Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews and your patience in waiting for me to update. I know, I'm slow. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Oh, and a friendly little reminder to let me know what you think about it!

Chapter Twelve: Heather

If she didn't stop pacing soon, Heather was going to wear a permanent groove into the floor. Back and forth, back and forth, it was the only thing that the confined space allowed. She chewed on her thumbnail as her mind worked, names of the people that she had met or had heard mentioned during her stay at the asylum swirling through her mind faster than water going down a drain. And Crane had just left her here; just abandoned her so he could go off and do God knows what while she sits here losing her mind because she can't put the freaking puzzle together. There had been someone else partaking in her and Crane's private moment, and that bothered her. She didn't like being gawked at. The last person to do it had been at the bar where she worked, and he had left feeling less like a man after she had a smashed a beer bottle between his legs. She wanted to know who had been watching on that camera. Of course, none of it would have happened it Crane hadn't been spying on her in the first place.

She heard the clanking of the door and turned to meet him as Crane came strolling through it, silently thanking God that he had finally returned. Maybe he had some answers. He didn't offer up any answers, though. He reached a hand out to her and she took one step toward him, where he instantly took hold of her upper arm. He lead her out of her cell and down through the hallway. There was not another soul in sight. No one. There was usually a least two or three orderlies lurking about the corridors, but now…she and Crane were completely alone. It was a little unnerving seeing the place so empty. It always had an underlying creepiness to it, but now it seemed deserted; like something from a horror movie. The haunted asylum. She kept waiting to hear the tortured screams of past patients who had had strange experiments performed on them.

She didn't even realize how close to the truth she was.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

Crane didn't say anything. His face was a mask; totally void of any expression. Though, his eyes held some deep malice that she had seen a few times before, usually directed at her. They walked at a quick pace, practically a trot. It was hard work for Heather to keep up with his long strides. Every step they took, the sick feeling in her chest got a little bit heavier.

Finally, he steered her into a small white room. It was like a déjà vu from hell. She felt like she had been there before, but she couldn't quite place it. Like someone had taken something from her imagination and forced it into reality in vivid detail.Then, she spotted Dr. Mildred. He was sitting in a chair, if you could call what he was doing sitting. His upper body slumped over onto the table in front of him, his arms lay by his head, hands and fingers gave the appearance of relaxation. His legs were sprawled straight out in front of him as though he had been dragged into the room and carelessly dropped into the chair that he now occupied. He wasn't moving. Heather rushed to his side, bending at her waist and touching the round man's forehead.

"Is he okay?" she asked, looking up at Crane.

"For now." Was Crane's reply.

Heather straightened, her eyes boring into her psychiatrist's, "What happened to him?"

Crane inhaled deeply through his nose then let it out. He removed his glasses and tucked them into the breast pocket on the inside of his jacket. He popped open a briefcase which was also sitting on the table and removed a small blue gas mask. He held it out in offering to Heather.

"Put this on." He said.

No. Said isn't the right word. He commanded.

Heather stared at thing as if she were afraid it would bite her. "Why do I need that?"

He repeated the order. "Put it on."

Heather shook her head with vehemently; setting her mouth in a tight line and giving him her best look of defiance.

Crane came toward her and Heather backed away from him until her back hit the wall. He secured the mask on her face himself, not gently, and then returned to the table. She wanted to know what in the hell was going on! She was sure that she would have a bruise on her face in a few hours he had grabbed her so hard. She started to walk over to him, but that was when he removed something else from the briefcase. It was another mask…but when he put it on, Heather flung herself back against the wall once more. It was the face from her dream!

Crane, now clad in the hideous mask, reached across the table and shook Dr. Mildred into consciousness. Heather moved forward, just as Mildred looked up and Crane burst some plastic container filled with a white powder in his associate's face. Mildred screamed and threw himself out of his chair.

"What's the matter Stanly?" Crane asked.

Heather watched as the short round man who had always seemed so kind cowered away from Crane in terror. She tried to speak, but her mouth seemed to refuse to form any words. So, she just stood there in some morbid fascination, watching the scene unfold before her.

Crane hopped up onto the table so that he was sitting directly in front of Mildred. "Amazing, isn't it?" he said, "The power of the mind. You know exactly who I am. You even know what I've done to you…with your own work, no less. But all of those rational thoughts simply flutter away in the presence of true terror."

Heather wasn't exactly sure who he was talking to anymore. At first, he had seemed to have been addressing Mildred. But as he went on, his voicehad takenon a trancelike quality and she almost thought that he had started talking to himself. Or was it all for her benefit? Part of her wondered if Crane ever knew at this point.

Mildred had retreated to the corner of the room. He was curled up in the fetal position, sobbing and screaming as his entire body trembled. Crane leapt off of the table and moved in his direction, which sent Mildred into another fit of wild, primitive episodes. Crane knelt down beside him, his head tilted to one side as he studied the other man, the normally totally logical, sane man's reactions.

"So, tell me, Stanly," he said, "Why did you decide to spy on Heather and myself?"

He was the spy? Heather thought to herself. No, no, that didn't make sense! He was always so nice. Sweet, even. It was difficult for her to pin him down a man that was into voyeurism. She took a few steps to him, hoping that her presence might reassure him a little; maybe even offer some comfort.

Quite the opposite, Mildred saw her coming and threw his body against the wall away from her. Heather stopped short. Why was he afraid of her? What had Crane drugged him with? Images came in flashes through her mind. It was a like the damn burst, and the floodgates lifted. The walls. The chair. The powder. Hacking. Coughing. Unable to take a breath. Dr. Crane. No. Evil. Coming toward her. Breathing down on her. Invading her space. She had thought it was a dream; convinced herself it was a dream. They had told her that she was sick. That she had been hallucinating. It was all because of a fever. She looked now a Crane as he hovered over Dr. Mildred, still seeing him standing over her as she had sat there in the floor. She had thought he was the devil.

"I didn't do it!" Mildred cried.

"Don't lie to me, Stanly!" Crane bellowed.

"I'm not!" Mildred sobbed, "Oh, God!"

Heather ran over to the two men and shoved Crane away from Mildred by the shoulders. The force of the blow knocked him off balance and he landed on his backside. He looked up at Heather, though she couldn't see his expression, she was betting it wasn't a happy one.

"Leave him alone." She said, her voice calm and even.

"No." Crane said, lifting himself to his feet.

"What are you trying to get from this?"

"His confession."

"Look at him." Heather said, pointing to the still cowering doctor, "He is terrified. Don't you think that if he had anything to confess, he would have done it by now?"

"Apparently not." Crane snapped.

Mildred had once again taken to the fetal position, covering his face with his chubby little arms. He shuttered from the tears falling down his face and he kept repeating the phrase, "I didn't do it. I didn't do it. I didn't do it…"

Heather narrowed her eyes at Dr. Crane, since they were the only part of her face that was visible above the mask. She wanted to be able to see his face. She wanted to look him in the eye as she asked her next question, but at this point, she would take what she could get.

"When did you do that to me?" she asked, indicating the dust like substance he had thrown into Mildred's face.

She watched as Crane physically squared his shoulders. Damn it, she wanted to look at him right now. He clasped his hands behind his back and set his feet at shoulder width apart. Assuming his diplomatic stance, Heather thought.

"The day before yesterday." Crane answered.

"That long ago?"

"Well, you spent one full day sleeping off the antidote." He said snidely as he took a step toward her.

Heather countered, taking one step back. She wasn't exactly sure about what was going on, but something in her stomach was telling her to keep as much distance between them as she could. Funny. An hour ago, all she wanted was to be as close to him as physically possible. She needed to see him. She needed to look into his face; needed to read what was going on behind his eyes.

"Why did you do that to me?" she asked, hating the tremble in her voice.

"Because I needed something from you that you weren't willing to give." He said. He kept trying to get closer to her, but she kept one step ahead of him.

"What?" she asked.

His head tilted to this side again as he regarded her. It was in that same studious nature with which he had stared at Dr. Mildred a few moments ago. Only this time, he was looking at her. The room all of the sudden felt very small and stuffy and Heather was finding the simple act of swallowing to be a challenge.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked.

No, Heather thought.

"Yes." She said.

It was then that, with speed she had never seen before, Crane lunged for her. Her caught her by the shoulders and slammed her bodily against the wall, using his body to hold her there. Heather squirmed against him, pushing at his ribcage with her hands, trying to get him off of her. He seemed to have become inhumanly strong all at once and she couldn't fight him off. She twisted and struggled, but he refused to relinquish his grasp on her. She turned her face away from him, not wanting to look at that mask as images of it were streaming all too steadily through her memory now. The maggots. The worms. The rotting pieces of flesh. All of it have been coming out of that mask and staring at it now would only make her think of that.

Crane took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. His fingers bit into her face and it hurt. He was hurting her. He had hurt her before. She had known better that to completely trust him, but even she hadn't thought him to be capable of something like this. How long had he been doing it? If he could do this without remorse, she found herself wondering exactly what else he might be capable of. That was the moment she felt something churning in the pit of her stomach. Something that she had not felt in a very long time.

(Crane's Perspective)

Crane felt every sense in his body heighten when he forced her to turn her face to him. There was something there in Heather's eyes that made his blood turn to fire and rush through his veins faster than it ever had in his entire life. As he held her face in his hand, he acknowledged the way his pulse had quickened with a sinister smile that went unseen by Heather. But, he saw her. He saw it and it was sweeter and more exciting than he ever could have dreamed. He hadn't expected the arousal that had come with it, but that could easily be dealt with. Hell, he would enjoy dealing with it. There. Right there lurking in those widened, pretty eyes of hers…

Fear.

Author's Note: I know I switched perspectives in this chapter and I usually try to avoid doing that…but in this case, it seemed kind of unavoidable. Oh well. Don't forget to review and let me know what you think!