Chapter 6: Happy Valentine's Day Massacre

Ever since the incident, Kathryn gained popularity, more patients, and her own office, except she had to refer Zeus back to Doctor Whistler. Cassidy was so thankful for her life, she gave Kathryn a gift card to Starbucks as a token of her appreciation.

Kathryn used the card, but not just for her. She shared it with a friend, who wasn't Elise Berg. She and the head man would meet up and go out for a cup every morning on the way to work.

The holidays passed by - Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, and Kathryn's 26th birthday on October 13.

Much to Kathryn's dismay, she had to work on her birthday, but afterward, she and Elise celebrated at the condo, drinking margaritas till Kathryn felt tipsy. The next day, her head was pounding wildly as she counted out 200 dollars sent by her family through the mail. Enough for gas, but not for rent. Her check won't come through till the end of the week.

Elise invited Kathryn over to her mother's place for Thanksgiving dinner with her family. The psychologist admitted that the widowed Mrs. Berg was a better cook than her own mother. She also learned that the Berg contained heroes. The late Mr. Berg was a firefighter, Mrs. Berg retired nursing to help the homeless at Haven's shelter, Randy Berg became a police officer, eventually, his fiance would join the rank as a doctor. Poor Elise. Apparently, she was the odd woman out - the disappointing daughter who had yet finished her law education. Her tensed face was evident. It's clear that she could afford school, but lacked the time to improve her LSAT scores. Her brother was nice enough to blurt out the reason while eating mac and cheese.

"Maybe if you stop sucking a grandpa's dick, you could actually make a living."

That comment created an argument between the siblings which resulted in the brother storming out, taking his wife and leftover banana pudding with him. Much to Elise and her mother's embarrassment, Elise confessed to Kathryn that she worked as a sugar baby for tuition. It didn't necessarily surprise Kathryn. Elise didn't do a good job keeping it under wraps, considering the downpayment for the condo didn't match up to her minimum wage job at the diner. Regardless, against her better judgment, Kathryn remained friends with Elise and swore to keep her job a secret. That's when the blonde awarded Kathryn with the BFF title. According to Mrs. Berg, that title was rare for Elise usually acquaints then forgets. She told Kathryn that she was glad that the psychologist was in her daughter's life. Elise needed someone, other than family, to influence her to do better. A lot of pressure for the new girl in town.

...

Kathryn flew back to Florida to spend Christmas and New Year with her family, slightly disappointed with the presents this year: a couple of outfits, more farmhouse signs to decorate her place, and a check for rent. There was an early Christmas party at Arkham's house. His wife was the best at cooking beef tenderloin. Unfortunately, Jonathan wasn't around at the party. He did warn her that he wasn't going to attend. It seemed like holidays were not his specialty. Though, it didn't mean Kathy needed permission to drop off his Christmas gift by his office door. The Stephan King book series with a note, daring him to read it if he wasn't afraid. Jonathan's voice lacked emotion when he said the two most polite words.

Thank you.

...

It was Valentine's Day. Kathryn didn't care much for the holiday because she didn't have a boyfriend. She knew her best friend's plans for the special occasion: meet up with her sugar daddy at a club, get drunk, then spend the night with him.

This morning, Kathryn entered her office, taken back by a set of heart-shaped balloons tied to her chair, a bouquet of white roses, and a box of chocolates on her desk. This was every girlfriend's dream come true.

Doctor Young walked by with a folder in hand, only to take a couple of steps back to see the balloons and flowers inside Kathryn's office

"Well. Well," she teased, walking inside.

Kathryn giggled, knowing full well who it was without turning around. Her gaze locked on the bottom of the chocolate box to see what kind of treats were inside.

"It seems like Doctor Knightly has got herself a secret admirer," Young cooed, approaching the desk.

"Stop," Kathryn giggled.

"Who is it from?"

"I don't know. I don't see a card."

Young perked at the sight of paper poking outside the flowers, announcing her findings to Kathryn. The petite doctor gazed up at Young, determined to find out who was responsible for the gifts.

Young read -

"Somewhere there is someone who dreams of your smile,

And finds in your presence that life is worthwhile."

Kathryn smiled, loving the note already. Who would give her the flowers and chocolates? Who wanted to be her valentine?

"So when you are lonely, remember it's true.

Somewhere a STALKER is thinking of you."

Kathryn's face fell at the last part, "Stalker?!"

"Well, that's a little creepy," Young spoke with unease, dangled the card between her thumb and index finger as if it contained a deadly germ.

"Who is it from?" the petite asked.

Young flipped the card over, "It only has one letter - J."

Kathryn furrowed her brows. One name came to mind that started with the letter J.

Jonathan.

She didn't expect him to go bold and beyond with the flowers and chocolates, but the card wasn't too much of a surprise. His passion was fear, and the card was designed to rile her up. It worked. He got her spooked.

"Do you know who it is?" Young asked, caught off guard by the girl's giggle.

Kathryn shook her head, dismissing the concern, "It is fine, Young. I got an idea who." She sat down and opened the box of chocolates. They looked delicious, chewy, and chocolatey. She picked one with white chocolate drizzled on top. She plucked it in between her lips and ate it.

"It's good?" Young asked. Kathryn nodded, giving her co-worker the thumbs up.

"Want one?" she offered while chewing.

Young shook her head, "No thanks. I am on a diet."

Kathryn scoffed, "You say that, but then you would eat Doritos when no one is looking."

"It's a work in progress, smart ass!" Young said defensively while smiling.

"Uh-huh. So do you have a patient coming up?"

Young sighed dramatically, gazing at the folder in her hand, "Yes. The enigma guy"

"That bad?"

"Let me put it this way. Being in his company is both irritating and exhausting. I might consider handing his case off to someone else."

Kathryn perked at Penelope Young's words. Arkham did say that if any patient was available, she would be the first one to take the case. There was still hope that Arkham might keep his word. She looked over at her picture frame on her desk, only to find the photo inside was missing.

~000~000~000~

Kathryn was anxious to show Jonathan her gift. Would he like it or hate it?

As she turned in the hallway to Crane's office, Kathryn stopped by a yelling exchange. She knew where it was coming from. Inside Crane's office. Despite her instincts to run away, she carefully approached the door.

Kathryn didn't have to press her ear against the door to know that Crane was inside having a loud debate with a woman. Who? One of the doctors?

"I wouldn't go in there."

Kathryn jumped back in fright to see the receptionist standing a few feet away, quickly hiding the present behind her back. What was Emma Thomas doing here? Why wasn't she at her desk? The petite psychologist didn't bother asking Emma for she had a bigger question in mind.

"What's going on in there?" Kathryn asked in a hushed whisper.

Emma sighed sadly, holding a clipboard tightly against her chest, "Miss Dawes decided to pay Doctor Crane a visit, today of all days. No doubt, Crane is going to bite my ear off for letting her up here."

Kathryn's frown deepened, squeezing the gift behind her back. "Miss Dawes?"

"Rachel Dawes, one of Gotham's ADAs."

Kathryn stared at the door, picturing the woman in her head. Was she pretty? What was her relationship with Doctor Crane? Worst of all, why did Kathryn care?

Before she could think of an answer, the door slammed open with a bang. Kathryn swiftly stepped back, avoiding a collision with the enraged woman exiting the office.

"I'll be sure to get a different perceptive of Garfield Lynns's evaluation!" The woman yelled. "I'll have a warrant by the end of the day!"

"By all means, Miss Dawes," Crane's voice echoed inside. It was strong, powerful, but showed no care or fear. "Attempt to get that warrant. I doubt that Judge Faden will approve for he already carried out his word. And would you please keep your voice down? Last time, doctors complained about a screaming banshee haunting the asylum walls."

Miss Dawes let out a screech before she noticed the women present - the receptionist and the psychologist. Kathryn took one look at Miss Dawes and saw that she wasn't unattractive. They even looked similar - dark hair, olive skin, dressed to impress. Miss Dawes seemed to be the woman no one should mess with. Then again, no one should mess with Doctor Crane either.

Miss Dawes pointed a finger at Kathryn who blinked, completely taken back for she wasn't doing anything wrong. The lady might've noticed the gift behind Kathryn's back and assumed her to be a girlfriend. A crazy, lovesick girlfriend.

"Watch your back, Doctor. Watch your back."

"That will do, Miss Dawes," Jonathan stood by the office entrance, threatening to slam the door in the women's faces. His eyes were cold and predatory like, ready to pounce at his prey. He was indeed ready until the fire in his eyes doused by Kathryn's soft gaze.

"Doctor Knightly," Jonathan greeted her, trying to mask the previous irritation in his voice.

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time-"

"No!" Miss Dawes interrupted. "By all means, come to the doctor's rescue! I was just leaving." The woman stomped off, slamming the hallway door shut, earning a jump from both Kathryn and Emma.

"If this is a bad time," Kathryn began with unease, "I can come back later."

"As Miss Dawes put it lightly, not at all," Jonathan ushered her inside, which she did with caution. The room grew cold, even though Kathryn was slightly sweating. She slowly settled herself on Crane's desk, while hiding her gift from Crane.

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Crane. Miss Dawes-"

Crane didn't let the poor secretary finish as he shut the door. The rage defused with the attorney gone, but the tension was still there. Kathryn believed it to be a mistake coming here. She should've turned away.

"In case you are wondering, Kathryn, that was Rachel Dawes. A nosey assistant to Carl Finch, the district attorney of Gotham."

"She seemed... nice?" she said as a question than an observation.

Jonathan scoffed as he settled onto his chair, rubbing his temples. "Yes. She is light to everyone's sunshine," he cleared his throat for her attention as he noticed where she was sitting.

"Huh? What?" she asked.

"Do you mind, Kathryn?" Jonathan motioned the woman to get off his desk so she was standing before him. A slave serving her master. He noticed her arm crept behind her back. What was she hiding? He gazed back at her with a raised brow and interlaced fingers on his stomach.

"What do you have?" he asked.

Kathryn furrowed her brows, not knowing what he meant until she followed his eyes, his surprise behind her back. "Oh. Well, today is Valentine's Day, and I want to give you something special."

His lips pursed, intrigued as to what she meant. The dark half of him thought about her giving them a strip tease or let them have their way with her on the desk or the couch. He knew that Kathryn was never that type a girl. She would never do something that crazy. Then again, she approached a loose lunatic unarmed. If that wasn't crazy, then Jonathan had lost his perception of the definition.

Kathryn revealed her surprise. The chocolate box from her office and a knitted teddy bear dressed as Ghostface. A stitched knife on one hand while a heart-shaped card was taped to the other that said -

'Let me take a stab at being your Valentine.'

She offered him the bear with a hopeful smile. "I went to the store during break, and when I saw it - I thought of you."

'Thought of us? The bear isn't wearing our mask!' Jonathan ignored his dark half, setting the bear down next to the chocolates, grazing his thumb over the tip of the knife.

Kathryn's heart raised a beat as his lips curled slightly. He was smiling, not as much as she liked, but the spark was there.

"How thoughtful," Jonathan withdrew his hand from the bear, resting his back against the chair.

"I also want to thank you," Kathryn added, "for the gifts in my office."

Jonathan glared at her, a brief clench to his jaw.

"Gifts?" he asked.

"Yeah. The flowers. The balloons. The chocolates," she gestured to the box on his desk. "I don't mind sharing with you." She stuffed a hand in her white coat pocket, laughing at the card in hand. "Though I must say the card spooked me a little," she handed it to Jonathan for him to read. "You got me."

His eyes narrowed at each word in concentration. Jonathan felt a chill down his spine as he read the last part. He flipped the card over to see the letter J on the back. His grip tightened, which could've easily wrinkled the card out of shape.

Kathryn noticed and couldn't help but tense in concern, "Uh... You okay, Jonathan?"

Finally, his eyes trained back at Kathryn, smirking, "Never better."

"I was thinking, Jonathan. Maybe after work, we can go somewhere. Maybe a quick bite to eat at the diner."

Jonathan raised himself from his seat.

"And maybe split the chocolate, you know, together," she offered hastily. Jonathan placed a hand on the small of her back, escorting her towards the door. She was caught off guard by the action.

"Jonathan, what are you-"

"My apologies, Kathryn, but I have a lot of work to do."

"Oh, okay. But about my offer-"

"Yes, we will go. We will have coffee, share chocolates - whatever you want," Jonathan opened the door, about to kick her out.

"Are you okay, Jonathan?" Kathryn asked, whipping her hair at his face with a concerned look in her eye. Worry wasn't what Jonathan was used to, but it was refreshing.

"I'm fine. I apologize for being so curt, but I must get back to work."

"Okay," she stepped outside, speaking with unease. "But Jonathan, I have to ask."

"What?" Jonathan suppressed the hiss that threatened to escape from him. What part of he's busy didn't she understand?

"When you were in my office, did you happen to see the picture of my family?"

Jonathan stopped himself and furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"It's missing. The picture of me, my sister, and Dad at the beach. Have you seen it?"

Jonathan scoffed. "If you are accusing me of taking it-"

"I'm not," Kathryn assured him. "I just find it very weird. It was there last night, and now it's gone. I didn't know if you have-"

"No, I have not. But rest assured, if I see it, you will be the first to know."

Before Kathryn could say another word, the door slammed shut. She stood there, dumbfounded.

"Jerk," she grumbled, turning her back from the door.

"You're lucky," Emma said quietly, spooking the woman once more. "Doctor Crane's admirers had suffered worse than a door slam."

Kathryn narrowed her eyes at Emma, "Girls asked Jonathan out?"

"In-person, phone calls, emails. Not to date him out of love, mind you, but for money and power. Rejection by phone and emails aren't as bad compared to what happens in person."

"How worse?"

Emma cleared her throat, shaking the scenarios from her head. "Let's just say that they don't come back to Arkham."

Fear dreaded Kathryn's insides. They don't come back? What did Emma mean? Surely, Jonathan wouldn't... She refused to think about it, ignoring the sudden cramp in her stomach. He was opening up to her. He tolerated her company. She refused to believe that Jonathan would do horrible things, despite Emma's claims. Speaking of her, why was Emma still here? When Kathryn questioned her presence, it was Emma's turn to be spooked, excusing herself to leave.

"Weird," Kathryn grumbled before returning to her office to prep for a session. It was a long journey, for the ache didn't go away.

~000~000~000~

Jonathan exited the elevator with a briefcase in his hand. He followed a guard to an isolated door guarded by two more armed men.

"How is the patient?" he asked. The guard cleared his throat, shaking his shaved head. If it wasn't for the rifle in hand, he would've been massaging his temples to decrease the migraine.

"A pain in the ass that's how he is," the officer grumbled. "He seemed eager to see you - too eager for my liking. Last chance on supervision."

"I'm not a child, Officer Cash. I handled his antics over a year now, though I appreciate the concern."

Cash blinked, taken back. The doctor wasn't thankful for anything. However, Cash didn't bother objecting to the politeness. He ordered the guards to let the doctor in. One of them pulled out the ring of keys, opening each lock on the door. Five locks. They motioned the doctor inside, who bowed his head to the guards as he entered the room.

The room was bright and white but untouched. The floors were dirty, and the painted brick walls were chipped. The only furniture in the room was a folded white table and two chairs - one seat was already taken.

Jonathan set his briefcase down and sat down across the cuffed patient. His trained eyes contained no fear but determination.

"Eh... What's up, Doc?" the patient greeted, imitating the voice of the cartoon bunny.

"John Doe," Jonathan grumbled, flicking the locks of his briefcase open.

The patient growled, bobbing his head from side to side. "You know... You know fully well that I don't like to be called that."

"And you know fully well that I will continue to state that name until you disclose your true name for us, which we both know will never happen."

"Hm," the patient froze his mid-shake, allowing half his scarred smile to curl upwards.

Jonathan rolled his eyes as he set up and pressed the button on his recorder to start the tape. The awkward silence between them earned a raised brow from the patient.

"Aren't you gonna say it?" the patient asked.

"What, Mr. Doe?"

The patient sighed, imitating Jonathan's persona. "Doctor Jonathan Crane-ah overseeing patient #4479. It is Tuesday, February 14. Time check is..." He paused, gazing down at his invisible watch.

"3:07 PM," Jonathan offered.

"Yes!" the patient giggled. "3:07 pm."

Awkward silence overcame both of them once again. The patient seemed taken aback by the silence from the other side.

"Aren't you going to ask how I am doing? How did I - uh - sleep? How did I - uh - dream-ah?" The patient licked his lips again. "Am I hallucinating Bugs Bunny in my cell? Man, I love that show. This whole place could be a Looney Tunes if you think about it."

"I believe those questions to be irrelevant, Mr. Doe," Jonathan pulled out another item from his case. "For now, I have a new set of questions."

"Oh?" The patient raised a brow, intrigued. "New questions? It's not one of those patient surveys, is it?"

Jonathan answered him by tossing a box of chocolates across the table. The patient furrowed his coal-concealed brows in confusion.

"Could you tell me what this is?" Jonathan asked. The patient tilted his head slightly, analyzing the box as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Uh... A box..." Mr. Doe sniffed it like a bloodhound before he exhaled with satisfaction. "Ah... Chocolate-ah. The gift to make a man's taste buds magical." He quickly gazed back at the doctor and leaned his body back unease. "Are you trying to - uh - tell me something, Doc? You are handsome in an Ichabod nerd kind of way, and while I have never gone down that road - as far as I know..." He giggled, licking his lips. "I'm the kind of guy who likes to try something new-ah!" he wiggled his brows suggestively.

"Flattered," Jonathan grumbled. "But the question I have in mind is... why was the box in Doctor Knightly's office?"

The patient analyzed the box before looking up at Jonathan, "I am pretty sure it was a gift for Valentine's Day. She is a pretty girl. Her office should be showered with gifts - flowers, rainbows, balloons, chocolates. You know what they say. The way inside a woman's heart is through the stomach. Personally, the knife through the ribcage goes a whole lot quicker." The patient furrowed his brows in confusion. "Why do you have it? You can't just steal a woman's chocolates. It's just not done."

Jonathan breathed out, trying not to seem more irritated than he was. "I am not here to play your games. We both know that you are Doctor Knightly's admirer."

"Moi?" The patient gestured himself, looking offended. "What makes you think it was me? I was right here." He wiggled his arms against the cuffs that jingled against the chair.

"I suppose it was the card that gave it away," Jonathan plucked the card from his pocket, reciting the poem out loud:

"Somewhere, there is someone who dreams of your smile,

And finds in your presence that life is worthwhile."

The patient tilted his head side-to-side, giggling after Jonathan said the word 'smile'.

"So when you are lonely, remember it's true."

Eventually, the patient read along with Jonathan without looking at the card as if he had heard the lines before.

"Somewhere, a STALKER is thinking of you."

"Signed by J," Jonathan finished, tossing the card back into the briefcase. "I recognized the chicken scratch writing."

"Listen, Doc," the patient began. "We can agree that Kit-Kat is a pretty girl."

"Dr. Knightly," The psychiatrist hissed his correction.

"Dr. Knightly," the patient continued, imitating the doctor's voice when saying the girl's name, "is a pretty girl. She is new. She is a - uh - what you call - a caterpillar. She is in a cocoon, ready to bloom her wings, and they will be lovely nonetheless."

"Listen to me, Mr. Doe," Jonathan leaned forward. His predatory eyes stared down at the patient, whose dark eyes returned the intimidation, though Mr. Doe's scarred face mocked innocence. "Whatever you think is going to happen between you and Dr. Knightly, it will be cut short. You won't be seeing her again."

The patient tilted his head as if something in his mind clicked.

"You can't keep breaking inside doctors' offices, let alone mine. We are trying to help you, you know."

"No. No. No. I don't need-ah any help, Scarecrow-ah."

Jonathan's lips twitched at the mention of the name. He had an inner struggle with his dark half that craved some control.

"What?" Mr. Doe tilted his head, mocking concern. "Don't you like our name for you? We thought you, of all people, would appreciate it, considering the mask you wear during our... sessions."

Jonathan's face stayed neutral, refusing to reply.

The patient's smile deepened. "Yes. Of course, you do. You are a man that craves - uh - power and fear after all," he licked his lips.

"We're not here to talk about me."

"Of course," Mr. Doe rolled his eyes. "We are here to talk about me - always me. We should talk about something different, turn the tables around. How about I play the doctor and you the patient? Call me the love doctor," Doe wiggled his brows at Jonathan teasingly. Jonathan's eyes narrowed, clearly not amused.

Mr. Doe giggled, "C'mon, Doc. There's no need to be jealous. I thought you were smart. Haven't you put the pieces together? Why I sent the gifts to Florence Nightengale?"

"Enlighten me," Jonathan challenged.

"I admit the woman has expensive taste, and it's clear that class clowns aren't her type, especially perfected pigs," Mr. Doe shook his head. "No. No. Dominating blue-eyed hypocrites are more her cup of tea."

Jonathan clenched his interlocked fingers without a word while the patient scoffed and rolled his eyes, couldn't stop speaking if he wanted to.

"Now. Now. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. It's obvious, Doc. She stares at you like a - uh - little kitten, begging you to put her in a cage-ah and never let her out. Truthfully," the patient cleared his throat, rattling the restraints to point at himself. "I prefer a woman to take the hammer and break out of her own shell."

Jonathan ground his jaw as his patient rambled once more. There was no way John Doe could go through all this trouble just to play matchmaker. There must be a catch.

"Now, I didn't think it would work until you barged in here - the way you did - demanding that I stay away. That -" John Doe giggled, "that speaks volumes. You just proved my hypothesis. How the stern, scary Doctor Jonathan Crane - the Master of Fear - could do the impossible. How the Scarecrow could have..." he choked at the next word, "feelings for his prey?" He gasped. "Oh, my god-ah - that's what I call 'mad love'!"

Jonathan clenched his fists, suppressing the need to punch him. He should've known that this was an experiment - leverage for blackmail. He had never felt so degraded, especially by a stupid, pathetic clown. He couldn't let John Doe win. Jonathan was the chief administrator - Arkham's right-hand man - he must act like one.

"You stole a picture of Dr. Knightly's family?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

The patient shrugged, "A change of scenery to the crawlspace you all so graciously put me in."

"I'm afraid your change of scenery shall revert to pitch black."

John Doe pouted at Crane's words, identical to a needle popping a child's hopeful balloon.

"I want it back, please," Jonathan commanded with gritted teeth.

"Yeah," The patient giggled. "I - uh - would, Doc, but as you can see..." he wigged his restraints against the chair. "I am tied up at the moment."

Jonathan leaned forward, "We both know that is bullshit."

The patient's eyebrows raised as if he was a child learning a bad word for the first time.

"We all know what you are capable of. Now I am not going to ask you again. The picture. Now."

The patient pouted like a four-year-old child, hating to be scolded by this so-called parent. Then his lips curled into a wide smile.

"You wanna see a magic trick?" The patient leaned back against his chair with a dramatic huff. "Fine."

John Doe swiftly moved his arms up and down, breaking the restraints of his cuffs. "Tada!" He waved his free hands, twinkling his fingers. "And now... for the picture," he reached his hand into his jumpsuit for the picture, until he quickly withdrew his hand to throw something at Crane. A pen with the lead open. It flew across the table only to have it stuck directly on the open briefcase that Crane moved as a shield.

The patient's eyebrows raised, staring at the pen that was supposed to stick Crane's throat.

Jonathan Crane knew better. He knew it would take more than demands to retrieve the photo. He knew that the patient might try something shady. How the patient managed to steal a pen? The same way he broke inside Kathryn's office.

"Would you like me to alert security and have them get the picture by force?" Crane suggested. "If you want to avoid another workout, Mr. Doe, I suggest you play nice."

The patient cleared his throat. "Well, as much as I like to - uh - put on a show and drop my pants..." he reached inside his jumpsuit again, "I prefer playing - uh - cupid-ah. It is Valentine's Day, after all."

Crane didn't falter at his words. He suppressed the urge to deny it for he would've become more obvious.

"All the things we do for love. Boy, won't he be disappointed?" The doctor blinked at John Doe's latter sentence. Was there another patient interested in his guinea pig? Finally, John Doe took out the picture, gazing at it with his head tilted in awe.

"It is a shame really. Kitty-Kat is a looker. Any man would be lucky to get inside her flower."

Jonathan snatched the picture from the patient and stood up from his seat to pack his things back in the briefcase.

"But you, Dr. Crane-ah," the patient giggled. "You are a - uh - lucky man," he nodded, pursing his lips. "Now, I am not a man to step into someone else's territory... unless it's ne-cess-ary," he growled at the last word, licking his lips. "I hope that my accommodations change for the better very soon."

"I know you're not threatening the chief administrator of Arkham Asylum, Mr. Doe," Jonathan checked his watch for the time.

"Oh, but I am, Doc. I am," the patient's eyes gazed at the box of chocolates, opening it up to see that five pieces of chocolates were missing. "She ate it," he giggled. "She - uh - ate the chocolate."

"Your point?" Crane asked.

The patient giggled more like a hyena, "Oh, would she be in for another surprise."

Crane's frown deepened, "What are you talking about?"

"Exactly that, Doc!" The patient snickered. "Let's just say that she won't be coming back to work any time soon," The patient thought he saw things, for he avoided his medication, but he could've sworn he saw his doctor's eyes widen a bit. "But fear not, good sir, this is kindness compared to the next time you treat me unfairly. I might stick the blade in between the girl's ribs, after all."

Jonathan was tense as he rummaged through his briefcase frantically. This sick clown had the nerve to threaten him like this, using an innocent woman to do it. J wasn't going to get away with this.

"So what do you say, Doc? For our next session, can I give you my wish list for Santa to bring? Merry early Christmas to me!"

Jonathan ended the recording and exited the room, leaving security to deal with the laughing maniac.

~000~000~000~

The psychiatrist hurried upstairs to Doctor Knightly's office, only to find it empty. No sign of Kathryn. The folders were out along with the flowers and balloons. His stomach twisted at the thought of what the patient said.

"Let's just say that she won't be coming back to work any time soon..."

Crane turned his head when he noticed somebody passing by - Doctor Leland.

"Excuse me, Dr. Leland?"

The black woman swayed her short, bobby hairstyle as she faced Doctor Crane.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Do you by any chance know where Doctor Knightly is?"

"Haven't you heard, Sir? She went home."

His frown deepened. "Why?"

"She wasn't feeling well. Arkham called her a cab..." Before she could explain further, Jonathan had already disappeared down the halls. Leland rolled her eyes, returning the attention on her clipboard, "Jackass."

...

After gaining Kathryn's address from her file, he left the Arkham building to drive up to Redwood apartments to check on her, only to see a horrifying sight. There was Emma squatting down in front of an unconscious person. A cab sped away from the scene. The receptionist cried and called the driver names while shaking the unconscious woman vigorously.

Jonathan's adrenaline urged him to take action. He dropped his briefcase and rushed to the women's aid, one he had identified as unconscious. One look at the woman's heels that showed off her pointy, pink-polished toes was all he needed to be sure.

"What happened?" he demanded, nearly choking for breath. The smell of scat and vomit evaded the air. The poor girl was having trouble keeping herself together, even in sleep.

Emma was tear-streaked and continued to shake the girl awake, "I-I heard him - saw them. She wouldn't wake up. I-I-"

"Did either of you call an ambulance?"

"I-I said we should, and that's when he took off."

Jonathan cursed in his thoughts as he pulled out his phone to call an ambulance.

"How long was she like this?" He forced open one of Kathryn's eyelids to find any sign of life. His heart pounded rapidly when the girl's eyes rolled in the back of her head.

"Five minutes!" Emma screamed as she patted the woman's cheeks, begging the petite to show her eye color again. "Please, Kathryn! Please, wake up!"

"911 operator," a female voice greeted on the other line. "Do you require police, ambulance, or-"

"I need an ambulance right now," Jonathan interrupted. He shoved Emma's hands away to hover an ear over Kathryn's face, relieved to feel her breath against his cheek. "My friend just collapsed. She's breathing but not responding. She may have ingested poisonous chocolates."

"Poison?!" Emma screeched in disbelief. Who in the world would want to poison Kathryn?

"Okay, sir. Stay calm. Help is on the way."

"How long will they get here?" Jonathan demanded.

"Sir, they are on their way. Try to stay-"

"How long will they fuckin' get here, ma'am?!" Silence evaded the area. Emma gazed up at him with wide, teary eyes, completely dumbstruck. It was rare to witness Crane yelling, let alone cursing out at someone.

"Ten to fifteen minutes."

No. Jonathan knew that time frame without any fluids in Kathryn's system; her condition could become life-threatening. He commanded Emma to call the medical team, requesting an IV and electrolyte drink in case Kathryn woke.

Jonathan set the phone down to loosen the buttons on Kathryn's clothing.

'You're seriously going to fuck her while she's covered in shit?'

Jonathan ignored his half. They knew full well this wasn't foreplay but first aid. He lifted and rested her legs against the building's brick column, trying his best not to inhale the stench. Then, he returned to her face to feel for her pulse and breathing pattern.

"You're going to be alright, Kathryn. Just hold on."

~000~000~000~

Kathryn opened her eyes to see that she wasn't in Arkham Asylum or her apartment but in a hospital room. How did she get here? What happened? She attempted to sit up but quickly rested her head on the pillow. A thumping sensation radiated through her skull, hot and dizzy. The IV in her antecubital region should help with hydration and nutrients. She groaned, feeling her stomach churn in somersaults. She snuggled against the wrapped blankets, squeezing her cheeks together to resist the pooping.

Footsteps clicked on the tiled floors. Her eyes perked to see the lean, tall, handsome man by the doorway with a tray in his hand. He didn't notice her awake at first as he set the tray on the table.

Kathryn debated whether to notify her presence or pretend to be asleep. Curiosity took hold as she closed her eyes and controlled her breathing.

She nearly jolted as his icy-cold fingers grazed across her sweaty forehead. It slowly lowered to her cheek, caressing it with his thumb in circles. This wasn't the Crane that she knew. Then again, there were many things she didn't think about Crane doing, like telling a joke or smiling. His thumb left her cheek, replacing it with his index and third finger on her neck, checking for a pulse. Her heart was beating fast against her chest with anticipation, which showed on the heart monitor. Seconds turned into minutes. What was he doing? Was he staring at her? That would be creepy.

Jonathan exhaled, removing his fingers from her neck that silently begged more of his cold touch.

"Rise, Kathryn," he commanded. She didn't move at first. The fear of getting caught must've overtaken her imagination.

"I know you are awake, Kathryn," he insisted. "Get up, please."

She winced, knowing that her pulse had given herself away. She had been caught. A part of her wished that he believed her slumber so he could continue touching her face or even place a kiss on the cheek.

Her body eventually turned to the other side, wrapping the blanket around her. Her gaze opened, seeing the moonlight shine on half of Jonathan's beautiful, sharp face.

"I don't want to get up," Kathryn grumbled.

"You must when you drink this," Jonathan reached his arm out towards the nightstand, offering her a bottle of Gatorade that fizzed out an unidentified pill. "Drink."

Kathryn didn't move, only stared at the bottle. She knew better than to take medicine without knowing what it was.

"You are dehydrated. Drink this, please."

"W-What... What's in it?"

"Pepto. To help relieve your symptoms."

After a few moments of debating, Kathryn raised her torso slightly to take a sip of the bottle, sticking her tongue out in disgust from the tart aftertaste.

Jonathan pulled a chair to sit down, taking the bottle from her. Automatically, her body tumbled back on the bed with a groan. Her head turned to the side to see that her clothes weren't inside the opened closet.

"They have phoned your emergency contact," Jonathan announced. "She should be here soon-"

"My clothes?"

Jonathan blinked at her interruption but answered her question with patience, "They're with the dry cleaners. Took a lot of bribery to have them clean your skirt."

She turned to him with furrowed brows. Jonathan took her clothes, even though it was covered in vomit and shit?

"You didn't have to do that-"

"Yes, I did. Believe me."

Her cheeks heated up with embarrassment.

"Make no mistake; I'm not a janitor. Though, I did take the necessary precautions."

Kathryn let out a laugh. "You're scared to touch vomit, Jonathan?"

"Kathryn, there is a difference between fear and disgust."

"Oh..." she closed her eyes, hoping that when she woke up, it would all be just a bad dream. What happened in Arkham and how Jonathan had taken her clothes to the dry cleaners was embarrassing. She would never live it down. God might as well take mercy and have the earth swallow her whole.

"What happened to me?" Kathryn grumbled.

"Well," Jonathan interlaced his fingers between his knees, "according to the doctors, you have food poisoning."

"Food poisoning?" she asked in shock.

"The chocolates. Apparently, they expired last year, exactly on Valentine's Day."

Her stomach clenched at the mention of the candy. Jonathan gave her expired chocolates?

"W-Why?" she asked.

"I wasn't your secret admirer, Kathryn," Jonathan explained. Her frown deepened as Jonathan pulled out the missing picture from his pocket and then handed it to her.

"You... my picture... where... how-"

"John Doe sent you the gifts."

The room grew cold. Kathryn snuggled back into her blanket and sheet, not by the temperature but the fear.

"J-John?" she gasped. Her heart was racing against her chest; the beeping monitor escalated. "Your patient did this to me?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "But fear not, I notified Arkham, and we're taking care of him."

"But why?"

"He's insane, Kathryn."

"I mean, how? How's that possible? He's in his cell! How could he pull this off? What does he expect? That I would accept his rose or something?"

"Or something," Jonathan replied. "But it doesn't matter. All you need to know is that we're taking care of it. Mr. Doe is locked up in isolation, and Officer Cash is questioning the security staff as we speak. You're safe for the time being."

"What do you mean 'for the time being'?"

Jonathan huffed, knowing that she wouldn't rest till she knew the truth. He ran a hand over his face as he reluctantly explained, "There were rumors long before the start of my shift. I've been told legends that were once believed to be myths. John Doe has been in Arkham for seven years. He scared everyone away - doctors, district attorneys, even Arkham was hesitant to enter his cell."

"Why?" she breathed.

"They say that he knows the tricks of how to escape a prison cell and cause mischief without evidence. How he could break into offices and leave notes or gifts without a trace."

Jonathan's face softened at the sight of Kathryn - shaken, confused, sorrowful, and most of all, scared. A deadly combination that made the dark side of Jonathan go hungry.

"Some say that freak has friends on the other side. Others believe him to be inhuman."

"So you mean to tell me that nobody in Arkham is safe, so long as he's still there, treating the hospital like a playground?"

The man sighed.

"And the staff is okay with that? Am I supposed to be okay with walking into work with a target painted on my back?" Kathryn was scared, as she should be. Jonathan could hear the whispers in his head to take what he wanted right there. He could almost imagine it now - the torturous screams, the fear in her eyes, the tears. He would be lying if he said that wasn't an intoxicating sight. But his frozen heart skipped a beat at the horrifying dream. It would be malicious and cruel. He acted the opposite of his thoughts by grasping her hand. His thumb drew gentle circles on top.

"Kathryn, Arkham warned you - I warned you that place isn't like the clinic you had interned, that it's surrounded by many dangerous possibilities."

"I know-"

"And yet, you accepted the job anyway, wanting to prove to everyone that Doctor Kathryn Knightly can cure the sick no matter how small she is or how big of a challenge Arkham is. Nobody believed in you, and I'm ashamed to say I didn't either," Jonathan's comment earned an offended scoff, but he continued, "but you proved us wrong when you stood up to Zeus and saved Dr. Cassidy's life."

Her lips quivered at that terrifying memory, believing that Zeus would snap her neck at that moment.

"You knew the risks, yet you managed to pull through. You should be proud of that, Kathryn. I know I am. You can't give up now; doing that would only prove the ignorant right."

"Including you?"

Jonathan couldn't respond to that question. "I..." He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, having an internal debate with himself. Could he admit it out loud?

"Kathryn!" Both perked at the blonde standing by the doorway. It didn't take long for her to run in those red high heels and hug her friend.

"Oh my god!" Elise squeezed and rocked them both side-to-side vigorously, much to the brunette's nauseous dismay. "I came as soon as they called. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kathryn hesitantly whispered, peering over Elise's shoulder at her savior. She mouthed out her appreciation to Jonathan, who resumed the robotic role.

"I'll let you rest, doctor," Jonathan turned to leave, passing a medical doctor who walked into the room with a clipboard. Kathryn opened her mouth to call out his name, but Doctor Watkins interrupted with good news. Kathryn was going to be fine. Her vitals should return to normal in a few days. She recommended that Kathryn rest, drink plenty of liquids with electrolytes, and take some antibiotics in case of infection.

"Thank you, Doctor," Kathryn whispered.

"Aw, don't thank me. If your fiance hadn't taken control the way he did, we wouldn't be having this conversation. The EMTs told me he was very protective of you throughout the ride here."

Elise furrowed her brows, "Fiance? Kathryn, you didn't tell-"

"Yeah," the petite patient agreed with a smile, leaving Elise in a cloud of confusion. "I am one lucky lady." It didn't take long for her to put the pieces together. Pretending he's family was the only way for Crane to know Kathryn's diagnosis and to ride the ambulance with her.

There was a lot for Kathryn to take in. One: that it was only 9:01 PM. Two: she was definitely going to stay in bed and lay off the food for a while. Three: Jonathan was there when she needed him, especially in sleep. He might not admit it aloud, but they both silently knew the truth.

Jonathan Crane cared. No man would go through the trouble of confronting a psychopathic freak for her, giving her first aid when she was out, encouraging her to stay in Arkham when she came close to calling it quits, and taking her scat clothes to the dry cleaners. Most men would run away from puke. She would run away. Yet, Jonathan didn't.

Kathryn concluded a long time ago that Jonathan wasn't the bad guy she once believed. Crane might not be scared of anything, but he was not as hardcore as people thought. There might be a soft side of him that didn't exist, something Kathryn was more than happy to explore.

Jonathan Crane was different. He wasn't a jock that Kathryn used to have school crushes on. He didn't seem the type to be popular but a social outcast. It could be the medicine, or maybe it's impaired judgment. Kathyrn didn't care, for she knew on Valentine's Day 2006, she fell in love with Jonathan Crane.

Deep down, he cared for her the same way.

~000~000~000~

After finishing his shift, the thirty-two-year-old Hispanic returned to his apartment, singing a few bars from his mixtape.

"C'mon, feel the noise! Girls rocking boys! We get wild! Wild! Wild!"

He unlocked the door and entered without subtly, "Yo, Pepi! Papá está en casa! Ven a darle un beso a papá! (Daddy's home! Come give Daddy a kiss!)"

His boxer didn't bark or pounce on his owner with excitement. The homeowner had never walked into a room this quiet before. In fact, he could've sworn he left the lights on for Pepi. He flipped the switch, but nothing happened. The lights outside were on. Why was this apartment pitch black? Diego Martin guessed.

"Fuckin' landlord," The man cursed, tossing his bag on the table. "I told him to give me one week. Yo, Pepi!" He whistled for the dog that didn't come. "Pepi, vamos! Everything is okay. Don't be scared. Pepi?" He flipped his phone open to activate a flashlight. He scanned the living room to find no dog in sight.

"Pepi?" Diego whirled around at the sudden squeak across the room to find nobody in the doorway - a two-sided hallway to the bathroom and bedroom.

"Hello? Pepi?" He first assumed it to be a rat. This place wasn't exactly vermin-proof or had a decent hygiene rating; even his girlfriend refused to have date nights here. Still, what if something bigger got a hold of Pepi? The thought escalated his heart rate, ready to investigate deeper into his home.

"Pepi!"

The phone rang in the kitchen, causing Diego to jump and gasp on cue. It took a minute for Diego to catch his breath as he walked into the open, small kitchen. He could've sworn that the landlord had cut ties to everything electrical. Nonetheless, the man picked up the phone hanging on the wall and answered.

"Hola?"

"Martin."

Diego rolled his eyes and groaned, resting his back against the wall. He recognized his grouchy landlord instantly by his gritty voice. The older gentleman required an air tank to breathe, a price to pay for smoking many packs a day.

"Issac," Diego strained some politeness in his tone, "nice work with the lights, amigo. How nice of you."

"Don't 'amigo' me, son. You fucked up! Big time," the landlord paused to cough.

"That cough sounds bad, Issac. Maybe you should go see a doctor."

"How about you zip your piehole before I shove my tank up your ass."

"Look! I have the money. Okay? Just give me a few more days!"

"Hey, I've already given you 'a few more days', Diego. I was more than generous. Don't forget about the final notice I sent ya, signed by name and kisses. Fortunately for me, your time is up, pal."

"Whatever. Just bring my dog back! You maybe be my fuckin' landlord, but you don't have the right to take Pepi!"

"I don't have your fuckin' dog, but if we're being honest, son, he's better off with me than you right now."

Diego mouthed out insults to the man while listening to him talk. This was getting monotonous. He'd be better off living with this girlfriend if the circumstances were better.

"Yeah, right. We both know you would, Issac. Just to see me croak before you, which won't be very long." Diego paused, running a hand across his face, clearly exhausted. "Look, I'll give you half the rent right now if you just switch the lights on."

"Oh, this isn't about the rent this time, amigo. I didn't know what you did, but God forbid you fucked up. I'm surprised they didn't shoot you yet."

Diego slouched his posture and drew his brows together in confusion, "What are you talking about, Issac? Aren't you calling me about the rent?"

"Are you retarded, Diego? I just told you this isn't about the fuckin' rent - what's going on is much bigger than that."

"What? Issac, you're not making any sense - worse than usual. What's going on? Why are you calling?"

"I just want to know something. When you die, can I pour your ashes in a dumpster or the fuckin' toilet?"

Before Diego could ask why he was going to die, his breath hitched by the sound of Shakira. Her CD echoed in the living room. The lights flashed back on to Diego's standards.

"That's more I like it! Issac..." Diego trailed off when the phone call ended with a long dial tone. "Hello? Issac? Bastardo rudo," he grumbled before hanging up. "Yo, Pepi!" he stepped through the doorway and turned right into his bedroom. "You don't have to be afraid of the dark anymore. I'm here. Pep-"

He stopped by the entryway to notice something definitely off inside. The lights were out, but candles surrounding his twin bed were lit. Those candles weren't there before. Roses coated the bed, creating a heart shape in the middle. This whole setup was intended to be romantic.

Diego's corner mouth curled as he approached the bed. He noticed a long vertical lump across it, evidence that someone was hiding underneath the sheets and pillows, waiting for him. That was the case when he ripped a sticky note from the fluffy, pink decorative pillow (given by his girlfriend to make his filthy home more cheerful) and read: UNWRAP ME.

The man laughed, "Dang, Rosie. All of this for little ole me?" He could see the shift and hear the muffles underneath in response. "Don't worry, chica," he pulled the sheets down, revealing the woman's curvy legs and black lingerie. "Your Papi's home now. Ready to end this Valentine's Day with a bang." For that, he tossed the pillows out in a hurried fashion.

Diego didn't bother the last three throw pillows, for the girl knocked them off herself. She lifted herself off the bed with a muffled screech. Her frizzy perm was a static mess but not compared to her face - her mascara and lip stain smeared, her red eyes bolted wide with tears flowing down her cheeks, and a black cloth tightly gagged around her mouth. Her chaffed wrists had been tied to the headboard, struggling to get free.

Diego stumbled back in horror, knocking down a few candles. He quickly stomped the fire out that lit his jeans. It took a minute for him to realize this wasn't foreplay. His Rosie was in distress. She writhed her restraints and screamed at him, begging him to either run or free her. The words were incoherent by the gag.

Before Diego could do anything, the closet door opened, revealing a large man in black holding a tiny boxer in his arms. The dog shivered and writhed helplessly. His puppy whimpered as his eyes' met Diego's. Millions of questions going through its mind, but it was smart enough to know that this wasn't their usual game of hide and seek.

Diego was intimidated by the man's size. He was about to leap over the candles and run, but two more men approached him and grabbed his arms from behind. Diego struggled and screamed for help, hoping his neighbors or landlord had the heart to dial 911.

"Scream all you want, Mr. Martin."

Diego ceased his fight at the sight of him standing by the entryway. This one was different than his henchmen. How did Diego know this one was the leader? It was the suit, and he was the only one wearing a burlap sack on his head to protect his identity.

"No one is coming to save you."

Everyone outside of Arkham didn't know him yet. Some who did couldn't live long enough to talk about him. His enemies called him a 'freak'. Students and neighbors called him 'mean'. His helpers called him a ghost. His test subjects whispered a name as he forced them to face their biggest fears.

Scarecrow.

Many moments later, Diego was bound to a chair in front of his sobbing girlfriend, yelling out Spanish words, most of which were too inappropriate to translate. One of the goons moved the candles to prevent a fire hazard. The suited man stood between the couple, his eyes steel and dominant equal to the guns pointing at Diego. The boyfriend wasn't intimidated by him or his potato sack head, but little did Diego know he would be soon.

"Mr. Martin," Crane began in boredom. "I understand this is terrifying and somewhat confusing to you, but please, try to control yourself. I rather not tempt these guys into pulling the trigger."

"Control myself?! You're the one breaking inside my home, taking my dog, fucking my girl-"

"Relax, Mr. Martin. No one has laid a hand on your lady," the masked doctor respectively pulled the covers back over the woman's body. "However, I can't say the same about your dog. He will transfer and make a ten-year-old girl very happy," Crane nodded at the man holding the dog, silently telling him to leave. The father was more than happy to oblige, already picturing his daughter's face right now. The dog whimpered in response, quietly bidding his owner farewell.

"You freak!" Diego snapped. "Why is Rosie tied up?! Her clothes-"

"Oh, she was like that when we found her. We only helped her tie the knot, is all."

"And the gag," one of the goons added with a snicker; his buddies joined in the laughter.

The suited man analyzed the room, "Though, I must say, she is a helpless romantic. Even when you're out all day, driving people around, she wanted you to have the best Valentine's Day ever. You should see the bathroom. The smell in there is divine. Consider yourself lucky to have her as a miracle worker."

Diego couldn't help but peer around Crane to seek Rosie. She was lying still, whimpering against the cloth. Her eyes begged for assurance - a white lie to calm her down.

"Man, I don't have any money," Diego tried to reason with these men. Why else would they be here if they didn't want his girl? There's no way they would tie him up just for a dog. Local animal shelters offered free adoption events all the time. "You're wasting time-"

"Mr. Martin, you would do anything for Miss DiCarlo, right?"

Diego blinked at the man's question. How exactly did Scarecrow know his girlfriend's name? The tied man slowly nodded with hesitation, "Y-Yes."

"You would protect her?" Crane wondered. "Keep her safe? Care for her? Suppose if anyone - say - dare lay a hand on her in the worst way. Harm her in any way." One of his henchmen snickered as he teasingly hovered a hand over the woman's bra without contact. Rosie screeched and turned her hips away from the man's hand.

"Leave her alone!" Diego demanded. Crane looked over his shoulder, motioning his goon to stand down. The henchman obliged with disappointment.

"Tell me, Mr. Martin," Crane tilted his head with mock curiosity in his orbs. "What would you do?"

"I-I-I would kill you, Bastardo!"

Crane straightened his posture as if Diego's words had some significance, "Hm."

"If you lay a finger on my girl, I'll kill you! If you kill us both, I'll haunt your ass for all eternity!"

Eventually, after a minute of intense silence, Jonathan let out a chuckle, shaking his head, "Oh, I am so glad you said that, Mr. Martin." Crane paced around the frantic man who tried to follow Crane's tracks. One look away, and Diego could be dead. "I believe you would kill me if I harmed your lady. That being said, I can now proceed with a guilty free conscience..." He ceased to stick a hand in his suit.

"Proceed to do what?" Diego wondered.

Crane squatted down to Diego's level and held up a picture at his face - an Arkham ID photo of Kathryn Knightly, "Do you recognize her?"

It didn't take long for Diego to put the pieces together - her identity and her relationship with this creep. There wasn't a minute that passed by when Diego didn't feel bad about driving away without calling for help. He was surprised that these people had tracked him down in a short amount of time. That would explain why Issac was so eager to dump his ashes in the toilet, to think they had mutualbut hateful respect between them. Now, Diego must pay the price for his mistake.

"H-How is she?" Diego averted his eyes to the ground.

"What's it to you?" Crane straightened his knees as he stuffed the photo back in his suit, resuming his cold superiority. "It was you who left her."

"She wasn't alone! She had a friend!"

"Oh? She had a friend with her? What a relief!" Crane threw his hands in the air as he ranted. "No harm, no foul. Suppose it was your woman who passed out on the ground, sick."

"Senor, please-"

"Wouldn't you want somebody to help her? At least, have the human decency to call an ambulance?"

"No. No. I mean, yes! You don't understand! I don't think you would. I'm not using it as an excuse."

"Humor me," Crane challenged dully. This should be good.

"I couldn't stay for the authorities. I..." Diego ducked his head in shame, "I don't have a green card."

Crane's frown deepened behind the mask while the girlfriend's face softened in recognition.

"That's why I couldn't live with you, Rosie. I didn't want to cause trouble for you."

"But you certainly didn't mind causing trouble for your landlord, more importantly, a stranger," Crane retorted. "I don't care if you're Gotham's most wanted; you left her."

"I'm not proud of what I did to your woman! Okay? I'm sorry. I panicked! If I had known that you-"

"Too late for pleas, Mr. Martin. You left Dr. Knightly to die. Now, it's Miss DiCarlo's time to return the favor."

Diego struggled on cue when Crane approached his girl, who recoiled from him.

"Don't touch her!" he screamed. "You son of a bitch!"

"Do you have trouble with your memory, Mr. Martin?" Crane wondered, returning the hand to his pocket. "I told you that no sexual pleasures shall happen tonight." He ignored his half's agony and the men's disappointment. "Instead, there shall be torture, pain..." Diego and Rosie's eyes widened at the sight of Crane's syringe. One of the goons gulped, for he hated needles. What was Crane going to do with that?

"And mostly, fear," Crane whispered as he stared at the needle in awe before turning around to inject the medicine into Rosie. "Mr. Martin, you will watch and do nothing while your lady suffers. What you do after is up to you."

There were struggles and screams. Both were pinned down by their restraints. The needle was poking the woman's neck that's craned far out to avoid the inevitable. Rosie's eyes squeezed tight as she cried and braced for the pain.

"My apologies, Miss DiCarlo," Crane's breath chilled the woman's cheek. "You deserve better. You seem like a nice girl." She cringed at the closeness. She didn't know what was worse - the unknown medicine or the potato-sack creep.

"Though, I must ask, Miss DiCarlo..."

Rosie's eyes bolted wide when the needle pierced her skin.

"What are you afraid of?"

Tonight was indeed a Happy Valentine's Day Massacre.