Outside Jonathan's office window, a light drizzle spattered the glass. The soft, melodious lullaby made him drowsy and he had to fight his exhaustion. Three stacks of paperwork awaited him and he had no intention of taking it home that evening. He had found a new psychology book on mental illnesses the previous day and he was itching to get back to it.

He multitasked by flying through the paperwork and thinking about mental illnesses. He had found the chapter on fugue state to be fascinating. It had an excerpt on a nun from Seattle who left one day and boarded a bus to Baltimore. When she arrived, she could no longer remember who she was or why she was dressed as a nun. Authorities found her two weeks later in a crack den. She had no memory of being a nun and her new personality was in no way suitable to be one either.

Jonathan thought it was fascinating. He would love to have a patient with the disorder brought to the asylum. What if he could manipulate their mind and make them do what he wanted? Granted, he could already do that but to be able to create a lost person a new identity? Being able to have that much power over the mind made him dizzy.

Fugue state got him thinking about Brynn. When she was kidnapped, had she suffered from some sort of memory loss? She claimed she was unable to recall the details of her incarceration. Had her mind erased those events? It was possible and he had read numerous articles about people who blocked instances of molestation or abuse from their minds. Could Brynn have done the same?

Or was she lying? A part of Jonathan had always been convinced that was the case. When she was at the hospital, some things she said made it seem like she did remember something. She was always so defensive about the topic as well. What was she hiding?

Focus, a voice hissed. You see that nice stack of paperwork in front of you? All that needs to be finished in the next three hours…

He resumed his task, and within forty-five minutes, one of the stacks was complete. Jonathan leaned back in his chair and lifted his arms above his head. His back cracked and he sighed. It had been aching almost constantly for the last two weeks. Sitting hunched over at his desk for over several hours was not beneficial to him. Jonathan got up, deciding to take a stroll around the asylum, and check up on some patients. He locked the door behind him and headed down the hall.

Jonathan's shoes made a clap, clap, clap sound as he walked down the hall. The sound bounced off the bare walls and echoed. He swiped his key card and pushed open the door that led into the main lobby. It was empty aside from the woman working at the front desk. She was smiling and babbling away to someone on the phone. Jonathan let the door slam shut behind him, causing her to jump. As soon as she saw him, she slammed the phone down on the receiver.

"Dr. Crane," she squeaked. Her hands were tightly clasped and her eyes wide. She resembled a child who had just gotten in trouble with a teacher, trying to appear innocent but knowing a punishment was on the way.

"Calls unrelated to work are prohibited," he said icily.

"It was just my mom," she said quickly.

"Must I repeat myself?"

The woman shrank in her seat. She was at least four years older than him. Age didn't matter in this building. Everyone feared Dr. Jonathan Crane.

Jonathan took a step forward, causing her to shrink back. He withheld a smirk.

"Has the mail been delivered yet?"

"Oh, yeah, right," she said nervously. Quickly, she scrambled around behind the counter, pushing empty bottles and papers aside. Jonathan scowled at the haphazard mess.

She fumbled to stack the envelopes together, quickly piling them on top of one another. Once she finished, she handed him a disarray of envelopes, some big, others small. Jonathan exhaled through his nose as he reorganized the pile and began to walk away.

"Dr. Crane?"

He stopped, his back still facing her.

"Dr. Crane?" she asked again.

"I'm listening."

"Right, sorry. Uh, next week, my sister's getting married and I was wondering if it would be okay if I took the weekend off?"

"You were wondering if it would be okay?" he restated her question.

"Yeah."

"To answer your question, no it would not be okay. You're scheduled to work next weekend and I had no prior warning that you would be taking the weekend off. Does that answer your question?" He turned to face her with his brows raised.

Her face turned bright red. "But, Meredith said she could cover—"

"Either show up or don't show up. If you don't, it's just one less paycheck for me to write." Jonathan walked away, swiped his card again, and shut the door behind him.

Jonathan's level of irritation had steadily risen. Half his staff was compiled of a bunch of lazy, incompetent chimpanzees. He had already laid off more employees than he could afford and was stuck with them for the time being. With the asylum's financial state, he couldn't afford to bring in more qualified workers. He was already paying them an amount that wasn't quite abysmal but bad enough to raise eyebrows. Amadeus had left him a zoo, not an asylum.

Now in a sour mood, Jonathan returned to his office and slammed the door shut behind him. He dropped the mail on the ever-growing pile of paperwork and glared at it. A sudden urge to shower it in gasoline and start a bonfire in his office overwhelmed him. What a satisfying sight it would be.

Jonathan plopped down in his leather chair just as his phone vibrated. He checked it and found Brynn Kiley's name on the display screen.

Slow day at 150. Mind to stop by with beer and chips?

Jonathan shook his head as he typed out a reply. Phones were off limits during office hours but…he could make an exception. He was head psychiatrist, after all. Power had its perks.

Drinking is frowned upon in the workplace.

Her response came almost immediately: Please? I'll let you observe the buyers.

They texted back and forth for thirty minutes. Jonathan had uncharacteristically kicked his feet up on the desk, knocking over a stack of papers. He disregarded it as he sent her another message.

This behavior had been carried out between them for a few weeks now. Ever since Brynn's run-in with the mugger, the ice had melted between them. Their conversations had become more frequent. Jonathan couldn't deny that he enjoyed them. In fact, he looked forward to them.

He knew he shouldn't go back to feeling that way about her. Their relationship had run its course and ended all those years ago. It was better to leave it untouched as opposed to renewing it. Their current state was amicable and pleasant. There was no need to complicate things.

Still, he couldn't help but feel uplifted when her name lit up his screen or feel that tug in the recesses of his stomach when he was with her. He fought his desires and buried them by focusing on work and reading more vivaciously than ever before. Any distraction was welcome.

His phone interrupted his thoughts. He checked it and felt his stomach tighten.

What are you doing tonight?

Those five words shouldn't have affected him so much. His neck itched underneath his shirt collar and his palms began to sweat. Either she wanted to see him or she was genuinely curious about his plans for the evening. He shouldn't have felt so phased by it. Jonathan started then deleted several texts before he could send a response.

Spending the evening at home. Need to finish some work.

Jonathan relaxed a little. His answer sounded definite and unchangeable. She would most likely drop the topic and switch to something else.

Her response was not at all what he had expected.

Spend the evening with me.

It was so bold and unexpected that he actually straightened in his chair and narrowed his eyes. He reread it several times, convinced he had misread it. That didn't imply what he thought it was implying…did it?

Time to lock his phone in the bottom desk drawer and throw out the key.

Several new messages suddenly blew up his phone.

I meant get dinner.

Not spend the night with me.

Dinner. Definitely not spend the night.

Never mind.

Before he could bombard her with questions or throw his phone out the window, his door burst open. A red-faced nurse jumped into the room. He opened his mouth to assault her with threats for not knocking when she began to speak rapid-fire.

"Aninmategotlooseandhasscissors!"

"What?"

"An inmate got loose and has scissors!"

"What?"

Jonathan jumped out of his desk, knocking the chair over. He ran past the nurse and down the hall. She yelled at him to go to the recreational room.

He darted up the staircase, pushed past an orderly leading an inmate, and burst through the doors. The rec room was at the end of the hall and he sprinted like a madman. As he neared the room, he could hear voices growing louder and louder.

Jonathan exploded through the double doors and looked around the room. It was a zoo in there. The inmates were shouting and running around. All around them were orderlies, shouting orders at the inmates and failing to keep control. In the middle of the room, he saw a young woman in a nightgown with a pair of scissors. They were dripping blood onto the white linoleum floor. At her feet, a doctor was curled up in a fetal position, groaning. He had his back to Jonathan and he assumed the man had suffered a puncture wound to the abdomen.

"EVERYONE ON THE GROUND NOW!" He roared at the top of his lungs. For such a lithe man who never raised his voice, everyone looked at him, stunned. The majority of the inmates dropped to the floor. Some shrank away from him while others leaned forward excitedly.

The woman with the scissors remained standing. She was muttering to herself and wiping the bloody blades against her nightgown. A few orderlies had started closing in on her but Jonathan raised his hand to stop them.

His voice dropped to almost a whisper. His tone could have frozen the room in an eternal winter. Some people shivered. His voice had a nails on chalkboard effect when he wanted it to. "Drop the scissors," he commanded.

For the first time, she looked up at him from behind her greasy hair. Dark circles swallowed up her blue eyes. "Get out, get out, get out, get out," she whispered repeatedly. "Out, out, out."

"You are going to put the scissors on the ground," Jonathan hissed as he slowly approached, "and sit down."

She grew smaller as he neared her. Not once did Jonathan break eye contact with her. With his hand, he made a sweeping gesture to the orderlies. Some followed his lead and slowly closed in on her as well. Others watched the other inmates to make sure they didn't do anything stupid.

"Out, out, out," she barely whispered. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her knees wobbled. Wildly, her eyes darted around the room, landing on Crane, then the injured doctor, and finally on the scissors. "Out, out, out."

Her grasp loosened on the scissors and everyone in the room held their breaths. It looked as though she would obey him.

Jonathan, luckily, was prepared if she would not.

Suddenly, she screamed and lashed out at him with the scissors. Jonathan arched backwards just in time and felt a breeze slide over his exposed throat. His back protested and he grimaced. He caught her hand with the scissors but she caught him with her other hand. Her sharp nails clawed his cheek and he exclaimed, taking a step back, and releasing her wrist. Jonathan stumbled backwards and grabbed his face. She had managed to knock his glasses off and graze his eye. The scene became blurry and his eye stung wickedly.

Another commotion had arisen, this time more chaotic. She was screaming at him to stay away. She grabbed the wounded doctor by his arm and started dragging him away with her. He had no energy to put up a fight. Through his distorted vision, Jonathan saw a streak of red where the doctor had been dragged across the floor.

This was a disaster. No one would be able to get near her without risking that doctor getting stabbed again. If he could, he would take that chance. Then again, the last thing the asylum needed was a lawsuit.

"I want out of here, I want out of here, I WANT OUT OF HERE!" she screamed.

"Hey!"

The commotion died down again and everyone's attention turned to the back of the room. Harleen Quinzel, the intern, was standing near the barred window. She wore an uncertain expression and looked tiny in her white coat.

The woman was breathing heavily and holding the scissors close to the doctor's neck. Her eyes darted between the doctor and Harleen. She looked like she was ready to plunge them into his throat.

"Hey, hey," Harleen said in a desperate voice. She swallowed and tried to be calm. "W-what's wrong?"

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at her. What was she doing?

"What's wrong?" she asked again.

The woman looked at her uncertainly. She clutched the scissors tightly. "I want out."

"Where do you want to go?" Harleen asked in a delicate voice.

"Home," she snarled. She directed the scissors at the doctor. "But bastards like him keep me here!"

The man looked like he was about to be stabbed. Harleen flinched. "You'll go home eventually. We're just trying to prepare you for it."

"I'm ready!" she cried.

Harleen held her hands up and nodded. "Okay, okay. How about a compromise?"

The woman looked at her with a confused expression. Jonathan's eyes were glued to Harleen's face. Whatever she was doing was surprisingly working. The woman's grip on the scissors had loosened some. "What?"

"You don't get outside much, do you?" Harleen asked. The woman shook her head. "Right, that's our fault. Sitting inside all day would make me—just as upset."

Good, Jonathan noted. She had avoided using the words 'crazy' or 'insane.'

"Since you're not yet ready to go home, how about we let you go outside more often? That way you can get some fresh air and you'll feel a lot better. Huh? How does that sound?" she said gently. Harleen's eyes were wide and her arms open; a welcoming expression.

The woman looked uncertain and her bottom lip began to tremble. Slowly, she dropped to the floor and tears welled up in her eyes. "I—I just want to g-go home…"

Harleen nodded and moved closer to her. "You will, I promise. What's your name?"

The woman hesitated before answering. "Kasey."

"Okay, Kasey. I'm Harleen and you have my word that you'll go home soon. Okay?"

Harleen dropped to her hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way over. She rubbed Kasey's back and shushed her as sobs burst out from her mouth. Kasey dropped the scissors and Harleen pushed them across the floor to Jonathan. He grabbed them and tucked them away into his coat pocket.

"What do you say we take you back to your room? You could use some rest," Harleen said soothingly. Kasey nodded and allowed the young intern to help her to her feet. Harleen shot a warning look to everyone around her. Don't interfere with us, it read. Slowly, arm in arm, they made their way out of the rec room.

Jonathan followed them at a safe distance. He was stunned into silence. Had Harleen Quinzel, the intern he deemed incompetent, just taken control of a risky situation? He studied her with his eye that wasn't swollen shut. All her attention was focused on Kasey and she continued to soothingly rub her back.

Harleen led her to her cell and sat inside with her for half an hour. Jonathan waited outside, out of sight. He listened to their conversation. Kasey was telling Harleen about her twin sister and the times they used to go to a nearby lake and canoe. She had lost the hysteric edge in her voice and sounded drowsy. Soon, soft snores were coming out of her cell.

Harleen emerged sometime later. She wore a tired expression and walked past Crane. He followed her down the hall with a million questions he wanted to ask.

"How did you do that?" he asked when they were in the stairwell.

"I didn't come across as threatening," she said icily. "You're not supposed to let patients perceive you as threatening in those types of situations. Always seem like you're on their side."

She stomped up the stairs and paused at the landing. Harleen turned around and looked down at him. "I know you think I'm some dimwitted blonde who doesn't know that two plus two equals four, but you're wrong. You doubt me yet you know nothing about me. I'm the top ranked student in Gotham University's Psychology Program. Professors come to me with questions. I became a published researcher while I was still an undergraduate. You would know none of that because I bet you've never even glanced at my résumé. Yet I know all about you because I've actually done my research."

"Congratulations," Jonathan said through clenched teeth. "You have a few accomplishments under your belt. What do you want, a cookie?"

"No," she snapped. "I want respect. I came into this internship, thrilled to be working under Jonathan Crane. You know you're a legend at GU? Smartest psychology student the university's ever seen, you wrote that award winning essay on phobias your sophomore year, and you're the head psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum at age twenty-four. People would kill for an internship under you. But honestly, I have to say I'm unimpressed. This place is a nightmare. You have no control over the inmates, your staff is a bunch of uneducated degenerates, and we're two months away from being shut down. I expected more from you."

Jonathan climbed the steps so he was on the landing. He looked down at her with a scowl on his face. "You think I'm unaware of the state of this asylum? I know it's a nightmare. Amadeus left it in even worse shape than it is now. I have slaved day and night trying to pull this place out of the abyss. Sorry this isn't the dream job you were hoping for. Welcome to the real world."

A tense silence followed. Jonathan was mentally tearing Harleen apart. He hated the shape the asylum was in and hated the fact that she pointed it out to him.

Harleen crossed her arms over her chest. "Let me help you restore the place."

Jonathan scoffed. "You help me?"

"Yes. The patients trust me and are willing to open up to me. I've had more success with them than most of your doctors. Hire me to work here and I can help restore this place to its former glory. I'll work overtime, do paperwork, fire the dipshits, you name it. This place needs me."

"There will be outbursts amongst the staff if I hire you and you take over their jobs."

"So?" She shrugged. "You don't seem to care much about the staff. Are you going to let their opinions dictate your decisions?"

He stared at her for a long time. She was very persuasive and was right; he had underestimated her.

"I'll write up a contract. Your full-time position starts Monday morning at seven a.m."

"Yes, sir," Harleen said smugly. She turned to leave. "Oh, and put some drops in that eye. You don't want it getting infected."

She pranced up the staircase, leaving Jonathan to feel bitter and curious. This day had been far from ideal and now he had some girl giving him orders.

He'd give her one shot. If she was as good as she said she was, he'd respect her. If she cracked under all the pressure, he'd kick her to the curb.

Jonathan leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He needed a vacation, a drink, and something else he couldn't put his finger on. After several glorious moments of silence, he took out his phone and dialed a number. His reading material would have to wait until another night.

. . .

This had to be a fucking nightmare. Brynn hoped it was one. No sane person would have sent that text message to Jonathan Crane.

She read the text again. Spend the evening with me. Dear god. She could imagine Jonathan reading it in her voice in his head. It came off way more sexual than she had intended. No, she hadn't even intended for it to be sexual. Brynn had sent the message without a second thought, seeing nothing wrong with it. It just slipped out.

She may as well rip her pants off and start screaming "SEDUCE ME!"

Brynn made a nervous sound and sent several more messages to him, trying to brush off the last one. Each one sounded worse. Finally, she slammed her phone on the counter and refused to touch it. Brynn had already dug a grave for herself; there was no need to make it any deeper.

Afraid of what his response might be, Brynn busied herself for the rest of her shift by sweeping the floor, engaging with customers, and straightening photographs that didn't need to be straightened. She had to keep herself from thinking of that mortifying message so she wouldn't curl up on the ground and repeatedly slam her head against the floor. Why, oh why, oh why, oh why had she sent that?

When it was time for her to clock out half an hour later, she nervously peeked at her phone. The only new message she had was from James, telling her he'd pick her up on the corner of Brown Street.

She had scared Jonathan off. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Brynn groaned and left the gallery. She walked to the Starbucks at the very end of the street with her jacket hood pulled over her head. A black bag was slung over her shoulder containing a change of clothes. She walked past the baristas and customers and went straight to the bathroom. Tonight, she was bringing Robin Ryder down.

Ryder was being honored by the Gotham Women's League for her "generosity" to the community at one of the hotels downtown. Brynn, James, and Heather were sneaking into the event as members of the hired catering company.

Inside the bathroom, she changed out of her black dress and into the catering company's standard uniform: white button-up shirt, black vest, black skirt, and black tights. She put on a fake pair of glasses, put her jacket and the hood back on, and walked out. James was waiting on the street corner for her in his car.

"You have your wig?" James asked as soon as she got in the car. Heather was sitting in the passenger seat, riffling through her bag. She nodded at Brynn without looking up.

Brynn huffed. "She doesn't know what I look like."

"Brynn," James said in a sharp tone as he drove the car away. He looked over his shoulder and she burst out laughing when she saw the fake mustache he was wearing.

"If I have to look like Charlie Chaplin, you're going to wear the damn wig," he said sourly.

Brynn grunted and dug to the bottom of her bag. She grabbed a strand of hair and pulled it out, frowning with distaste. It was a straight, choppy, black wig that made her scalp itch and washed her face of all color. When she wore it, her dark eyes popped out against her fair skin, making her appear bug-eyed. James nodded his approval as Brynn adjusted it onto her head, grumbling the whole time.

"Better?"

"Much," he replied happily.

Brynn bit back a snide remark and leaned forward. Now was the time to focus. Bringing Tobin down had gone successfully; she needed this to work out just as smoothly.

"Do you have the disc?" she asked.

James nodded. "It's inside my bag. I made copies in case something happened to it."

"What a good worker bee you are, Jamie," Heather said in a sugary voice.

James shot her a dark look out of the corner of his eye. He despised it when Heather referred to him as that.

"The catering staff they hired is large enough that we won't stand out. No one will question us. James, you're in charge of the video. I'll keep us updated on Ryder's movements. Heather, you help me watch Ryder, then you sneak out before the video is shown. That way we can get out of there before they start asking who messed with the video."

"Awesome. Get-away driver," Heather mumbled. She smoothed her black vest and turned her attention to her hair. "Robin is lined up to go first and then the five other winners come after." Heather paused and started to snicker. "They'll have to find a way to outshine Robin after her video plays."

"It's a great way to kick off the night," Brynn responded. She took a quick peek at her phone. No new messages from Jonathan. She sighed and mentally kicked herself for sending him that text.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, preparing for their upcoming mission. James left the car in a parking garage a block away and they all took different routes and arrived to the hotel at different times.

Brynn was the last to arrive. She entered through the back entrance of the hotel, finding herself in the laundry room. The cacophonous humming of washing and drying machines surrounded her. Hotel maids discarded dirty sheets and threw them into the large machines. Brynn walked past all of them, unnoticed. She went down a few more hallways, through the kitchen, and entered the banquet room. There were three dozen workers dressed like her provided by the catering company. Brynn ducked her head and adjusted her fake glasses when some of them walked by. Either no one noticed she wasn't part of the staff or they didn't care.

Trying to look productive, Brynn followed one girl who was setting tables around. After she finished putting down silverware, Brynn would straighten the napkins, silverware, and glasses. The girl even smiled at her for tidying the settings up.

"Thanks," said the girl. She looked like she was no older than eighteen. "Are you new?"

"Mmmhmm," Brynn nodded. In a bubbly, higher voice, she added, "Tonight's my first night."

"That's odd. Newbies usually don't help out at events this big. Who'd you train under?"

"Umm," Brynn trailed off. Quickly, she shrugged. "Honestly, I don't remember his name. I'm kinda bad with them."

The girl brushed this off and Brynn relaxed a little. "I bet it was Tyler. Oh, and you're gonna wanna put your hair up. Tom has a fit when we're outta dress code."

She handed Brynn a pink hairband with a smile. Carefully, she pulled strands of the black wig into a low pony. "Oops. Didn't know that. Uh, I have to go fold napkins. Thanks for the hair tie."

Before she could ask her any more questions, Brynn left the girl and busied herself with straightening napkins. She studied the room as she worked. The stage and podium were up at the front. A placard she passed by indicated that Robin would be at the closest table to the stage. She had yet to see the projector.

The guests started to arrive fifteen minutes later, consisting mostly of middle-age, upper-class women. Brynn hung close to the back wall, straightening anything she could: plates, napkins, glasses. She had no idea what the hell she was doing. She should have stuck with the girl and tried to pick up on a few things.

She was standing off to the side when James walked up to her. "I had the tech guy switch the discs. Told him Robin had an updated video she wanted to play."

Brynn nodded approvingly. "I got my hands on the schedule for the evening. They'll start playing the videos after dinner."

She was about to say something else when her phone began to buzz. Brynn squirmed as she felt it vibrate against her leg and dug it out of her pocket. Jonathan Crane, the screen read.

"I'll be right back," she said quickly.

"Is it Hanna?" James asked.

"Yepp." Brynn darted out of the room and into the hotel lobby. She went over and stood next to a large potted plant, hiding behind its leaves. She stared at the screen, uncertainly. Why was Jonathan calling her? Had her unfortunate message disgusted him that much? For a moment, she considered ignoring the call.

Brynn forced herself to hit answer, paused, then spoke into the phone. "Hello?"

"Change of plans. What are you doing tonight?"

Brynn looked around, taken aback. "What?"

A short sigh was emitted from Jonathan's end of the line. "I said—"

"No, no, I heard you," Brynn said in a low voice. She was eying the door to the banquet room, expecting James to walk out. Her lie had been faulty; Hanna never bothered them during a mission unless something had gone wrong or if she was part of it. Hanna was playing no role in Robin's downfall. In fact, she wasn't even in the city currently.

James wasn't stupid. He'd catch on that Brynn lied and inquire who she had actually been on the phone with. Things wouldn't go over well if he knew she was talking to Jonathan at a time like this.

"I thought you were working at home tonight?" Please don't mention my text…

"I need to get away from work," Jonathan said briskly.

Brynn's attention turned away from the door and focused on Jonathan. "Are you okay? You sound…bitter."

"An inmate threatened my staff today," he admitted. "One of my doctors was taken to the hospital."

She stiffened. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

"Fine. I just need to get away for a bit. What are you doing right now?"

"I'm at the gallery." The lie escaped her mouth before she could even think about it.

"I can pick you up—"

"No," she said too quickly. Brynn swallowed and said, "I mean, I'm busy right now. I can meet up with you in an hour if that works?"

"That works for me. Care to go to the pier?"

"The pier sounds great. I'll meet you there—"

"What are you doing?"

Brynn spun around. A tall man was looking down at her with distaste. He wore the caterer's uniform. Quickly, she hung up on Jonathan and looked at him with wide eyes.

"No phones during work," he growled. He studied her closely. "What's your name? Why haven't I seen you before?"

"I'm new," she squeaked and slithered past him. "Sorry!"

She disappeared into the banquet room before the man could question her further. The plates were being cleared and women carefully dabbed their mouths, trying to avoid smudging their lipstick. Brynn moved along the wall. The organization's president, an older woman, had just taken the stage and was calling for the women's attention.

While she congratulated the women being nominated, Brynn made eye contact with James and Heather. They all gave each other reassuring nods.

Brynn's eyes landed on the projector in the middle of the room. That device would seal Robin Ryder's fate. Her eyes drifted to the front of the room, landing on Ryder herself. With her blonde pixie cut, oversized diamond earrings, and overwhelming white smile, she looked like the average upper-middle class woman. She didn't resemble the jealous, dirt poor secretary she had been over twenty years ago.

Brynn had learned a lot about Robin over the last few years. She had been her father's secretary and always harbored a massive crush on him. When Adele and Isaac approached her after his murder, she was more than willing to testify against her mother, claiming she overheard phone calls between Charles and Olivia where he warned her to leave him and his wife alone. Olivia was already damned at that point so her fake testimony made her look even worse.

After, Robin went to work for Adele's company. She made much more money than she deserved, mainly to keep her mouth shut. Later, she would meet her late husband who was twice her age and filthy rich. She would never have to work again with the fortune he left for her.

Along with her false testimony, Robin had quite a few surprising, dirty secrets she was hiding. Brynn was itching with excitement for the video to play.

The president introduced Robin and got off stage. Robin went up, stopping to smile at the photographers with her bleached teeth.

"I am so honored to be presented with this award tonight," Robin said in a steady voice when the applauding had died down. "It is my goal to transform this city from something dirty and corrupt to something beautiful that we can all be proud of. I want everyone in this room to say they live in Gotham proudly."

I want to see this city burn to the ground, Brynn thought darkly. I want you to burn with this city and be nothing more than a pile of ashes.

"I have brought a video with me tonight to show you what all I've been up to in the last year with my service projects," Robin told the room.

Oh, you're going to show them what you've been up to, alright.

The tech guy turned on the projector, placed the disc inside the hooked up DVD player, and it began. The intro was the same as the original one. What came after was much different.

Suddenly, a homemade video was playing on the screen. Brynn had seen the video hundreds of times before and didn't watch it. Instead, she watched the expressions play out on Robin's face. First, confusion and, then once the scene began, horror.

Robin Ryder, clad only in lacy lingerie, came into the shot. She was clearly intoxicated and stumbling around. Someone adjusted the camera, laughed, and came out on screen. It was a young man, Ryder's pool boy everyone would later discover. They embraced and kissed passionately. The pool boy pushed his tongue inside her mouth and she groaned.

Present Robin was frozen in horror as she watched the clip. Whispers were growing amongst the other guests as they watched the grainy video. The man picked his discarded jeans off the floor and produced something from his pocket: a tiny baggie filled with white powder.

Robin finally shrieked for someone to cut the video.

Shocked gasps filled the room as Robin and her lover began to snort it off the nearby coffee table. She pushed her way through the crowd and desperately tried to end the clip. The women who could tear their eyes from the screen turned back and looked at her with disgust.

She screamed at the tech guy to end the video. Bewildered by what had happened, he stumbled over to her and clumsily fiddled with the DVD player. The screen went black and outraged voices grew louder.

Brynn watched Robin sprint out of the room. A snicker tumbled out of her mouth and soon, she was doubled over in gut-wrenching laughter.

James hurriedly came over to her and grabbed her by the sleeve. "Time to go."

She let him pull her away, still laughing uncontrollably. She could picture Robin's mortified expression perfectly in her mind. As they ran through the kitchen, they were greeted with confused looks.

James pulled her outside. Heather was waiting with the car running at the end of the alleyway.

Brynn's mood did a three-sixty and her laughs turned to sobs. Through her blurry vision, James guided her to the backseat and pushed her inside. The tires screeched and they were soon driving down the street.

She crawled to the backseat and folded in on herself, letting her sobs shake her body. Heather and James looked back at her, worriedly. Her mood hadn't changed this drastically in years.

Her sobs turned to weak cries and soon she was silent. Fat tears continued to roll down her face as she stared at the black leather seats. Her body was heavy and her head ached.

Nothing was funny anymore.

. . .

It had taken her twenty minutes to convince James and Heather she was fine and didn't need them to stay with her. They had parked in the underground parking garage of the Gotham Ritz and refused to leave until they were sure Brynn was okay.

"I'm fine," she said assertively. Her face was still swollen from her tears but her voice remained steady. "Really."

They didn't look convinced. "Why don't you come back to headquarters?" Heather suggested. "We can celebrate and you can take a break."

"I don't need a break," Brynn argued. The worst thing for her to do then would be to stop and rest. She needed to keep herself preoccupied with her mission. If she let her attention wander, she'd think about things she'd rather not.

"Just for tonight—"

"I already have plans."

Heather sighed. "Look, I know you're trying to keep up appearances with this party girl image but honestly, take a break—"

"I'm not going clubbing," Brynn said flatly.

Heather's face scrunched up. "What are you doing then?"

Brynn shifted in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm meeting up with an old friend."

Heather's expression was blank. "Who?"

James, who had been quiet for some time now, joined the conversation. "Jonathan."

He looked in the rearview mirror and stared at her. Brynn looked down and fiddled with a loose string on her jacket. Her face grew red. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

"It's not like that. I'm not letting him distract me—"

"It's none of our business," James said, ending the conversation. "Get some rest and we'll start working on Shelton later."

Brynn slid out of the car and watched them drive away. Shit. She ran a hand through her hair, exhausted by the day's events.

She would have to convince James she was focused on the mission somehow. Had it been any other guy he would have been indifferent about it; but James knew all about Jonathan. She had shared a great deal about him when she first joined the Organization.

Brynn kicked the tire of a nearby car and let out a frustrated noise. She didn't have the energy to deal with everyone's shit. What did he expect of her? Brynn had to have a life outside of the Organization so she wouldn't look suspicious. She had to convince everyone that she couldn't do anything as drastic as what she was currently doing. That meant she had to have connections with the people outside of the Organization.

There was no use to get fired up about it. Brynn took several deep breaths, walked out of the garage, and hailed a taxi. She arrived at the pier five minutes after she told Jonathan she'd meet up with him.

The sun had already begun to set and cast a lavender light over the land. She heard the waves lapping against the beams supporting the pier. There was a couple sitting on one bench and a family looking over the edge, into the water. At the very end, sitting on a bench that faced the bay was Jonathan.

She approached him slowly. If he heard her, he didn't show it and continued to look out over the water. Brynn sat down next to him and, together, they admired the view.

"It's quiet here," Jonathan finally broke the silence.

Brynn looked at him and suppressed a gasp. "What happened?"

Three red, angry scratch marks marred his pale cheek. His eye was half-swollen shut and crust had formed in the corner. Jonathan's jaw tightened and he said, "Bad day at work."

"Did that inmate do this to you?" Brynn swiveled sideways and studied his face. The other side looked alright. Her eyes kept flashing back to the scratches.

"It could have been much worse," he muttered. "She apprehended some scissors. How, I'm not sure. I believe she grabbed them from the front desk at some point. I'm requiring my staff to lock away any items, like scissors or staplers, that could potentially be used as a weapon and keep tabs on them. Anyway, she stabbed one of my doctors and threatened the rest of the staff. It was a nightmare. I had no control over the situation and the inmates easily could have used it as an opportunity to rebel. Why they didn't, I'm not sure."

Brynn stared at him, shocked. What had happened at the asylum was frightening. She hated the fact that Jonathan was surrounded by unstable, dangerous criminals. Something like that could happen on any given day at Arkham. She was also surprised that he had shared this with her, especially that he had no control. Jonathan wasn't the type to admit to mistakes…

"The police came and questioned us. I won't be surprised if the state sends someone out here to investigate the incident," he added darkly. Jonathan looked at her and paused. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Brynn gave him a confused expression, then remembered she had never taken the fake glasses off. Quickly, she pulled them off her face and put them into her pocket. "Uh, they're reading glasses. For when I read."

No shit, Sherlock…

Jonathan gave her an odd look and she quickly changed the topic. "What happened to the inmate?"

"She's in solitary confinement," he told her. "Her sentence will be lengthened and I have to reevaluate her psychological state tomorrow."

"How did you stop her?"

Jonathan bit the inside of his cheek and was quiet. "I didn't; another doctor did."

She could tell he was reluctant to go any further in depth. Brynn leaned back and whistled. "Sounds like you could use a vacation."

Jonathan ran a hand over his face. He looked much older than he actually was. "You have no idea."

Suddenly, he stood up and leaned against the railing with his back to her. "Arkham is a mess, Brynn. It amazes me that we are still open. I spend more time filing taxes than I do with patients."

"I thought hospitals couldn't be taxed?"

"The city considers Arkham to be a private institution," he answered bitterly. "Old Amadeus wasn't very good about filing taxes or how he spent the money. At one point, he was under investigation for using the hospital's money for his own advantage."

"I can't control the inmates or staff," he went on. "Nothing gets done and more patients are brought to me every day. We're overcrowded, desperately in need of renovations, and out of options. I don't know how much longer I can keep the asylum afloat."

Brynn sat quietly, mulling this over. She had always assumed Jonathan had everything under control at the asylum. He never complained to her about it and seemed like everything was alright. It was strange seeing this unconfident, worried side of him. She wasn't sure how to handle him.

"Arkham's current state should be blamed on Amadeus," she said slowly, trying to carefully word her thoughts. "It was way past his time and he should have retired ages ago. The asylum needs you. You love psychology and the mind. This job was meant to be yours."

Jonathan sucked his lips in. A loud pop was followed when he released them. "It's very frustrating."

"Of course it is. All jobs are frustrating, especially this one. But you've always loved a challenge," she tried reasoning with him. "You said Arkham should be shut down by now, but it's not. That's good. Had anyone else been given your position, that place would have shut down months ago."

Jonathan was quiet as he thought about what she said. Brynn breathed quietly, hoping her words had gotten through to him. She looked past him and studied the dark water. The sun had set and nighttime was closing in on them. During their conversation, the other people at the pier had left. The two of them were alone.

She was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to get up and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to rest her face against his back and listen to the soft sound of his breathing. Brynn fought these thoughts with no luck. She had been suppressing her desire to have him back for a while now and it was hitting her full force. There was no controlling the way she felt.

Before she could do anything that would change their relationship, Jonathan spoke. "I'm sorry for complaining. I just need to articulate my thoughts sometimes."

"Don't apologize," she said softly. She was glad it was dark out; he would have been taken aback by the look in her eyes. "You're human."

Jonathan sat back down on the bench. His knee brushed against hers and she expected him to lurch away. Instead, he kept it there.

They sat in the dark, listening to the sounds of their breathing and the waves crashing against the shore. Brynn sat very still, not trusting her body. She was too aware of his knee pressed against hers. It was all she could focus on.

"I'm glad you're back," he said, ending the silence. He stared straight ahead.

Brynn studied him. Did he feel the same? Did he want her back as much as she wanted him? She was going crazy in that moment, desperate to tell him how she felt.

"I'm glad to be back, too," she whispered. She clamped her jaw shut, locking in all the things her heart wanted to tell him.

Jonathan stood up and disappointment washed over her. Her knee was still warm from where his had been. "I'll drive you home."

He started to walk away and Brynn remained on the bench for a few seconds more. She closed her eyes, cursed herself, and followed him to the car. The only thing she could do was bury her feelings and hope they didn't get the best of her.

. . .

A/N: This chapter was waaaay longer than I intended. I think the next one is going to be even longer. Good for you guys, bad for me. Oh well. I like how this chapter turned out.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed: Guest, Miriam the Tedious, maddQueen, FeliciaFelicis, dEnIsE tHe StRaNgE, Dawn's Edge, TheCatalystx, and Rousdower. I think by now you all know I love you but let me repeat it: I LOVE YOU! I want to pinch all your cheeks and bake desserts for you to snack on. Am I a creepy aunt yet?

SO MUCH happened in this chapter. In case you weren't paying attention, here's a recap: Jonathan is a ruthless boss, an inmate terrorized Arkham, Harleen and Jonathan struck up a deal that will eventually blossom into a corrupt, unhealthy mentorship, Brynn has the hots for Jonathan, hates wigs, isn't a good caterer, exposed Robin, had a psychotic breakdown, Brynnathan, bonding, more sexual tension, AHH! This was a fun chapter to write. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.

Mmkay, I know what you're all thinking: why am I rushing things between Jonathan and Brynn? We're five chapters into BB and they already like each other again. Well, dear readers, I don't enjoy rushing their relationship. If I could, I'd write a hundred chapters containing nothing but sexual tension. I love the chase just as much as the next person. HOWEVER, Brynnathan already went through their chase during college and this story is rated T so I'm not allowed to write that many chapters of sexual tension. It's a shame. I didn't want to waste any time with eye batting and extensive flirting because we've already seen that and this story is so DAMN LONG. So I decided to keep things short. Brynn and Jonathan may claim that they stopped liking each other but, c'mon, let's be honest. They've always liked each other so there's no denying it. The second reason is because I graduate this year and college is on the horizon. Knowing me, the only time I'd ever update would be during Christmas and summer vacations so I want to get as much written as possible before then. Okay? Okay.

I've started watching Gotham and, so far, I really like it. We'll see what happens.

Random, but has anyone listened to Meg Myers' music? If so, kudos to you. If you haven't, LISTEN TO IT! I was listening to her music while writing this chapter and I thought her lyrics were very relatable to Brynn and Jonathan's relationship. It's so raw and in your face and GAH, I love it. Her song "Desire" really sums up where they are right now. I will warn you she has that ex-girlfriend who will kill you in your sleep persona. I think it's awesome, but she's not for the weak of heart. I also made a PotN playlist so if anyone's curious what songs are on it, feel free to ask.

That's enough rambling. If you have any comments, questions, complaints, or concerns, PM me and be sure to review. Oh, and the next chapter is going to be Halloween themed, so get excited. So long, my little dirty snowballs.