The dossier landed with a plop in front of him, tossed with a dismissive flick of the wrist by the surly Frenchwoman. He grunted, reaching out a hand and snatching it up.

"More of your scraps?" The snarled question was directed at her retreating figure.
"You know zis one, -Reaper-." The answer floated back to him and he huffed, flipping open the file and then taking in a sharp breath. It was not often-not often at all-that Reaper could feel anything besides hatred and emptiness, but the picture within triggered a sudden rush of longing, a sudden jolt of sadness. He remembered carrying her, that woman in the file, from the wreckage of a building bombed by Talon. He remembered the way she had curled up against his chest, her trust in him absolute, and he remembered the look in her amber eyes as she squeezed his hand in the medbay as the sedatives took her under. He remembered sitting by her side long after surgery had finished, watching her sleep. They were some of his last good memories from Blackwatch; some of the last times he had ever felt like a hero. With a snarl, he pushed himself up and stalked off to find transport. He wasn't a hero anymore.

It was only a few nights later that he found himself standing inside her bedroom, figure solidifying from the tendrils of shadow he'd been only moments before. For a woman Talon wanted dead, she'd gone to no effort to hide or install anything but the most rudimentary of security systems. He sneered to himself, turning his attention toward the bed, clawed hands flexing in readiness-before recoiling visibly, a noise of surprise escaping the normally implacable mercenary. She was curled up on the mattress, dark hair spilling across her pillow, with the flimsy shirt she wore as a nightgown hiked up along her hips, exposing her to him quite thoroughly. He stepped forward, fingers reaching out, steeling himself to deliver the killing blow-and then she whimpered softly in her sleep, stretching out toward him as if she were reaching for him, a frown stealing across her face. He paused, arguing with himself internally, and then he slipped a hand into his long coat, removing a syringe instead and leaning down to slide the needle into her neck and let the drug render her unconscious. That down, he stooped down and carefully gathered her into his arms, marveling in the way she nestled up against him. Then he was gone, vanishing into the night with his captive tucked against his chest.

She woke to find herself wrapped in blankets, her head against a pillow, though they weren't hers and they seemed to be stacked on a bed she didn't recognize. She sat up, a little too fast for her woozy head the first time, and carefully pulled herself free of the warm cocoon, casting a confused glance around the room. It was barely furnished, the bed being the only significant piece of furniture at all, and she felt a spike of panic run through her before the nausea took hold once more and she sank down against the pillows.

The next time she woke, she found herself in considerably more control of her faculties, and she managed to climb from the bed, wobbling uncertainly toward what looked like the door. It was only when she paused to lean against the wall and shake off the dizziness that was threatening to swallow her that the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she turned, letting out a sharp gasp as she came face-to-face with a gleaming white mask.

"Going somewhere?" The voice that echoed from the headpiece was low and grating, and she trembled as she swept her gaze down the speaker's body, taking in the massive, black-clad form. She felt abruptly very fragile and very tiny, a feeling that was reinforced as he-it seemed to be male, at least-swept her off of her feet and carried her back to the bed, setting her down with surprising gentleness.

"Where-where am I?" The question emerged in a meek stammer, and she glanced up into the empty sockets of the mask with all the confidence she didn't feel.

"A safe place." A growl of hollow laughter rang out. "Except for the fact that I'm here."

"What-. I. Why did you-I don't have money, if that's what you're after," she snapped, glaring up at the mask with a sudden surge of anger. "Let me go."

"No." The force behind the word nearly flattened her against the bed and the dark figure stepped forward until he was looming over her. "You're mine now."

"I am not!" She pushed forward, trying to knock him off balance, crying out as he simply caught her wrists in his hands and pinned them above her head.

"Are you afraid?" The question held a sinister edge to it and she nodded, swallowing hard as he released her, hands rising to the mask hiding his face. "Not afraid enough." With that dark prophecy, he unhooked the skull facade and pulled it away, sweeping his hood from his head with a quick flick of his hand. She took a sharp breath, eyes sliding across his scarred features, that inhumanely pale skin traversed by flickering dark veins, and those dark pits of eyes where nothing human seemed to live any longer. She saw him and then, as he was reaching down to pick the mask back up, she reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around his hand and squeezed.

"I know you." The soft words weren't an accusation, rather a gentle expression of surprised recognition. "You were-you saved me once." She let her eyes travel along his stricken features again. "You said your name was Gabriel."

"-Was-," he roared, his nose almost touching hers as he tried to cow her into submission. "As you can see, I am nothing but a monster now." He hissed as she gave him a lopsided smile, shaking her head, her hand squeezing his once more.

"I don't believe that. But-," her eyes widened and she raised her other hand, letting the tips of her fingers touch his cheek. "They said you died. I-I was at the funeral."

"Why?" His brooding tone cracked slightly as he sank to his knees in front of her, pale face contorted with internal agony. "Why did you come?"

"Because it was the only way I could say goodbye," she whispered, leaning in toward him. "The only way I could apologize for not thanking you." She let out a gasp as she found herself hauled into his lap, the man yanking his gloves off with his teeth and then sliding his arms around her, fingers tracing along her skin. "Gabriel?" And then his lips collided with hers and she lost track of the world, sinking into the strange coldness of his embrace, the pull of his lips on hers making it seem as if he was drinking in her very soul.

"Say it again," he demanded hoarsely, fingers spidering up her back and sliding her shirt over her head, baring her to him.

"Gabriel," she murmured, tilting her head back as he kissed a line down her throat and then lifted her up so that she could lay back on the bed as his cool lips circled and then latched onto a nipple, his teeth and tongue drawing soft sobs of pleasure from her.

"Again," he snarled, shifting his attention to her other breast and then propping himself up to watch her face as one of his calloused hands slid between her legs, cupping her intimately.

"Gabri-aaah!" Her head fell back as one long finger slid inside of her, curling and pumping until she was arching her hips against his hand as his thumb ground against her clit tauntingly. A second finger, then a third, and he kept those dark eyes on her, drinking in her expression of ecstasy as he brought her to the edge and over with his hands. He was like a dying man at his last meal, taking her to the peak three more times as he savored her cries and gasps, finally letting her fall back against the bed, exhausted. She gave him a wobbly smile, eyes sliding shut, and then she was asleep-worn from his constant attentions. He sat there, considering her, for a long, long while and then pushed himself to his feet and began to unbuckle the heavy leather gear, letting it fall to a messy pile on the floor. The rest of his body was just as pale and heavily scarred as his face, the dark veins pulsing beneath his skin making him look like he was going to shatter apart at any moment. He held still, as if expecting her to wake and then run from him, but her gentle, sleepy sighs eventually won through and he carefully climbed in beside her, wrapping her into his arms and letting her body warm his. Then, for the first time in a very long time, the creature that called itself Reaper slept.