Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any aspect of the Batman universe. I own nothing save for any original characters that I have created.

To New Partnerships

Although Crane was far from extravagant (a childhood spent in the throes of poverty had instilled in him a strong sense of frugality and an even stronger disgust towards ostentatious displays of wealth) he had purposefully chosen an upscale restaurant for his lunch appointment with Teagan. The girl's appearance indicated the all-too-familiar signs of a modest bank account—she had worn the same neat but clearly inexpensive outfit three times in the past week, lacked even the most basic of jewelry, and her handbag and shoes bore the inevitable blemishes from even the most gently-maintained years of use. Crane had suspected that an affluent setting would likely impress—and most importantly, intimidate—her, and his suspicions were confirmed when he observed her reading a menu with a slightly panicked expression.

"Have you been here before?" Crane asked conversationally, as if he were truly curious of her answer.

Teagan attempted to disguise her embarrassment with a sheepish half-smile. "No," she admitted.

Well, at least she was honest, Crane thought to himself before giving her his best imitation of a sincere grin. "Then perhaps I should order for both of us. My treat, of course. Is that alright with you?"

"Oh, Dr. Crane, that's far too kind of you—"

"Nonsense. I was the one who invited you. Besides..." Crane mustered up every bit of his carefully-rehearsed charm as he leaned forward and contorted his lips into a sly, playful smirk. "Lovely women should never have to pay for their own lunch."

Blech. The syrupy words tasted bitter on his tongue, and Crane could not blame her if she was equally disgusted.

But rather than be repulsed by his pathetic display of sugary-sweet chivalry, Teagan burned a vibrant shade of red to rival the roses adorning the table's centerpiece and quickly ducked behind her menu.

"T-thank you, Dr. Crane," she stammered. "Nobody's ever called me..."

Her voice trailed off, and when she reemerged from behind the menu her face held the trace of a sad smile.

It was painfully obvious to Crane that Teagan felt out of place in the swanky environment—even if her clothes hadn't hinted towards a meager lifestyle, her glaring insecurity alone would have been sufficient evidence—and judging by her shyness, overall social ineptitude, and response to his nauseatingly-clumsy flattery, he doubted that the introverted and blushing girl seated across the table from him went on many dates.

Not that she was unattractive, of course. Quite the opposite.

Teagan sat quietly as he ordered their lunch, occasionally sipping her water and surveying the restaurant's elegant décor with unabashed curiousity, as humbly fascinated by her surroundings as she was terrified.

A few silent moments passed before Crane cleared his throat and began to speak.

"As I told you yesterday, Miss James," he said, "I want to apologize for my distant approach to your internship. I know you are eager to learn, and I have been nothing less than an inadequate instructor...if not a completely distracted one."

"Oh." Teagan shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "That's okay, Dr. Crane. I realize that you're busy. I don't expect you to change your routine just for me."

Crane struggled not to scowl. As easily as she was playing into his deceitful attempt to redeem himself, he still found her timidness and desire to please irksome—but if he was careful and played his cards right, that same irritating eagerness could prove to be a useful tool.

"I have something that I want to show you," Crane said, opening his briefcase to retrieve a slender file. "I've been working on a project for quite some time, and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to give me your thoughts on it—that is, if you're interested."

He extended his arm towards her, file in hand. When she reached across the table, their fingers touch for a brief second; her skin was soft and warm, like silk against the lithe digits of his hand, and when he quickly jerked away his tongue felt thick in his mouth.

Crane was setting a trap that required precise and flawless construction and absolute discipline—every action, every word, every breath had to be executed perfectly, or the trap would malfunction and he would become the vulnerable prey rather than the hunter. If he were to lose control then everything he had worked so hard for would be destroyed, and he would not allow that to happen.

No emotion. No weakness. Only restraint.

But Teagan was far too immersed in the file's contents to notice Crane's quiet lapse of composure. He watched as her eyes traveled across the pages in a steady pace before gaining a frantic, hungry edge, as if she had begun to devour the words rather than read them; when she finally tore away from the file to look at him, her eyes were wide with stunned fascination behind the askew frames of her glasses.

"This is incredible, Dr. Crane. I...I've never read anything like this before."

"Thank you," Crane replied politely, bemused by her reaction. He'd given her a condensed, watered-down version of his research, removing any mention of test subjects, toxin, and any other potentially damning documentation—what she had read was only snippets pertaining to fear's role in the human psyche, minus the more colorful data. If she'd been captivated by such a paltry example, he could only imagine how she would react to a demonstration of his actual power.

"I mean, fear is such a primitive, basic emotion, yet psychiatry as a whole has so much more to learn about its relation to our psyche. But this—this is remarkable."

Crane had never seen her so animated before. Rather than cast her eyes towards the floor and mumble quietly, she'd become so enthused over his work that it was if she had forgotten to be nervous.

"What did Dr. Leland think of it?"

Questions! The tiny, timid girl who would rather organize his files repeatedly than mutter a single word was asking him questions!

"I'm afraid she was quite unimpressed," Crane lied smoothly.

"Oh," Teagan scoffed. "Well, that's not surprising."

Almost immediately she brought a hand to her lips, as if just realizing what she had said. "I'm sorry, Dr. Crane. That was extremely inappropriate of me."

Crane struggled not to laugh, both surprised and delighted by her spiteful assessment of Leland. "That's quite alright. What exactly did you mean?"

"Well..." Teagan hesitated. "She's just...not like you. She's more interested in being sympathetic and gentle and, well, coddling, whereas you..."

Her voice trailed off again into uncertain silence.

"Whereas I what?"

Teagan took a deep breath. "You seem to be more interested in studying the mind rather than placating inmates," she finished quickly.

There was a heavy pause, and just as Teagan was about to apologize Crane opened his mouth to speak.

"Thank you, Miss James," Crane said, and for the first time during the afternoon he spoke with sincerity. "I take that as a compliment."

A genuinely happy smile spread across Teagan's lips and brought a sparkling warmth to her dark eyes, and Crane almost felt bad for what he was going to do to her.

Almost.

They sat quietly after the waiter arrived with their plates, the table silent save for the murmurs of neighboring conversations and the light clanking of silverware. Teagan chewed slowly and kept her gaze on the floor, inwardly debating whether or not her earlier outburst had been an amateurish mistake until Crane suddenly interrupted the silence with a question.

"Do you have any family, Miss James?"

She looked up at him in surprise. "What? Oh! I mean, no, sir."

"None whatsoever?"

She shook her head. "My father left our family when I was kid, and my mother died during my sophomore year of college."

That would explain her financial state, Crane thought. No family means no money from mommy or daddy.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. You don't have any brothers or sisters?"

Teagan paused.

"No," she said finally. "It's just me."

Ah-ha. Now we're getting somewhere.

"I see." Crane straightened his glasses. "If you'll forgive the somewhat delicate question, Miss James: do you suffer from any sort of serious medical ailment? For example, a heart condition or any form of epilepsy?"

Teagan furrowed her brow in confusion. "Um, no, sir," she replied, clearly taken aback by his question. "May I ask why you—"

"Miss James, would you be interested in assisting me with my research?"

She blinked. "Me?"

Craned leaned forward and met her gaze.

"Yes," Crane said, his eyes never wavering from hers. "You've shown an appreciation and clear understanding of the notes I presented you with this afternoon, and your work in my office indicates exactly the sort of dedication and initiative that this project requires."

"You really think I would be of any use to you, Dr. Crane?" Teagan asked bashfully, biting her lower lip. Despite her penchant for shyness and susceptible blushing she continued to hold his gaze, looking into the icy blue of his eyes with what Crane suspected to be the beginning stages of fondness.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Crane smiled.

"Miss James, you greatly underestimate how much of a valuable asset you would be to the advancement of my research."

The trap had been carefully set, its snare primed and ready to spring—now all that was left was to coax her into it.

Almost...

Teagan smiled brightly and gave Crane an eager nod.

"I would be honored to be your assistant, Dr. Crane."

...there.

"Excellent." Crane lifted his glass. "To new partnerships."

She raised her own glass to his, and as their glasses clink together in a celebratory toast Teagan unknowingly seals her fate.