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A/N: So this is a few episodes back when Stahl wants to get a DNA sample from Christina. Warning: eventual smut.
He waits until the house is quiet then lets himself in. Effortlessly, thanks to past practice. He makes no sound, quiet as night, and equally black. He walks through to her doorway.
Christina is sleeping, hair splayed over the pillow, lamp on in the room. He studies her for a minute. So innocent, beautiful, young. Just like his son but older. He would never willingly hurt him...or her. But by accident? his conscience whispers. His boy is already hurt. How to fix that he does not know but will figure it out, he swears. And soon. Right now, however, he must pay attention. What he is doing is abysmal but he cannot stop, controlling and mad. This poisonous city chafes so irritatingly under his skin, he has to tilt the odds in his favor. Despite his training he sees limited options. He functions on instinct, damaged and lost. Childhood breaches the surface and he shoves it back down. "Not now," he snarls but still reverts to what he knows.
He spies the hairbrush on the table. Christina tosses and turns and he freezes, hand in mid-air. She settles back down, her face to the wall. He stuffs what he needs in the zip-lock, casts a parting glance at the kid and leaves.
Something yanks his attention from down the hallway. He strides over, waits...and his lips flatten shut. He hears a grunt and a moan and imagines them touch. She is not alone, he gets it. How can she be, such a sweet treasure? The springs creak gently but the sound is hurting his ears. Yet again he is at the foot of the stage. "Ahh"...her voice trails from the room. "I want you so much. Harder...". With him, she would not need to beg.
He breathes hard and the memories hit him. He is backstage as a child, stopped dead before mother's doorway. He needs her, his knee skinned on the wooden stairs. He quietly pushes the door and...