"You've encountered my little gadget before, haven't you, Miss Dawes?" Crane repositioned the arm-brace so it fitted more comfortably around his wrist. It let out a series of small clicks as he pushed in a button or two, and he looked up to see her eyeing it carefully.

"There's more to it than meets the eye, as well you know." He ran another clean, metal edged chair across the floor and sat opposite her. He noticed that the ropes were slightly tight across her torso, digging into the black pencil skirt and modest blouse. Honestly, if you were going to confront someone, you could at least do it wearing something you could run away in…

She responded angrily through the cloth around her mouth, and he gently removed it, as if dealing with caustic chemicals.

"You disgust me. Is this what you get off on? Scaring people?" Her hair fell into her face and she shook it back.

He stood up and began to pace, his voice quiet and unassuming. "No. Well, I suppose a little. I prefer to study it, actually. I like to pair up cause and response and all that…"

She spat. "Save it and let me go."

He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "You really don't have time for manners, do you, Miss Dawes? I could let you go any time I choose to, but first I wanted you to show me something."

Carefully he pushed some stray strands of dark hair back into place, and sat down in front of her again. He adjusted his rimless glasses and pushed up his sleeve to focus on the arm-brace. It was strange…only a few days before his own toxins had displaced his mind, and now he seemed as cool and collected as the moment she had confronted him outside the courtroom. Crane should be mad…a lunatic on the run…yet he had only returned and continued his research in the basement of Arkham Asylum.

"I was pleased with my progress in inducing irrational fear. Citizens running away from completely normal entities is all very well and good, but I'm looking for something deeper."

Rachel remained silent, so he persisted.

"This is a substance that, as you might have guessed, induces terror in the human mind. Possibly animals too, but I don't believe in animal testing – which leads me to my next point. You will be my test subject for this evening." His lips twitched slightly with amusement, but she continued to glare at him.

"This is a more interesting dosage." He offered. "It builds on natural or existing fears. All it needs is a trigger, and then it's all go from there. The test subject's regular phobia will suddenly become their worst nightmare, and I'm guessing they'll be pretty much incapacitated by the experience – the desired effect. I'm hoping you will aid me in my search for a gas that allows me to 'plant' specific phobias in my subjects' minds."

Rachel lurched forward, the chair nearly toppling with her. Crane hardly flinched at her sudden movement - it was to be expected.

"No! I won't! Let me go!" She twisted against the ropes, but got nowhere. The ropes were much too tight, to his disappointment. He was hoping he would see an aggressive-fear struggle in its prime.

No matter. He nodded his approval. "Good, your adrenaline is already pumping, and I'm guessing your nerves are already on edge. It's nice to see you're all set up."

He sprayed a long burst of blue tinted gas at her face, as she choked and kicked her bound feet in desperation.

- -

Crane set aside the last slide in annoyance. The slide show displaying the triggers for common phobias had had no effect. Neither had a random selection of lesser-known phobias. Two hours had passed, and he had exhausted all hands-on resources for fear induction. By now, his men had lost interest and had resorted to standing guard outside the interview room. The Doctor shut off the projector and returned to his seat – he had earlier turned her chair around to face the screen, so he was now sitting behind her. The clock ticked noisily on the fair wall, showing ten to one. They had reached the early hours of the morning.

"You're a difficult one to work with, did you know that?" He steepled his fingers and watched the back of her head over them. He blinked, and realised he'd missed something. A tiny movement, barely noticeable. He lent on the arm of the chair and rested his chin on his hand, studying her intently.

"I said…did you know that?"

It was there again – the smallest of flinches in the shoulder area. A nervous reaction – she was anxious, but not yet afraid enough to trigger the toxins. He noted that the new batch should provoke at this stage. The question was, what was causing the sub-fear?

Crane continued to talk to her from behind for a while, where she couldn't see him, in the possibility that it might be unseen threat that roused her. Occasionally he noticed the reaction again, but it wasn't enough. He attempted various tactics, walking around the area behind her, letting his shoes click loudly on the tiles in an effort to intimidate her, and leaving the room quietly, only to return after a few minutes. After forty minutes, much to his pleasure, a pattern appeared.

- -

Something pounded intently at the back of Rachel's mind, as the footsteps got closer. She willed herself to stay still, and sit it out, but she couldn't see where Crane was.

As if a switch was flicked, she suddenly became incredibly aware of the room, and the sensation was not a pleasant one. The walls were too white, the clock too loud, the surroundings too…clinical.

In her mind's eye the figure of Crane in his suit regarded her quietly. He had always been like that…quiet, calculative…giving nothing away.

There was no reason for it that she would care to admit, but Rachel didn't like it and her skin began to crawl. Her vision began to drift in and out of focus as the echoing footsteps came to a halt directly behind her.

- -

"There is always something, Miss Dawes. Fear is a survival trait - the notion that a person doesn't possess such a thing is, frankly, ridiculous." He stepped slowly towards her shaking body. "And…do you know…I think I've just hit the nail on the head."

He stepped sideways around her chair and looked down at her. She avoided his gaze, as her bottom lip began to tremble. Slowly, he cocked his head and considered her movements.

"After this evening, Miss Dawes, I believe we've built a relationship of sorts." He pushed up his glasses, and his voice softened. He reached to her face and tipped her chin upwards to face him.

"I believe…that just ever so slightly…you fear me."

- -

Outside, the two men glanced at each other as the Doctor's subject began to shriek in terror.