Title: The Angel of Death
Author: miss_peg
Rating: NC-17 (violence/horror)
Summary: The world was made up of opposites.
Notes: I came up with the idea of this story whilst reading someone else's (The Reddest Devil by Unbeautifully-Broken) and in their story was the line 'There could be no light without darkness' which is how this story began. It's rather dark but I hope you enjoy it all the same.
The world was made up of opposites.
Dry and wet.
Tall and short.
Ying and yang.
Bravery and cowardice.
Micro and macro.
Light and dark.
Life and death.
Some called him a murderer, a serial killer, a horrific excuse for a human being, a monster. But without monsters there were no saints. Without murders people didn't understand the sanctity of life. Without the darkness that he thrust upon them, the world didn't know just what light truly meant.
Patrick Jane and his little team of agents were the heroes, the brave people who put the bad guys in jail.
It made him sick.
He was the hero.
The person who made others see what their life really meant to them, how much they really loved their family and friends. Without his criminality they went about life as though it was something they were owed. Happiness was a given, life was expected and any alternative was too horrible to think about, too soon or simply unfair.
They were wrong.
Life was fragile.
Life could be given and life could be taken away. He knew that better than anyone.
He'd witnessed the horrors of life; of cancer, of murder, of rape. He'd suffered at the hands of people who deserved everything they got excepting the title family. His happiness had been sacrificed by the people who existed to protect him.
Nobody and nothing was sacred and anyone who considered otherwise was as deranged as they considered him to be.
He was the only sane one in the sorry mess that everyone had created for themselves.
Death comes to everyone eventually. But they don't accept that, not anymore. They want to live forever, they want to cure every disease, they want to birth every child healthy and without flaws.
The world needed flaws.
Beauty only came from the absence of it and life only appears sweeter when there's a loss of it.
They forget that after a while.
Life moves on, as they say. They suffer loss and they weep for their loved one and then when the dust settles and the pain grows weaker they continue to live as though that person never even existed.
That's what he liked about Patrick Jane. He understood the sanctity of life and death. He didn't forget that death had once consumed him and though he carried on living he clung to the idea that he, too, could make someone pay for the destruction of his family. Just like he had done all those years ago when he'd punished Patrick for his crimes.
But even he believed that his actions were wrong. That his murderous hands should not have done what they did.
He was misunderstood.
Blood spilled on his hands not because he wanted to kill, though it did feel good to thrust that knife into the body of some unsuspecting victim, to stare into their eyes and watch the life drain from them.
He did it because he needed to.
Someone needed to balance the essence of life in order to remind people how important it was.
Without him the world would be off balance.
Humans would destroy themselves and the planet through their selfish desire to avoid death. He couldn't sit by and allow that to happen, not when his role was as vital as a doctor in a hospital.
Their job was to save lives; to make the people better who needed to live...his job was to take the lives of everyone else.
He was a warrior seeking out battles in order to allow the rest of the world their happiness.
He was the angel of death.