We Were All Children Once
Chapter One
"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?"
Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice (III.i.49–61).
Cole Maddox is not a remorseful man. He doesn't lead a life shaped by regret and empty promises. Coincidently, he elects to ignore the memories of his childhood. Suppression isn't ignorance, it's wisdom. He knows his strengths and makes it his mission to know his enemies weaknesses.
Detective Kate Beckett is weak, in the worst way possible – a way Maddox has never been able to understand. She lets the past have its wicked way with her. It's a weakness which drives her to give up on the future. Maddox can comprehend physical weakness – clearly it's not something that he himself has to deal with, but it makes sense. Emotional weakness he can tolerate, people are a mess, humanity is a mess, there's proof of that all around. But this deep seeded sense of vengeance? It's revenge on the highest scale. He makes it a priority to truly know his enemies and he knows that Beckett's weakness is holding her back from living her life. The woman has no sense of carpe diem. There is no seizing of anything in dredging up the past day after day. It makes his job a lot easier, there's no remorse in killing someone who isn't truly living.
He justified his lack of remorse over killing Smith in a similar manner, the man was living in fear, it shrouded him, kept him hidden from life, wrapped up in fake identities and cryptic messages. If Maddox is certain of anything it's that a life half lived isn't worth living at all. The blood split at his hands is guilt free. It is his duty to purge the world from mediocrity. He knows his employer's have other intentions but he has a deeper purpose. A true sense of right and wrong. It's the only thing he's carried with him from his forgotten childhood. Well, that and the knowledge that childhood, in essence, is an illusion. There is no such thing as a happy family – an innocent child. Child are violated by the world the moment they are born. There's no purity, no innocence in a place such as this. No one grows up happy.
Maddox might be employed to kill, but he's not a monster, he only kills those who he can justify. Granted, he's yet to be hired to kill someone who he hasn't deemed worthy of death. He knows that he is the best in his field, the best money can buy. His loyalty is bought. He trusts no one but himself, when it comes down to it, he knows no one but himself. The logic is undeniable.
All these factors affect the situation he's currently in. The facts are before him, Beckett deserves to die on the justification that she isn't truly living. He owes no real loyalty to his employer, the choice to kill is always his. So what does he choose? When it appears, against all odds, that Beckett has overcome the limitations of her weakness? He tracked her down after killing Smith. He was largely unsurprised to find her at the writer's loft. He was, however, surprised to encounter the scene before him now. Beckett, wrapped up the writer's arms, the pair tangled in his bed sheets. He freezes at the threshold of the room, debates everything he believes, his notion of right and wrong. Both are sleeping, neither are aware of his presence. He loses track of time, watching them sleeping soundly. Even in sleep he's never seen Beckett look so alive.
AN: Honestly, not entirely sure where I'm headed with this. Just wanted to try it from a different perspective. Please let me know what you think!