A/N: Long chapter, this one - to make up for the update delay. My thanks to everyone who's reading & reviewing. I'm not sure how much longer this story will go on for, but I foresee it ending soon. Yeah.

On another note - Warning: This chapter contains occasional use of profanities.

- - - - - - - - -

Danny looked up briefly as Mac swung open the lab door and approached him with features unreadable save for the touch of frustration in his eyes.

"Did we get anything back yet?"

"DNA's rushing the results of the blood and hair fibres pulled from Saul's car. So far, Adam's scanned the tyre tracks from Harlem Meer; those matched the front wheels of the car..." Lindsay flipped through her file.

"We found out where the Vaseline came from," Danny offered. "Most inexpensive way to keep leather gloves soft and comfortable."

"It pretty much all links back to Edward Saul, Mac," Lindsay glanced through one of her pages. "The shoes, the gloves and Vaseline, the car…"

"We're still working the Neoprene suit. And there'll be those DNA results – I say we've got more than enough for the jury to convict him." Danny straightened up from his hunched position over the table. "Saul's our guy. No way any lawyer can argue against this pile of stuff we dug up against him."

Mac nodded slowly, in his brain ticking off all possible avenues the defense could use against the evidence. After a long pause, he looked back at his detectives.

"We have until Monday for the arraignment."

Danny looked over at Lindsay, and she nodded her agreement.

"We'll be working overtime."

When Mac left the room with the barest of acknowledgments, Danny spread his hands on either side of their new piece of evidence and snorted wryly.

"Huh. And Mac didn't even notice poor ol' Paddington here."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Flack hesitated in making his entrance; Stella and Mac were opposite each other eating in mutual silence, neither very interested in their food and looking like they hadn't slept well in some while.

"The cops from the 13th are bringing Saul in." He mentioned by way of greeting and sat down next to Stella. "The press is all over this one, Mac. Had to get into the precinct via the back door; it's absolute insanity out there."

"Cragen's guys?"

"Pretty much. Got some men from my side as well, but his people are calling the shots. Had half a mind to dispatch Crowd Control at the station – the front steps were spilling over with people."

"Got your hands full when Saul gets here, then." Stella swiped a carrot off Mac's plate - he barely shifted his gaze – and gestured at Flack with it. "You and the 13th, holding back the hordes of reporters and camera crew."

"And the paparazzi. Nothing surprising. Parasites'd do anything for a quick shot and a fast buck. Half of their stuff's gratuitous, fabricated or exaggerated. How many actually care about the vics, you think?" Flack shook his head in disgust. "It's just part of their jobs to them."

"Just like catching criminals is ours." She got a nod from Flack when he conceded her the point, but Mac was unresponsive until he pushed his plate away and got up.

"Just keep an eye out for trouble, Flack. We don't need a bigger media circus than it already is."

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Hey Danny."

Danny turned at the familiar voice. "Hawkes. Thought you were holed up in the lab past Sunday."

"Doesn't mean I don't eat just because I'm on a big case. Lunchtime's sacred, man. Everyone needs lunchtime."

"Ass." Danny swooped for a seat and settled in, placing the sandwiches and cups on the chair next to him. "I've got 's long as it takes for Trace to get back on samples lifted from Mr. Paddington."

"It's Mr. Paddington, now, is it?"

Danny smirked. "Yeah. Lindsay's still up there going over Saul's wetsuit – should be done soon. I'm just here to grab lunch and coffee for us."

"Ah." Hawkes nodded, then feigned innocence as Danny waved a warning finger at him.

The cell phone at his hip suddenly buzzed, seconds before Danny also got a vibrating jolt in his pants' back pocket. They simultaneously reached for their phones snapped open the covers and scanned the screens.

"Lindsay. DNA's back with the blood results."

"Stella's got something off Trace as well."

"Gotta go?"

"Just like you, yeah."

They were out the doors before Danny stopped, spun around, and with a curse marched back in to retrieve the bag of food left momentarily forgotten on the empty seat.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Mac watched from his office as his lab busied around the cases that had been coming in. The B&E in Hudson Heights, the drowning at Rockaway, the dead baby from Hell's Kitchen; the crimes weren't going to stop just because the NYCL had two major cases to crack. New York wasn't that forgiving.

He answered his desk phone after the first ring.

"Taylor."

"Saul's on his way over. ETA 5 minutes."

"Thank you."

He remembered the new files sitting on his desk, staring open-faced and oblivious, merely existing – words on pages, with accompanying photographs, now replaced by other cases that were just as unaware that he had right now (more than) more than enough on his plate

He swiveled to look out his window – far below, he could make out faint red flashes of light and a swarm of little people clogging up the street.

The precinct cops had arrived.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Edward Saul. Born in Milwaukee, raised in Detroit. You moved to New York City when you were eighteen."

Mac glanced up at the younger man across from him; Saul's response was the barest of blinks.

"Your father disappeared a year after your family moved to Detroit– you never knew why. You dropped out of high school at fifteen, got busted for shoplifting that year, and managed to rack up a couple of misdemeanor charges before you upped and left Michigan for New York. You enlisted with the US Navy, but failed to meet the entrance standards, so you've worked odd jobs from then on; gardener, manual labourer, aquarium maintenance, store cashier…"

Mac leaned forward.

"School janitor. We subpoenaed your employment records from the school Natalie Goldberg attended. Working all over the city must have given you ample opportunity to gather your materials and pick out your vics. Is that how you picked them out, the girls? By using jobs as your vantage points?"

The silent man merely blinked again, shifting his head slightly.

"We found hair fibres in your car and on your bedroom floor that match five of our victims. Blood on the wetsuit we pulled from your car was Angela Winston's. The pillow fibres, the bleach – all matched samples taken off the girls. And we conveniently found your climbing shoes in the trash. All the evidence points to you, Saul."

Saul smiled suddenly, then ducked his head.

"You say it with such disdain."

Mac started at the sound of his voice. It was soft, pitched around mid-range, and only just beginning to overlay Detroit with a New Yorker's accent that was oddly posh.

"My failed enlistment…"

"Not many people who fail Naval entrance standards go on to rape and kill seven little girls."

Saul cocked his head slightly, as if trying to make sense of the statement, calmly studying the man in front of him. Mac held his gaze, then fished out the photographs and slapped them down on the table.

"These seven girls. You raped them, you killed them, and dumped them when you were done by a road or in a park or wherever suited your fancy, you sick bastard."

"Marine."

For the second time in the minute, Mac was stopped short.

"Marine." Saul said again slowly, letting the word hang. "Just like that other detective back at the precinct. I saw his ink."

"Why did you do it?"

"Semper Fidelis. That's your motto-"

Mac rose to his feet. "Don't fuck with me, Saul."

"--Always faithful." He regarded the detective impassively. "You wouldn't understand."

Mac sat back down and rested his forearms on the table.

"Try me."

- - - - - - - - - -

Saul smirked.

"Morlock and Eloi. Blue blood and plebeian. You're middle-class, white, American, fighting for king and country or whatever noble ideal you adhere to. You don't fit into either. You just earn what you work for, go home, close your shutters and forget about the world. It doesn't matter – it doesn't involve you."

"So you feel wronged by the class system."

Saul laughed knowingly. "Did they teach you to be such a straight in the Marine Corps? Or was that the NYPD?"

"What's your point, Saul?"

The young man shook his head. "You wouldn't understand. You don't want to. You're just here to show me photographs and evidence – that's what you cops do, maybe hoping I would grovel and weep and confess, so you can put me away and congratulate yourself on a job well done. You don't give a shit about why I did what I did."

Mac exhaled deep.

" 'The 'how' and the 'what' will lead you to the 'who'. And when you get your 'who', then you can to ask him 'why'." Blue eyes flashed dark green when they looked up from above a grim smile. "I have the how, the what, the who. I think I deserve to know the why."

"Made you work for it, did I? All you had were scant traces and sheer luck." His smile faded. "You got lucky - you know it. But you did find me in the end. "

"You covered your tracks. Premeditated kidnap, rape and murder; then removing as much evidence as you possibly could."

"Two weeks was impressive, detective."

"I'm flattered."

"And I heard about poor Stanley."

"He's been cleared." Mac shoved a photograph in Saul's direction. "Tell me."

Saul looked down at the little blonde girl sleeping pale and quiet in the print, the end-stitches of the Y-incision peeking up from the lower edges.

"Jennifer. Lovely girl. You know how they are when they're young - full of life. Her parents didn't see that though. Weren't around for her. It was always the nanny. She'd talk to me when she was lonely sometimes and I'd show her when the tulips were blooming. She was happiest in the garden; hated the house with its grandiose décor and stuffy upkeeps."

Mac clenched his jaw and pushed another photograph forward.

"Natalie?" Saul nodded once. "Mr. Goldberg's little treasure. Was never sure if he loved her or his mistress more. He'd pick Natalie up from school late on Mondays and Thursdays – you'd think he'd keep a closer eye on her. Ah, well, you never appreciate what you have, do you, until it's gone?"

Mac froze. Saul watched him carefully, and leaned forward.

"Is that why you worked so hard to close this case, detective? You know what it's like to experience loss?"

He bit his lip too hard, and tasted blood. "I worked to close this case so people can sleep at night without fearing that some psychopath is out there raping and killing innocent girls."

"They have nothing to fear if they love what they have, and accord it proper respect." Saul lifted his chin. "They didn't appreciate what they had. Why should they keep it? I freed the girls, detective. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil. Hamlet, Act III scene I. Don't look so surprised, detective. Completion of high school was never a good indicator of a person's intelligence."

"So you're their saviour, then? Rescuing them from their miserable lives, and sending them to a better place?"

Saul looked away, smiling patiently. "Is it not miserable to be caught in the cycle of wealth and status? They never have enough, the rich and famous. Always clamouring for more, never content. They were beautiful girls; they shouldn't have to grow up tainted."

Mac closed his eyes briefly. "And the rapes?"

"Not rape, detective. Release. Freedom. Their last moment of bliss before they left this world."

He leapt from his seat, rounded the table and slammed Saul into the steel top.

"You violated them, you fuck." He hissed in his ear. "Don't give me that saviour - freedom crap. You took their innocence when you raped them, and you killed them in cold blood."

"Mac!" Flack rushed in with another officer and hauled him off.

"Someday you'll see, detective." Saul called after him. "I saved them. I saved those girls."

TBC

Disclaimer and Acknowledgments: The Morlock-Eloi reference was stolen off HG Wells, and the social context off 'Ransom'. Hamlet is Shakespeare's. And Saul could seem to have taken lessons off Jigsaw and Lecter.