Author's Note Long wait, I know... But- if it means anything... It's a long chapter... Or at least- one of the longest I've written. I think the it is the longest even. If it doesn't seem really dramatic and suspenseful and etc.- I'm setting the scene. That's my excuse: Setting the scene... And there's a brief look at Melissa's past. I'd say something more about it, an author's note to comment about it- but no. Then I'd be saying too much... again: Reviews help. They really do. REALLY do. No fooling.

But- on with it—

Chapter 8:

A Shared Beginning

"WHERE'S THE MONEY, MOM?"

She shouted over her shoulder, kneeling on the dirty kitchen floor, rummaging through the cupboards under the sink. Melissa licked her lips, as she dropped the items she was holding, her dark blue eyes glaring. The fourteen-year-old let out a huff of air as she stood up, turning around to the ugly orange refrigerator.

She stood on her tiptoes, her right-hand grouping over the items on the top of the refrigerator. There were a few small things, a cereal box, a few letters from the apartment building. "MOM!" She shouted again, her brows furrowing as she dropped back her feet down flat against the floor. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hold back her frustration.

Still having no answer called back to her, Melissa walked out of the kitchen in such of her mother. It was not a long or difficult search. The apartment was small and cramped. One main bedroom, one very cramped bedroom (Which was Melissa's), closet, and a dingy kitchen that was openly attached to the small living room. Letting out a huff of air, Melissa stormed down the hallway, and threw the door open to her parents' room.

Her mother was there, staring out of the dirty, thin window to an alley of the narrows below. Melissa stood in the doorway for a moment, waiting to be acknowledged. The mass of frizz and curls of strawberry blonde hair did not bob to turn and look at her though. Melissa swallowed hard. "Mom…" She said as she tried to keep the frustration back, through her voice quivered.

"Where is the money?"

Her mother turned to see at her daughter with her navy eyes. They seemed clouded though, lost, unwilling. "Where is the money?" She repeated again, her eyebrows threatening to sink back into a scowl. "Mom!" She repeated again, her voice raising. Her mom, still with the look, the look that she wasn't even sure of who Melissa was, turned back to stare out of the grimy window.

"MOM!" Melissa screamed angrily, desperately. There was no answer, her mom seemingly had gone deaf. Another huff of air and she turned her heel, harshly slamming her parents' door behind herself.

As her black sneakers took the few needed steps to her own room, the frustration only built. She hated it here. But it was better here than out on the streets of the narrows. Not by much though. Why had her mother tried to hide the money from them? There was no place good to hide the money. They always found it. It was just a competition though of who could find it faster- Melissa or her father.

When she opened the door and had stepped it, she stared at the small room that was hers. A small closet. Her clothes were in small, plastic crates that were piled up, with the open side out, so that they could be easily grabbed. The crates were in her small closet, were her few books also were. A couple photo albums as well of the better times.

Two quilts were on her bed for warmth. Quite an old, beaten pillow was laying at the bed, near the window which currently housed a small spider in the upper-right corner. With the glare still in her eyes, Melissa threw herself onto her bed at the same time slamming the door behind her.

The sound of the slam was like a bullet. The young girl, with short black hair, buried her face into her pillow, crying in silence. The body length mirror, that had been on the door, suddenly dropped- shattering across the floor.

Melissa let out a groan, rolling onto her side, shutting her eyes even more tightly now that she was awake. She pulled her knees close to her chest, and folded her arms across her stomach, letting out a distressed breath. She felt oil and sweat and her face, her head felt like it was pounding, and her whole body felt as if it was being rocked back and forth by invisible arms.

She pushed her legs back down- away from her chest as she unfolded her arms, rolling onto her back again.

Letting out another breath, her eyes fluttered a few times before she finally opened them, staring at the blurry, crème-colored ceiling. She blinked a few times, to get her vision into focus and look to left- closet doors, a small table with a briefcase resting upon it, and then an opened door that lead to a bathroom. Then looked to the right- Three large, fancy, windows with curtains drawn together over them. Sunlight was shining in through. Then she looked to the foot of the bed- a dresser with a large mirror on top of it, and a door that was open only a crack.

Her arms pushed herself up slowly and cautiously and just then, the door opened.

"Ah, Melissa." He said in a pleased way, "Glad to see you're finally awake."

"I'm sure, doctor."

He ignored the sarcasm in her voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Why do you care?"

He stared at her, obviously annoyed, but his level expression did not at all falter. "Dizziness is common. It'll wear off soon. As will the headache. Nausea will just have to run its course. But it's a short course."

A heavy silence set in between them. It was a smothering tension of silence. Finally Melissa spoke. "How long have I—" She stopped in mid-sentence, but her mouth was still open as if she'd finish at any time.

"About two days." Jonathan glanced down to his watch, "You better be getting up. It's a quarter to noon now."

Melissa's brows furrowed questioningly. "Quarter to noon?" She was questioning the time- it was more of a 'quarter to noon- why do I have to get up… plans?' type of question.

He nodded. "This is my lunch break." Though he could set meal breaks, coffee breaks, any kind of break her wanted at any time. He was Jonathan Crane after all. He was the most valuable at the Asylum. Arkham couldn't afford to lose him. They let him have the time that he wanted.

"Why do I have to get up?"

"You need to get fitted… one of my assistants will be with you."

"What?" She asked. Did he mean a secretary of his, a personal assistant of his?

"Well… Assistant isn't the greatest word, I suppose. One of my men will be with you." Jonathan continued on, sitting at the foot of his bed, his cool blue eyes staring at her through his glasses. "He'll drive you to the shop, sit with you, wait for you while you're being fitted, and drive you back. He'll stay here with you until I return." His eyes did not at all leave hers.

Melissa forced her eyes to look back into his, to not drop down to the bed, but to stay level with him. "Fitted for what?"

Jonathan took a breath, held it in for a moment as if weighing his words and then stood up, smoothing any wrinkles he may have from his suit. "A banquet tonight, Melissa for the finest of Gotham. The richest, at least. You must make a great first impression on these people. Especially on one."

"Who?"

Jonathan looked to her. This was the best. What he was waiting for. "You can pick one. But find somebody. I'll tell you what to do tonight." He said as he turned to leave.

"But why?"

He didn't look back at her. "You haven't already forgotten our business deal, have you, Melissa?"

"No." She breathed quietly. Find him people to test on. Find him people that will have a very high chance at meeting death.

"Good." His voice cooed as he reached for the doorknob. "Oh. Before I forget-" He opened the door and looked back to her, "The man that I've told to escort you- I've also told him to do whatever is necessary… He has a gun on him at all times. Don't try to do anything foolish… We don't want people to get hurt, do we?"

"You mean- more than what is 'necessary'?"

He said nothing, but tilted his head to the side slightly with the stern, annoyed look in his eyes. After what seemed like a lifetime of the silent look, he answered- "That's right." He stepped out of the door, "Your clothes are on the couch… Be ready in twenty minutes." Jonathan pulled the door shut behind him.

For five long minutes, Melissa sat in his large, warm bed with her knees pulled to her chest- the dark golden-colored comforter draped over her shoulders. She had been staring the door- waiting for him to come back in. He never did. Her eyes floated to the windows, well, actually the heavy maroon curtains that were pulled over the window.

Swallowing hard, she stood up and took a few cautious steps to the door. So far- nothing had happened. Only a slight dizziness, but nothing that she couldn't push aside. There was no lurching feeling in her stomach and chest that hinted nausea. She felt no pounding headache. Nothing. She could only hear her own breathing- heavy, slow, and deep. Licking her dry lips, her hand delicately reached for the doorknob and she twisted it. To her great alarm- it wouldn't open. She tried again- but no such luck. He locked her in his room! God only knows what his plans where for her when he returned!

"Oh…" She breathed as she twisted the knob to the other side, this time the door opened. She had been turning the knob the wrong way. "Oh." Melissa repeated shortly, blinking a few times, feeling foolish. "Right..." Melissa pulled the door opened and stared up the dark hallway. Up ahead though, in the room that linked onto the other end of the hallway- light poured into the room, onto the clean, pearly white carpet.

Rolling her shoulders, preparing herself for what may lie ahead- she stepped out of his bedroom and onto the soft carpet of the hallway and pulled the door shut behind herself. She willed her foot to move up the hallway, and they did. She passed three doors on the way- one on her left and two on her right- and hesitantly peered into each one of them The one on the left seemed to be a guestroom and a library. There was a large shelf of thick books along the wall, and on the other wall there was a neatly made bed. Directly across the hallway was a bathroom with a large mirror, marble-looking sink, toilet of course, tiled floor, and a porcelain tub. The next door was just a closet which was filled with nothing that seemed interesting.

Finally she had reached the main room- the living room. White, soft carpet, another shelf of books along a wall, a large (very large) television in a corner. A glass coffee table, with black wood going around the edge and making up the legs, was in front of the black furniture he had. A black couch, two black armchairs. There was even a fireplace- opposite of the bookshelf, which was unlit, but which was also white, with black swirls for a trimming.

There was a large patio door which had the black curtains pulled open and looked down upon the frosty city of Gotham. The city's park, along with the park's lake was in easy view. Beautiful view. In the far distance, the bay could be seen. But not the narrows. "Wow." Melissa breathed, her eyes gazing out of the patio doors.

"Yeah, I know." Came a rough and yet smooth voice from behind. A man's voice. He cleared his throat. Melissa spun around to him with wide eyes. His face was clean and smooth. His sandy-brown hair was shaggy but still neat as it fell in front of his hazel eyes. The man's skin was tanned. Could this be the man Crane had told her to escort her? He didn't look like the type that would be carrying a gun with him. Then again- he wasn't suppose to look like one that would. He had to trick the people along the way, and at the store that he was the charming type to take his girl to be fitted for an expensive dress for an expensive occasion. "Nice shack, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Melissa agreed with an eyebrow raised.

He nodded. "Crane told me to take you to get a dress- then wait here till he shows up."

"Right."

The man stayed silent for a moment, but then stared at her with that 'business' look. "He's told you what happens if you try anything, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded, shifting her weight to her other foot.

Just to make sure that she knew he meant it- he laid his black handgun on the white bar-counter he was leaning on. "Don't fool around, lass." He said warningly, "Wouldn't want to shoot a pretty darlin' like you… but I will. Don't think anybody would do anything about it. Corruption, you know. Money. Greed… Fear." A heavy silence fell between them. "The doctor is awfully good at that last thing." He let out a bark of a laugh. Melissa, not knowing what to do, also forced a laugh. A light, uncomfortable laugh. "You will be too from now on… Hopefully… Your clothes are right there, darlin'." He nodded to the couch behind her.

Melissa turned and looked- the same clothes she had been wearing when she walked into the Asylum… before she had met Jonathan.

"You better be getting ready." He said as he tapped his wrist, though he didn't have a watch on. Melissa nodded, as she headed down the hallway with her clothes in her arms. Before entering the bathroom, she heard him say, "You can call me Charlie by the way." Melissa took one last glance at him before stepping into the bathroom. Charlie was throwing on a gray, business-looking jacket on over himself.

Charlie put the gun on an inside pocket.

As they drove up the streets of up-town Gotham, Melissa stared out of the passenger window with her jaw slightly hung open in awe. Charlie glanced at her as they stopped at a red light, looked at her for a few moments with a half-grin, then looked out to the street ahead again. He shook his head and laughed.

Melissa looked to him with a scowl. "What?"

"You."

"What's so funny about me?" She asked bitterly.

"The way you're looking at everything… Reminds me of some kid looking in a toy-shop window. Like in movies and stuff."

Melissa looked up to the light. It turned green and the cars started moving again. Melissa shrugged as she looked back out the window. "Hardly have seen things like it…" The fancy cars, expensive looking stores, the wealthy shopping for lavish things. "I'd grown up in the Narrows…" Then she had been placed in a mental asylum. There really was no time to see this part of the city- where the wealthy played. To see the large houses in the distance in which they lived, past metal gates and fences.

"Yeah?" Charlie questioned, though he seemed to have already lost interest in their conversation. The only words they had spoken for the whole car ride. "Well… at least you and the doctor have one thing in common then."

She looked at him, head tilted to the side curiously. "Hmm?"

"Doctor grew up in the Narrows, too… Didn't you know?"

"No."

Charlie's brows furrowed for a second, but he shrugged as he turned a corner.

Melissa looked out the window as a soft snow started to fall from the sky. She had thought Jonathan Crane to be the son of the wealthy. Doctors or lawyers or something of the sort… But he had lived in the Narrows. In the hard, dark, dirty part of Gotham. That was something they both had in common…

What else could there be?

And tune in...whenever... for the NEXT CHAPTER, which is lacking a title, but will be about the banquet/ Melissa's deal/ Crane giving a small tidbit to his own past to Melissa/ and much, much more!