Okay, I usually hate song fics. I don't know why. They bother me a bit. But I had to write this one. There's an exception to every rule, right?
I owe the italics to The Pierces. It's their song, Secret.
Mild, mild, mild AngelinaxGrell. If you squint and tilt your head to the side.
}~*~*~*~*~*~{
Got a secret, can you keep it?
Swear this one, you'll save.
Better lock it in your pocket,
Taking this one to the grave.
If I show you, then I know you
Won't tell what I've said...
Because two can keep a secret
If one of them is dead.
He walked along the darkened streets, humming to himself. He loved nights like this, moonless, foggy nights. They suited his purpose exceptionally well.
What was this one's name? He didn't remember or care. He knew where to find her, and that was all he needed.
He turned down an alley, unnoticed by the other people on the streets. He blended in perfectly, a nondescript brunette. The most memorable things about him were his brilliantly green eyes, behind the circular glasses in black wire frames; his eyes, and perhaps the length of his hair.
Ah, there she was, walking down the road, her face painted so thickly it disgusted him. She was, thankfully, alone, and near an alley...oh, how wonderfully perfect it all was. He continued humming to himself as he moved closer.
Why do you smile
Like you've been told a secret?
Now you're telling lies,
Because you have sworn to keep it,
But no one keeps a secret.
No one keeps a secret...
She caught sight of him, approaching her easily and smiling. She turned away from her door, smiling in a way she no doubt considered alluring.
"A bit late, isn't it, sir...? But I don't mind if you don't..."
"That's good to hear..."
He slipped into the alley, and she followed easily.
"Just something quick for the gentleman, then...?"
He smiled more widely, fondling the handle of the scalpel hidden in his sleeve.
"And you don't even want to know my name?"
"Well, if you want to tell me, I won't mind."
"You should be more careful, my dear...I think you know my name..."
"Do I?"
"So did the others...it's Jack, my darling..."
The small silver blade glinted in the dim light at the head of the alley, and the whore's face twisted into an expression of fear and horror. Oh, how he loved these moments...
Why when we do
Our darkest deeds do we tell?
They burn in our brains,
Become a living hell
Because everybody tells.
Everybody tells...
If there was ever a soul to tell, it would be one about to be snuffed out. Yes, take let them take the secret to their premature graves, and he would take his trophy back to his beloved. The red, the warm, thick red stained the miserable woman's clothing, stained the street, stained his hands, but that wasn't a problem. It was too easy to travel without being seen.
Into the bag went the trophy they claimed from all their victims. It hadn't taken him long to learn what strokes to make where to retrieve it with the utmost precision. Another useless, boring woman taken care of.
Look into my eyes
Now you're getting sleepy
Are you hypnotized
By the secrets that you're keeping?
I know what you're keeping
I know what you're keeping...
"Grell?"
Oh, dear. He'd only just returned; it would be dreadfully improper to present such an appearance to the madam.
"Just a moment, if I may be so bold..."
There was a note of sick excitement in the woman's voice.
"You did it, then?"
Damn his appearance. He opened the door, still half-drenched in blood. He'd been working on getting it out of his hair. Now matter how he tied it back, it always seemed to get in the way.
"Do I ever fail to follow orders?"
He gestured to the bag resting on the floor with a wide, toothy grin as he returned to cleaning the locks of his hair.
"Not the ones that matter," She chided playfully, picking the sack up with two fingers. Half of it was also soaked in blood, but he'd at least put it down on a shirt that had been ruined during a similar task. "...If that smile was the last thing she saw, I'm sure she was terrified..."
He laughed darkly, finally giving up on his hair for the moment and washing his face.
"She deserved it, the same as the rest of them..."
"And I was in the office...how on earth could I have done it...?" She laughed as well, wrapping her arms around his chest and resting her head on his back. "Another patient will be coming in tomorrow..."
"Oh...?" He turned, taking her chin in his hand. "Another ungrateful excuse for a woman?"
"You wouldn't mind, would you?"
His grin only widened.
"You know I'd paint all of London red for you, Madame..."
Swore you'd never tell,
You swore you'd never tell.
You swore you'd never tell,
You swore you'd never tell...
He rather adored going out during the night, silent as the grave and intent on putting someone in theirs. It was lovely to watch the lovely, lovely red arc from wounds, staining everything with its rich, full color. Red could not be tainted or created by any other means...it was simple, visceral, and needed to explanation. Red, without a doubt, caught attention. And he walked the streets, eager to draw the color from his intended, crooning to himself softly. Hell if anyone thought him mad.
Got a secret, can you keep it?
Swear this one, you'll save.
Better lock it in your pocket,
Taking this one to the grave.
If I show you, then I know you
Won't tell what I've said...
Because two can keep a secret
If one of us is dead...