Authors Note – The reason I wrote this is really just because I could. It's an extremely random and dark one-shot that focuses on the possibility that there could have been someone who believed what the cabbie killer was doing was right and wanted to finish his masterpiece (Reed). Yeah, it's really AU. Reviews are appreciated! (Set three months after Taxi)

Downside Up

His eyes never close for longer than it takes to blink, blue stained silver staring vacantly at empty air. Blue light bleeds from the lamp above to partially illuminate what has been his home for six weeks now. The tile floor is stained with dirt, most of it accumulating around the edges of a drain in the middle of the room. His body is pressed up against a filthy wall, his left wrist dangling slightly below the radiator from rusting handcuffs. The sensitive skin is raw and bloody from constant chafing. His head is pounding and his throat burns for the relief of water. He lies motionless, wanting sleep but wary to close his eyes for fear of never opening them again.


His clothes were worthlessly drenched, wet hair plastered against his forehead messily with raindrops that continued to run down his lowered face and drip from his chin. His hands were stuffed into his jean pockets, gaze focused downwards with no signs of acknowledging the shouts of a nearby cabbie that eyed him as a customer. It was seven more blocks to his apartment and even in the pouring rain he would rather walk than take a taxi. His eyes closed and he breathed out shakily, trying his hardest to tune out the noises around him. It had been three days since he'd last slept and the exhaustion was catching up with him, stressing his mind and making every little thing an annoyance.

He pulled the sweatshirt closer to his shivering body and continued to trudge through the growing deluge. His hand went to his neck, absently tracing over the thin scar that extended all the way across. He took a few more steps before something abruptly grasped onto his arm, forcefully pulling him to the side. He was dragged back into an alley before being pushed down. His head connected painfully with a dumpster, disorienting him. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, a hand going over his mouth to stifle any cries.


A groan escapes his lips as he moves from lying on his side to stomach up, the handcuffs rattling against the radiator as he relieves the pressure on his wrist. The artificial light hurts his eyes. The cold floor has numbed his side.

Three months ago he was lying on the floor of a brewery, bleeding out onto the concrete. Now he's here, kept alive on dog food and what little water they would give him. Like glass his life cracked after the cabbie killer and with every sleepless night that followed the crack widened. It shattered his second day in this prison, leaving him to pick up the broken remnants of who he once was. Misery took everything away from him and for what seems an eternity he's wished for death. No one's found him; he doubts they're still looking.


His vision was still blurry from the fall and he couldn't distinguish any faces. All he knew was that there were two of them and whoever was pinning him down was extremely powerful. He blinked, trying to clear his head. Reality crashed down on him when the cold steel of a knife was pressed against his Achilles tendon. He jerked against the person holding him, his protests muffled beneath the hand. Despite his attempts to break free the blade continued to dig into the skin, eventually breaking through the sinew and eliciting a strangled cry from his throat. The figure picked up his other leg, doing the same as before, letting the knife sink into the tendon before wrenching it out abruptly. He clawed helplessly at the arms pinning him down, whimpering pitifully.

The person kneeling beside his legs scrambled forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling back his head, exposing his neck completely. The hand slipped away from his mouth.

"Don't. Oh god, don't. No… Please god no…" He whimpered. A finger brushed over the scar on his throat, a blurry face leaning into his.

"Quiet." The person pulled roughly on the blogger's hair, effectively silencing him. The undefined features of the face began to clear, the blurriness pervading his vision beginning to fade. The dying light of sunset illuminated the face.

Something hard cracked against his skull and he knew no more.


He hears her before he sees her, the hesitant taps of bare feet on the tile floor. Light from the separate room leaks onto the floor but it's only momentarily as she closes the door behind her. She steps closer and lets the light illuminate her face.

Her appearance is questionably average – dull green eyes tucked behind strands of ratty blonde hair with pale lips and even paler skin. Her stature is petite but her outward demeanor reflects hostility. In her left hand she fingers the oak handle of a familiar pocketknife. Her gaze is emotionless as it falls on him, no pity for the despondent wreck of a human she's created.


"You're a reprobate – A damned soul. Cabbie didn't succeed in redeeming you, but I will." Like a broken record his captor repeated the same thing to him every day since the abduction.

He was a sinner doomed to die.


"Oh, chéri," His stomach clenches at the word. "It's been a long time, I know." Her hand goes out to stroke back the hair from his forehead but he pulls back instinctively. She swings her hand around his head and grabs a hold of the matted hair, pulling roughly so that he is forced to keep his eyes on her. "I've given you the time. Have you made your peace?"


"His twisted beliefs were wrong. He was a monstrosity and you're the same." His voice was raspy from being unused but the pure, vicious hostility was clearly eminent in his words. There was an ocean of animosity in his stormy blue eyes and in those few moments his spirit was as strong as it ever would be.

"You are ignorant." She growled. "He gave them mercy. He gave them hope that their damned souls would be saved. Don't you see that I'm trying to help you? That he and I are only trying to help the world?"

"I can only see that you are both confused."

Silence.

"I'll give you six weeks." She whispered


"Kill me." It slips past his lips in a broken voice, the entreaty so weighted down by agony it's hardly human. Tears fall quickly but silently from the faded blue eyes.

It's what we both want.

Her countenance doesn't change. She releases the grip on his hair, allowing his head to drop back down. Her gaze never leaves him.

"You want redemption?" He nods pathetically, tears now flowing fast. So this is hopelessness.

She draws a finger across his neck. "This is mercy. " Her hand goes into her pocket to retrieve a key that she uses to quickly unlock the handcuffs around his left wrist. His arm falls limply to the ground but he doesn't move it. He feels her slid behind him, keeping her hand around his neck while using the other one to pull him up against her. She breathes softly against the back of his head. Her mouth twitches upwards into a slight smile. He feels the knife press against his throat and he shivers.

"Cabbie didn't succeed in redeeming you. But I will." She whispers. Her hand jerks across his neck in one fluid motion, not bothering to close her eyes as he dies in her arms. Blood runs through her fingers, staining her shirt. His breaths become weaker and weaker. She runs her fingers through his hair as he lingers on the edge.

"Oh, chéri." She fingers his wrist, lifting his limp hand from the growing puddle of blood and holding it in front of his fading eyes. She cuts into the palm, dragging the blade against bone as she carves out her message. Her other arm goes to her neck, yanking off the bead necklace. It's wrapped twice around his bloodied hand, the wooden crucifix resting on his palm just below the cuts. As soon as she's finished she wraps her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin on his head and waiting.

Reed dies in her embrace, his lifeless gaze resting on the message carved into his hand.

L2729

The strangest part of it all was that he felt no regret. It seems they were right - the only way to be saved is to be killed.