Have another chapter today :D

/-^l^-\ Following week. Monday. /-^l^-\

Jonathan held his hand out with the letter in his hand as Alison strode down. She took it, seeing that that could become a habit. Some form of communication. This time she took the letter, but next time she would not accept it. Her letter count was at 100 now then.

She wandered into her office and sat down at her desk. She tore open the seal and withdrew the contents.

Alison,

I know that nothing will ever be able to excuse what I did to you. I feel that I haven't had the chance to honestly explain everything to you though. And if you ever decide you want to know, I'll be waiting and I will tell you. You need to physically hear the reason from me, so you know I'm being honest. You're instinct is incredible like that, I know so.

I did not expect you to wake the way you did. I understand it must terrifying to wake up to that experience, only to find out its someone that you know as well.

This was the only way for me to get your attention and if you're reading this; then thank you for doing so.

But most importantly, I have given you this letter for one reason alone:

Alison. I know that you hate me, But I am so sorry.

From Jonathan.

P.S: I lied. You were my friend. In fact, you were very dear to me. And now I miss you. And I'm terrified for you; you don't look well. Please don't hurt yourself.

Clever bastard. Alison sat back and contemplated the letter. At least it isn't Agnes. And next door, Jonathan waited. He didn't expect anything just in case but he never knew.

She never came.

/-^l^-\ Same Week. Tuesday. /-^l^-\

Jonathan never got to the opportunity to corner Alison. She was talking to Commissioner Gordon.

"Nice to meet you. I've heard good things," said Jim, shaking Alison's hand. Alison beamed.

"You have? It's nice to know."

"Yeah. It was recommended that for some of the more err.. high profile," he made a flapping signal, which she assumed was supposed to be a bat, "cases, I used assistance, or even for crimes that don't come easy solved. Basically, I talked to Dr. Penrose and he suggested I have a consultant, but someone who I knew could maybe be on hand. When I mentioned you he seemed quite happy."

"So, I'd literally be categorising criminals to make your job a little easier?"

"And I daresay... help the Batman."

"Ah," she smirked, "I collected a souvenir of the dear fellow," she remarked, indicating the framed baterang. Gordon chuckled. It was a quirky touch.

"Very nice," he smiled, "I'm sure he'll err... love it. So, would you like to try it out?"

"Oh certainly," nodded Alison.

"It's been lovely meeting you Dr. MacLeod. I'll be in touch shortly," said Gordon, standing and shaking her hand, "I must be off. Never mind New York never sleeping - we're the homage of that."

"I guessed as much," smiled Alison, "I must be dashing too. Rounds," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Goodbye," nodded Gordon, setting off down the corridor. Jonathan saw shyly peeping from his office. His eyes wandered into Alison's.

She stalked down the corridor.

"Rounds," she called. Jonathan glanced up, working out what she'd said and then emitted a little 'Oh!' and followed her.

"Are we speaking?" he asked, "did you... you know? Read?"

She remained silent. He nodded in acknowledgement of her refusal to communicate. At least she wasn't running at the sight of him.

/-^l^-\ Same Week. Wednesday. /-^l^-\

"Dr. MacLeod," said Dr. Mare, haunting up. Alison sneered as he approached. "We're conducting sessions where we assess our fellow doctors and I have been given yours."

"Why wasn't I aware?"

"You haven't been here for a year."

"Oh," she said, raising a brow, "whatever. I'm doing The Riddler on Thursdays in room 12 at 10am whenever you come by."

"Smashing," he said in a sickly tone.

He left the room and wandered back into the office he shared with Dr. Brigshaw, who glanced at him expectantly when he came in. She pushed her glasses up her nose, smirking foully.

"She fell for it," he nodded.

"Good. I think we've got her down," she nodded, "nice work."

"Yeah. Maybe she isn't as smart as she looks," smiled Dr. Mare, full of delight at the prospect of getting rid of her.

/-^l^-\

Alison too made it a habit to stay late. Jonathan emerged from the basement, watching as she came up the stairs. She wandered down the corridor and slipped into the front office. Jonathan listened out.

"Never came here. Nothing on record. Is assessment required?"

"I think so. Just to be on the safe side."

"If you hold one minute," said Alison, leaning out and waving her hand at Jonathan. He wandered eagerly down, like a dog being called to dinner, and came to the doorway. She pressed her hand down the microphone end. "It's the Commissioner. Wants someone to assess someone they've brought in," she said, handing the receiver over. Damn it...

She went to step out but Jonathan blocked the way, holding his hand out. He placed the receiver to his ear quickly so she couldn't start a fuss with him.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Crane. I was wondering you have the time tomorrow to come out tomorrow for an assessment of an prisoner we've just brought in."

"Certainly, what time?" he asked, reaching around Alison and pulling her hair clip out and getting a slip of paper.

Alison was so confused. Why did he do that? Furthermore, she couldn't get out. She was low on energy as it were. She couldn't push him, nor verbally protest. He was insistent on blocking the way out.

He flung the clip onto the floor. She rolled her eyes and went to retrieve it. As she bent down, Jonathan for some reason couldn't help but glance at her backside. Jonathan, that's just wrong... she's mad with you! He did what he'd intended to do in the first place and shut the door, leaning back against it. He scribbled down the time.

"Got that," said Jonathan, "bye," he said quickly, hanging the phone up.

"Move aside, Jonathan. I am not in the mood for your stupid games."

"Just tell me if you read it," said Jonathan, grasping her raised wrist.

"Yes, I did. Move!" she hissed, trying to snatch her wrist back into her possession. "Let me go!"

"I'm so sorry, Alison," he sighed, his hand dropping to her waist. She remained there for just a moment, whether it was because she felt she couldn't go or because she didn't want to was unclear. And for a moment, she seemed to get closer.

He smiled diffidently at her, and took his hand from around her waist, leaving her free to leave in case that was the problem. Apparently so, as she pushed him away and left. Alison was, it was fair to say, furious with him right now.

/-^l^-\ Same Week. Thursday. /-^l^-\

The last time, when she received a letter and had exploded over the matter, she had managed to somehow resolve her annoyance with Jonathan at some point. This time, she wasn't letting up on the matter. She was angrier!

But at the same time she now didn't fly out of the lift or sprint up or down the stairs if he was there too, and she was prepared to stand a little closer to him. Her vehemence came across in the way she glared at him, the way she tutted at everything he did and how much of a cold shoulder she was giving him. Jonathan was terrified.

But actually, she felt maybe she might give him the time to explain himself, and familiarise herself with his presence again. She just never, ever, in her entire life, wanted him to be leering over her the way she woke up to find him that night. She had, honestly, trusted him. She still found many things about him irritating, and she'd always loved winding him up but before he did that she had had full confidence in him.

The morning had kicked off in full action. Poison Ivy, who was the most intent patient of all on getting out at present, was kicking up a fuss and so far all the doctors who had tried received a hit. Alison stepped forward. She approached the double doors and stepped through.

"PAMELA!" she screeched. Poison Ivy shot around, glaring at Alison.

"Darling, I didn't know it was you!" said Ivy, the tendril lowering. She trusted Alison. But she knew Alison was naive for believing she understood. Ivy had been there for about a year, she'd learned no one was getting out. Not properly.

"It's Thursday," said Alison, holding her hand out. There was a little blue flower in her hand. "What does it mean, Ivy?"

"Trust... calmness," she whispered, approaching and taking the flower in her hands.

"Do you want to spend some time in the gardens tomorrow?"

"Yes!"

"Then trust me. Calm down, and come back with me to your cell. You can take the flower," said Alison.

"Thank you, darling," said Ivy, wandering after her, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Alison. Ivy mutely followed thereafter and stepped back into her cell. Alison followed in, sitting opposite Ivy on the bed. "Tomorrow, is freedom. You need to apologise to them all if you get the chance, and I will see what I can do. I promise you now, I'm not breaking out trust if I can't do it, I'll come by and explain how things went. If I can't win the situation, I'll try again," nodded Alison, "are you going to stay put?"

"Yes."

"Just remember, every moment you work at getting out and do well, the closer you become to making that a reality for yourself. Otherwise, you're not. You may even have actually spent less time had you not tried so hard to escape."

"Yes, Dr. MacLeod. I guess," she sighed. Yeah, that probably was right.

"Goodbye, Ivy."

"Goodbye, Dr. MacLeod."

Alison stepped out and locked the cell. She felt sorry for them. The accommodation was so poor and lifeless. She knew very few of them ever stood a chance of getting out. In fact, some of them had been released before - but had made it back in. Hell, Arkham himself had been committed here, hence it being run by Dr. Penrose. She'd never seen Dr. Arkham though.

Jonathan leaned against the wall as she came out the holding area. He was playing with a pen in between his fingers. She cast him a narrow, questioning glance as he looked at her. He held his hand out and gave her a letter.

"Is this from you, or from someone else?"

"I think it's your mother. It looks like her handwriting."

"So, you're not just creeping into my bedroom at night, you're now investigating my personal life," she said.

"It's not like that. I've just handed you a few of these and I can remember."

"Viable. So why the other thing?" she asked, glaring at him madly.

"It's not the kind of conversation to have out on the corridor."

"Then we won't have it out on the corridor," shot Alison.

"Will we have it at all?" he asked seriously. She turned to glance at him. "Leave your door open at 6 if you want to talk. If not, just shut it, go home. I'll get the message. But I don't want to give up before I know my chances are out."

"Fair enough," she said, walking away. So, you do have a chance? Maybe so.

Stalker style Jonathan is back! Woo-hoo! Like it was coincidence he was stood outside when she came out of there! :)
(Oh, Agnes is her mums name; she only uses Dad, never mother, mum, ma or anything.)