This is for the Hoffman fans. Surprise, surprise. No slash in here. And no Adam. Amazing, huh? I like the idea of Hoffman being a daddy.
Mark Hoffman could hear the rain pattering on the window and the roof. He liked it. The sound was soothing and helped him to write the police report. It was untouched for about a week.
Far away, there was a rumble of thunder. Mark paused in his typing and sighed. Dagger would be down any minute. The 16year-old didn't like storms, and the earlier weather report let Mark know that the thunder would be travelling their way. Sure enough, the door to his study creaked open and his girl, clutching her pillow, peeked into the room.
"Are you busy, Daddy?"
Mark spun his chair away from the computer and flashed a reassuring smile. "Aw, you know I'm never too busy for you." He extended his arms to her. "Come here, babydoll."
She slipped into the room, leaving the door open, and hurried over to him. He hoisted her up into his lap. She giggled, then glanced over at the screen. "Is it done?"
He shook his head. "Not quite."
She frowned up at him. "Why don't you ever write about anything happy?"
He tried to smile. "Crime isn't happy at all."
"Hmm." Dagger seemed to think this over, pressing her face into the bend of his neck. There was a flash of lightening and a growl of thunder.
Dagger's arms suddenly tightened around his neck. "Daddy?" she whispered over his shoulder. "There's someone in the backyard."
"What?" Mark immediately stood up and turned to the window. He put her down on the floor and looked out into the rain. The motion-detecting light was on, but he didn't see anyone- Wait. Movement by the bushes. He turned back to his daughter, picked her up, and set her on his chair. "Wait here."
Mark left his study. He closed the door behind him, then went down the hall to the kitchen in the back of the house. He opened the back door and cautiously looked around before stepping out into the rain. The motion light went on again, illuminating trenches in the yard that he hadn't noticed when he'd stared out the window. He approached the area of ripped up grass curiously, wondering if a neighbour's dog had gotten out. But as he reached it, it was quite obvious that no dog had done this.
Another noise. He turned and spotted a figure going around to the front of the house.
Mark ran back into the house. He locked the kitchen door behind him, and as he rushed to the head of the house, he called out, "Dagger? Dagger!"
Footsteps warily came into the small foyer. Mark turned around.
"Daddy, what's wrong?" Dagger asked.
"Get upstairs in your room," he replied, peeking through the long door-side window. To his surprise, the intruder was standing right on the front porch, staring back at him. He was soaked, and the front light glittered off his entire being. His shoes were covered in mud and bits of grass; he left sloppy footprints on the steps and the concrete deck. Marks on the sidewalk, unprotected by the porch overhang, were slowly dissolving in the rain.
"Daddy-"
"NOW." He turned his head to glare at her and watched her quickly go up the stairs. Once he heard her bedroom door close, he turned back to the window. The man was still there. He was tall, and he wore a black jackett over black pants. He had half-long dirty blonde hair. About Marks' age.
The doctor stared at him for a moment, then said, "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Hoffman."
Lawrence Gordon?
"Fuck off…!Motherfucker!," Mark shouted, hoping he would go away. Then he could get Dagger and spend the night some place safe.
Lawrence actually smiled at him, pulling a thick leather glove over his hand.
Something crashed through the glass and grabbed him by the collar. He was pulled forward, head smashed into the window frame. As he stumbled, the blonde man reached in and unlocked the door. He limped inside, and immediately Mark blocked out the pain in his head and swung at him. Lawrence ducked out of the way and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at the older man. Mark froze.
"Where is she?" Lawrence demanded.
"I don't know who you're talking about," Mark replied automatically. He felt blood trickling down the side of his face.
"You know exactly who," the doctor snapped.
Lawrence's' words just worsened the alarms screaming off in Mark's head. The last thing he'd ever wanted was to deal with the Jigsaw cult again after this son of a bitch Gordon left him in the bathroom. He'd honestly thought that he and Dagger would be safe, that no one else could possibly know about the things he had done with Jigsaw. No one else had been there. Mark tightened his fists, gritted his teeth.
"She's not here," Mark said between gritted teeth.
"You lie in God's face," Lawrence spat.
"Daddy?"
Mark looked up the stairs. Dagger stood at their head, staring in horror at the gun in the strange man's hand pointed at her father.
"GET IN YOUR ROOM!" he shouted.
"No, stop!" Dr Gordon reached out to her, but she followed her father's instruction and retreated. He ran to the stairs, and when Mark tried to stop him, he thrust the barrel of the gun back in his face. "Stay," he warned, backing up the steps.
"Get away from her!" Mark shouted, quickly moving to the side table and yanking open the drawer. He reached in and pulled out a revolver. He aimed at the doctor going up the stairs. "Stop!" he ordered. "Or I'll shoot you motherfucker!"
But the doctor had a similar idea. He shot twice. Mark ducked to the ground, and the bullets wound up in the wall. Mark looked back up and saw him rushing up limping the steps. Mark quickly raised his gun and pulled the trigger. Lawrence lurched, dropped his gun, and fell back down the stairs. His body landed crumpled, face down, and Mark could see the blood well up from the wound in his back.
"Dagger? Are you okay?" Mark asked as he burst into her room.
She looked over at him, eyes wide as she spoke on the cordless phone. "He's here now … Daddy, Mr. Strahm wants to know if the man went away?"
Mark snatched up the phone. "Strahm?"
"Hoffman! Who and where is the intruder?"
Mark collapsed to the floor and pulled Dagger into his lap, hugging her tightly. "It's Dr. Lawrence Gordon. H-he's dead," he mumbled into the phone before he hung up.
"Do we have to worry about any more scary men?", Dagger asked worried.
"No, we don't. And you know why?"
"Why?"
Mark paused and stroked her long, curled blonde hair. "Because your daddy is the strongest man in the world."
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