Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, but here's the next chapter. Thanks once again to all of my lovely reviewers! I can't say that enough, but, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you soooooo much! Okay, I'll stop gushing and let you read, now.

Chapter Thirteen: Crane

Panting, Jonathan released his hold on Heather's face and then tangled the same hand into the hair at the back of her head. With his other hand, he grabbed the gas mask that covered her lovely face, hidingher from his view, and ripped it off. She let out a small cry of pain and tried again to push him away from her. He could feel his smile growing wider with every movement that she made; he was enjoying this.

Now, he could see her face. Her full, pretty lips trembled as one tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek. He slipped a little further over the edge. The one hand remaining in her hair, he grabbed her by the neck with the other and jerked her away from the wall.

Leaving Dr. Mildred writhing on the floor still screaming and crying in terror, Jonathan pulled Heather out of the room and into the hallway. She stumbled and fell to her knees, but when she tried to stand back up, Jonathan kicked her foot back down. He then began to drag her down the hall by the hair, reminiscent to the way a caveman might. The comparison made him chuckle. Heather keptattempting to get her feet under her, but any time she tried, one good hard tug on her hair caused her to lose her footing and go right back to being dragged across the cold stone floor. Not to mention, every time she made even the tiniest sound of pain or fear, it sent fresh waves of adrenaline crashing over him. He wanted to drown in her fear; drink it in and let it envelope him.

Heather's hands grasped his wrist, her fingernails digging into his skin. She was either trying to ease some of the pain being caused by himmercilessly pullingher by her hair bylifting herselfup on his wrist toalleviate some of the pressureor she was trying to inflict enough pain to get him to release her; or both. He was betting on both. It was the type of person that she was.

It was harder dragging her up the stairs to his office; but he enjoyed the challenge. She managed to reach up and catch him by the ankle, causing him to trip and fall forward. Thus, he lost his grip on her hair. She leapt up and started down the stairs. Jonathan got to his feet and quickly caught her around the waist. He spun her around and slammed her down face first on the stairs. She caught the stair above her with her fingers and tried to pull herself out from under him, but he tightened one arm's hold on her stomach and returned the other one to her hair.

"No!" Heather cried, her hand flying back to blindly grope athis.

Jonathan leaned down so that his mouth, or more accurately, the mouth of his mask was right beside her ear, "Yes."

He climbed to his feet and went back to hauling Heather up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he pulled her to her feet and shoved her into the office. He shoved her so hard that she stumbled and flailed several steps until she finally fell into one of the bookcases, taking several books to a pile in the floor along with her. She groaned and rubbed a hand over the back of her head before getting to her knees and using the bookcase to help lift her to her feet.

While she was getting herself up, Jonathan shut and locked his door before tucking the key into the inner pocket of his jacket with his glasses. Heather had turned to look at him, still leaning against the bookcase. She glared at him. Trying to put on a strong front, he thought; but he could still see terror running through those pretty eyes. He countered over to his desk, shrugging out of his suit jacket and jerking loose the knot of his tie. He then began to roll his sleeves up to his forearms.

"What was it that you said?" he asked, "Less stuffy?"

Heather responded with a weak nod.

"Good." He laughed, "Now, what should we talk about in our session today?"

Heather took the opportunity of his distance to make a break for the door. Jonathan watched in amusement as she tugged on the doorknob several times before finally realizing that it was useless and giving up. She turned to face him once again, her chin quivering and tears sliding down her cheeks. He came back around the front of his desk and moved toward her. For every step in her direction that he took, Heather took one back. She kept moving away from him until her back hit the wall and she had nowhere else to go. When he was three steps away from her,she ducked around him and rushed to the center of the office.

Jonathan reached out and caught her by the elbow to stop her. He stepped up right behind her, barely a centimeter between the two of them. Her entire body trembled as she tried to stand perfectly still; tried not to move a muscle as though any sudden movement would cause her predator to attack. Predator, Jonathan thought to himself with a smile, that was a fun way to look at it. That made her his prey. He leaned in closer, pressing himself to her back and tilting his head forward.

"Don't you see, Heather?" he said, stroking a hand over the back of her hair in mock affection as he rubbed the rough material of the mask against her smooth cheek, "This is what I wanted from you; what I needed."

He ran his fingers down her arm before slipping his hand up under the material of her shirt andto run itacross the bare skin of her stomach. He felt her twitch under his touch. Her breathing was labored and panicked. She was trying not to cry, but her body was giving her away. He dropped his hand from her hair to the middle of her back and gaveher a harsh shove away from him. The front of her hips hit the desk and her forward momentum doubled her over at the waist, so her upper body slammed into the surface of the desk.

She pushed herself back up and moved around to the other side of the desk. Soon she was tucked behind his heavy leather chair as he mirrored her stance at the front of his desk. She was clutching at the sides of his chair so hard that her knuckles and the tips of her fingers had started to turn white.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, barely choking the words out.

Jonathan leaned forward, bracing both hands on the desk, "Let me show you."

He went to move around the desk and Heather darted out from behind the chair to run from him. In the blink of an eye, Jonathan changed direction. He caught her by the waist, lifted her off of her feet, and then slammed her back down hard on top of his desk. She screamed and squirmed against his hold on her, knocking the items of his desk to the floor. Jonathan jumped onto the desk with her, straddling her hips and taking hold of the sides of her face, his elbows pressing down hard into her shoulders to restrain her struggling.

"Let me go." She pleaded quietly, "Please, let me go, Dr. Crane."

"No, no, no…" Jonathan shushed, pressing her index finger to her lips before he introduced himself, "Scarecrow."

The name sent a fresh rush of fear through her eyes, which in turn sent him another wave of euphoria. Then, she closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. His entire body tensed up. He caught her chin in a firm grasp and jerked her face back around toward his.

"Look at me, Heather." He demanded.

She shook her head.

"I said, look at me." he repeated.

"No." Heather said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Open your damn eyes!"

She opened her eyes, but kept them facing downward and away from him. That was fine, though. He could still see them. Thetension eased; control returned.He leaned down, pressing more of his body against hers. He stroked his hand down her face to the tender skin of her neck. As he did this, her eyes came back up to look at the face of his mask. He watched her eyes narrow and her jaw clench as she quickly reached up and tore the mask off of his head before throwing it across the office. Jonathan glared down at her, but whatever she saw in his eyes must have been even scarier than the mask because the brave stare she had been giving him melted into another look of wide eyed terror as a scream curdled up out of her throat.

She twisted her body beneath his weight, her hands searching around her sides for anything that she could use as a weapon. Sadly, everything had been knocked off of the desk during their struggling.

Jonathan took hold of her chin again, running his thumb along her bottom lip, he leaned his face even closer to her. He pressed his mouth the side of her ear, his lips brushing against it with every word.

"I could show you, Heather." He breathed, relishing the feel of her skin against his face. He may just like this more than he liked the power that the mask gave to him."You're just like me, can't you see that? I knew it when I first laid eyes on you."

"No, I'm not." Heather spat.

"Yes, you are." He said, his lips curling upward, "Let me show you what it's like. How intoxicating it can be…"

"What can be?" she asked on a shaky breath.

Her body stilled as she stopped fighting him. This caught Jonathan slightly off guard. She was either intrigued, or looking for a way to trick him. He leaned back so that he could look down at her face. Her green eyes sparkled up at him questioningly; still afraid, but curious as well.

The corner of his mouth twitched, "Fear."

"Fear?" Heather asked, "That's what this is all about?"

Jonathan leaned closer to her, burying his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin, "It's amazing, really. The power. The inability of the mind to rationalize. Knowing that you have that kind of control over someone…" his hand slid down to her hip and he straightened his legs slightly, getting his lower body tighter against her, "it can even be a kind of aphrodisiac."

"Fear?" she repeated.

"Yes." Jonathan said, opening his mouth and tracing her neck with is tongue.

Heather tilted her head to the side to give him better access to her throat as his hand slid up under her shirt again. "All this time, you've been trying to scare me?"

"Yes." He said into her skin, "but you don't scare easily. We're so similar, Heather. There's so much that we could do together."

"You think we're that similar?"

"I do."

"So," she said, licking her lips as she slid her hand up over his shoulder and into his hair, turning her face so that her lips were directly beside his ear as he had done with her, "what scares you, Doc?"

He stopped what he was doing and pushed himself away from her so that he could see her face once again. Why had she asked him that? The question unnerved him.

"What?" he said.

"I wanna know," Heather said, her eyes narrowing and body trembling as she spoke the end of her sentence through clenched teeth, "what scares you."

Jonathan stared down at her, noticing her change. The change of the set of her jaw, the change in her expression, but most of all the change in her eyes. He then watched as Heather's nose scrunched up in effort as she jerked the hair at the back of his head to the side as hard as she could. Jonathan howled as the force of her assault caused him to topple from the desk to the floor; hence, off of her.

Heather sat up as soon as she was free of his weight. She slid off of the desk to her feet. He heard the sound of one of his desk drawers opening just as he was getting to his knees. Heather dug through the drawer in search of something. Jonathan got to his feet and sneered at her as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head. Heather froze, deer in the headlights expression firmly on her face.

"That wasn't very nice, Heather." He said.

"Turnabout's fair play, doc." She replied.

"So they say."

He noticed that her wrist was moving, just barely. She was still searching through is drawer.

"You shouldn't go through other people's things, Heather." He said, "It isn't polite."

"Well, you know I never claimed to be a lady."

"No, you didn't." He squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back, "What, may I ask, are you looking for?"

"That razor you never got for me." She replied, "I cling to the secret hope that you caved and bought one."

"Ah." He said as he popped his neck to the side. She wasn't as scared now. The fear was still there, but it had lessened. She was fighting it off; forcing it back down inside where it wouldn't be able to do any damage. Then, he saw those pretty green eyes of hers widen for less than a split second before instantly returning to normal. He also observed that her hand had stopped moving. She had found something.

Slowly, she pulled her hand out of the drawer, bringing with it a long sharp letter opener. She dropped her hand, which now held her weapon down to her side and smirked at him. He raised his gaze from her hand up to her face. She was the first one to move this time, sidestepping her way around the desk without taking her eyes off of him. Jonathan turned his body to keep facing her, but other than that he didn't move. Not an inch. He didn't even twitch.

"So, doc," Heather said, her eyes darting back and forth between him and the door, "can I borrow your keys?"

"What kind of doctor would I be if I went around handing out my keys to all of my patients?" he replied, matching her smirk with one of his own.

"Uh, the kind that's crazy." She answered, "So, from what I'm seeing, it shouldn't be too far of a stretch for you, so, would you please hand over the key?"

Jonathan's smirk turned into a full fledged smile. Her voice was giving her away. It was trembling; there was an underlying desperation to it. She was still scared, nervous, even a little bit anxious. Brilliant.

He took a step forward and just like that, her arm shot up from her side, pointing the tip of the letter opener at his chest. "Stay there." She said.

Her hand was shaking.

Jonathan spread his hands out wide, offering her his surrender. "Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you, Heather?"

Heather laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I have no idea what you're gonna do, Doc. I think you've lost your fucking marbles!"

Jonathan clucked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head. "Such language."

All of the sudden, he lunged toward her, knocked the letter opener out of her hand and pulled her to him. She pushed against his chest with her forearms trying to get some space between their bodies, but he kept his arms wrapped tightly around her. It was coming back to her now; leaking into her eyes like water. He grabbed her by the back of her head and pressed his lips fiercely against hers. She pulled her head back, tried to crane her neck to get away from him but his hand held her in place. When she couldn't get away, she screamed into his mouth.

He broke the macabre kiss and smiled when he saw her crying. Then, he spun her around and pushed her down onto the sofa on her back, once again using the weight of his body to hold her down.

"So, Heather," he whispered against her cheek, "as a concerned doctor, I need to ask you, on a scale of one to ten…how scared were you when your brother raped you?"

Author's Note: Well, we're nearing the end of our tale. Just one chapter and the epilogue to go. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Don't forget to review! Your feedback is greedily craved and greatly appreciated!