Heheheh enjoy.

I won't say anything further or else it will spoil all the fun.

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Jonathan wasn't avoiding her after that first kiss in his office.

He had mixed feelings about it but wasn't intentionally shutting her out. He had just gotten so busy with his already hectic life that he couldn't make time to see her often.

A new opportunity opened up for Jonathan soon after getting permanent status as a psychiatrist in Arkham. The former head psychiatrist resigned unexpectedly, and Jonathan was offered the job as the only member capable of taking that role.

Thus, Jonathan was promoted to the post of head psychiatrist at Arkham in a surprisingly short time. 

Being the head psychiatrist meant he got to have his own office at Arkham, more liberty with how he treated patients, a respected stance in the court regarding criminal sentences, and fewer meddlesome inspections. It also meant he was now full-time employed in Arkham and had no time or obligation to deal with patients in that small office at Robinson Plaza.

His responsibilities had increased, and as soon as he got that position, he plunged into changing things to be better than earlier. Arkham was no wonder a godforsaken place with no real management and no prospects. But Jonathan intended to change that.

He saw potential in that rundown asylum, and unlike the previous head psychiatrist, he was willing to dive deep and transform the dilapidated setup inside out, no matter how impossible it might seem.

As a result, he now spent most of his time at the asylum, not returning home even for days at a stretch. An extensive laboratory was under construction in the basement, and he was recruiting more staff with every passing day. For the first time in years, it felt like Arkham Asylum had gotten the long-due attention.

It was not part of his duties, but there was no one to question him, and he quickly usurped the nonexistent management and administration as well, taking every responsibility on his shoulders. There would be no more escapades, no more interferences, and he would ensure that, just like any other mental health facility, Arkham would also be recognized as a proper institution and not just a rusted chicken coop for incorrigible criminals.

He had returned to the Narrows after four long days, exhausted and thoroughly worn out. His basement laboratory was in the final stages of its construction, and he couldn't get time to go home as he was always needed at the asylum. The funding for his new vision for Arkham was an issue; however, he had a meeting with the Board of Directors the next day about the required finances.

Before that crucial meeting, he had to rest and rejuvenate himself so he wouldn't mess anything up out of exhaustion. In the past few weeks, he was so occupied that he had almost forgotten about Charlize Thorne, as he never got time to think about the rarely pleasant aspects of his life.

Deep down, he felt guilty, knowing full well that it would seem he was intentionally ignoring her. But now, as he looked at his phone and saw the lack of a text or a call from her, a weary sigh escaped him, and he collapsed on his bed, letting the exhaustion consume him.

They were both destined for different things; he tried to reason with himself, and it was better if he stayed away from her. As it happened in the rare moments when he was all alone with no distractions, his thoughts would start to drift toward her again. The softness of her lips and her palms cupping his face, the gentle voice that could easily bring him out of the incessant noise in his head and those deep brown eyes that seemed to light up in his presence.

He let out a defeated sigh, picking up his phone again. He knew he had to talk to her, but how he would initiate a conversation after weeks of radio silence was an issue in itself.

He was about to call her when the doorbell rang, interrupting him. He ignored it at first but then on the second ring, he stood up, an irritated groan escaping him as he put his phone down and went outside to check.

"Yes?" He opened the door but was met by an unexpected sight.

A young couple was standing outside, and he racked his brain to remember if he had seen them before but couldn't. The man was tall with hazel eyes and sandy brown hair, and the woman was holding a baby in her arms while two children, a boy and a girl, tottered around them happily.

"We shifted into the apartment next door a few days ago," the man said, extending his hand toward Jonathan. "Miguel Hanson. This is my wife, Gloria, and these little kiddos are Molly, Gregory, and Seth."

Jonathan looked at the extended hand, considering whether to shake it or politely decline. However, something about the man, maybe his frankness, struck him.

Reluctantly, he shook his hand and nodded his head to Gloria in acknowledgment, "Jonathan Crane."

He subconsciously tuned out the man's voice, recognizing the excitement of someone who had just moved into a new city. In that case, Miguel was in for a rough awakening because there was absolutely nothing exciting enough about Gotham. Jonathan could almost see that happiness eventually fading from his face as the gloominess of the city would most definitely grip him, too.

It was only a matter of time. It happened to everyone; Miguel would be no exception, he thought.

In his head, a clock was ticking, and he was waiting for the time when his new neighbors would finally excuse themselves. Outwardly, he maintained a calm demeanor, giving the impression that he was listening to the young man, but deep down, he wanted them to leave.

However, something small and prickly brushed past his knee, and as a reflex, his hand shot out to catch the little boy who had dived toward the half-open door. Holding him by the scruff of his neck, Jonathan put him down on his feet at a considerable distance from his apartment's entrance, shutting the door behind him.

"I am so sorry," Gloria apologized for her son's attempt to dash in, "Greg, come here this instant!"

"My apartment is a mess at the moment," Jonathan's tone was unaffected, dismissing the apology as he elaborated, "I'm afraid I haven't cleaned up since I just returned this afternoon, or I would have invited you in."

"Oh no, not at all. We just wanted to introduce ourselves," Miguel smiled, "since, as neighbors, we should be aware of one another. Though we'd be glad if you could join us for tea... Someday, I mean." He added, noticing just then that Jonathan might have other work to do, and he was only standing there out of courtesy.

He managed a polite smile, "Some other day, Mister Hanson, thank you. Now, if you don't mind..."

"Of course, of course, we won't keep you any longer," Miguel's face flushed slightly. "It was nice meeting you, Mister Crane."

He nodded, dipping his head in a farewell gesture as he watched them walk off to the apartment next door.

Neighbors. And that too with children.

He would have preferred it more if the apartment next to his remained empty as it had been for the last year. Now that he had neighbors, he wouldn't have the same freedom and privacy that he enjoyed earlier since most apartments on his floor were abandoned.

At first glance, the Hansons seemed like good people, although they were a bit too friendly for his liking. He felt he would have to be careful with experimenting in his lab at home and think of another way to exhaust the chemical fumes produced in his home laboratory to avoid making his neighbors suspicious.

Judging by how quick and eager the boy Gregory was to burst in through the door, he would also have to ensure that his apartment remained locked at all times, doors and windows combined, to prevent any unwanted incident.

Children were synonymous with incidents, and it seemed his newly shifted neighbors had kids he should always be cautious of.

He sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked in and shut the door behind him, turning in the lock.

When he came back to his room and saw the phone on the bed, he recalled he had been about to call Charlize. A soft hiss escaped him as he thought whether or not to go along with his initial decision.

Should he call her, or could he put it off until later?

After sufficient contemplation, he sent her a text, letting her know that he had been extremely busy at Arkham after his promotion and couldn't reach out to her in the past few weeks. Her response to that text would decide what stance he had to take next.

Eyes skimming over the words once again, he finally hit send. Then he put his phone down, stretched himself out on the bed and closed his eyes.

God knew he needed a nap.

***

Initially, Charlize hadn't thought much of Jonathan Crane's abrupt disappearance and lack of contact. She knew he was reclusive and extremely occupied, running a tight schedule with his job at Arkham and the consultancy hours at his office.

But she was somewhat concerned when she went to his office at Robinson Plaza one day and found an Available for Rent board hanging there.

A few days passed without a sign of him, which further perturbed her. But when she received a text explaining that he had been busy with Arkham as he had taken charge as the head psychiatrist, she understood the reason behind his lack of communication.

He had asked her to drop by Arkham whenever it was convenient for her since he had made significant changes to the system the asylum was run on and wanted a second opinion.

She thought about how to reply and then asked if he would like to have dinner with her sometime. They had a lot to catch up on in those few weeks, and she doubted they could converse freely at his workplace.

A few hours later, Jonathan texted in affirmation. As a result, she was now waiting for him at a restaurant, dressed in an emerald green dress with her hair woven in a loose braid. Her eyes flickered to the clock before drifting toward her phone.

He was late.

At last, she spotted him, and as soon as he caught sight of her, an apologetic smile took over his features. His face was flushed, and it seemed as if he had hurried there as his hair wasn't set immaculately as usual. He was also not wearing those thin rectangular specs that gave him the air of a dignified yet highly judgmental person.

Without the spectacles, he looked much younger. His blue eyes stood out even more, accentuated by the high cheekbones and dark hair framing his face.

"I am terribly, incessantly, immensely sorry," he used three adjectives altogether in a sentence, fumbling over his words as he stood before her.

A smile flickered on her face, and she shook her head, "It's not a problem. Please, sit down."

He pulled out the chair and settled in, although the red tinge of embarrassment or possibly something else lingered on his cheeks. She noticed he was rather formally dressed despite the lack of spectacles and couldn't help but ask about it.

"It seems like you're coming here straight from a formal event," she remarked, eyes taking note of the crisp navy suit and the tie.

"Formal event? Certainly not. Although I am coming straight from a meeting with Arkham's board of directors. A rather boring affair, I may add."

He signaled for the waiter to take their order, and it took them a few minutes to decide what to eat. Eventually, the waiter left, and by then, Jonathan had somewhat grasped his surroundings, relaxing into regular conversation with her.

By then, she had observed that he always took roughly ten minutes to readjust to her each time they met. For the first ten minutes of the meeting, he would be awkward—adorably nervous even—with his fumbled words and flushed face. But after that time stamp crossed, he would let go of the tension building inside him, gradually easing in her company.

Halfway through their time together, he would get well-adjusted, even making jokes or mildly flirting with her. It was a fixed behavioral pattern that she had noted in him but never got to ask him about it.

Besides, she didn't want to give him the impression that she was silently evaluating him. He was no longer just a colleague; he was transitioning slowly into a case study for her, as it was very rare even for psychiatrists to come across such an intriguing personality.

"So now you are Head Psychiatrist Jonathan Crane," she remarked. "Congratulations; I didn't get to say it earlier."

"Thank you." He interlaced his fingers, leaning slightly closer as always when something about her interested him. "Everything has happened too fast for my liking. But a good opportunity is not something to pass over."

"True. Judging by how passionate you are about your work, I'm sure you're exactly what Arkham needs at the moment."

His face colored slightly but soon returned to the usual pallor, "I'm glad you think so. For the longest time, Arkham has been sidelined into a prison complex rather than the mental health facility it was planned to be. I wish to bring that status back and possibly do more to reinstate it."

"Hence this boring meeting with the Board of Directors?"

"Exactly. One man alone can't change the entire system, but he can convince others to be on his side if he is persuasive enough."

Their food arrived, but their conversation continued without any disruption.

"So, what's new with you these days?" Jonathan asked. "It has been long since we last met, although I admit it's entirely my fault.

"Oh please, don't blame yourself. I've been busy, too. For the time being, I've joined Gotham University's psychology department."

Something flickered in his eyes—a bitter recognition—and he interjected, "Doctor Hargrave's department."

"Yes. But he's close to retirement age, and the university needs more faculty nowadays, so I didn't pass on this opportunity either."

He raised an eyebrow but then smiled, the hostility that had touched him upon recalling Hargrave dissipating. "I hope if you ever become the head of the psychology department, you'd revoke the pointless theoretical research clauses in their code."

"We'll see about that, although currently, I don't have the power to do so."

"Of course. Just a proposition for the future, don't you think?" But then he conveniently changed the topic, telling her about the renovation he had initiated at Arkham.

Time ticked by, and neither of them felt bored even for a second in the other's company. Jonathan was starting to realize what a great blessing it was to be understood and appreciated, a feeling that he had been deprived of for the longest time.

Every human seeks a genuine connection; the words of his psychology professor from KSU resonated in his head.

At that moment, he could recall Maslow's hierarchy of needs and how love and belongingness were at the third tier. After physiological needs and security, the third fundamental tier was a human emotional need for interpersonal relationships, affiliation and connection.

He hadn't believed in it earlier, feeling he could exist just fine without any such connection but ever since he met Charlize, his perspectives had started to differ slightly.

He would never go that far with anyone but Charlize made him reconsider all his prior reservations thoroughly. Something about her drew him in like a moth to flame such that all his former indifference and detachment crumbled away in her presence.

He didn't want to think about the reason she made him feel that way, fearing that the answer would amount to something that he was afraid to admit.

Deep down, he feared he was falling in love with her. Because when she put her arms around his neck and looked at him with her beautiful brown eyes, there was nothing else he could think about.

Their dinner date should have come to an end when he dropped her off at her place. But she didn't leave his car immediately and turned to look at him, making his breath hitch in his throat.

"Would you like to come in?" She asked, her fingers brushing delicately on his hand that rested on the gear knob.

He felt his throat drying up but it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. It was something different, still something he thought he didn't deserve to experience.

"What for?" He managed to ask, his eyes tentatively looking at her, trying to read her expression.

She smiled and even in the dark he could see her cheeks fill up with a lovely crimson. She turned his hand over in her gentle grip, feeling the stiffness dissolve as she interlaced their fingers together. "What else do you think?"

She had answered his question with yet another but he understood full well what she meant.

It was an opportunity for disaster.

He knew he shouldn't be taking things any further. And yet he couldn't say no.

***

I'm so excited to write the next part because things are getting interesting!

Also from this point forth, we're following the Batman Begins timeline and I have so much planned for you guys.

Hope you enjoyed reading it. I'll see you soon with the next update.

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