I can barely contain my excitement as I write.

Part 5 is also here.

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The comfortable darkness gradually faded, and sunlight poured in through the flimsy curtains on the windows. It was a soft golden light, barely there before the thick clouds in Gotham blocked it out.

He turned; his eyes were still shut but sensitive to the slight change of lighting, even in his sleep. All of a sudden, he froze, realization settling in.

He was not in his room, and he certainly was not in his bed.

He opened his eyes and looked around cautiously, assessing his surroundings before reacting. The ceiling was unfamiliar, and so was the softness of the mattress underneath him. But what took him most by surprise was the person next to him.

As his senses awoke slowly but steadily, the previous night's events registered in his head. He drew in a sharp breath, seeing Charlize's face close to his, her eyes closed, and her hands resting under her head.

Right then, she looked so peaceful that he dared not breathe even, not wanting any slight movement to disturb her sleep. Her hair fell messily over her face and were splayed out on the pillow. 

Very gently, he brushed back each strand from her face, his finger barely touching her.

She stirred slightly but didn't wake up. That peace on her features almost made him envious, knowing that unlike him, a lot of other people could go to sleep without being plagued by nightmares. But as he thought about those nightmares and the voices in his head, a surprising revelation struck him.

He had not had any nightmare the previous night. It was quite rare, but the voices in his head were also silent. All he could hear was the distant chirping of the birds, his own racing heartbeat and her soft breathing.

Other than that, there was silence—an occurrence that he had long forgotten.

He did not bother to check the passing time, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. He had never felt that sort of peace and comfort ever before, and as he was experiencing it for the first time, he didn't want it to end.

But then eventually, her eyes fluttered open, soft brown looking into his cold blue. She blinked to get adjusted to the light pouring in through the window then seeing him, a smile tugged up on her face slowly.

Jonathan knew he was going to remember that sight for as long as he lived. His breath hitched in his throat, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Good morning," she mumbled, her voice sleep-ridden.

A splatter of red dusted his face as her hand gently brushed his hair out of his eyes, her delicate fingers lingering on his cheek. "Good morning..."

"How long have you been awake?" She asked, noticing that even though he hadn't moved, it seemed as if he had woken up before her.

"I don't know, didn't see the time," he remarked, sitting up at last.

She smiled, noticing that his cheeks, ears and even his neck had turned red. "Jonathan, are you blushing?"

"N-no... I'm not," he mumbled, but that crimson shade only became more prominent.

She sat up as well, her arms wrapping around him and her head resting on his shoulder. He froze but as her lips gently touched his cheek, he felt that stiffness begin to thaw out.

He wasn't expressive. In fact, he couldn't be that affectionate toward another person. But the way she effortlessly showered him with her gentle touch, her light kisses and the safe haven of her embrace made him realize that there was a lot he had been missing out on.

She made it seem so easy that if he wanted, he could let his guard down too in her presence and pull her close to kiss her without any hesitation. However, for a man like Jonathan Crane, who was leading a dual life, it was not that easy.

"What happened? Why are you so silent?" She coaxed, her fingers gently twirling through his messy hair.

"I don't know what to say," he tilted his head to look at her, then his arms gently encircled her, bringing her in front of him.

It seemed as if he still thought that he was trapped in a dream, that whatever had passed between them wasn't reality, and he would soon wake up.

For the first time ever, he did not want to wake up if it really was a dream that held him captive.

"You have such beautiful eyes," she breathed, her brown irises melting in his blue ones.

"Do I?"

She hummed softly, her hands taking his face in between her palms. Her fingers caressed his sharp cheekbones, and he leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers.

Right then, he felt they were so close to each other yet so far. He could already see their paths dividing in opposite directions, and even though he didn't want to think about it, he couldn't possibly ignore it.

Deep down, it made him feel guilty. He drew in a sharp breath, knowing what they had between them was fragile and could break the second she found out everything about him.

As a result, those beautiful blue eyes flickered in sadness. He felt he was being selfish, keeping her in the dark and refusing to let her go even though he knew the closer she got to him, the more dangerous it would be for her.

"Jonathan, what are you thinking?" She asked, somewhat concerned to see him looking at her so wistfully, "You look... Sad."

"No, nothing," he mumbled, his hands gently encircling her from the waist, then he changed the topic, "I want to make breakfast for you."

She raised an eyebrow as if surprised, "You know how to cook?"

"Of course. I live by myself; it's part of the charm," he brushed off those uneasy thoughts.

A slight whispery voice broke through the peaceful silence, repeating in his head that he did not deserve her.

Forcefully, he shut it all out.

"Alright then, let's see how good your cooking skills are," she remarked, leaving the bed at last, her hands gathering her brown hair in a messy bun.

His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the bathroom, but then he finally looked at the time and how late he had gotten. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, and he didn't have to worry about showing up to work at eight sharp.

True, he might be needed at Arkham, considering the construction was still underway. But he deserved a short break.

It was rare for him to spend his mornings with anyone, and Charlize was the only exception so far. Thus, for the short time that he was with her, he decided to focus only on her and shut out everything else that rooted him in his reality.

He would deal with the consequences when the time came. For now, he wanted only to hold onto that fantasy a little longer. 

Long enough to have breakfast, indulge in the sheer normalcy of having someone close, and then let go of it all the instant he stepped out through the door.

***

Time stopped for none.

The days lapsed into weeks, and Jonathan didn't really notice as he was swamped with work. However, he was irked that despite the meeting, the Board of Directors hadn't responded. As a result, he did not have enough funds to keep the renovation project at Arkham going.

Of course, why would they care about investing in Arkham? It had no visible profit for them.

Unless he found dirt on them all and blackmailed them to arrange funds for him, there was no other way he could get them interested in his vision for Arkham's development into a proper mental health facility and rehab center.

There was one other option, but he had kept it as the very last resort as he knew it involved severe consequences.

Such thoughts weighed him down as he climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, cursing himself deeply for choosing to live so high up.

He had reached the fifth floor when he noticed a slightly familiar figure crouched in the corner. He paused, looked closely, and stepped closer to the man smoking alone.

"Mister Hanson?"

Miguel looked up, straightening immediately to see Jonathan standing in front of him. "Oh, Mister Crane? Sorry, I... I..."

Jonathan noticed the signs of fatigue on his face, the deepening dark circles around his eyes and the stark difference from the cheerful man he had seen outside his apartment months ago.

Perhaps Gotham had started weaving its gloom over him already and he was finally caught up in the darkness of the city of crime.

In other circumstances, he would have silently passed, leaving the man to puff out another joint or two. But for some reason, he waited, and seeing that there was no one else to eavesdrop on them, he sat down on the steps beside him.

Miguel was still recovering from the shock when Jonathan spoke, "You don't look well."

He crushed out the cigarette, a shaky sigh escaping him, "You're right, I am not in the best of moods."

"What happened?"

Miguel considered whether he should share his worries with his somewhat aloof and sinister neighbor. But then Jonathan hadn't passed him by like he expected him to; instead, he was sitting next to him and inquired after him. Perhaps he wasn't as detached as he thought.

Perhaps he could help him out since he had been living in Gotham before his family even shifted there.

"I've been looking for a job," Miguel spoke up hesitantly at first. "It's been months, and I can't find any stable income source. My family... My family depends on me, and for the past month, I have not been able to provide for them. It... It frustrates me to no end, and yet... I don't know what to do, where to go, where to apply... Every place I go to turns me out."

Silence engulfed them, and Jonathan observed that the man, indeed, looked rather depressed.

"I'm sorry, Mister Crane, I'm taking too much of your time," the man hung his head, his hands reaching up to massage his throbbing temples. "You must be tired."

"What job are you looking for?" Much to his surprise, Jonathan asked.

"Any job. Just someplace that won't kick me out after probation... I can cook and clean, keep accounts, and supervise. Right now, I won't even mind if I get employed as a sweeper. I just badly need a job."

Jonathan considered and then asked, "You are educated, aren't you? Then why look for such menial jobs?"

"No job is menial when you have empty stomachs to feed," he mumbled, a hint of guilt and frustration lacing his tone. "No offense meant, but I really might do anything at this point."

Anything. The word resonated in the psychiatrist's head, and he knew he could relate to that situation.

Jonathan could see very clearly that he was telling him the truth. Hunger and desperation pushed people to their worst, and Miguel already felt the responsibility of his wife and children weighing on him.

After a brief pause, he took out his wallet and fished out a card that he thrust into his hand, "Nine o'clock, my office. Don't be late."

Miguel was taken aback by the abrupt gesture and looked down at the card. Doctor Jonathan Crane. Head Psychiatrist, Arkham Asylum.

Jonathan stood up, patting his shoulder lightly. "I'm hiring for a few positions at Arkham. I sent an advert in the newspaper as well."

The man's hazel eyes looked up at him in disbelief. He stood up immediately, eyes shining with an unfathomable relief. "Mister Cra–I mean, Doctor Crane, I don't know how to thank you..."

"No need. Just show up at my office on time, and I'll see where I can adjust you."

The next day, Miguel showed up at Arkham Asylum on time. Crows cawed from the withered oak tree as he stepped through the metal gate, looking up at the dreary old building.

Arkham Asylum lived up to its reputation as it was a dark and gloomy place, with an architecture that dated back to the times of Old Gotham. At first glance, it looked like a haunted house straight from a horror movie.

Miguel felt a sense of dread grip him, but he knew he had no other choice. With resolution, he crossed the desolate courtyard, climbing up the steps to the asylum.

There was no one at the entrance, but he pushed the heavy door, and it opened. Once he was inside, he was shocked to see the contrast between the interior of the place and its exterior. The renovation was underway, and it seemed Doctor Crane was working hard to restore the dilapidated asylum.

The reception desk was empty, but he saw someone sweeping the halls, so he stepped closer, intending to ask him about the head psychiatrist's office.

"First floor, last room at the end of the corridor," the man replied, disinterested, and Miguel nodded, thanking him before he left.

He climbed the stairs to the first floor and found himself in a long corridor. The entire place had a chilling vibe, but he ignored it and approached the last room.

A silver plate with Jonathan's name and designation gleamed on the old pine door. Taking in a deep breath, Miguel knocked, waiting for a response.

"Come in," the psychiatrist's unaffected voice drifted outside and Miguel pushed the door open, stepping in.

Jonathan was at his desk, going through some files but looked up as he saw him enter. It was the first time Miguel saw him smile, though it was merely a cordial gesture, as he offered him to take a seat across from him.

"So, Mister Hanson, have you brought your resume?"

"Y-yes," Miguel handed him the file he was clutching close to his chest.

Cold blue eyes skimmed over the printed text, taking note of every credential mentioned.

"You have done a course in finance and another in accounting... Very good," he mumbled, knowing that the man in front of him had some skills that could come in very handy. "And you mentioned you could do anything for the job..."

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, "I meant it as a figure of speech. Anything as in any task assigned to me."

Jonathan looked up, his eyes analyzing each flicker of emotion on the man's face, "Yes, yes, I understood that. You see, things are slightly out of hand in Arkham at the moment. I badly need reliable staff, or else it will be difficult to run this place as I intend to. I have gone through your resume, and I think I have just the right post for you."

Miguel paused, just then realizing that Jonathan was seriously offering him a job.

"We don't have a receptionist yet, and the manager's post is empty too. Do you think you could handle both?"

"Both?"

"I will pay you for both your jobs separately," Jonathan added, knowing the man was short on money and would quickly accept, "I just have to sort out a slight issue with the funding. But I won't delay your salary. You have my word."

Miguel's hazel eyes were wide as he couldn't believe it that not only had he gotten hired but would be getting paid for two posts provided he managed both of them.

"I... I don't know how to thank you, Doctor Crane, I really don't," tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he let out a sigh of relief, "When shall I start?"

"Right now," Jonathan stood up, gesturing to him to follow him, "Come, I will show you around and give you a brief of your responsibilities."

***

Fun things coming up in part 6 and spoiler alert, our unhinged Scarecrow might make an appearance very soon.

Let me know what you think about this AU so far.

Happy reading!

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