Analyzing criminals gets to a person. Understanding how they think, what they think, why they do what they do, it gets to a person. No matter how strong or how smart you are, it wears you down.
He works it out. No matter how early, how late, he's at the gym, breaking himself instead of them. Instead of the scum he finds hiding in the apartment above, or the house next door. The person someone worked with, carpooled with, exchanged Christmas presents with. These people.
She sees it. How he comes to bed, his bones tired and his body bruising. He's alseep when he walks in through the door. There are some nights where he doesn't even bother to change, he doesn't have enough energy, so he sleeps in clothes that smell of pain, of blood, of sweat.
It's almost like a penance. He's sorry he wasn't faster, stronger, smarter. He's sorry it hurt and you're gone or they're gone and he can't make the pain go away. Because that's what he is, that's what she loves about him. He's the one who needs to make things better, or he dies trying.
He's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry.
And when he wakes up in the morning, his body throbbing dully, he finds her holding him. Because that's what she does, she makes sure he lives, that he keeps living. He smiles and suddenly life seems lighter as he wraps himself around her body and relaxes.
He's forgiven.