Francois Dubois wasn't dense and he certainly wasn't naive. He knew something wasn't right. His daughter had been – seemingly – rescued by Jonathan Crane twice in a short space of time. He had seen the way Crane had held his daughter, his arm around her in a possessive manner. Isabelle didn't think anything was happening. She thought he was being pleasant and charming. Francois believed he was being something else. He didn't trust him.

He especially didn't trust him when he found out that he had been lied to. Jonathan had told him they had stayed in the nurse's office for a while. It wasn't possible. Francois had gone to his office after his argument with Isabelle and he found it to be empty. He passed the nurse's room on the way.

He pushed Isabelle for an answer but she said she didn't remember anything. She only remembered being led to Jonathan's car and that was all. He didn't know if his daughter was lying to him or if she was telling him the truth. But, he knew they hadn't been in the office.

"Professor Dubois," Crane spoke as he looked up to see who had walked through his office door. He wasn't shocked. He had been expecting a visit from Isabelle's father. Ah, Isabelle. "What can I do for you?"

"What did you do to my daughter?" Francois snapped, slamming the door shut so that the glass in it rattled. Jonathan loosened his tie slightly as Francois placed his hands onto his hips and looked at the younger man. "I know you weren't in the nurse's station. I came by that way after college hours and it was empty. Now, what did you do to my daughter?"

Jonathan inhaled sharply, removing his glasses from his eyes and blinking into the light, trying to adjust his sight. How he wanted to poison this man with his toxin.

"What has Isabelle said?" Jonathan enquired and Francois felt himself shiver at hearing the man say his daughter's name like he did. It rolled off of his tongue and sounded so slimy.

"Nothing," Francois replied. "She says she doesn't remember anything."

Jonathan hid the snort which wanted to escape his lips as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How convenient. She was playing dumb with her father. She was truly scared of the man. She didn't want to disappoint him.

"I'm not surprised. She took quite the fall," Jonathan said and Francois's hand rolled around, indicating for Crane to tell him something which he didn't know. "No, we didn't stay here. Well, we were here for a while and then I helped her to the car and we sat there for a while."

"Why?" Francois snapped. He didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

"She was still feeling dizzy. Driving would not have been ideal, nor would moving her," Jonathan said quickly back to him, continuing with the writing in his journal. Francois turned a tinge of red as the man opposite him ignored him. "I didn't mention that as I didn't think it was important. I don't know what the big deal is."

"Oh?" Francois replied, his eyes going large as he loosened the red tie around his neck and looked at Crane. "You don't know what the big deal is?"

"No," Jonathan replied, his voice low and full of boredom. "I have helped your daughter twice. I don't see how that could be a bad thing for you. If anything, it shows that I am around for her more than you are."

Francois' slight tinge of red turned into a full blown colour as anger surged through his body and he moved over to Crane's desk, his hands resting flat onto the wood as he leaned forward, their eyes locking. One set held pure anger and the other held vague amusement.

"Listen to me," Francois drawled out, "I don't know what your game is with my Isabelle, but, I am warning you to back off. I have an idea why you're doing this...worming your way to my daughter..."

You have no idea at all, and, if you do, then I will be extremely impressed – Jonathan thought as he waited for an answer. He leant back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap as he arched a brow, waiting for a thorough explanation.

"What do you think I am doing?" he wondered. "I'm the Psychology professor and I can't tell what you're thinking."

"You know she's weak," Francois drawled. "She's not unattractive, either. Any sign of attention from a male is something which she will instantly love because she's never had it."

"I see," Jonathan said, a small smirk moving onto his face and he nodded in understanding with what was being implied. "You think I want to sleep with her, don't you?"

Francois looked away, feeling uncomfortable as Jonathan chuckled and shook his head, placing his glasses back onto his nose.

"You think this is funny?" he checked with him and Jonathan shrugged.

"I think you're wrong. You don't know what you're talking about. I have other things to worry about other than getting into your daughter's pants," Jonathan hissed, looking down his nose as he did so and Francois didn't know what to think.

"I don't believe you," Francois snapped. "I saw the way you held her last night...your...I'm watching you, Crane. Mark my words."

"Consider them marked," Jonathan drawled as he motioned to the door. "I have work to do...if you don't mind."

"This isn't over," Francois promised him before he left the room. Crane dropped his pen as soon as he heard the door shut and he leant forward. This wasn't over, not by a long shot. Jonathan didn't appreciate being told what to do. He didn't appreciate being threatened. He would show Professor Dubois. He would break him. And, he had the perfect meal ticket to do just that.

...

I knew that I shouldn't go back to work, but, my father's constant brooding and question asking was doing my head in. He was constantly asking me if I remembered anything about that night. I kept telling him that I didn't, insisting that Professor Crane was just being nice to me.

I knew that he thought there was something else happening.

It embarrassed me to even talk to him about it. If only he knew what I was thinking.

"Table number twelve," the order was barked at me as I stood in the front of the kitchen of the restaurant I waitressed at. I took the plate which contained a pasta salad as I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and walked through the busy restaurant. My father had secured me a job here as a waitress. It paid well and helped to get me out of the house. It was expensive, too. It was the type of place where you'd find the likes of rich people and socialites. People like my mom and dad.

"Chicken pasta salad?" I checked as I looked at the food and then down at the occupant of number twelve. "Oh...Professor Crane...you're...well...here..."

"You don't need a degree to know that," he replied back to me with a smirk on his face as he sipped on the water.

"I've never seen you here before," I informed him as I set the food down in front of him and he nodded once at me, looking at the salad before back into my eyes.

"It's new. I thought I should come out a little more."

And you so happen to be at the restaurant which I work at? No! Don't think so negatively! Why would he stalk me down? He didn't know that I worked here. Why would he? It was coincidental. Half of the college professors dined here.

"Well, enjoy the food," I said, the towel over my arm slapping against my side as he looked up at me.

"Your father has been persistent," he said back to me and I looked around the room where the manager was stood behind the bar, watching me like a hawk. He watched everyone who was distracted from their work. Crane must have followed my gaze as he smirked once and picked his knife and fork up.

"What time do you finish?" he wondered.

"Ten," I said quickly. "I need to get back to work."

I scurried off, receiving a telling off on my way back to the kitchen as I did so. I quickly moved around the room, depositing dishes of food onto people's tables, wishing the night would end. I could feel his gaze on me sometimes. He was most off putting. I didn't know what he was doing and I don't know why he was so intent on looking. Waitressing wasn't interesting, at all.

Ten finally came and I grabbed my coat, flinging it over my shoulder as I pulled my car keys from my pocket. I didn't expect him to still be there by the time I had completed all the chores in the kitchen. But, he was sat on a bar stool at the bar, sipping on a water as I walked out. I didn't know whether to go straight past him or to wait. It was all too weird. He was a Professor! How many times had I told myself that? It didn't matter.

"I believe we were discussing your father?" Crane checked with me as I paused by the stool which he was sat on.

"Has he been bothering you?" I wondered aloud and Crane shrugged once, seeming uninterested.

"He has had words with me," he admitted. "We should talk in private."

"Okay," I agreed. In private with him was something I didn't plan on turning down. "Where do you want to go?"

"Well...we both have cars and I know a small cafe. No one goes in it. Follow me there."

...

I tried not to lose him on the drive and I also tried to drive calmly, but, I managed to stall it once. I would choose now, of all times, to look like an idiot when driving.

He parked in a cafe parking lot and I parked a few spaces away, taking a deep breath before climbing out and looking at Crane as he waited by his boot for me. I followed him into the cafe and he was eight. It was quiet. There was one man and one woman sat at different tables, books in front of them and coffee in different cups in front of them. He sat us down in a booth at the back, near the window. The surroundings were dark and quiet. The room was small, wooden floors and red walls. A large bar sat at the front of the room, containing your typical cafe things.

A waitress came over and took the order. He ordered a coffee. Extra strong. I opted for a hot chocolate and then we lapsed into silence for a second.

"Your father seems to think that I'm trying it sleep with you," he informed me. Crap. I felt myself begin to hyperventilate at his words, but, he remained calm. Nothing bothered him and nothing ever would, I was sure of that much. He was so collected, guarded and emotionless. I didn't know what to think the majority of the time I was with him. He was too confusing for me to keep up with.

"Well...he thinks any boy who looks my way is trying to do that..." I denied as the cups were placed in front of us and Crane nodded in thanks.

"I'm not a college boy," he replied, his brow arching as he did so.

"No," I agreed, "but you're not far off."

"True," he agreed. "You don't need to worry. Your father is wrong."

"I know," I agreed with him. "It would be inappropriate, anyway. You're a Professor."

"And you're a student," he clarified.

"I am," I replied in a mutter, "only for six months, though."

"And do you not think that this," he motioned to our drinks, "is inappropriate?"

"Yes," I said truthfully and hastily as Crane smirked once.

"So, it seems, we have taken things to an inappropriate level." He chuckled. "Although, this level is enough, I believe."

"Quite," I mumbled in response. He unnerved me terribly but I couldn't leave. No matter how much I wanted to go and stop this relationship form developing...I couldn't.

"So...what are we going to do?" he wondered and I wrapped my hands around my cup, feeling its warmth.

"What do you mean?"

"Do we continue with the inappropriateness, or do we stop?" he wondered. "I already know your answer."

"Then why ask?"

"I need to be sure."

"I..." I trailed off and shrugged once, looking down into the liquid. "I like to spend time with you."

"Do you?" he replied and I nodded at him. He chuckled again and looked me in the eye, removing his glasses as he did so and tucking them into his jacket pocket and loosening the tie around his neck.

"If you don't-"

"-You always do that," he interrupted me and I blinked profusely.

"What?"

"Undermine yourself," he spoke. "I don't understand you."

"You're a Professor. I thought you may have better things to do with your time other than sit here and drink coffee with me."

"I do," he agreed and I frowned. "But, I prefer to be here."

...

Jonathan sat opposite her for another hour, listening to her as she assured him she wouldn't tell her father a thing and he promised he wouldn't say anything. Until she graduated, her studies came first, but, she admitted she would like to spend more time with Jonathan. He had smiled, but, it didn't reach his eyes as he looked at her. He often reached his hand across the table, stroking her cheek softly and he felt her melt into his hold. He felt her lap up the attention which he was giving her.

She wasn't a complicated person. They bid goodnight and took off in separate directions as Jonathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She was messing with his mind. He was with her to get to her father. He was annoying him further. He wanted to ruin Francois Dubois. And the best way to do that was through Isabelle. And he could destroy her too. The toxin had been a moment of weakness. No more of them were available.

...

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! Please, please, let me know what you think, guys! It would mean a lot to me!