His Darling Assistant

Part 5: Valentines Day

Weeks past that eventful night, the kiss you shared was still fresh on your mind. As much as you loved the feeling of his lips on yours, you hid your feelings and stayed friendly with your boss, determined to keep things from being awkward between the two of you. You would ignore all the times you caught him gazing at you, the pen in his hand hovering over his papers, and likewise, he wouldn't speak of the times you would get lost in his eyes. Dr. Crane and you had a silent agreement to never again mention that night, and you continued being nothing but his assistant.

Now that the archival room had been completely reorganized, your job consisted of maintaining that organization, as well as a lot more working with the patients, which excited you. Finally, you were taking notes on actual cases of mental illness rather than reading through file after file.

You never set foot in the isolation ward, though, as Dr. Crane explained those patients were too manic for any human interaction. You found that you were secretly glad about this, because the familiar, haunting screams that would come from the room all the way in the back were something you never cared to find out about.

You would take care of new hires in the nursing and security staff, overseeing background checks, and holding job interviews, while Dr. Crane focused his work on his experimental patients on the lowest floor. He rarely took you down to see them anymore, but you'd never pry.

He hadn't stopped walking you home, but you had stopped inviting him in. You knew he wouldn't say yes, because you knew that if he did come in, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from taking things further, and you suspected that he felt the same way.

Ironically, Valentine's Day rolled around, and of course, both of you were too hesitant to mention it, although you could feel his eyes watching you more than usual as you went about your work. You prayed to whoever would listen that the day would go by fast, but every moment you shared with him felt like eons. When he walked you home that day, you bid him farewell with a feeble, "Happy Valentines," but to your surprise, he followed you up your steps for the second time.

"We need to talk," he told you seriously, and you felt every fiber of your body freeze.

"Do you want to come in?" You asked him, after the moment you allowed yourself to process what he said.

He nodded, and you unlocked your door. He noticed your house was completely tidy this time, as you had gotten into the habit of cleaning up every morning for the small chance that he would come in again.

"Do you want anything to drink," you asked him, desperately trying not to bring up the last time he had set foot in your house. You hoped he wanted to talk about something other than that, but you knew, unless he was firing you, which was unlikely, that damned kiss was the only topic you'd be discussing.

He shook his head, and you followed him to your couch, sitting a comfortable space away from him.

"You can't be my assistant anymore," he told you, and your heart sank. Apparently he is firing me, you thought to yourself, the irony persists.

"Is this about the kiss," you asked, unable to ignore the topic any longer.

"Well, yes, but I've been considering this decision since before then, I just wanted to wait until we finished the archives. You've been a tremendous help with the new filing system, and I can't thank you enough, but if I'm being completely honest here, you've been more than my assistant for a while now, and it's quite frankly unfair of me to pay you any less than you deserve. I'm giving you a promotion."

You hesitated before speaking.

"To what?"

"Co-director of Arkham Asylum," he replied, "I want us to be equals."