if not making a positive difference?

"Fear," he whispered as his pupils dilated with anticipation.

"Fear?" Kathryn blinked at him in disbelief. "That's your passion?"

"Yes, I'd love to go inside the subject's mind and find out their greatest fears. Let me tell you what I learned about it..."

Kathryn tried to act like she was interested, but really, she felt like she was back in school except Crane was her professor.

"Fear is the number one motivator to avoid growth. It's fear. There's the fear of flying, fear of failure, fear of being alone, fear of trusting the wrong person. I have written a thesis on the etiology of the fear reflex in primary mammals, which earned me my doctrine and a teaching job in the first place. The university's president worshipped me."

Jonathan cleared his throat, leaned forward slightly with folded hands on the table, a mirror image of Arkham. "What is your fear, Doctor-"

"Kathryn," she corrected Jonathan. "We're not in Arkham anymore, Dr. Crane. You can at least call me by my first name."

A moment of silence had gone by. Kathryn saw Jonathan staring ahead again. What was he thinking about? Was he considering the arrangement regarding her name?

"Kathryn," he tested.

She didn't know why but the husk in his voice when he said her name created shivers down her spine. The hairs on her arms erected goosebumps that spread down to her shaved legs. It was time to shift the conversation.

"So what's your fear?" Kathryn sipped her soda, returning to the man's favorite subject.

Jonathan blinked, "I believe I asked you first."

Kathryn suppressed the urge to laugh. This man deluded himself into believing he's made out of steel. No one was perfect, and the fact that he didn't answer her proved vulnerability. "Surely, you're afraid of something. Like getting mugged on the way home from work? The injustice I heard about in this city? Is it true that crime lords are ruling Gotham?"

"Justice?" Jonathan scoffed. "I don't concern myself of justice. I only concern myself of what I can measure."

"What you can measure?" she questioned. "Are you trying to live up to your family's expectations? Your superiors?" Jonathan didn't reply though his eye twitched, unbeknownst to the girl. "What drove you to the fascination, Dr. Crane?"

"Enough," Jonathan commanded with irritation in his tone. "Don't bother prying my background for its unnecessary and none of your business. My past is my past. It doesn't define who I am today; my actions do."

Kathryn raised her brows at his speech. He seemed defensive about this touchy subject. No doubt, he had gone through something traumatic, just like every other mysterious man in books and movies. The last thing he wanted was to share his personal journey with the new girl; it's understandable.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. We were talking about fear, so I thought-"

"It's too early to have a personal chat about this, especially with a doctor who just started."

Kathryn slowly nodded as she grabbed her glass, agreeing to the wisdom of his words.

"Fair enough." If Kathryn was honest, in her defense, Jonathan pried first.

"I doubt you'll last considering your work ethic."

The girl nearly choked her drink at his last remark. Anger boiled her bloodstream.

"Excuse me?" she pinched her brows in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"As I said," Jonathan explained, not bothered by her offense, "you have a lot to learn. It isn't like the practice building you used to intern."

"No," Kathryn shook her head, "that's not what you said at all. You said I wouldn't last in Arkham." Her voice pitched high enough to reach the customers' ears close by. "Because of my work ethic? What do you mean by that?"

Jonathan looked around at the customers' stare at their table. He was never a man who craved attention.

"Dr. Knightly," he began in a low dangerous tone, the same scolding voice a father used for his children. "I would very much appreciate it if you keep your voice down. People are staring."

"You started this," Kathryn snapped angrily. "I'm trying to be nice to you."

"Kissing ass doesn't score you any points from me."

Kathryn tilted her head at another idea in mind, venom lacing in her tone as she spoke, "Or maybe I should kick it instead. Would that satisfy you, Dr. Crane?"

Jonathan's jaw clenched at that remark, "I'd be very careful if I were you, Doctor. I have the power to terminate you on the spot."

Her tensed shoulders slacked at that rebuttal. Did Arkham give Jonathan the power to fire any therapist in the hospital without justification? Emma did say the last doctor didn't last for a week - two days.

"I might not have the final say, but I've been Arkham's loyal puppy dog for years. He values my opinion. He entrusted me with his legacy. Your attitude just now proved my point as to why you can't handle Arkham. You won't last a month, doctor. You will pack your stuff and leave Gotham. You will return to Florida by the time I am done with you. One little word, Kathryn, that's all it takes."

"Like you did to that man who lasted two days?"

Jonathan breathed out with amusement dancing in his eyes, "He was a waste of space as well as my time; Dr. Arkham agreed." The woman's mouth dropped in shock.

That's when the waiter arrived at their table, a tray in hand that held two bowls of soup and salad that's coated in watery, ranch dressing, and Crane's ice tea.

"Sorry it took so long," the waiter placed each bowl in front of them, still having an award-winning grin on his face.

"Wow, the soup looks great. I can't wait to try it," Kathryn filled the spoon with chicken broth and slurped it.

Jonathan scrunched his brows at her, confused about her change of mood. Something wasn't right here. Had the woman gone mental?

"I'll be back for your food," the waiter declared.

"Actually, sir, can I have a to-go box for my order?" Kathryn wondered.

"To-go box, ma'am?" the waiter suppressed a request for an explanation.

"Yeah, a to-go box, please? I need to go home."

Jonathan snorted, trying to hold back the laughter. This girl had no backbone. She wasn't a challenge but a waste of space, just like the last one. Just because she had an outstanding education didn't mean she was up for the impossible Arkham task.

"And for the bill-" Kathryn's hand knocked her soup bowl that caused it to slide and spill onto Jonathan's lap. The man screamed out in pain. The hot liquid burned his legs. He gazed up at the girl who reacted in horror identical to the waiter.

"Oh my gosh. I am so sorry, Dr. Crane," she uttered. The waiter picked up the bowl from the floor and set it on the table. He apologized to Crane for the mess, even though it wasn't his fault.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Jonathan snapped angrily, fuming from the burn on his inguinal triangle.

"Sir, are you alright?" the waiter asked.

The doctor looked up at him as if he was an idiot. Was Jonathan alright? This girl spilled hot soup on his front. Of course, he wasn't physically okay. Kathryn offered a cloth napkin only to have it slapped away. Jonathan commanded her to stay away, for she'd already caused enough damage.

"I said, I was sorry!" Kathryn cried. "It was an accident!"

"Was it?" Jonathan challenged. "I suppose the spill on the first day was an accident as well."

"It was!" she insisted, resisting all her might not to call the man an asshole. Kathryn could've easily taken Crane's salad and dumped it on his head.

Before Jonathan could debate any further, a suited man with ruffled blonde hair and trimmed beard approached their table.

"Excuse me?" the man turned out to be the manager of the restaurant.

Kathryn glared at the manager in confusion, "Yes?"

The manager looked at the two sympathetically, "I'm sorry, but we have customers complaining about you two. So I must ask you both to leave." Was this guy seriously asking them to leave the restaurant while Jonathan was suffering possible second-degree burns on his crotch?

"I will," the woman promised, instinctively reaching out to lend Jonathan a hand, "but I-"

"Kathryn, get the hell away from me!" Jonathan barked. "I don't want to see you until I have to!"

Kathryn straightened up, utterly dumbstruck by that command. She was right about one thing. Jonathan Crane was a jerk. She grabbed her purse and stood from her seat, ready to take leave as he demanded. If Jonathan wanted to suffer the pain alone, that's alright with her.

"Fine," she hissed, holding onto the remainder of her patience while fighting the upcoming tears. Kathryn wasn't going to release her emotions in front of these strangers nor the snake hissing at her table, not until she was safe alone in her car.

"Have it your way," Kathryn looped her arm through the purse strap. "Have a nice night, Dr. Crane. Don't let a car hit you on your way home." For that, she marched past the manager, leaving the restaurant with dignity.

The manager looked at Jonathan in pity, "You alright, sir?"

"Can I have a towel or a napkin, please?" Jonathan tensed his thighs, wanting to take a cold shower and apply aloe to relieve the burns. This was embarrassing. The stain on his pants looked like he had peed on himself, and it's all her fault.

The manager nodded, "Yes, of course." He noticed one of his busboys cleaning out another table. "Zack!"

Zack, the busboy, turned his attention to his boss, "Yes, sir."

"Could you give this gentleman a towel, please?"

Zack glared at Jonathan with amusement before he gave his boss a definite nod. "Yes, sir." He left his table to do just that.

"Anything else, sir?" the manager asked the doctor.

Jonathan shook his head, "No. No, thank you."

The manager patted Jonathan's shoulder sympathetically. "I've been there. The one thing I learned from my ex is to think before I speak."

Jonathan glared at the manager with furrowed brows. Did this bafoon believe that Crane would stoop so low into dating a girl like Kathryn? He was surrounded by more idiots every day.

"Don't worry about the bill. It's on the house." Jonathan perked at the declaration. Did Kathryn leave him to pay her bill? Sure, they didn't have a chance to enjoy the meal, but Kathryn touched her bowl first. She should be the one to suffer, not him.

"If you need anything, let me know," the manager departed from the table.

"Thank you," Jonathan removed his glasses to clean off the spat on his lens. "I can't believe she did this," he thought out loud. "Who does she think she is?"

'A bitch! That's who she is, Johnny.' His dark mental half answered in his head. 'So, are you still refusing my idea of teaching the woman a lesson?'

Jonathan mentally scoffed, staring at the reflection of his specs. 'My dear friend... Not only is she going to learn, but she is going to pay for what she has done to me!'

'Atta boy, Johnny-boy!' the inner voice declared, didn't bother to correct Jonathan's pronoun usage. 'So what are we going to do to her? How are we going to make her pay?!'

'Let's just say... by the end of the month, Doctor Kathryn Knightly will become Patient #4321.'

"Uh, sir?" Zack's voice interrupted Jonathan's silent monologue.

Jonathan regained composure to focus on his current reality, "Yes?"

"Here's a towel for you," Zack handed a dark blue towel to Jonathan.

"Thank you," Jonathan wiped his pants to ease the tingling burn on his thighs. Unfortunately, it won't dry the material quickly; he must endure outside with a stain on his crotch.

"Are you okay, sir?" Zack asked, wincing at the thought of Jonathan's current pain.

Jonathan's smirk sent unwanted chill's down the busboy's spine. "Never better." He could almost hear his friend's laughter, resisting the urge to laugh with him.

~000~000~000~

Kathryn returned to her home at Redwood apartments and called Elise to vent her feelings, instead of crying on her pillow and processing her thoughts all night, alone. The petite knew what she had done to Crane was an accident, but a part of her was glad that he received his just desserts. He insulted her, claimed that she couldn't handle the asylum. This was karma coming back to bite him, more like burn him in the worst place possible. However, her job was on the line now. She didn't know how to proceed. She needed to talk to somebody, anybody who wasn't her mother.

"You did what?!" Elise demanded, trying not to laugh at the thought of Crane's newfound stain on his slacks. This conversation was a perfect distraction from her messed up life. The memories of her family's disappointment and the thief's cocky grin and six-pack temporarily ceased from her mind.

"It was an accident, but he was really mean about it..." Kathryn could feel another round of waterworks burning her eyes. "He made me cry, Elise. He made me cry."

"Aw, Kat," If Elise could, she would've hugged Kathryn for comfort. "No one can hold that against you, except for Crane. He sounds like an ass and even looks like one. I saw his picture on the Arkham website. I can't believe you think he's cute."

"I'm such a klutz! I can't believe this! I have to see his face tomorrow! Tomorrow!" Kathryn knew what Crane was going to do the first thing in the morning. He's going to convince Doctor Arkham to fire her. There's no doubt about it. There was the hope of Doctor Arkham coming to her defense and sparing her from execution; the chances were unlikely to happen. Who was Doctor Arkham going to believe? His long term, loyal bloodhound or his new, untrained puppy?

"What am I going to do?"

"Okay, first," Elise instructed, wanting to ease her friend's anxiety, "take a deep breath and calm down."

"Calm down?!" Kathryn snapped angrily. Was this blonde serious? "How can I not be calm? You're not the one who spilled liquid on him - both hot and cold - twice!"

"No, but I've had my share of mishaps at the diner. Did you forget what happened to my car this morning? I let the dude fuck me and take my car without pay!"

"Pay you? Why would he pay you?"

There was hesitation on Elise's end before she came up with an explanation. "He helped himself in my liquor cabinet. Sampled every bottle without asking. I suppose it's my fault, I let him do it, but to be fair, I had too much to drink." Elise realized that she was off subject, this conversation was supposed to be about Kathryn, a distraction of sorts from the horrible incident. "The point is it happened, there's no such thing as a time machine. The only thing you can do to rectify the situation is to apologize... and pay for compensation."

"I did say sorry, Elise! Many times! He doesn't seem the type to forgive and forget. He accused me of spilling my lunch on his papers, ruining his suit on purpose! He said that I won't last a month in Arkham, that he'll fire me if he wanted to!"

Elise frowned at her friend's words, "He threatened you?"

"I think so. It worked on that guy before me. Two days, Elise. He had been working there for two days until Jonathan had made his move."

Elise scoffed, couldn't believe what she's hearing. This Crane character seemed mental. Who in their right mind would hire someone to abuse the therapists? She almost facepalmed at the dumb question. Kathryn was working at a mental institution, of course, the boss wasn't in his right mind when hiring Crane. The blonde wouldn't be surprised if Arkham was secretly crazy himself or just plain stupid. In this city, anything could happen.

"Kat, you need to talk to your boss," Elise advised. "Tell him what that psycho said."

"I'm not a tattletale-"

"This isn't about tattling. Speaking up is protecting yourself. Dr. Crane made it clear that he'll abuse his power of authority to intimidate you. He can't do that. Believe me, I studied pre-law."

"But he's the head of Arkham, Elise! What if Dr. Arkham doesn't believe me?"

"You have to try. You've given up everything to be here. You can't let anyone, not even Crazy Crane, get in your way."

Kathryn sighed sadly and laid her back against the mattress, "Why did I become so stupid?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I spilled a martini glass on a cute boy once."

The psychologist scoffed, "Elise, I'm sure the boy didn't mind. I bet he wanted your number."

"Believe me, Kat, it didn't have a happy ending," Elise's comment relaxed the girl's tense muscles.

"What happened?"

"Well, long story short, I tripped my footing and landed on his lap, just in time for his girlfriend to come back from the bathroom." Kathryn gasped in laughter while Elise continued the story in a carefree manner. "Yeah, she returned and pieced together a misunderstanding. She slapped me, called me a slut, and then accused the boy of cheating again."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again. I bet she moved on with a cat, no longer trusting a man or woman to make her happy. My hand didn't have to tell me it's for the best if you get what I mean. She's better off without his tiny dick."

Kathryn pulled the phone from her ear briefly to tune out the sexual details. The legally blonde required a filter. Sadly, the petite couldn't prevent the images from popping inside her mind. Instead of reacting to them, the key was to let the thoughts pass by like clouds.

"And the worst part is, despite the evidence I had on my face, my boss took away my tips for the broken glass."

"I'm sorry, Elise."

"Don't be. I'm just glad I could make you feel better... The story did help you, right?"

Kathryn sighed, sitting up from the bed, "No, but I appreciate you trying to help."

"No need to thank me that's what friends are for."