The motives of this man have always been a mystery to me.
An order never needs an explanation.
He would never do something for just one reason. Ten birds with one stone.
He was prepared to do anything, as long as it distracted him from his own mind. And if blood or pain was the price to pay then so be it.
No wonder he couldn't trust other people, he couldn't even trust himself.
I used to wake up sharply after hearing the click of a gun in my sleep. I'd wake up covered in sweat and gasping for breath. Now I wake from dreams of hearing his heartbeat. I wouldn't call either of them nightmares; there is too much longing in them to be nightmares.
I loved him: unwaveringly, sometimes even unwillingly- as though he had a gun permanently trained on my aorta.
I really did once have the childish idea that in the right side of my chest you could find some sort of heart shape just like those found of greetings cards and on the other side was a treasure chest that stored my soul. I never expected however, to loose belief in the heart so much that I saw it only as an organ. A vital one yes, I know that from my line of work, but unfeeling and anatomical. But I still believe in the soul, I have to. Not in some crude box form, but as the truth within a person. I had to, because how else could I explain how two corrupted, debauched souls such as ours belonged together?
I kissed those lips that the bullet passed through; a tear seeping from my eye and onto his cheek. I traced my finger through the pool of blood that pillowed his head. I'd never felt more alive than with his dead body at my feet- the only problem being that I now wished that I was dead too.
They're like two spinning tops: James Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes. Genius minds, ones that worked so much faster than everyone else. They'd appear as a bewildering blurs to the unaccustomed eye, utterly fascinating to watch- but precariously balanced. Dangerous. They were bound on their paths… until those paths collided. Then they struck each other violently, spinning out of control, faltering, and toppling.
Momentum is gained then lost.
Stillness remains.
I still expect an explanation. Why?