(Thanks again to demonchilde! And apologies for delivering an update a week late.)

LIFE AIN'T PRETTY FOR A DOG-FACED BOY

"Is that what you want? You want to be close to me? You want to be close to me, well, then, why don't take my hand, huh? Give me your hand. Give me your hand!"

Her words echoed in his head, and he felt floored, threatened by her challenge. His hands twitched and shot up, a sign of his inner battle.

Then, her big baby blues settled on him, as if she was seeing him through the fog.

He reached for her hand and yanked her towards him.

Jerry flicked the picture of Sam as a baby. Smiled at his latest twist for that all-too-real scenario.

Next time, he wouldn't be caught off-guard.

Next time, he would be ready.

He savoured the vivid fantasy for a moment, then decided to start up the computer. He walked to the window and gazed out into the empty streets. He was in for another night of footage viewing.

At least he'd have some peace and quiet. The mongrels were unbearably loud. Luckily, he was very close to figuring out the correct dose.

The computer beeped, and he walked to it to enter his username and password. He sat down and fiddled with his cigarettes.

He accessed the camera feed, and he was about to light a cigarette when the computer screen showed a car pulling up to and parking in front of the fire house. He sneered when he recognized Malone's form getting out of the vehicle. He glared at the agent for the brief seconds he was in view before disappearing inside.

Then, Jerry reached for his police scanner and started to listen in on the chatter. A 7/11 had been robbed. A b&e was suspected in Loring Heights. He was getting impatient as minutes passed and he didn't hear of any crime that would merit the task force's involvement.

Finally, he heard of a unit showing the district attorney around at a murder scene in Buckhead.

He left the recording on, and he grabbed his camera. He would drive over to Buckhead.

After all, he missed her.

June 4, 1965

Jerry was huddled in a corner of the hall. Something bad was happening. He watched the commotion, not making a peep. Any sound would earn him a severe whipping.

The doctor and the nurse disappeared into his mother's bedroom. Virgil had taken on them as caregivers to Gertude for the last two months of her pregnancy. His baby brother, Saul, was sickly, and so the medical professionals had stayed on the staff.

His father's enraged yells had alerted the entire household. Jerry had flown out of his room to stare at the closed door leading to his mother's bedroom. The younger butler had wasted no time in fetching the medical staff from their room on the lower floor.

By the time they ascended the stairs, the yells had died down and had been replaced with an eerie silence. Jerry could only imagine what his father had been doing to his mother before the outsiders arrived.

Time seemed to slow down in the dread-filled mansion. After what seemed like an eternity, Virgil exited the room with the two medical experts. The doctor said something about the effects of a sedative, then offered his condolences. Virgil didn't react, and he was left in peace. All the staff scurried out of his sight.

"I should never have let her keep the baby in her room," Virgil said under his breath, balling his fists. He punched the wall nexf to the door of the bedroom. Jerry couldn't help the little yelp that escaped him at the sight.

Virgil Campbell turned around and located the source of the sound. His face twisted, and Jerry recognised the emotion plastered on his father's face. Revulsion.

"And so, you're to be the sole heir to the Campbell fortune. What a joke," Virgil bit out cruelly.

Present day

Jerry took a few pictures of the action unfolding in front of the house for the sake of appearances. There weren't too many photographers around, only a handful of night owls. They all strained their camera above their heads, as the property was surrounded by a high brick wall. The police had cordoned off a significant length of the front of the wall, but there was some space of either side to walk up to the wall and snap photos above it.

Sam and Malone didn't linger at the crime scene needlessly. In fact, their abrupt departure placed him in a precarious position.

He was standing near a few photojournalists when Sam and Malone stepped onto the pavement and made their way to the car, which was parked in the direction where he was. They would walk right past him.

He realized that he could reach out to her and touch her, she would be that close.

He froze in his spot, but recovered just in time.

He dropped the camera lense shield to the ground on purpose and knelt down to pick it up, to prevent himself from doing something extremely rash and foolish.

Sam passed him at a mere three-foot distance.

He stayed crouched down, and watched out of the corner of his eye Sam and Malone walk to their car.

When they had driven off, he withdrew to the privacy of his car and allowed himself to relish the thrill of Sam's closeness.

Soon. That was the word that he now used to refer to his future with Sam. Not eventually, not even before long. But soon.

And oh, the promise it held.