A/N: Guys and gals, it's 3:00am and I have class around 10'ish in the morning but I need to vent out the Careese feels from the most recent episode. Otherwise I won't be able to sleep at all.
POI and its characters do not belong to me.
Reese finally had him where he wanted; a one-sided stand off with one gun barrel pointed in one direction.
He gestured his 9mm to the side, obligating the man across from him to forfeit his duel wields to the ground.
"Looks like you got bad intel," he slowly lowered his gun and withdrew it to his waistband.
Any man who threatened, hurt, and kidnapped a child would be subject to the Man in a Suit's wrath, but Simmons' records didn't stop there.
He was a threat to the city.
He played a role in Beecher's death.
He had the balls to show up to Beecher's funeral knowing his organization placed the hit on him.
He was one of the main reasons for demoting his Detective.
He was the one of the main reasons why the flirtatious banters he longed for with her lacked the familiar spark.
He was one of the main reasons why her heart was still grieving.
Why her smiles faltered.
Why her doubt lingered.
Why she was forced to dive into shark-infested waters.
No. Shooting him was too much of a simplification from what this man deserved. He wasn't going to leave unscathed.
Each of them took a small step forward. Identical steel gazes fixated on each other, neither submitting to coercion.
"Not a total loss," Simmons shared a toothy smirk as he took another step forward.
"It's about time you and I had a little talk."
Reese couldn't agree more. His shoulders slightly hunched, fingers flexing and opening up his muscles. His lips thinned into a line.
He had a lot of personal problems to talk about with Simmons.
After all, everybody deserves someone to talk to; including himself.
The glint in his eyes taunted predator versus predator royale.
Simmons steadied himself against the car, his bloodied lips curling into a wry grin.
"There are hundreds of us, you know. You really think you can win?" he asked between breaths.
Reese launched against the struggling man again, locking his neck against the car door with his forearm while the other squeezed the living life from the veins in his hanging wrist. His piercing gaze receiving hardly a grimace from the defeated man.
"Armies fall, one soldier at a time."
Police sirens captured Simmons' attention, but by the time he looked back, the vigilante had already slipped away.
Reese kept his back to the distant noise as he walked, disregarding the officers who may or may not have secured the corrupt cop. He whipped out his phone and thumbed Joss' number through speed-dial.
It would take time, but he was willing to wait. He was willing to help her through the process.
He would patch up the wound inflicted on her heart.
One soldier at a time.
A/N: Good god, I still have a problem transferring my thoughts into grammatically correct sentences. GAH!
Nevertheless, I hope you folks enjoyed this short little one-shot. Cheers!