Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. Writer's block, school,and all. I mean- honestly– I was trying to stay somewhat within the color lines for little dark Dr. Crane– but I had no idea had he'd act after... WinkWink. Tough. So--- there's s'more insight on Melissa.

Also Important: Just so you don't get confused if you can't figure it out-- The first 2 sections are memories that've been dreamed. The last section isn't.

Chapter 18:

Haunted Dreams

"Mom." She whined with a long sigh, holding her arms out in front of her. Her mother walked by, moving to the couch and collapsed onto it, ignoring Melissa's begs. "Mom." She repeated, moving to the couch. "You can't lay down... You have to stay awake. You've got to get ready for work." Her mother didn't answer her. Melissa dropped beside the couch, staring into her mother's blank face. Melissa closed her eyes tightly, rubbing her face in her hands. "The rent is due soon... Did he take the money again?" She was answered by silence. "Why can't you kick him out? Get a divorce?" More silence. Melissa licked her lips, and ventured her voice forward cautiously, "Mama?" The word always seemed to have an effect but Melissa was careful when she said it. She didn't want to overuse it, and have it lose all meaning just like every other word Melissa used to call her mother.

Her mother blinked and looked to Melissa. She gave a weak smile, "Don't worry, Millie." She patted her cold hand against Melissa's cheek. "You should go to school. Don't worry about me, Millie."

Melissa said nothing for a moment, dropping her eyes to the floor. "School's over, mom. Our last day was two days ago... It's summer break." She shifted her eyes back to her mother's. "I told you last week. I told you two days ago. I just told you yesterday..." Her mother looked pale and frail, her hair was a mess. "Please just get ready... I need to leave soon– I've got a job."

"Oh, Melissa. You shouldn't worry about it. You should enjoy your vacation. You'll miss them when you're older."

"I needed it. We needed it." Melissa said in annoyance, in anger at missing the summer. Melissa pressed her lips together, think she had been too harsh with her tone. "Where's the rent, mom? I can drop off the amount we have now at the front desk when I leave..." Her mother closed her eyes, sighing, resting her cheek on her hand. Melissa shook her shoulder slightly, "Dad didn't take it again, did he?" There was no answer. "I can't see why you don't get a divorce." She said somewhat bitterly as she stood up, checking her reflection in the window's glass.

"Being married is..."

"An eternal bond?" Melissa scowled, turning away from her mother. "Not something to be 'abused'?"

"It's important... I'd rather not have all dreams... fulfilled rather than be alone."

"You wouldn't be alone! You've got me. You'll have me.." She said hopelessly, looking to her mother. Her mother said nothing, only gazed at the opposite wall with a distant look on her face. Melissa swallowed hard as she adjusted her jeans and shirt, trying to smooth wrinkles out of them. "Please just get ready, Mom..." Melissa said in a final plea as she turned to leave. She pushed open the door, and called over her shoulder softy- "I love you." There was no answer, not that Melissa had expected one, though. She pushed open the door and stepped out of her home.

The street lamps lit the streets of the Narrows. Of Gotham. Melissa could not imagine what the city of Gotham was like as a whole. She could only imagine the whole city to be like what she had known for her life- the Narrows. Where crime and desperation ran life.

Teenage boys and the younger men were in street gangs, committing all sort of crimes. Some had weapons and some just had things they found on the streets- chains for example. For a time, it seemed to be a fashion for at least one member of a gang to be able to use a chain in a fight, and use it well. Some gangs stole purses, broke into stores at night, mugged, some mocked and raped, sold drugs, some murdered, there was a variety of activities that gangs could kill their time with. Not all were truly awful, Melissa knew. In one of her science classes, a boy that had once sat in front of her had joined a local gang. He had been sympathetic to others, and at the top of the class, Melissa always chatted with him in class- whether he liked it or not. He had always helped Melissa when she asked, even letting her copy off of his assignments.

But then he missed a day of class, which became a few, which then turned into most, which then became all classes- a drop out. She had seen him a few times on the streets, in alley ways, on trains, pursing unsuspecting people on streets. They'd always stop to look at each other, but never exchange words- only sorry gazes for each other before continuing on with their lives. She had once seen him running with a group of other guys, a chain twisted around his fist and the end danging to the ground. Three months after he had dropped out, the class got word that he had been found in the river. Dead. The funeral was a decent size, all with somber expressions- but not questioning ones. His mother was crying throughout and Melissa couldn't push herself to offer words of comfort, even though she knew his mother for years. A few months after that, the boy's mother killed herself. This was the Gotham that Melissa knew.

His face still dwelled in her mind. Sixteen, young and fresh with dark but bright brown eyes, dark, short hair and dimples when he grinned with his constant broad, goofy-looking grin. But then, the image of his face was quickly followed by dull, dead brown eyes, blue lips, pale skin, and bruises on his face from a rival gang. It was the Narrows, though. It was to be expected in some deep part of the mind.

She tried to push his face from her mind as she shuffled along the sidewalks, her hands in her pockets, staring the ground. Work was always tiring and left her with aching, slow muscles. Melissa guessed that it was around 9:15 as she turned a street corner, licking her lips slowly. Her eyes stayed on her shoes– blankly watching one shoe move in front of the other, move in front of the other, move in front of the other. She was too tired to notice was else was happening around her... which in the Narrows, wasn't good.

In the next moment of realization, she was being pulled into one of the small, long passageways in between buildings by arms. It came with such shock and such surprise that she couldn't get a word out. Not a scream, sob, or cry for help- not even a gasp. She tried to pull away from the arms holding her, but was still too sore from her job. It seemed hopeless. No matter how much Melissa tried, though she knew it wasn't much, the arms wouldn't release her. It'd be easiest to just let herself go- let herself fall into the arms dragging her back into the alley. The light from the street lamp at the end of passageway was fading as she was being pulled back deeper. Again, the face of the former classmate passed though her mind- pale, cut, bruised. Her back hit the brick wall without softness- it seemed to knock all the strength out of her.

She gasped, sitting bolt upright in the bed, clutching the sheet at her chest as she panted for air. Her face felt sweaty, her heart was thudding in her chest, her eyes trying to focus on her surroundings. Staring at her blanketed legs, her brain commanded the rest of her mind to go slowly. It was just a memory. Just a dream. 'Deep, slow breaths' her brain commanded. She tried to swallow back her nerves, the fear of the memory.

"Bad dream?" Jonathan's voice floated to her, unconcernedly but curiously. Melissa slowly looked back to him. He his putting a red tie around his neck as he watched her- without any appearance of emotion. Melissa felt her brows furrow, the corners of her lips drop in frustration.

"You were talking in your sleep." Jonathan commented when Melissa didn't reply. She continued to stare at him. He continued to watch her, finishing with his tie. "What was happening?" Melissa looked away from him with annoyance, but Jonathan continued on lightly. "You kept repeating 'No'. Whining it, really. Said it very clearly, in fact. Most other things you said were mumbled." Jonathan could see that each one of his words was like a slap to his face, so he turned around to look in his mirror, his hand trying to push his hair back.

He yet to put his glasses on, but he could easily see Melissa's distraught reflection as she was turned around from him. Jonathan was curious about her dream. Melissa remembered what it was about, Jonathan knew. He wasn't sure why he said what he said, though. He knew that with those words- Melissa wouldn't feel any need or want to tell Jonathan.

He continued to gaze to her reflection as she slowly moved off his bed, his sheet wrapped around her. She moved to grab her clothes carefully, not even taking a single glance at Jonathan. He looked back to his own reflection, his mind nothing that she looked quite vulnerable. Vulnerable and weak. It made him think of his days at grade school all the way to highschool. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to hide under the blankets. Jonathan hated it. He hated that she resembled it. It bothered him. Annoyed him. He wanted to turn around and scold her- telling her not to look such a way. Weak and vulnerable. Didn't she know that those qualities were hunted for in the city? If she'd walk the streets, looking such a way... The result wouldn't be favorable for Melissa. What would he be left with then?

Jonathan almost felt sorry for Melissa. He almost doubted his bargain for her to work with him. He almost the need to be the one looking over her shoulder– making sure that no predators would pounce upon his prey. Almost.

When a few minutes of heavy tensioned, silence passed- Jonathan put on his glasses and looked back into the mirror- to Melissa's reflection. She was dressed, with her back turned to him, fidgeting with her hair. His eyes fastened to her, as he felt his lips yearning to slither into a smirk. It was just then- just as his lips begin to smirk- that Melissa whipped around to him, her eyes wide- "Moron?"

"What?" Jonathan asked with a scowl as he turned around to face her. Did she just call him a moron? Just when he was starting to feel pity for her?

"No!" Melissa said quickly to his expression- "I mean– the guy! On the couch!"

"How much did he drink?"Jonathan asked quickly, the doctorly-business tone instantly appearing in his voice.

"All of it."

Jonathan stared at Melissa for a few moments, then shook his head. "How long ago did you give it to him?"

"Six hours..."

"He should be fine then. He's still got another eight or nine hours until he should wake up." Jonathan hardly finished his words before they heard a loud thud coming from the living room. Within the next second, Jonathan was out of the bedroom and into the living room.

In the bedroom, Melissa heard him shout with bewilderment- "HE'S AWAKE!"