Before It Starts

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the television series Killer Instinct and I'm not making any money from this fic

Summary: AU of the episode She's The Bomb. Hale discovers John removing some evidence from the locker. Things take a very different turn

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for most of the thirteen episodes of Killer Instinct; AU; mentions of violence and references to deviant/violent murders

Author's Note: Having seen this series a while back, I think this idea has been floating around in my head a while now. I finally decided to go ahead and write it... but this fic is set before the events of the episode and the episode itself wouldn't take place after this fic. So AU

"Yeah... I'm gonna need to check on the evidence." Hale didn't have a lot of patience at the best of times... and being told that he needed to re-log the evidence from the last case he and Carter had worked made him more irritated than usual. He passed over the case file and waited for his fellow officer to allow him into the evidence lock-up.

"You here to re-log some evidence too?"

Hale glanced over his shoulder as he heard the new voice. His eyes fell on the man's jacket and he sighed. "Bomb squad." He turned back as the officer in charge of the lockup put the card in the slot and opened the door for him. Remembering the constant 'suggestions' from the Lieutenant about his manners, Hale sighed and muttered a, "Thank you," as he stepped into the lock-up.

Re-logging the evidence didn't take very long and Hale glanced up as the bomb-squad guy entered the lockup, too. He focused on the man, watching him without making it look like that was what he was doing.

The officer in charge of the lockup wasn't paying any attention to either of them. Hale finished the paperwork and stood up... in time to see bomb-squad guy's hand slip into his pocket. He didn't see anything go in there... but even though the movement looked casual enough, Hale was reasonably sure the guy had lifted some of the evidence.

Bomb-squad guy turned after putting the evidence box away. He nodded slightly to Hale and then stepped out of the lock-up.

Hale had already put his box away and as he passed the officer, he shoved the paperwork at him. "File this."

"That's not really my job..."

Hale ignored the protest as he headed after the bomb-squad guy, keeping enough of a distance so that it didn't look like he was following him. He wasn't surprised to see the man dump the paperwork into the nearest trashcan.

Hale followed the man out of the station. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he made sure his cell phone was switched to silence as he followed the man, speeding up as they reached the guy's car. "You got a call?"

The bomb-squad guy looked at him, appearing almost unfocused. "I've got a wedding to go to." He opened the car door.

Hale reached out, shoving the door closed. "Why are you taking evidence to a wedding?"

"I'm not taking any evidence to a wedding."

"Then you won't mind emptying your pockets so I can take a look."

"I'm going to be late."

"You want me to forcibly search you?" Hale asked.

The man hesitated... and then a look of resignation came over his face. He reached into his pocket and took out a bag of what looked like powder.

Hale took the bag, but still kept his hand braced on the car door... just in case the man got any thoughts about getting in the car and driving off. Not that he would get very far. He could have dressed up as a member of the bomb squad and sneaked in... but it was unlikely. He had the bearing of an officer. "What's in this?" He held up the bag.

"It's a type of explosive powder."

Hale made eye contact with the man. "And why did you take it?"

The man shook his head and looked away. "It doesn't matter."

There was a familiar look on the man's face... one that Hale recognised; he saw it on his own face when he looked into the mirror. And when the feelings of despair and self-loathing got to be too much, he at least had someone he could talk to... and when talking didn't work? Well, the other thing was unpleasant... but it still worked. "What's your name?"

A surprised look came over the man's face, but he answered anyway. "John Moore."

"I'm Jack Hale... and I'm going to ask again." Hale held the bag up in front of his face. "Why did you take this?"

A bitter look came across John's face. "I was going to use it."

"That's what I thought." Looking around, Hale came to a decision. He shoved his bag into his pocket and nodded to the car. "Get in." Just to prove his point, he reached over to open the door.

John eyed him warily. "You're telling me to leave?"

"I'm going with you. Get in," Hale repeated.

John hesitated and Hale wondered, again, if he planned to drive off. Instead, the other man said, "I don't know where you want me to drive."

"I'll give you directions." Hale waited until John had got in the car, then closed the door and stepped round to the passenger side. He got in the car and did up his seatbelt, then told John how to get to his house.

Neither of them spoke during the ride. Hale was trying to figure out why he was bringing John back to his place... except there was something of himself he recognised in the other man. And he knew how much the Lieutenant had helped him, even when he didn't want it. Turning John in to Cavanaugh might take care of the stealing the evidence problem... but it wouldn't take care of the deeper emotional issues.

"What are we doing here?" John asked as he parked the car.

"We're going to talk. And then I'm going to help you." Hale got out of the car, feeling his phone vibrating. He answered as John got out of the car. "Lieutenant."

"Where are you, Hale? You left Carter with all the paperwork from the last case and she's telling me she's got someplace to be."

"Tell her I'll take care of the paperwork," Hale answered. "I'm with a guy from the bomb squad. John Moore."

"Did something happen?" Cavanaugh asked.

"Not yet. I'll tell you about it later." Hale disconnected the call and then glanced at John. He didn't bother saying anything, instead walking over to his apartment and unlocking the front door. After opening it, he waved John inside and then followed the other man into the apartment, closing the door behind them.

John glanced around and then turned to Hale. "What am I doing here?"

"You're here so you don't do something you'll regret."

"You don't know anything about me."

Hale took the bag of explosive powder out of his pocket and held it up. "I know, once you cross that line, you can't go back."

"And then you'll be the one to arrest me."

Hale shrugged. "I'd prefer it didn't come to that."

John glanced around as Hale's dog padded into the room. Hale crouched down to scratch the dog's neck, speaking softly to the animal. "I'll take you for a walk later." He didn't take his eyes off John. "You say I don't know anything about you? When I was a kid, I found out my dad was a serial killer. I know that look in your eyes... you think it's hopeless. Why carry on like you are? What's the point?" He held eye contact with John, straightening up as he did so. "I know what it's like to feel dead inside."

John held eye contact with Hale for several moments and then slowly sank down onto the sofa. "My daughter..." He took a deep breath, obviously trying to stop himself breaking down. "There was a plane crash." He spoke to the floor. "Last year. My daughter could have got off the plane... the people there were offering those with flights the opportunity to change their flights... as well as two hundred dollars in vouchers." He looked up at Hale, his face haunted. "People pushed in front of her... just to get those vouchers... they condemned her to death."

Hale stepped over to sit down next to John on the couch. "It was one of them whose wedding you were going to?" He shook his head, able to imagine exactly what the other man had been planning. "There was no way they could have known what those actions would mean." He looked at John. "You can't punish people for something they had no control over."

John looked resigned and closed his eyes. "I know. But I don't know what else to do." His voice was low... as if he was talking to himself rather than Hale.

Hale answered anyway. "I can help you feel."

John opened his eyes, but didn't ask what Hale meant. Instead, he spoke in a weary tone. "Could you avoid my face and not break any bones, please?"

"You think I'd give you a beating?"

"I know you're not your father, Hale. But some people consider you a loose cannon. I don't know you well enough to be sure of what you're going to do."

Hale should probably feel offended by that... but to be honest, he didn't care that much about what most people thought about him. He didn't normally reach out to those outside his department. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was reaching out to John... except he had the feeling that they were more alike than either of them realised. But where Hale had had someone to catch him when they needed to, it was obvious John had nothing.

Hale leaned forward slightly, looking straight at John. "Here's the deal. I'm going to spank you. It'll break you down. It will be painful and humbling. But it'll help you heal." He waited a beat before continuing, "Or I turn you in. You get suspended, pending an investigation. And if you snap, I come after you hard." He waited a second. "Need to think about it?"

"No." John stood up.

Hale stayed where he was. "Are you choosing to walk out?"

"No. I..." John seemed to deflate. "I assumed you would want me to bend over the couch."

"No. We're doing this the old-fashioned way." Hale smiled, though there was nothing funny about the situation. "Pants down and over my knee." He didn't bother asking John if he was sure. As far as he was concerned, John had made his decision... and dragging it out wasn't going to help him.

Decision made by both of them, at least as far as Hale was concerned, he reached out for John. The other man's wrist felt tense under his fingers, but he stepped closer to Hale, allowing himself to be pulled across his lap.

Hale had been on the other end of this enough times to know how this worked. He adjusted John across his lap, looking at the back of the man's head for a moment or two. It was telling that John was submitting to this and Hale felt his estimation of the man go up a couple of notches.

Even though he still didn't like the bomb squad. Just on principle.

Sliding his hand under John's pants, Hale undid the button and zip and then pulled the loosened pants down to just below his ankles. He followed that with the other man's boxers, leaving John's entire backside bare.

Hale could see how tense John was and he decided not to drag this out any longer than he had to. Lifting his hand, he brought it down in the first crisp smack, right at the crest of John's backside, and then repeated the swat, aiming it at the other buttock.

A slight wince was the only evidence John gave that he'd felt anything. The next swat Hale delivered was harder, but as he brought his hand down, he cupped it slightly... to make the smack sound louder. He saw John flinch and heard a quick exhale of breath.

That was better, but a few swats on their own weren't going to have any effect. Hale slid his other arm over John's waist, tugging the man closer to his chest, and began a rhythm of the smacks. He made sure to cover every inch of John's exposed bottom, turning the skin a light pink as he reached John's thighs and then began over again from the top.

John reacted as Hale started over from the top, jerking his legs as Hale's hand landed on a particularly sensitive spot. Hale wasn't swatting gently, not wanting to drag this out any longer than he needed to, and he began focusing more of the swats to John's thighs and sit spots, shifting the other man forward for better access to the latter.

It was obvious, by the stiff way John held himself, that he was resisting giving in to the spanking. Hale paused, his palm stinging, and realised that John was going to need a push to encourage him to finally let go of his pain.

Hale began to unclasp his belt, speaking softly as he did so. "I'm sure losing your daughter was a horrible experience to go through, but do you really think she'd want you to kill people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Who didn't know their actions would condemn other people to death? Would she want you to carry on living half a life, until you either get yourself killed or arrested?" He didn't give John a chance to respond as he doubled the belt over in his hand and brought it down hard.

John gasped and tried to lurch forward off Hale's lap.

Hale tightened his grip and brought the belt down a second and then a third time. He watched John carefully, noticing that he could see the other man's shoulders beginning to shake in silent sobs.

Hale began targeting the belt at the lower parts of John's bottom. He didn't use much force, but from the way John cried out and struggled, he was sure the other man didn't notice the difference.

After perhaps a dozen strikes, John's sobbing became audible. He stopped trying to struggle away and instead slumped over Hale's knees, crying into his arms.

Hale put the belt to one side, placing a hand on John's lower back and rubbing. It wasn't easy to provide comfort, but he forced himself to do it anyway... and found it easier as John relaxed against his touch.

It seemed to take hours for John's tears to die away. He slowly pushed himself up, avoiding looking at Hale.

With a sigh, Hale wrapped his arm around John's shoulders. "It isn't a weakness to accept comfort," he said, his voice gruff, as he stood up... because he was sure that John wouldn't want to sit on his sore backside.

John hesitated, but then slumped against Hale, looking even more tired. "I still don't know what to do now."

"Now?" Hale repeated. "Now, you get some sleep here... I'll call the Lieutenant and make up some story about why we've got evidence missing. When you wake up, we'll order in takeout and then talk about what to do next."

John nodded, letting his head drop gently against Hale's shoulder without saying anything.

Hale knew he needed to get the other man to sleep, but for the time being, he stood with his arm around John's shoulders, at least willing to provide him with comfort, even if he wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation.

The End