There is heat... and in the heat, there is tension.
Electricity building before the storm breaks. The feeling is oppressive, beginning to dominate his every waking moment. He finds himself pacing, fidgeting, his muscles ineffectively trying to diffuse the feeling. Experience has taught him the need to wait, the exquisite pay off that comes from delaying the gratification, from not succumbing to the first uneasy sensation that twists in his belly. But his body is instinctive, primal and seeks that release urgently.
The job had helped.
It was a hunt of a different kind. A way to channel the need, subvert the desire. It was a chance to become submerged in the chase and feed off the adrenaline. Through interrogation, confrontation, he worked them, manipulated them, pushed them to the place where, finally cornered, they would turn howling out their rage, their hurt, their anguish. Or they would submit, defeat evident in every motion, as they would all but lie down and expose their throat for the killing bite. He absorbed the pain, feasted on the triumph and the beast in his belly would uncoil a little, his need temporarily appeased.
It had been getting harder.
In the early days it had been easy. During his time at Narcotics, it was almost laughable. Non conformity was common place and junkies are not known for their longevity. His transfer to Major Case had been a challenge, but he'd adapted, used his talents to mask his intent. Take, for example, his hypersensitive nose. Useful as an investigative tool, his colleagues had often showed their discomfort when he handled and sniffed the corpses, but they could not deny the results. Even his partner had wrinkled her own nose in disgust. How much further would it wrinkle if she really knew the motivation? How he revelled in the opportunity to touch, the intimacy of the last breath held for safekeeping in stilled lungs?
His partner had been a problem.
He had never worked with one person so closely or for so long. It was stressful being under such close scrutiny, but also strangely exhilarating. Here was another game to play, another level of distraction. Unwittingly, she had become a co conspirator, defending his actions, providing reasons, explaining away his behaviour, becoming another layer in his defences. She had also become a useful moral compass, letting him know when he was veering off course, straying from the accepted path. Her absence had highlighted how much he had come to rely on her for this. Fuck, he had come close to beating that Jew hating, mother hating bastard to death...in front of witnesses. This dependence had been dangerous, a false sense of security.
He had slipped up.
He had lowered his guard. He'd been blindsided, not by the threat but by the target. He'd been shaken by the impact that her abduction had on him, the realization that she was his. She wasa danger to him, yes, but a necessity. Like attracts like, and those in his orbit were no exception. Nicole, Jo, Frank, his father, even his mother, all were damaged in their own way. But she was not. He'd sat by her hospital bed, explored, marvelled in this new truth and strengthened his resolve.
He had buried the monster.
He had buried it under his caseload, in the minutiae of daily life, in the food and the booze and the meds. His mind had dulled a little, his speech had slowed and his body thickened but he had held his resolve. Resolve that had strengthened when his heritage was revealed. Resolve that had held during his mother's illness, his brother's troubles, Declan's twisted demonstration of love. And there had still been death: Brady, his mother, his brother, Nicole, the Captain. His resolve held, but like all good movie monsters, his monster did not stay buried. It had bled into rage, rebellion, impulsiveness and rash decisions, then he would remember that hospital bed and recommit.
Then she had let him go.
It had been an impossible situation. From her perspective, it was the right way, the kindest way. He had outstayed his welcome. His situation, both internal and external, had become untenable. On reflection, perhaps he had just been too exhausted, too numbed, too overwhelmed to do anything but go through the motions. He had given her the respect, the endorsement she was due. The walk out of the office had felt like the Green Mile.
As Declan had promised, he is now free.
All constraints are gone.
There is the heat, the exquisite tension. He has not felt this alive, this vital, in years. It's been too long, and the need is too great. He throws open his mind, his body, to the hunger. He embraces it, revels in it and the hunt begins...
The selection, the pursuit, the cornering, the surrender, the kill, the blood, the body – it's all there but something's wrong. There is no triumph; no satisfaction and no thrill...just emptiness.
He weeps. The sobs wrack his body but clear his mind. He sees what is missing; sees her.
His unrelenting, puzzle- solving brain works at this problem for a while. Finally he finds the path. New resolve forms and faltering hope rises. He takes his first step on the way back... back to Major Case... back to her.