A/N: Next chapter! It's a short one, so I'm updating again tomorrow!

This chapter was inspired by "A Matter of Time" by The Killers.

alix33: I don't want her to put that ring back on either. Who knows, maybe she won't. ;)

bookimpva: So do I! Let's hope Mac will realise that marrying Mic would be a monumental mistake!

bloodymary2: He had better! These two are so dense at times.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews!

A very special thank you for my amazing beta AvaniHeath!

Disclaimer: JAG is property of Donald P. Bellisario. I'm only borrowing.

13 A matter of time

He cursed under his breath as a gust of wind blew rain straight into his face, drenching him to the skin once more. The pier was lit, yet the darkness was so absolute that all he could see were blurry dots of yellow. He couldn't make out his own hand in front of his eyes, let alone see more than two feet ahead. He thought it was ironic; he always kept them in darkness, had become its master. Now he was a victim, just like them.

The predator straining against his skin didn't like it; it felt vulnerable, exposed. The cold and calculating part of him, however, was almost grateful for this humbling experience. Overconfidence made you careless, and carelessness was something he couldn't afford. If he made even one mistake, someone might discover his secret, and if that happened, he would never be able to kill again.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought and it had absolutely nothing to do with the icy wind. He wouldn't survive prison; if it ever came to it, he'd rather die than allow himself to be taken. The predator would never be satisfied, would always demand more, and if it didn't get what it wanted, it would claw at his mind until it was reduced to tatters, his sanity torn apart.

He braced himself against the wind, barely seeing where he was going. His shift had ended hours ago, but thanks to the weather they were so far behind schedule that every hand was needed. Under normal circumstances that wouldn't have been a problem. This might not have been the job that he had had in mind when he joined the Navy, but he always applied himself a hundred and ten per cent to whatever he was tasked with.

However, tonight he had a schedule of his own, and while he wasn't exactly running behind, his window of opportunity was narrow—if he missed it, if he didn't take her tonight, he might not get another chance. Eventually, she'd leave, and then she'd be lost to him.

Determination surged through him, and he quickened his steps despite the slippery ground. He couldn't let her slip out of his grasp.

If he did, the predator would make him pay.

He almost regretted having picked such a remote location to hide his victims. Almost. Its isolation was what made it safe. If it were ever to be discovered, nobody would be able to trace it back to him. And nobody would ever be looking there for him. That he only had limited time with his victims each night was a small price to pay.

Besides, he could keep them for as long as he wanted.

Normally, he wouldn't rush things. Would take his time stalking his victims, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks until he knew their routine. But this time he couldn't. He shuddered as he remembered the one time he'd resisted the predator, had fought the pull. In the end, it had overpowered him, and the body of the woman he'd chosen still lay buried where it would never be discovered.

She had been too badly damaged to bring home.

This wouldn't happen with her. She was too beautiful, too perfect. Last night, he'd imagined all the things he'd do to her. Had imagined how he would run his hands over her soft skin. How she would cry out when he cut her, when he claimed her body with his own. How the light in her brown eyes would fade when he closed his hands around her throat.

He slipped. Cursing aloud, he managed to regain his balance before he fell. "You okay?" one of his colleagues asked, lending a steadying arm.

"Yeah, I'm good, thanks." Water sloshed in his shoes and he wriggled his toes to chase the disgusting sensation away. He must have stepped into a particularly deep puddle. Focus, he told himself sternly. If he got injured, all the time he'd spent planning would have been for nothing, and she'd get away.

And he couldn't let that happen, now could he?