"Is that them?" Agent Farnsworth whispers from behind the two-way mirror.
She had been only a greenhorn when she'd been put on the case of the Mad Scientist Murders, twenty-six and just a junior agent. Now she was thirty-seven with far more experience than most agents her age had, one of the FBI's top serial killer specialists.
"Yeah, that's them," Agent Francis murmurs, studying the pair who sit side by side.
Agent Scott, who's treated this case as The One, stands silently behind them. He's glaring at the two sociopaths, obviously not happy that they're in a room together but Agent Farnsworth had insisted that the killers functioned as a single unit, not two individuals and thus shouldn't be separated. The resulting interaction between the murders was fascinating to say the least.
The woman is blonde and looks like the quintessential suburban soccer mom with her pink cardigan and chinos while the man looks every part the role of a MIT chemistry professor in a tweed suit. Handcuffed in the interrogation room with one agent supervising them silently, Mr and Mrs Bishop seem to be amicably discussing what leftovers they ought to reheat for dinner. He's requesting pot-roast while she seems to be more interested in turkey meatloaf. For two people being charged with multiple homicide and serial killing, they are remarkably calm.
All three Agents flinch slightly as Mrs Bishop lets out a delighted laugh at something her husband said, her head tossing back slightly as her eyes close. Mr Bishop looks at her with an amused smirk and when they lean in for kiss, Agent Scott seems to have had enough.
It was the night he took her to the opera when Peter realised he loved her. He's bought tickets to one of the private box seats for her birthday, desperately trying to impress her and maybe get laid. They've known each other for only a few months, but he's never felt this way about anyone, and while he feels ridiculous for letting himself feel these all too human feelings, Olivia Dunham enchants him. She's so clever, so beautiful, so… well, he knows exactly what she is, but tonight he wants to be absolutely sure.
He's never seen her in casual clothes—she always wears a suit—but tonight is the first time he's actually seen her dressed up. A black dress that shimmers and stays close to her body while her long hair has been pulled up into some form of chic coiffure to expose her beautiful neck. He doesn't know much about women's fashion, but he knows he likes what he sees.
The seats he's bought give a perfect view of the stage and the opera tonight is some Germanic tragedy, where everyone dies in the end. He can't understand a word the people are singing, but she knows the language, so in the end it works out pretty well—he's there to watch her, after all. And how she performs! Her head cranes and her lips part slightly, her eyes moving quickly across the stage and her long fingers grasp at her clutch. She's comfortable, relaxed, and slowly being coaxed into the state he wants her in, her x factor.
The opera ends a few hours later and he sees she's satisfied as he opens the door to the passenger side of his car. Perfect. They're quiet as they ride through the streets. His throat is dry and he can hear the humming in his ears that means 'it's time'. It is time and he knows that this is the ideal opportunity, the ideal night to show her what he is. He can see she has what it takes and he's willing to see if she wants to join him in his hobbies. Not just willing…but wanting her to join.
"Hey, I have something I needed to do." He doesn't look at her but his hand finds hers. "I thought maybe we could do it together…?"
In his peripheral vision he can see her turn his way. "A birthday surprise?"
He nods. "A surprise, yeah."
"I'm hard to surprise," she warns and he grins.
"Well, we'll just have to see how well I do, then."
The silence returns, but this time it's filled with electricity, adrenaline, and a delicious tension. Her fingers are strong, much stronger than he'd imagined they could be and he takes a split second to speculate how steady her grip would be driving a knife through someone's chest. He inhales sharply at the thought and can't help but smile.
The drive to the birthday surprise is completely done by the autopilot part of his brain while the rest of his mind is spent quickly organising and planning. He can hardly believe they're there when they pull up into the dark back alley of a housing sect. parked immediately between a dumpster and two trashcans.
He reaches into the back seat and hands her a pair of clean and neatly folded socks with a pair of construction boots he often wears himself when he 'works'. "You should take your nice shoes off and put these on instead."
"What are we doing?" she whispers as she unhesitatingly obeys.
He points to the house across from them. "We're going to kill the woman inside."
She doesn't laugh or look scared, just curious.
"Oh. Is she an ex?" she asks as she laces the boots up.
He shakes his head as he finds the tool bag filled with the supplies he uses. "No. C'mon."
With a practiced silence, he opens his door and steps out into the alley way, wondering if his dress shoes will be appropriate for the night's activities, but figures they're too far into it to back out now. Olivia gets out of the car quietly, though she still makes some noise as she shuts the passenger—it's no problem though, he can teach her the proper way to do it.
She follows behind him as they skulk through a tall back gate to enter the property of Miss Sylvia Ladner. Very carefully with the spare key he'd found two days ago while he scouted the property, he unlocks the back door and they step inside. The mudroom of this woman's house has a large mirror surrounded by photos of dogs and the beach and her smiling with a boyfriend, but Peter knows she's alone here. She'd only just moved to Boston a few months ago and he feels a little bad for targeting her so soon before she'd had an opportunity to fall in love with the city, but he has a yearly quota to fill and she's a very easy mark.
"Now, this is the part where you have to be really quiet," he whispers to Olivia and leads her to the mirror. "Wait here."
"Okay," she whispers back.
He hurries into the kitchen and rounds a corner as if he's living her all alone, but in actuality he's watching her in the reflection of the microwave's glass door, making sure she isn't going to call 911 or run, but she just stands there, studying her hair in the mirror, adjusting her dress' neckline and inspecting the makeup on her face.
'She wants to look good for the kill!' his father's voice hisses in his ear.
He agrees and wants her to look good while she does it. He leaves the kitchen to sneak off to the woman's bedroom and there she sleeps, just as he knows she would be. Using a silk scarf he knows she has hanging on the back of her bedroom door, ties her hands up to the headboard and carefully gags her with a sock he finds on the floor. He sets his tool bag down while the woman struggles on the bed a bit, but he ignores her and returns to the mudroom where Olivia waits.
He takes the beautiful blonde by the hand. "Okay, come with me."
Peter leads her across the dark and quiet house to the bedroom where their victim waits, looking at them horrified. Olivia looks at the woman with curious indifference and then turns to him.
"What are we doing now?"
"We have to kill her. I wanted you to do the deed with me."
To his surprise, he sees her blush. Her hand pulls from his and he feels his heart race at the shy smile she gives him. The woman on the bed continues her muffled screams, trying her best to thrash around as tears roll down her face. Each one looks like a diamond and he wishes for a moment that he could see his Olivia wear them.
The blonde moves over to the bed and stands over the scared victim, popping her knuckles as she studies the woman in her nightgown. "So are we stabbing or shooting her?"
He finds his bag of tricks and quickly begins to work near the propane heater in the room. "Explosion."
She makes a face. "Why an explosion?"
He begins assembling the small bomb he's brought with them. "She's an assistant."
She looks down at him working. "Oh."
He gently touches her arm and promises, "I'll explain later."
The smile returns, looking giddy. "Okay."
When she crouches next to him, he shows her the proper way to place the wires he's pulled out of old electronics he's bought at yard sales. "Now just put this in here…"
She follows his instructions. "Right…"
"And set the timer over here…"
"Okay."
He takes her by the hand and grins boldly. "And now we need to go back to the car!"
They hurry out of the house, their footfall not heard by any of the sleeping residents in the nearby houses. Peter is careful to start the vehicle quietly and they drive slowly out of the alleyway so as not to draw attention to themselves.
She peers over the back of her seat. "We aren't going to watch?"
"No, not in a neighborhood. When you do it at an apartment building, you can go across the roof." He glances over at her. "Want to do it like that next time?"
"Yes."
They pause at a stop sign and he looks both ways before continuing. "Uh, did you want to come back to my place for coffee?"
"That would be nice," she says softly.
"I've got Bob Dylan, too. I know it's not the opera…"
"That would be nice," she repeats.
They hold hands the rest of the way to his town house and when they arrive, they go through the motions of polite coffee drinking and Bob Dylan listening, but finally they can't stop sidestepping one another at the kitchen island and he pulls her in for a deep kiss.
"It was a good birthday surprise," she whispers when they finally part.
"Glad you liked it." He kisses her along the neck and across her shoulders. "I want you."
He leads her to his bedroom and in the dark of the bedroom, they begin to strip off their clothes; he lets out a laugh as he hears the boots he'd lent her fall to the floor. She stands in front of him, her body's curves highlighted by the soft colours of his laptop's screensaver.
"You'll be on bottom and I'm going to choke you," she instructs, pushing him back onto his bed.
While he's never had a woman request being on top, he's also never been involved in anything that could remotely be construed as 'kinky'. It's something he's taken precautions with so that ex-girlfriends can't run to police when the cops ask for information about deviants related to their cases, especially the ones involved with serial killing. He wants to keep his involvement with the law at a minimum.
That and he doesn't like being out of control.
"Choke me?"
Her cheeks flush in embarrassment. "If you don't want to—"
"I'll try anything at least once." He's nervous, but outwardly remains calm. "Did you want a tie or belt…?"
She straddles him. "I'm going to use my hands."
She takes a moment to position her hands around his throat, her fingers loving trace his Adam's apple, caressing the cartilage through the skin. At the base of his neck her hands find their place and her eyes flit up to his. He can't look away as she begins to squeeze gently; it's terrifying and exciting at the same time.
"You seem pretty good at this," he says hoarsely as the euphoria generated from lack of oxygen starts to take hold.
She nods and smiles as she begins to ride him. "Thank you."
"Did you want to go harder? I wouldn't mind," he wheezes, wanting to impress her.
"I wouldn't want to hurt you," she admits and a devilish quirk on her lips appears.
Her fingers tighten slightly and he realises she wasn't kidding when she said she didn't want to hurt him. She has an unexpectedly strong hold and his hands grip at her hips, hoping to god that she won't kill him.
"Enough air?" she pants.
"Yes," he gasps.
He sees spots in front of his eyes as her lips part and her head tosses back. She's so beautiful and he's hungry to see her like this every day for the rest of his life. Unfortunately his body betrays him and he climaxes much sooner than he'd originally wanted to.
"Sorry," he mumbles breathlessly, absolutely embarrassed that he was only able to last fifteen minutes.
She falls off him to his right side, slumping onto the mattress. "No problem. Next time I'll go easier on you."
He reaches out and pulls her close, her back to his chest. They're both sweaty and sticky and for some reason Olivia is absolutely rigid in his arms.
"What are you doing?" she asks and he detects a bit of panic in her voice; it's all right though, he likes the sound of panic.
"Oh…did you not want to cuddle?"
"We don't have to," she offers hopefully.
He likes this, though. "I'm just used to it. Besides, you feel good."
"Tired?" she asks curiously.
"It's been a busy night."
She seems to agree and relaxes against him. He realises he loves her and decides to admit his deepest darkest secrets to her because they are two of a kind.
"I want children," he whispers into her ear.
"Okay," she murmurs back.
"And I want to give you a big house with a nice car…" he continues.
"And the kids will go to private school…" she adds, her words trailing into a yawn.
"And we'll retire to Florida…"
At this she turns around to look at him. "Florida?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Somewhere else?"
She lies back down and mumbles, "Florida is too hot with too many hurricanes."
He pulls her close to him once more. "Fine, we'll figure something else out in the morning."
"Night," she murmurs, settling back against him.
He kisses the back of her neck and closed his eyes.