A WATCHFUL EYE - Jonathan Crane Fanfiction

Part 3 - the police

THIS IS AFTER LUNCH HAS FINISHED

MIA
I yet again sat in my boring office room. My mind felt hopeless as I stared at the many papers that sat on my desk.
Was this really the only available job I could get?
I'd always longed to own a bakery. To bake everything myself and sell it to people - to do something I enjoyed. To smell the fresh, warm, lovely, smell of bread. It would be so lovely. But in Gotham city, if you own something like a bakery - it'll most definitely get robbed. Even so, I didn't have the money and I couldn't bare to ask my father for help. Not now. Not ever.
I'd come to the conclusion that basically any other job would be better than working in the asylum. I was determined when I first started, to be strong and defiant that it wasn't as bad as people said. That I really could make my life from it.
That feeling burnt out a long time ago.

My thoughts were cut off by the sound of chatting people outside by the front desk. Unfortunately, my office was placed right at the front of the asylum - meaning I heard every mad person that entered. However, these people most definitely weren't mad. I approached my door and pressed my ear against it, trying to listen.

"Yes that's correct ------screams------worried------will Dr Crane be here?-------Mr Wayne----"

From the fuzzy talking I could only make out a few words - but two i definitely knew I heard.
Mr Wayne.
Are they simply talking about Bruce, or is he here? I knew that I shouldn't look and I really should do my paperwork but looking at the stack of paper was agonising. I gently turned the handle to open the door and carefully peaked round. Stood by the front desk was three policeman chatting to the receptionist.

"Mia? Is that you?"

I jumped and looked to my left to see Bruce Wayne - he had been wandering along the corridor and I hadn't noticed. "Haha Bruce. Long time no see." I said, my body going tense. I stepped out of my office and closed the door behind me. Now infront of me, stood Bruce Wayne. A tall, dark haired, man in a well fit suit.
Wow. He's aged well.
"What on earth has got you working in a place like this? Have you not heard what people say?" He asked, almost worried. "It's a long story - I've worked here for about three years now. It's really not that...bad. What about you? What are you doing here?" I asked.
-
Me and Bruce had become good friends since he knew my brother, Alex, at his school. Before my mother died and once they had both finished school, Bruce would come to our house quite often. I think it's because he felt quite secluded at home since it was only him and Alfred. Sometimes he'd come over, but to see me - and we'd go to the park and watch the sunset together. Me and Bruce did date for two years, but he decided that it wasn't working and broke up with me. I never spoke to him again. My brother moved to England the year after my mother died so I guess he never made contact with him either.
It had been six years since I'd seen Bruce.
-
"Haha well it's a long story for me too. Gosh how long has it been? Five years?" He said, in thought but also jokingly.
"Six. It's been six years...Why are you here?"
I asked curiously.
"Well I decided to donate some money to help the asylum and thought I'd join the police on their patrol. There have been reports of screaming and god knows what. Are you not at all..afraid? Working here?" He asked, now looking directly at me. His face was full of regret.
I'd never actually thought about it. "Well no, not really - I guess I just do my work and leave. Do.." I answered - but something caught my eye and I was cut off. On my right now talking to the police, stood Dr Crane. He was staring. He wasn't staring at me though - he was staring at Bruce. He didn't look happy.
Bruce looked at me as if he was hiding something underneath his glowing, handsome, face. "Do you want me to show you around?" I asked, longing to get away from my work.
"I'd be delighted if you could. By the look on your face, your work isn't the most exciting."
He said beginning to walk. I followed him by his side as we began to stroll along a long corridor.

"If I'm honest, no it's not exciting at all. It's draining. All I do is sit in a small room and sort paperwork. I don't even have a window." I replied, fed up. He looked like he was pondering what to say. We turned a corner and infront stood a lift. Although I'd said I would show him around, it almost felt like I was following him. He pressed the button for the basement floor and I looked at him in confusion. "I'm sorry you have to work here. You know...if you do ever need money I will gladly give you some. If you need anything I can help you." He said softly, ignoring my face of confusion. "Bruce it's alright. I don't need anything I'm ok. It's really not as bad as it seems...but thank you." I said, looking at him.
I longed to cry and ask him why he broke up with me. What I did wrong. Why he left. But I didn't. I couldn't.

I turned to face away from him and stared at the elevator door. It pinged to open and reveal the basement floor - releasing its cold, eerie, air into the elevator.
What am I doing.