Inside of yourself, I've heard, is the most difficult place to see. A dark place, where you must strain your eyes- do I even want to see?- and be honest with yourself- was that a person, or a shadow?- before anything can be found.

He doesn't even have to look to know the one adjective that describes everything inside of him.

Illegal.

It's ironic, really. Beyond the levels of irony, even, way past into downright hypocrisy. The Secret Intelligence Agency head, the strict policeman, the law enforcer, is filled with offenses, misdemeanors, peccadillos, transgressions, and trespasses. Call them what you will- instincts, jobs, feelings… they're wrong. Horribly, undeniably, downright wrong.

And yet, he can't help it.

He joins forces with the mafia groups- group- that he should be hunting down, because in his mind, there are certain boundaries where the villains are not evil, and the protagonists are not righteous. The state can be wrong, just as can the king and the pope. The delinquent can be right, just as can the thief and the sinner.

He does not shoot down the thieving child- children- however easy it might be, because in his mind, there are certain boundaries where morals may be sacrificed for survival, and justice may be sacrificed for the overall better outcome. He knows; they are orphaned, crippled, or retarded, and cannot work. He knows; when the wild beasts that countries use to represent themselves are starved, they may very well rip each other to shreds for a mere mouthful.

He follows that man with his eyes- his entire being- however "disgusting" it may be, because in his mind, he refuses to acknowledge the boundaries in which affections are allowed to be shared. He believes; the state, king, and pope do not have the right to tell him who he may not love, much less so when they claim divine retribution and do not take matters into their own hands. He believes; the delinquent, thief, and sinner have every right to do what they love to do, so long as they take responsibility for their actions and confess whatever guilts they may have in any manner that they deem suitable.

It's hardly a friendship, he knows. They simply do not get along that way. It's even less a boss-subordinate relationship… in either direction. He does not look up to the other, nor does that man look down on him as a leader usually would. What are they, then? Lovers? No, no. They've certainly never had a "fling" of any sort. But if they had, he might've said "I love you" once or twice, or maybe five times; not through words but through gentle touches, soft kisses, and warm caresses. He might've focused intensely on trying to be kind, gentle, empathic, like he could never be. He might've even deluded himself, thinking that he could make the other forget all else…

It would've been pointless, anyway; it was always him pining- more than he cared to admit- and watching- others might find it strange- and with the other rarely, if ever, giving any indication of some different, deeper feeling besides kinship and comradeship. Yet he searches, he protects, and he loves.

But even so, he cannot bear these feelings on his own. These feelings, which his cold, numbed heart cannot understand; which his socially conditioned mind will not allow; which his bloodstained hands should not touch.

So he captures these "feelings" with his handcuffs, clicks them shut, then sends the nuisance away, unarmed and restrained. Arrested, just like criminals should be.


I don't want to say that this is an… apology for never updating, but, well, that's effectively what it is? Haha, I don't really get it either.