Chapter 15: Gaslight

Elise may have accepted the relationship and swore into secrecy, though her disapproving stare remained as she was getting ready to leave for work. Usually, Elise would be off on Sundays, but the manager needed somebody to cover a sick waitress's shift. Elise didn't mind it as long as she was far away from Crane and earned extra pay plus tip. It had given the star-crossed lovers some free time alone. No rules. No judgment. No consequences.

"If you two are going to fuck, at least do it in your bedroom," Elise looped the purse over her shoulder, refusing to look at the pair; otherwise, she'll puke on the tile floor, "I sit on that couch."

Crane had to bite his tongue, holding back the words of how he hoped she'll have fun with Falcone. He allowed Kathryn to silently respond as she raised her arms and bumped her fists together - her version of the birdie, thanks to Friends on TV. It was clear that she and Elise weren't getting along as they used to. He may be responsible for that, but he didn't care. She chose him over her friend; that mattered to him.

They were cuddling up on the couch, sipping alcohol, and eating leftovers while watching the Twilight Zone marathon. At least one of them was watching the show. Jonathan's arm draped behind Kathryn's head, a beer bottle in his grasp. His eyes shifted to the balcony; the blackout curtains concealed the view. The possibility of being watched beyond that glass door did cross Jonathan's mind. He couldn't unsee the photo of himself acting like a hopeless romantic to another specimen. Scarecrow called Jonathan out for allowing their experiment to become his weakness - the cannonball that shot off the Hessian trooper's head.

His knee bounced, snapping Jonathan's attention back on his guinea pig. Her eyes remained on the screen, but the smirk on her face and her nails tickling his thigh told a different story.

"You know, you almost remind me of Smokey," Kathryn uttered her thought out loud. "He stares outside a lot like a good guard dog. His bark is indeed worse than his bite." His face relaxed instantly while his girlfriend's eyes glistened at the thought of her beagle not being here.

"You miss him," Jonathan observed.

"Yeah. Like I said, he's a good dog."

"Who responds only to his master's voice," his lips brushed her earlobe. His breath tickled her neck, paying Kathryn back for the tease on his leg. "Do you miss them? Your family?"

"Sure," she leaned back against his shoulder, closing her eyes in contentment with his kisses. "There are some downsides to living in a big city. I miss the sun, the beaches, and the free sun tan."

"You ever think of going back there?"

"I don't know. If I do go back, I have to take time off work and book a flight... lose some weight," Kathryn pinched her belly pooch, feeling the wave of insecurity.

"Reduce your soda intake, and you just might," Jonathan suggested casually without looking at her reaction. Kathryn's frown deepened, and her eyes burned intently. She was fighting back the tears while mentally debating whether or not she was getting fat. She knew that she hadn't been working out much - not at all. When she was off work, Kathryn would spend most of her time with Jonathan and sitcoms, sometimes separately. Elise invited Kathryn for morning runs in the condo gym before work, but Kathryn preferred to sleep in. Was it Elise's way of telling Kathryn that she was gaining weight? Why did Jonathan have to say that? Why can't he lie and give his girlfriend the corny reassurance speech like a normal boyfriend? She knew why, but it didn't prevent the stab to her self-esteem.

'Change the subject,' her brain suggested as she set her drink on the table. 'Change the subject, now!'

"I know Florida isn't your ideal vacation place." Jonathan raised a brow at her words. Nonetheless, he silently allowed Kathryn to continue thinking aloud, "Maybe one day when we don't have to hide... I'm sure my family would love to meet you."

Jonathan snorted, "Doubt it."

Kathryn's face fell at his words, "Why not?"

"Well, I've been told that I don't exactly have an award-winning personality."

"Is that right?" she challenged.

"Apparently, I am a heartless tin man who may or may not be gay."

Kathryn snorted at the cheeky response, "Perhaps." His lips parted though he didn't initiate the kiss. He could feel the pattern of her margarita breath, hectic and begging. Her sharp sniffle and soaking wet eyelashes didn't come from pet hair or the change of season. She was crying over her weight gain, and all Jonathan wanted to do right now was forget his situation entirely by her lips.

"But you're still a man with a beating heart, who is trying his best," she finished in a whisper, placing his hand on her chest, nearly forgetting his comment. Anything to help her forget... "That's why my heart is his for the taking."

Next thing Kathryn knew it, her back reclined on the couch with her arms pinned over her head. She yelped in surprise, only for the sound to be cut off by Jonathan's lips. She groaned, turning her head to the side, breaking the kiss. He straddled her hips, coasting his lips down to the neck.

"Why do you always have to be on top?" she demanded, moaning at his kisses.

"It's domination, Kathryn," his words muffled against her flesh. "You don't seem to mind it before."

"No... but maybe one day, I'll take the lead and-"

"The only that could happen is for you to inject enough steroids to fight me, which you won't."

"Jerk," she grumbled, though a smile remained across her face that quickly extended when his breathy laugh tickled her skin.

"Why change?" His eyes examined her body - curvy and compliant - all his for the taking whenever he wished. "You're perfect just the way you are."

She grinned at the corny words that were music to her ears. Oh yes. She forgave him, unbeknownst to Jonathan.

With his free hand, he traced her ribs, earning a giggle from the girl. His eyes locked with hers, and a smirk threatened to creep across his lips. Kathryn widened her eyes and bit her bottom lip, knowing she was in big trouble.

"Well. Well. What do we have here?"

"Jon-" She giggled, feeling his nails stroke below her ribs. "Please... Please do-"

"Well, since you asked nicely, Kathryn," his hand crept under her shirt, moving towards her abdomen.

"Don't!" She laughed. Her face flushed bright pink. His smile widened, tickling her belly, drawing shapes.

She writhed against his hold, kicking her feet in the air. "S-Stop... Please! Please stop! I can't take it!"

Jonathan continued his torture at her belly button but froze at the touch of metal. He rolled her T-Shirt up, revealing a heart-shaped belly ring with a pink gem in the center.

"You pierced your navel?"

Kathryn panted, trying to catch her breath to speak. "Ye... Yeah... Senior... Senior year... Birthday."

"I'm sure your parents were thrilled to see it."

"Mom had a cow. My dad didn't care... What do you think?" Kathryn mentally smacked herself for asking. Why did she care about his opinion? It's her body. She could do whatever she wanted with it, especially drink a dozen cans of Coca-Cola that could make her diabetic.

Jonathan answered her question by lowering his lips to her belly, resuming the girl's giggles. Kathryn swung her arms out of his grip, pulling Jonathan back into a warm deep kiss. The frame of his eyewear poked uncomfortably in the outer corner of her eye. She pulled back to remove his glasses, setting them on the coffee table. It took a moment for her to take in his appearance. Without the glasses, she could trace the high cheekbones and the sharp jawline. His crystal eyes glowed bright, no longer cold. She saw Jonathan as an ordinary man - a normal boyfriend for the first time. A normal relationship that's not a secret. She had almost forgotten how they had to play hide and sneak around the staff.

They hadn't done anything spontaneous at work since Crane had begun his therapy program. This was the most romantic thing they had done since then. She had tried to initiate an encounter in his office, but he dismissed her immediately, claiming they both had work to do.

Her thoughts stopped when Jonathan's lips nibbled her ear, her T-shirt rising higher. No longer in control, she turned her head to meet his lips, her fists clenched into his jacket, shaking it off of him. He was now in his white sleeve buttoned shirt. Seeing Jonathan in a casual dress state made Kathryn's heart race.

Jonathan pulled her upright to peel off her shirt, exposing a pink sports bra with black trim. His hands cooled the girl's bare arms. His lips lingered at the base of her neck and shoulder. She kissed the top of his head, slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. She fell into a heavy bliss of lust. What was happening to her? Almost a year ago, when she moved here, she had never thought about meeting a guy and having sex with him before marriage. What would her parents say about this? What would Elise say if she discovered they had sex on her couch? In all honesty, Kathryn could hardly care less at the moment to answer any of the questions.

After undoing the last button, the shirt slid from his shoulders to reveal wifebeaters and lean muscles. She needed to see more.

Kathryn narrowed her eyes as she found a mark hidden underneath his strap. She moved it aside to see the ghastly three-inch scar at the tip of his right shoulder down to his pec. Crane pulled back to see her close inspection on his shoulder and saw nothing but horror and pity; now insecure, he concealed the old injury.

"Don't," he commanded in a harsh whisper.

"Don't what?" she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Don't look at me like that. There's nothing to dwell over."

"What do you mean? Did your grandmother do that to you? That jerk in-"

"Well, I did say she wasn't nice, didn't I?"

"She abused you, Jonathan. What kind of grandmother would do that to her grandchild?"

"She was mentally ill, Kathryn. She believed that we have to be perfect to earn God's love. She looked at me like I was the devil's spawn. A mistake that my parents created. Though, I can't say that she was entirely wrong. My mother did leave, while my father..." Jonathan closed his mouth, realizing that he had said too much. He refused to look at his girlfriend, whose face softened and her stomach twisted in knots. Why did Kathryn feel there was more to the doctor's origin story? What happened back in Arlen that forced Crane to leave?

"I thought you said your parents..." Kathryn stopped to inspect Crane's expression. A warning glare that annoyed her so much. It was clear that Jonathan refused to talk about them. In his mind, they were better off dead - if they were dead. "I'm sorry. I know that it's your business, and you believe that the past means nothing, but sometimes, Jonathan, it does. It could either make us stronger or wear us down."

"This is not up for discussion, Kathryn," Jonathan dismissed, putting his jacket back on and easing the weight off her legs. "What happened, happened. It's all in the past now; it's over. That's all you need to know. Now, if you excuse me-"

"Jonathan, please! Look, I'm sorry! Okay?" Kathryn pleaded, grasping his wrist. "Please! You don't have to leave! Just forget I said anything! Please! Let's just sit down and watch TV like before. Okay?"

"I can't."

"Jonathan!"

"You misunderstand," Jonathan placed a hand over hers to remove Kathryn's grip on his sleeve. "I must excuse myself to use your restroom."

Kathryn blinked, "Oh."

"Is that okay with you? Must I negotiate my bathroom schedules with you as well?"

Her eyes widened, completely taken aback by that snappy comment. She didn't know why she was surprised, for this wasn't the first time she was on the receiving end of his temperament and insults.

"Do I?" he pressed like a professor expecting a student to answer correctly.

"No," Kathryn shook her head and released his sleeve, pointing at the nearest bathroom in the condo.

"Thank you. I won't be long," for that, Jonathan departed upstairs out of Kathryn's line of sight. Though, she didn't miss him looking over at the blackout curtains again. What could be so significant about them other than preventing the sun from blinding her eyes when she wakes up in the morning? Her breath hitched, and her body jumped when the bathroom door slammed shut. It's official - he's mad at her.

She pulled her knees against her chest, attempting to take back control of her breathing and focus on the show that was rolling credits. With nothing to distract her, she couldn't help but dwell on Jonathan's mood swings, which worsened since he began his fear aversion program. Adding that to his job and their secret relationship could finally take a toll on the poor doctor. Maybe it already had, and Kathryn failed to notice the signs until it was too late. She wanted to help him, but what could she do?

A vibrated phone interrupted her thoughts. Jonathan's phone was left on the table. She ignored it. The caller called again and again - three times. She gazed between the cell phone and the bathroom, debating whether or not to tell Jonathan. He was already mad at her; it was best to leave him in peace for a while. She would want that, too, if the roles reversed. Kathryn picked up the phone to see who was calling Jonathan. She furrowed her brows at the name - Henri Ducard. It couldn't be someone from work, for Kathryn and Jonathan knew everybody there. Jonathan insisted that he had no friendsgrowing up, not even Louise. He never once mentioned the name to Kathryn. So who could he be? A former patient?

After the fourth ring, beginning another, it's clear that the man wouldn't stop until Crane answered. Usually, it would be Emma's job to answer these calls, but she's not here. Fortunately, the chief administrator's girlfriend didn't mind playing secretary. For that, Kathryn answered the call.

"Hello," she greeted in a pitched, sweet tone. Nobody reciprocated the greeting at first.

"Hello? Hello?" Kathryn pressed. Nobody replied, yet she could hear heavy breathing. Maybe this was a bad idea to answer the phone.

"You're not Crane," his deep voice spooked the woman just as she was about to hang up the call.

"No," Kathryn could feel chill bumps coating her appendages. "No, I'm not. Who-"

"I need to speak to him at once." No greetings. No pleasantries. No questions. This Henri Ducard character was direct and...

Kathryn couldn't find another word to describe this man, not yet. She wouldn't call him rude, for she did answer her boyfriend's phone call, which she instantly regretted.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn apologized, "but he's unavailable to take your call."

"I know he is no longer in session. Put him on the phone."

"He's unavailable," she repeated.

"Get him on the phone. Now." Kathryn could tell that this person was getting angry, and so was she. What part of Crane wasn't available, didn't Henri Ducard understand?

"Who is this?" she demanded.

"Are you going to connect me with Crane or not?" he asked impatiently.

Regaining the confidence she needed, Kathryn shook her head, "No... but if you want me to take a message-"

"I'll send him one." That's the last thing he said before the phone-line disconnected.

"Uh... Hello?" Kathryn frowned at that weird phone call. She finally found the right words to describe the man - direct, shady, and unpleasant. What message was he planning on sending to Crane? Something to show Crane that Henri Ducard meant serious business.

To think some time apart could calm a being down and reflect on any wrongdoing. That wasn't the case for Jonathan Crane. As he stared at his reflection, Scarecrow decided to pop up and taunt him.

'Devil's spawn. Devil's spawn,' his half mocked, imitating his grandmother's voice, riling the doctor up even more. 'You are slipping, devil's spawn.'

Jonathan couldn't deny that. He did make a mistake that'll soon be corrected. He'll simply give Kathryn flowers and coke to drink, making the woman forgive and forget.

'Will she? Remember, she is supposed to be a lethal combination of beauty and brains. She will know about us sooner or later, Johnny-Boy. Why not accept the inevitable and finish her off while you still can?'

"I won't," the doctor grumbled.

'Aww, what's wrong? Chicken?' his half was laughing and clucking at him to the point that Crane couldn't take it. Without thinking, the man punched the mirror, which he instantly regretted.

"Fuck!" He didn't feel the pain, but he saw red seeping from his knuckles and glass sticking to the skin.

To make matters worse, his normal empathetic girlfriend heard the noise and knocked on the door to check on him.

"Jonathan, are you okay? What was that?"

"It's nothing," Jonathan snapped, turning on the faucet to wash the blood and glass down the drain. He ignored the scoff from his dark half. As if anybody would believe that line.

"What do you mean nothing?!" she demanded, jiggling the knob and pounding on the door. "Johnny, open the door."

"I'm fine, Kathryn. I'm sorry, I..." Jonathan paused to take a moment to come up with a plausible story. "I slipped and hit your mirror by accident."

"You broke the mirror?!" Kathryn continued her pursuit to get inside the room. "Jonathan, open the door. Let me see."

Jonathan leaned back, closed his eyes, and huffed in exhaustion. He couldn't hide in the bathroom forever - not that he was hiding from her in the first place. It wasn't like he was scared of his girlfriend's reaction to the broken mirror; he didn't want to deal with the big fuss over something so trivial.

"I'm coming," he grabbed a white towel from the rack to wrap his injured hand. Finally, he unlocked the door, initiating his girlfriend to smother him with questions.

"Oh my gosh!" she lifted his bandaged hand to examine the wound, but Crane yanked it away before she could peel the towel off. "Are you okay?! How bad is it?" He noticed that she didn't bother to see the damage in her bathroom. She chose him over a mirror. Anybody would think it's sweet, but Crane wouldn't have minded the alternative.

"There's no need to fuss over me," he placed a lid on his tone, trying his best not to snap at her. "It seems we owe each other a mirror," he tried to lighten the mood, despite the bored tone and frown. Kathryn would've laughed and added another seven years of bad luck. He was waiting for it - hoping for it.

"I'm not worried about that!" she exclaimed, reaching for his hand again. Jonathan huffed in annoyance. "How bad is it? If you need stitches-"

"I don't need a hospital, Kathryn."

"We don't need to go if you don't want to. I've stitched my foot by myself once without any help. I've seen Grey's Anatomy, so I know what to do. I have no problem doing it for you if you-"

"I don't need stitches!" he retracted his hand. "I'm fine! Just leave me be!" He didn't need to look at her to see that she was a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand. Now he was the bad guy for yelling at his girlfriend, and she didn't do anything wrong.

"No," he placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping his eyes closed to take a calming breath. He didn't miss her shoulder jolt from his touch. He scared her; no doubt, his half was embracing it. He refused to get aroused by Kathryn's current state. A normal boyfriend shouldn't imagine his girlfriend shivering and screaming underneath him.

"Don't be... I know you mean well, and while I appreciate your care, I just don't want..." He trailed off to see Kathryn holding a phone in her hand, not her phone.

"Why do you have my phone?" he wondered. Kathryn widened her eyes; they quickly cast down to the device in her hand.

"Um..." She struggled with the words, though her meaning was clear. "Someone - Some guy called. I was going to give it to you, but I didn't want to disturb you and..." She jumped as he snatched the phone from her grasp. She locked eyes on the floor while he analyzed his call history. Unfortunately, Henri Ducard picked the wrong time to call him - four missed calls, yet the fifth call on top stood out. It showed that a conversation did happen when Jonathan wasn't present.

"Kathryn, did you answer the call?" his eyes narrowed at the woman, who kept silent and averted his gaze - she looked guilty, and they both knew why.

"Excuse me? I asked you a question," he pressed, despite the obvious answer. The lid he used to limit his volume tipped, allowing the frustration to lace his voice.

"Yeah..." The response was quiet, yet he heard her admission crystal clear. He scoffed. "He wouldn't stop calling!" she explained hastily. "I figured it was an emergency or-or something!"

"So you decided to answer it? And you didn't bother to tell me first?"

"Emma answers your calls," she shrugged, folding her arms. "What's the difference?"

"What's the difference?" he narrowed his eyes at her, slouching slightly. "Are you serious? That's not your job, Kathryn - that's the difference. What's more, we are not in Arkham. This is my phone," he lifted his arm that was holding the device. "My phone. It's private."

"Okay, well, it's not like you're hiding anything..." she paused, tilting her head at him, "are you?"

Jonathan's mouth opened, stepping backward in disbelief, "I know you didn't just ask me that."

"Who is Henri Ducard?" she asked.

"An associate of mine, nothing more," he dismissed, walking away. She followed her boyfriend towards the couch. The coffee table was their barrier in between.

"You haven't told me about him before. What kind of associate?"

"We studied psychopharmacology together back in school."

"I thought you didn't have friends."

"Just because we studied the same subject in the same building doesn't make us friends, Kathryn." She opened her mouth to ask more ridiculous questions, but he didn't want to hear them. "Kathryn, enough. I refuse to be interrogated by a woman who purposely invaded my privacy."

"It wasn't on purpose!"

"You initiated a conversation that wasn't yours to begin with. You knew what you were doing. Do you have any idea what you've done? You have put yourself in a position for them to..." Jonathan stopped himself to prevent his emotions from taking over entirely. Before Kathryn could ask him to elaborate on the last bit, he shifted the tables, taking the lead as the interrogator. "Suppose I didn't crack that mirror when I did. Hm? What would've happened in the next five minutes? Did you plan on going through my text messages - my calendar?"

"No!" she raised her voice in defense.

"Have you done this to Miss Berg behind her back? Have you answered her calls from those disgusting perverts she calls clients?"

"No, I would never in a million years talk..." Kathryn stopped her sentence for a moment and blinked. "Wait a minute."

"What?" Jonathan demanded a reason for the delay of pathetic excuses. His heart pattern changed as she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "What is it, Kathryn?" he pressed, attempting to keep his tone even.

"How did you know about Elise?" she cautiously stepped to the side, the coffee table no longer protecting her. Jonathan's jaw clenched briefly before he repeated himself in annoyance.

"What?"

"You said clients, not customers. How did you know about Elise's occupation? I've never told you about her."

The man simply huffed in response, not bothered by her suspicious attitude. Did she think he would dare pay money to sleep with a woman who hated him?

"You didn't have to - I mean, look around you," he gestured to their surroundings. "Have you seen her uniform and paycheck?" If Kathryn had seen her roommate's paycheck. "You honestly think she could afford a $100,000 condo, possibly more, with her salary? You're supposed to be smart, Kathryn. You should've connected the dots easily!"

"Hey, I knew! While I don't approve, it's not my place to judge or my business anyway. And she's no prostitute nor escort either. What she's doing is perfectly legal."

"She's a pre-law graduate; she knows her way around the law and your money." Once again, Jonathan turned the tables, interrogating Kathryn with questions when she should be questioning his dishonesty. Kathryn did nothing wrong, especially Elise, even though the blonde hated Jonathan. Kathryn should end the irrelevance and focus solely on him, yet her curiosity proved superior.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Is it possible that she's not paying for this place; her provider is?" he challenged.

"So what?" she shrugged.

"So if she is living here for free, yet here you are paying your half to her... where is the money going?"

Kathryn shook her head, "She wouldn't do that."

"Would she? My god, Kathryn, you are so naive!"

"Me? What about you?"

Jonathan slapped his hands against his sides, a silent question asking, 'what about me?'.

"Jonathan, that guy on the phone," she pointed at her boyfriend's phone that was thrown onto the couch, "he's weird. He said he was going to send you something - something not good... Are you-"

"Am I what?" he snapped. "Am I cheating on you? You really think I'm gay?!"

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" she elaborated, her tone gentler than Jonathan's. The facade in her accent dropped, pretending to be the innocent one and that she meant no harm. She dared to look into his eyes, which were cold steel like the first time they met, only it was much worse than that.

Jonathan shook his head in disapproval. "Kathryn..." his voice became dangerously quiet, "It is insulting enough to believe I am unfaithful while I understand that you have a history of infidelity. Your previous companions have severely tarnished your self-esteem."

"Johnny, please, don't," she begged. Kathryn didn't want to return to the weight gain conversation.

"I'm not done yet," he barked, silencing the teary-eyed woman. "You honestly think that I would risk jeopardizing my reputation, my license, not to mention my relationship with you to gain... what exactly?" She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "No, you are the detective here, not a licensed psychiatrist. You tell me. Could Miss Dawes be correct? Am I corrupt as she says?"

"I never once thought you were doing anything illegal." Once again, Kathryn used her sweet southern voice to make Jonathan look like the aggressor in this relationship. This infuriated the man even more. "I thought someone was threatening you because they're corrupt and crazy, not you. You're scared about something. That much, I know. What is it? You can talk to me."

"Kathryn, you know me." He wasn't scared. He was Scarecrow - the Master of Fear. For her to say otherwise topped all the other insults before.

"Not well enough! I mean, you did lie to me, Jonathan! You lied about your parents."

"Sue me," Jonathan challenged as he picked up his phone and coat resting on the couch. "And have Miss Dawes represent you."

"Jonathan, where are you going? Jonathan, wait! Don't go!" Kathryn begged, once again, chasing him to the door.

"No, Kathryn," Jonathan continued without looking back, not allowing his clingy girlfriend to get in the way. "I will not stand here and let you violate me, accuse me, and ridicule me. I have so much on my plate, and I don't need you breathing down my neck, either. I'm done."

Questions and horrible thoughts were running through the woman's head. Her professional self, with a degree, screamed at Kathryn to stop. Kathryn imagined the color of his dress shirt turning bloody red. Everything he demonstrated today made him become a walking red flag. If Elise was here, she would've told Kathryn as much and won't sugarcoat it. She didn't dare think about her mother's reaction to this incident.

However, if Kathryn stayed and let him go... Where would that leave her? Was she forced to endure the process of heartache again? Must she swear off a chance of happiness permanently from one fight? Was she destined to gain weight and acne and spend the rest of her days watching soap TV like her mom and sister? No. She couldn't think of anything other than holding on to this man and never letting go. If she must grovel and plead guilty to a false crime, she will. Love was all about giving, and she loved him.

"Jonathan, I'm sorry!" her voice cracked, tears descending her face, which she stubbornly wiped away. He didn't look at her, not yet. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you. I'm sorry for breaking your trust. I promise to never question your loyalty or your past again."

Jonathan sighed in exhaustion and finally stopped by the door. He could feel her hands on his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his jacket, "Kathryn, let go of me."

"Please, I just wanna hug you and say bye."

"Would you want a hug if you were in my position?" That forced Kathryn to release his shoulders reluctantly.

"Thank you," the man said quietly, relieved that he didn't have to shove her off him.

"I'll give you all the time you need," she offered. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, not even at work."

"Good." Bringing personal matters into a workplace was indeed unethical.

"We don't even have to acknowledge each other if you don't want to. We can skip our morning coffee, so you don't have to see me. Whatever it takes. Please, just don't hate me."

"Don't be so dramatic, Kathryn," Crane didn't leave without giving his sweet, hysterical girlfriend one last parting look and statement equivalent to a snake bite. "I don't hate you." That was comforting, though it didn't shake off the possibility that their relationship could end because of her recklessness and trust issues.

"I care about you, Jonathan. You are wonderful, more than you realize, and you deserve everything. You deserve someone loving and trusting - and I violated your trust, and I have to work hard to earn it back. I know that. Please... I don't wanna lose you." Kathryn didn't expect to hear empty comfort from him - a white lie saying they'll work everything out. Instead, Jonathan said he would see her at work - not the cafe for their morning coffee and croissants - work - as he went out the door, leaving her alone to kick herself and break down in tears.

...

Jonathan exited the building, retrieving the keys from his pocket. The full moon was out; the streetlights switched on. Tonight was exhausting. It wasn't easy nor pleasant, yet it had to be done for her protection. If Henri Ducard knew about Kathryn, he would use her to get to Crane. A simple yet effective motivation to keep going with the project.

Experimenting with a list of formulas became more accessible now that the board had approved the therapy program. One successful test was all Crane needed to do; then, he'll be free to do however he wished, starting with Kathryn by making it up to her with sweet words and dinner.

"Well, well, well! What are the odds of meeting you here."

Jonathan stopped his train of thought and ceased his step, yet he didn't turn around to acknowledge the creep waiting outside the door.

"Hi!" Jack Ryder knew where Jonathan lived and worked. It wasn't a surprise that he followed Crane to his girlfriend's condo. How he managed to access the gate undetected remained a mystery. Jonathan should've known better. However, up until now, there was no need to be careful anymore. This guy stalked the couple for months, then sent Falcone the photo album for blackmail.

"Mr. Ryder," Crane greeted in boredom without looking back.

"Oh!" Jack's face beamed happily, "You know my name. Well... My face is all over the news, which kinda makes me famous now, huh? Hey! That stain on your suit is gone. Now I know where to go for dry cleaning."

The doctor continued walking, yet it didn't stop Jack from talking and following him to his car. "So, how's the girlfriend? Did the hunky Doctor Crane get some cream pie tonight or what?"

If you ignore someone, they will eventually go away. Believing that Jack would go away was wishful thinking - the term didn't exist in this city.

"Uh, hey!" he sounded offended, though his cheery grin and attitude remained. "You know it's rude to turn your back on someone when they're talking to you, right?"

"You don't say?" Crane asked sarcastically, still not looking at the cameraman. "Did your mother teach you that? Has she also taught you it's rude to peep inside the women's restroom?"

"Hey, you got it all wrong, man. Summer and I - we... we - look at me for one motherfucking minute!" Jack grabbed Crane's arm to turn the doctor around and face his snarl, which quickly dropped as their eyes met.

Jack laughed, then cleared his throat sheepishly, "Whoo, didn't expect that to come out. I'm so sorry. That's no way to talk to a human being, is it?" It seemed there was a Mr. Hyde in Jackyl after all. No different from Scarecrow becoming a part of Jonathan Crane.

"Relax," Jack cooed, placing his hands on Crane's chest. "I've come in peace," he kissed his two fingers, offering a peace sign to Jonathan, who remained silently cautious. "No dead birds. No porn pics. No news stories about a kid with daddy issues. Just me chatting with my new BFF." Crane narrowed his eyes at the creeper's hands that slid up to his shoulders. Jack laughed again, dusting the germs off Crane's jacket before backing away with his hands up.

"Look..." Jack tried again, more calmly, now that he had received Jonathan's undivided attention. "You don't know the whole story about Summer and me, alright? No one does. What you heard-"

"It doesn't matter what I heard," Jonathan dismissed. "You are a wanted man, Mr. Ryder, and you are making things worse by pulling off these stunts. Leave me be, and I'll pretend you don't exist. Believe me; it won't be hard." Crane opened his car door only for Jack to slam it shut. The doctor huffed in dismay, demanding Jack's purpose for his presence.

"First, about the cream pie?" Jack teased with a naughty smirk. "How was she?"

"We didn't have sex," Crane replied in boredom, swallowing back his lunch.

"Oh, is she some kind of Virgin Mary or something or - whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" He slid closer to Crane when he picked up something significant. "What happened to your hand?" Jack wondered, noticing the bloody towel in Jonathan's grasp. Crane didn't answer, for it wasn't the cameraman's business. However, it didn't take long for Jack to connect the dots.

"Uh-oh. Uh-oh," Jack teased mockingly, not taking the doctor seriously despite the evidence. "Daddy's gotta temper. Should I be scared?"

"Would you like to find out?" Crane challenged, earning a laugh from the creepy man and his dark half.

"Ooh, kinky," Jack cooed. "From someone who is supposed to be boring, you sure are feisty! I can see why the cat stuck around."

"If you must know..." Jonathan doubted it would work, but he had to try for Kathryn's sake, "Doctor Knightly and I broke up."

The camera guy raised his brows in disbelief, "Really? Gee. Wow... um... I'm really sorry to hear that."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, "Sure, you are."

"No, I am," Jack insisted, patting the man's shoulder. Jonathan closed his eyes, pretending to be anywhere but here. If only he could use his extended vacation time. "I get it. It hurts - I know. I've been there. I was there. The pain is worse compared to your bloody knuckles." Despite the creeper's character, Jonathan believed Jack to be sincere. The cameraman did love Summer, obsessively so.

"No need for sentiment, Mr. Ryder, for we are not friends." That statement raised the creeper's brow. Did this man truly believe they were friends? "We are not alike. My breakup is not bad news for me, per se, but yours and Mr. Falcone."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me, the main-main reason for my visit. So I - uh..." Jack paused to scratch his nose, "I had breakfast with Uncle Knox today - before he paid me to keep out of his name and business. Anyway, he told me what Falcone had told him, who heard it from the cop. You remember Flass, don't you? He and his partner showed up at your cuckoo workplace to question you about-"

"Yes, I remember the drunk."

"Oh, good. Anyway, Uncle Knox provided me the inside scope, and believe me, it was juicy," the cameraman licked his lips and couldn't stop smirking as if he was keeping a secret that was so obvious, "Would you like to know what he said?"

"That I gave your name away to the police? No need, Mr. Ryder; that rumor is correct."

Jack gasped in mock horror, "Oh, Johnny-Boy! You naughty boy. To think we were BFFs."

"The next time you send me photographs, make sure your name isn't on them."

"Ahh," Jack understood, nodding his head and wagging his finger. "Fiesty and clever, and to think women are the only species who got the best of both worlds. Maybe I should expand my tastebuds after all," Jack purred and roamed his eyes up and down Crane's body. Meanwhile, Jonathan tried his best to keep his breathing and face neutral. He could almost hear himself gagging, or maybe it was Scarecrow.

"Do what you will, for I am nothing to Doctor Knightly now as much as she means nothing to me," Jonathan shifted back to the subject at hand. "You can't hurt her to get to me, so do what you want with me... Just leave her alone."

"Aw..." Jack's sorrowful face quickly lit up, igniting another laugh that raised Jonathan's blood pressure. This scenario almost seemed familiar to Jonathan. The cameraman wasn't taking the doctor seriously as he should. Many paid a high price for that mistake, though Crane wasn't sure whether or not John Doe endured his punishment.

"Oh, Johnny," Jack shook his head, repeating the name three times. "Did you have a brain fart just now? You're supposed to be clever. Did you think Falcone can't hurt her just because you two split? Sorry, Johnny-Boy. That's not how Gotham works. That girl up there may not give a shit about you, but it doesn't mean it's mutual, for you wouldn't have offered yourself in the first place." Jonathan would've been impressed by the observation if it wasn't for the current situation.

"You're lucky to be under the same wing as I, Mr. Ryder; otherwise, I would have you strapped to my table-"

"Ooh!" Jack cooed.

Jonathan returned the smirk for a sadistic reason, "And perform ECT."

Jack chuckled, though his blinking eyes expressed confusion, "ECT?"

"Shock therapy," Jonathan explained. "It is designed to create electrical currents through the brain that could potentially reverse severe mental health symptoms."

Jack nodded in understanding, giving him the thumbs up, "Got it."

"However, every procedure has risks, such as seizures, memory loss... if you're lucky, your doctor might remember to give you anesthesia beforehand... or not."

"Oh. Wow," the cameraman awkwardly cleared his throat, loosening up his tie. "Sounds dangerous..." that should make him feel uneasy. Now, he could finally leave Crane and Kathryn alone. "Fiesty, clever, and dangerous - what combo." Almost. Jack grinned, earning an eye roll from Crane.

"But I know you wouldn't do that to me. We are BFFs, after all," Jack declared, playfully hitting Crane's shoulder. "Now, since the girl is supposedly single," his eyes cast a few stories upon Kathryn's building, "maybe I can try taking a stab at her once I'm clear of any wrongdoing, of course."

"Sure. Good luck with that," Jonathan shrugged. His face and voice didn't give anything away.

"I must know since you're the expert and all... is she truly a Virgin Mary, or did she spread her legs like a bitch on-"

Jonathan didn't allow Ryder to finish his inappropriate question, for he instinctively swung and hit Jack square in the face. Jack was no longer holding the door, allowing Jonathan inside his car.

The psychiatrist hissed at the stinging, throbbing sensation on his injured hand, removing the towel from his hand to briefly examine the bruising and open wounds. Fortunately, Jonathan didn't need stitches, just hydroperoxide, ice, and a wrap. He could hear the neighbors' mixed reactions from their balconies. Jonathan paid no mind to them nor the bleeding man nearby.

"You son of a bitch! I think you broke my nose!" Jack sniffled and dabbed his nostrils with his fingers, creating a bloody mess. "You should've told me you wanted to join! We could've had a threesome!" Seeing Jack in that state was indeed satisfying and definitely worth another injury. Jonathan could see why Billy and the million other bullies around the globe took pleasure from it.

"First and only warning, you fucking creep. Stay away or die - your choice," the doctor backed out of his parking spot and sped away. Little did he know that the petite girl was watching the scene unfold upstairs.