It's a little bit slow now, but this is a long fic so just grant me the moments that drag :)

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

Alison was late in because of her bike again. Tyre. Again. She went straight to the main office and purposely placed her bike in there, writing her name on a sheet of paper and scrunching it up around one of the handles.

Dr. Penrose was stood outside when she came out.

"Dr. Penrose! I can fully account for why I am late. My bike is in there. Look at the back wheel."

He glanced in and nodded.

"I've just come to say that I will have to conduct more investigating on this issue between you, Dr. Crane and Dr. Mare, however there is no evidence of Elsie's involvement. So you'll be in a meeting tomorrow at 2pm, all three of you. For practical reasons as well as professional ones. I cannot have this in my institution." Whoa, power is getting to your head there!

"I understand, Dr. Penrose."

"Could you inform Dr. Crane when he arrives?"

"He isn't here yet?"

"Maybe his tire blew as well," shrugged Dr. Penrose, "first time he's ever been late though."

/-^l^-\

Alison turned around in the chair when the door went. Jonathan dropped his briefcase and sighed with relief, approaching his desk.

"I am so late."

"Long night?"

"Late... late night," he said, raising a brow, "are you going to ask questions?"

"No. You don't want me to," she nodded, "a meeting is being help tomorrow at 2pm between us four to try resolve the issue."

"You're kidding?"

"I wish I were."

"Oh... well... we'll have to organise ourselves to look absolutely wonderful then," sighed Jonathan, "I'll be right back."

"I have things to do, I'll find you later, Craney-boo."

Jonathan stuck twos up at her as he left his office in a flurry. Alison chuckled and wrote a note to him and left it on his desk. 'Did that upset little Craney-boo? x'

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

"Alison!" called Jonathan. She stepped backwards and wandered into his office. He was stood in the middle of the room. She shut the door and approached. He pointed at his cheek. It was red with a slightly blunt outline.

"What happened?"

"Poison Ivy! Please stop! I do not want that one more time. This time she smacked me! And it burns." Alison snickered lightly.

"Well, you win your way," she said, "poor Johnny."

"Whatever," he grumbled, "I wanted a little bit of sympathy! But you don't care!"

"I do," she smiled, cupping his cheek. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him softly on the cheek. Jonathan was too stunned to speak for a moment.

"Wow..." he laughed. Alison was not in any way outwardly loving. And in a way, it was scary she wasn't afraid to get close to him anymore. He'd solidified his honesty somehow but she was very confused though and Jonathan knew it. She was even just a little bit unstable. He had to be so careful. "Why?" he questioned.

"To make you feel better. Now you're flustered and your whole face is red and you can't even tell that you've been struck!" she grinned, "that's as nice as I'm going to get towards you."

"I'm counting on it..." he mumbled, trying to stop himself from being so flushed. He wished these things would stop happening. He looked like a love struck little boy the way he was going.

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

"I'm still all for having you work for the police" said Gordon, when news of the escalation in situation between the four doctors was presented to him by Alison, "I just thought you ought to know."

"That means a lot to me. It was completely unexpected. I had to take control of the situation. I'm surprised it bothers people so much. I'd have thought it was more about the work."

"We all know half of them are up their own backsides," said Jim, "well, I have been considering where to give you a role or what to have it down as. I don't know if you know Dr. Crane."

"We're... friends," nodded Alison.

"Really?"

"Yeah. That seems to surprise you?"

"No. It's just convenient. I think you might find yourself working with him. Or doing something similar."

"Will I be doing evaluations?"

"Yes, yes," confirmed Gordon, "and interviews, I suspect. Profiling perhaps?"

"Jonathan isn't standing down or anything is he?" she asked. She'd be so upset if he hadn't told her something like that when they were now back at a stage of sharing even some of the more private things about themselves with each other. She'd even let him take a look at the most recent letter from her mum.

"No! He's not, he's just sometimes not available and he purely does evaluations. I think, to be honest, Batman just wants to work with you. I just be clever about the title I give to your occupation in order to have you come work here."

"Oh, what a pleasure," she grinned. "What would I be doing with the Batman?"

"He won't say. He just wants me to be the middle man, which I'm happy to do. I guess he wants your help in these things, even though he's good at it anyway. Guess someone needs to fill his shoes in the day?"

Jonathan entered in quietly and cast her a questioning look, whilst pointing at the door. She waved her hand in and he shut the door behind him lightly, approaching her and pulled her hairclip out. She smirked, trying to grasp it back as her hair spilled over her shoulders.

"Well, I think that's quite noble of you," she said, glaring at Jonathan and tugging on the clip. "I couldn't be a medium for someone else. I hate playing piggy in the middle."

"I guess he helps. He guards and protects, so whilst he's doing the right thing for us, I'm not concerned. I guess I'll tell him I've sorted things out pretty much when I see him next and he'll either put me in touch with you or do it himself. Probably me," Gordon laughed.

"Sounds fantastic."

"I'll speak to you soon, Dr. MacLeod!"

"You too! Bye!"

"Goodbye," said Gordon, putting the phone down.

"You'll take her?" asked Batman.

"She's pretty much perfect, right? She'll help us, she has those savvy sparks which make her fit for the job. Boy, I never thought we'd have a criminal profiler of our own aside from yourself but you're bit of an all-in-one."

"Have you suggested she may need to come out sometimes in order to try help take control of a situation, or that she'll have to analyse crimes?"

"No. I reserved those kind of details until I knew I could definitely take her on. Neat you pulled on those strings."

"It's what I do."

"You're telling me?" laughed Gordon, turning around. He rolled his eyes. Typical... Gone.

"What's with you and this clip?" she asked.

"I think you need to let your hair down?" suggested Jonathan wisely. She giggled a little, "why do you dress older than you are?" he asked thoughtfully.

"To give off the illusion I am. If they see a 23 year old-"

"23? You were 22 when I met you."

"I have this wonderful little thing called a birthday, that arrives annually and makes the total number of years I have lived higher by 1 each year it comes round. It's a bit like a century but 100 times smaller."

"I mean... when was your birthday?" he questioned, biting his tongue.

"Monday."

"And you didn't say a word?" he gaped.

"I don't care," shrugged Alison, trying to pry his hand off the clip.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he asked.

"I don't know. What does 'I don't care' mean?"

"No. But you did ... nothing. You stayed here late!"

"It's not a big deal."

"It is to..."

"To you? Why Jonathan?" she laughed, biting her lip, "because you care? Because you care and you don't want to which it why you stopped yourself from saying it but you know that you did in your head!" she remarked, winding him up but lightly so. It didn't anger him. Crap! She knows what I'm thinking. "Tell me, Johnny... why'd you steal my clip?"

"I... wanted to... I was trying..."

"You wanted to flirt? You were trying to get my attention?"

"No!" he gasped, flustered. He blushed again. Alison flipped her hair back and he tried not to look but she'd done it on purpose.

"I think you're lying," she smiled.

"...Screw you!" he barked, looking sheepish afterwards. Alison wickedly grinned at him, which was - to say the least - a bit unnerving.

"You wish you COULD," she scoffed, "I'm going home, I have some work to do."

"... You're at work?"

"Private," she said sternly, a sudden hard and cold transition coming over her face. He nodded and smiled.

"Have fun," he shrugged.

"Oh I will," hissed Alison lowly. Gosh, Jonathan... it's just not wise to go after her... she's crazy.

Crazy is accurate. If it isn't obvious Alison does have a problem, a mental disorder. Anyone want to diagnose? It might not be obvious yet though, not as obvious as it is to Jonathan who has had more opportunity to observe.