The Skin That Crawls From You [A Jonathan Crane Fan-fiction]

Suggestions.

"I'll just eat here-"

"Oh no I insist,"
He squints at me playfully.

I step back, moving away from his outstretched arm. I seriously consider breaking his elbow but I'm not even sure how to do that. it looks breakable enough.

A pale hand slams into the guard's wide chest with a thud. He doesn't move, but his beady brown eyes leave me for a moment.

"I suggest you step away from my patient."
A flat voice demands.

Dr. Crane's icey eyes are filled with fire, directed at the guard, Crane is much smaller in frame but the guard steps back; eyes wide.

"Yes, yes sir-"
The guard stammers, looking at his combat boot clad feet and stepping away.

"Trying to eat in the bathroom? Really?"
Crane hisses, his brows arched.

"This isn't high school miss Alcott."
He says in that tone of condescension he seems to love.

I clammer around for a moment, looking for a place to awkwardly set my tray down. Looking for a place where I can hide from those cold eyes.

Doctor Crane looks around pensively before shaking his head as if at war with himself.

"Come with me,"
He says finally.

"And leave that here."
He commands, nodding to my tray of rubbery 'food'.

He stalks off towards the elevator without looking back. Quickly I glance about the room, every patient's eyes are on me- but the guards are all gathered around the scorned beady eyed man, rolling their eyes and complaining. I slam my tray onto the end of a nearby table, receiving snickers from the occupants as I'm lead away by the good doctor. I grasp the white plastic fork on my tray and follow him into the elevator; tucking it against my wrist and hoping he doesn't see. Just a precaution- in case this man is taking me upstairs to gas me again, or punish me for my second little 'episode'. That 'manipulative brand of behavior'.

The doors close with a creak and the ground shakes as we ascend. I feel Crane shift behind me, the warmth of his body approaching me. He stands only a few feet away.

"Miss Alcott,"
Doctor Crane whispers into my ear, his breath warm on my lobe.

"Really?"
He asks, his warm hand reaches down for mine, he grasps the fork and pulls it away from me.

Fear and something else rush through me. Warmth. His warmth. I hear my breath quicken and I try to keep from shaking. He steps back in one motion as the doors open again with a twisted ding.