A.n- Short wait, wasn't it?

Okay. I changed my mind. A small sort of a 'twist', 'left-field' thing now. 'Least I hope it is for you... Closer look at Melissa in the next chapter.

Chapter Seven:

Phone Call

His sandy blonde hair was tosseled by the chilly wind as he walked down the street with a smile on his face. His delighted hazel eyes focusedstraight ahead of himself. It was clear that the young man had quite a great day.

It had started out terrible- He had been waken up at four in the morning by the fire alarm in his apartment building. But, there was no fire- a drunk had been stumbling around the hall the floor below- and had fell, pulling the lever of the alarm down with him. Then, when he finally got to bed, he was again waken up at seven by his boss. His boss wanted him to run a few errands around town, then come into the bar. But it had been the man's day off, but it was his boss asking- he couldn't really say 'no'.

The start of the day had been slow moving. Noon had been no different . Nor was the afternoon, at least until 3:05. At that time, a group full of older, wealthy-looking men came in, all busy laughing and joking with each other, or trying to be smooth with the younger, beautiful ladies that followed. They had order drinks. A lot of drinks. A lot of rounds. They spent a lot of money- and were big tippers. Or maybe they had just got too drunk to realize the amount they had given away.

Shifts were switched- and the young man was able to go home. He had been on his way home, walking down the filthy streets of Gotham, hands shoved deeply into his coat, holding tightly on the tips he earned (over $150). That's when he had stopped, distracted, as his eyes gazed across the road to a small flower cart. His mind was made up almost instantly, and he jogged across the street, picked out ten flowers (two flowers of the five different kinds) and paid for them. After that, he turned his heel- walking in the different direction of his home.

There were more important things to attend to.

Before he knew it- he was on an Arkham Asylum elevator, riding to the third floor. When the bell dinged, and the doors slid opened and he gracefully stepped out as he hummed 'Happy Birthday to You' with a light grin on his face, staring down to the wild flowers. He wasn't sure if they'd let her keep the flowers in her room though. He wasn't sure why they wouldn't, but- this was an asylum after all. Even if she couldn't keep them- she would surely love to see them, and hold them for a few minutes.

He glanced to the desk in the corner. A man was there, but his back was turned to him, with a phone to his ear. He laughed out loud about something on the phone. The young man's brows furrowed for a moment, troubled. He should be calling and answering doctors, filing files, checking on patients- not talking and joking with an apparent friend. But he shrugged it off as his eyes turned down the hall. And without asking his for permission- turned and walked down the hall to the room on the very end.

He looked through the small, but thick window of the door, and instantly he felt his heart begin to pound. It was empty.

He tapped on the window a few times, but it was answered by no one. He tried to reassure himself that she had only been moved. Or maybe she was in a session. So, in long strides, he made his way back to the desk the man was at. He was still on the phone.

"Sir?" He asked, but the other man only held up a finger. He licked his lips impatiently, glancing back down to the hall.

"Sir?" His grip was tightening on the stems of the flowers nervously.

The man sighed, said "I'm going to have to let you go…Alright… Yes… Good-bye." He hung up the phone and looked at him with an annoyed expression- "Can I help you?" He asked with sarcasm of politeness.

"Uh- Yeah… Where is she? Was she moved? Is she with her doctor? I came for a visit. It's her birthday." He asked the questions and shortly explained why he was here in a single breath.

"Who is 'she'?"

"Melissa Cory."

The man turned to his computer, typed in the letters, and waited. "And who are you? Family relation?" He asked, turning his eyes away from the screen.

"Yes. No. I mean…Well she was, or is, my foster sister. I'm Alex Stevenson." The man gave no reply, only looked back to the screen. For a few silents, he stared at it- looked back to Alex, then back to the screen with a questioning and confused expression.

"What is it?" He asked nervously.

"Well, Mr. Stevenson… There are no records of a 'Melissa Cory'."

He felt his heart pound louder as his palms became sweaty. "Melissa Stevenson?" 'Stevenson' was his parents' name, his name. Maybe when they placed Melissa here they entered her under the name.

"Nope. Nothing." The man regarded Alex closely. "No records." He repeated in a tone, a warning tone. A tone that said 'There aren't records, so leave before you get locked in a room here'.

Alex stood there, his eyes wide, his mouth forming silent words. Swallowing hard, he turned away, walking back into the elevator without another word, without a single glance back.

The flowers were left on the desk forgotten.

The man watched as he got onto the elevator, then watched as the light at the top move from three, to two, then finally to one. Cracking his jaw, he took a slow breath as he picked up the phone again, lifting it to his ear. He dialed the numbers to get out of the asylum- than dialed his number.

There was only one ring before the phone was answered.

"Yes?"

"Hey boss. It's me. I'm still at the nut-house." No reply came to this. The man waited a moment, then cleared his throat, "Anyway… We have a problem."

"What sort of a problem?" His voice was calm- but it was obvious he was annoyed and bothered by it.

"Someone just came in looking for your girl."

"What did you tell them?"

"No records."

There was a brief pause in the conversation. "Who came in?"

"Alex Stevenson… said he was her foster-brother."

"Ah." He remembered reading something about her foster-brother in her files, but wasn't interested any further. From what he understood- He was seven years older than her, living on his own, and seemed unconcerned of Melissa's welfare. He had brushed the young man to the side.

"So what should we do, Crane?"

"Do what I hired you for. Take care of him… Have some fun." There was another pause. "On second thought- bring him to me. You can still have some fun- but don't kill him." Jonathan could always use another guinea pig for his tests.

"Now?"

"No... Watch him. Find out how he spends his time… Make sure he doesn't try to find out about his dear sister. Make sure he doesn't mention her to anyone- especially the police."

"What does it matter? They'll probably just figure she was killed." He laughed, "It happens all the time in this city."

"Yes… But if they think that- the asylum might be put under investigation. We don't need that kind of attention, now do we?"

"No, sir." He said as he shook his head to confirm this even though Crane wouldn't be able to see it.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, Doc. That's all."

"Good." And without saying anything more, Jonathan ended the conversation, hanging up the phone.

Alexander Stevenson was an interference with his plans. Crane was determined to not let anything stand in his way of reaching his goals- including the 'brother' of his new assistant. This Stevenson fellow would have to be taken care of.

And he would be.