WARNING: Rated for violence and implied sexual abuse of a child.
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- Hush, little baby, don't say a word -
It took four bars and seven hospitalizations before he got a decent lead on where the Roche girl has been taken. Once the kidnappers realized she wouldn't be worth a ransom they took what profit they could selling her to another of their kind.
Sold... the thought still chokes him with anger.
- Poppa's gonna buy you a mockingbird -
He hasn't slept in days and his control is all but gone. He actually folded a man's arm in half the wrong way at the last place he visited. Still, it got him his answer. He can't feel badly about that.
- and if that mockingbird don't sing -
There are two dogs in the back, but they're busy fighting over a soup bone. Easily avoided. An open second-story window is all the opportunity he needs.
- Poppa's gonna buy you a diamond ring -
Old dressmaker's forms surround him, half-buried in heaps of mildewing fabric. He can hear singing - a man, sounding high-pitched and infantile. It makes his hair stand on end to hear it, but it's the faint whimpering cry beneath it that makes him start running.
- and if that diamond ring turns brass -
There's a light in the room at the end of the landing. His footsteps are too loud so he tries to make up for it with speed now. The singing continues, and he can hear the other voice, tearful, so small... He makes it through the door and she's there, just like the picture the parents gave him - same cupid's-bow mouth, same blue eyes, even the same little dress, only the dress is pushed up where it shouldn't be and her eyes are full of tears and her mouth is an upside-down smile saying no, no
- Poppa's gonna--
There's a roaring sound in his ears that stops the singing and drowns out her whimpers and there's someone screaming now but he can't make out the words - it's just a steady rhythmic cadence that shortens his breath and makes his arms ache until the room coalesces around him again and it's him screaming, sobbing, snarling never, never, never, never
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She thinks a monster has come in here - the big scary man was holding her down, singing and smiling but it was all wrong and he was taking her clothes off and pushing at her with something, but then something horrible came and dragged him away from her. Now there is shouting and bad sounds so she pulls her dress back down and curls up all small and hopes the monster won't see her because she's too afraid to move and can't hide.
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The struggles have long since stopped but he can't stop pounding his fists down into this monster - not until a blow glances off what's left of the skull to the floor below, jarring up his arm and rattling his teeth. Then he hears the terrified crying behind him and remembers why he's there. He looks at the mess beneath him, on him, and fights a wave of nausea.
The worst of what's on his hands is wiped on the body's shirttails. Rags take care of the rest, leaving his gloves dry if not clean. The trench coat, splattered with a map of crimson, is hastily stripped off. He can't get enough air yet. He turns around and sees her cowering in a tight little ball on the filthy mattress. Ohgod, he thinks, what did she see. Quickly he grabs a discarded blanket to cover what he's done and tries to bring his breathing under control.
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The noises have stopped, except for the breathing. She won't look, she won't look... maybe it won't see her. Maybe Mommy and Daddy will finally find her and bring her back home. She can't stop the tears, tries to stay quiet but she's so scared and she can't stop the sounds that come up from her throat so she tries to make herself even smaller instead.
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He stands, shakily, and stumbles over to her. She's keening brokenly, her whole body is shaking, all tangled brown hair and crossed arms and tiny feet and he's completely at a loss. His hands reflexively burrow into his pockets and his left hand crumples into something rigid - her photograph. Carefully, he brings it out and kneels next to the shuddering girl with this talisman.
"Blaire..." He sees her jump, and now he can hear a frantic whisper don't hurt me, don't hurt me, don't hurt me and something breaks inside of him and makes him want to weep. He searches his mind for something, anything that will help and he remembers a detail, something the parents said.
"S-- Skipper?" The nickname topples past his lips. His throat is raw from screaming and all he can manage is a horrifying rasp.
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She looks up, peeking from behind her hair at the sound of her Daddy's name for her. She can see now the monster looks like a person, but with a strange black-and-white face that isn't really a face and clothes like Important People she sees sometimes. He's holding something out to her and she sees that it's her - it's her picture.
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She's looking at the picture and he sees recognition in her eyes. He tries again. "Your parents-- your Mommy and Daddy... said they call you 'Skipper'. Is that right?"
The small head nods amidst wide-eyed hiccuping snuffles.
At last he has what he needs. "They sent me to find you, Skipper. They sent me to bring you home."
And then her arms are around his neck tight, so tight he can't breathe, and she's crying so hard but it's all right because he thinks he is too.